#except they ACTUALLY FUCKING FIX IT ON BOTH SIDES.

[bearforcecaptions]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[soullessjack]

hi im tired and in a teeny bit of pain and I’m fed up with jack being used to fix and absolve dean so heres them mutually getting their shit together like they actually should okay goodnight send tweet

[celesteleoves]

hcs of bakugou / todoroki being a hardcore simp for reader maybe?

“I WANNA BE YOURS.”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU/SHOTO TODOROKI x fem!reader.

summary: what the request said!

warnings: swearing (bakugou…), mentions of todoroki’s childhood (very brief), that’s it i believe!

a/n: i love this request. i hope i wrote this to your liking!

—

BAKUGOU KATSUKI —

he is a very subtle simp. you probably wouldn’t even think he liked you if you guys weren’t already dating. the way he shows his love for you is… questionable.

he does the simple things like following you around like a lost puppy (even though he swears he does NOT) .

he’ll definitely demand you never leave his side so he can always be there to protect you.

“you’re so weak, you need me to be there to protect you at all times.”

you’ll just nod, enjoying your boyfriends presence. (he’s actually geeking over you aswell and the fact you grace him with your presence).

he takes you everywhere with him and doesn’t care about what anyone says. oh, aizawa paired him up with kirishima? you’re coming with. you can’t stay a second away from him before he’s rushing around like a headless chicken looking for you.

your biggest fan by far, anything you do he’s practically on the floor worshipping you. then the next second he’ll be calling your outfit disgusting in the sweetest way possible.

he’ll also deny the fact he’s a simp for you. one time, kirishima caught the poor boy gazing at you, dare i say LOVINGLY, across the room as you did a mundane task.

kirishima has never grinned wider than he did when he noticed this. your boyfriend noticed the quiet chuckles leaving his friend and turned towards him.

“what the fuck are you laughing at?”

“you stalking y/n!”

“I WAS NOT STARING AT HER.” sure… liar. you literally just outed yourself…

bakugou loved you, even though he shows it in his weird, weird ways.

SHOTO TODOROKI —

the sweetest, sweetest boyfriend ever. literally the ideal boyfriend anyone could have SIMPLY because of how doting he is towards his partner.

he’s absolutely enamoured with you. he isn’t shameful about it either! (referencing one of my other head-canons) .

this boy will downright show his love for you.

we all know shoto has a hard time with social cues, he blames it on his childhood and the lack of social times he had – always being isolated.

that’s also the reason why he doesn’t understand why he can’t stare you down like a hawk and not expect people to be slightly worried… why is he staring at you like he wants to eat you?

cuteness aggression is a thing. you both get it when you’re with each other.

you can’t believe you managed to secure this boy. he never opened up to just anyone, yet for you he made an exception. you flew that all the time.

meanwhile your boyfriend is still in denial you two are dating. every time you bring up your realtionship he’s blushing like a maniac and shying away from you.

your classmates notice the little things. such as you placing your phone face up only for it to be face down a couple seconds later because todoroki fixed it for you knowing you don’t want people staring at every notification on your phone (this is so me guys i’m sorry).

he is very attentive, he’s such a simp. he’ll pick up on the little things. sometimes, you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.

there was definitely one time you had been making yourself a snack in the kitchen, forgetting to get one of your favourite piece of food for the snack .

once your snack was made, you frowned at the missing piece of your food you wanted.

starting to get upset, you looked around for something to make up for this.

“here.” a soft voice spoke causing you to relax at the sound of todorokis gentle tone.

“i can’t find my-”

“y/n. here.”

you looked at your boyfriends hand, noticing he was holding multiple variations of the missing food item you craved.

your lips trembled at his thoughtfulness and you pulled your boyfriend in for a hug as he returned it with a soft smile on his face.

he’s too sweet for you and such a simp!

—

a/n: guys, bare with me if there is spelling errors. this was not proof-read! i hope this was good enough, it was kind of short.

SEND REQUESTS! 🤍🤍

[pucksandpower]

Disturbing the Peace

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Max Verstappen x Vettel!Reader

Summary: an environmental activist disturbs the carefully constructed peace of Max’s life and turns his whole world on its head (or in which environmentalism and being a menace both run in the Vettel family)

Max strides across the tarmac towards his sleek private jet, ready to head up to the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes after a weekend of relaxation back home in Monaco. But he stops short as his eyes land on a cluster of protesters glued to the ground around his jet’s landing gear.

A gruff security guard approaches Max. “Sorry sir, we’ve got a bit of a situation here with these Greenpeace loons. They snuck past the perimeter and glued themselves down before we could stop them.”

Max scowls as he reads the words Fossil Fuels = Destruction scrawled across one of the protester’s shirts. He storms over, fists clenched at his sides.

“What the hell do you people think you’re doing?” he fumes, glaring at the seated activists. “You realize you’re costing me tens of thousands just by delaying my flight?”

“That’s kind of the point, bro,” one long-haired guy shoots back with a snide grin. “You’re one of the worst celebrity polluters on the planet.”

But Max’s gaze is drawn irresistibly to you — a beautiful young woman with fierce eyes and hair whipping around your face in the coastal wind. There’s an intensity and passion burning behind your stare that Max finds himself unexpectedly captivated by.

You rise gracefully to your feet, the only one not glued down, and take a step towards the fuming Formula 1 star. “Max Verstappen. Out of all celebrities last year, you were the 20th highest personal polluter. Even higher than Taylor Swift.”

There’s an unmistakable blend of reproach and attraction in your tone that throws Max off balance. He scoffs, trying to regain his bravado.

“What, are you stalking me or something? And I’m supposed to care what some random activist chick thinks?”

You level him with a pointed look. “Not some random chick. Y/N Vettel. Sebastian’s sister. And yes, you should care, because this is your planet too.”

Max blinks in surprise at the familiar surname, now recognizing the resemblance to his former competitor.

Oh fuck, not this girl.

He can’t resist giving you another once-over, taking in your lithe frame, the jut of your chin as you stare him down defiantly.

An amused smirk tugs at his lips despite himself. “Vettel, huh? I should’ve known. You two do have a thing for causing drama wherever you go.”

The dig lands but you don’t rise to the bait, shaking your head minutely. “This has nothing to do with drama, Max. It’s about doing what’s right for the environment before it’s too late to save it.”

“Oh, spare me the self-righteous preaching,” Max scoffs, reflexively going on the defensive even as a small part of him admires the conviction in your voice. “Like your jet-setting around to protest events is really doing the planet any favors.”

You raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Jet-setting? I take public transit everywhere. Planes are the exception for international events, and I always buy carbon offsets.”

Max feels a flicker of grudging respect at that before quickly stamping it down. He folds his arms across his chest, fixing you with a challenging stare. “Yeah? Well what about your clothes? I’m guessing that shirt was made from petroleum-based synthetic fabrics.”

A look of surprise crosses your face before you recover with a small shake of your head. “It’s actually bamboo. Petroleum-free and sustainably sourced.”

“Your shoes then,” Max presses, gaze dropping to the canvas flats on your feet.

You lift one demonstratively. “Recycled rubber.”

His eyes narrow as he struggles to find another example to poke holes in your lifestyle. You watch him search with ill-disguised amusement, finally taking pity.

“Listen Max, I’m not saying I’m perfect. Nobody is. The point is to keep trying to do better where we can.” Your eyes hold sincerity and — though Max is loath to admit it — wisdom beyond your years. “But you’re in a position of power. With all your money and influence, just think what you could do for sustainability initiatives. How many trees you could plant or clean energy projects you could fund with just a fraction of what you spend on private flights and gas-guzzling supercars every year.”

Max shifts, discomfited by the practicality of your words. It’s harder to be glib and dismissive when you’re not ranting incoherently about the planet dying, but making reasoned arguments. Especially with that intense, scrutinizing gaze fixed so squarely on him.

He clears his throat, resorting to sarcasm as a defense mechanism. “Yeah, that’s cute and all. But then who would keep all those gas station attendants employed? I’m doing them a public service, really.”

The ghost of a smirk curves your lips in a way that makes Max’s chest tighten unexpectedly. “How very philanthropic of you.”

He has to look away from the spark of challenge and — yes, flirtation — in your expression. Max isn’t sure when this stopped being a confrontation and turned into some sort of tense back-and-forth bristling with inexplicable chemistry, but it’s rapidly becoming unnerving.

Seeming to sense you’ve flustered him, you lean in conspiratorially. “You know Max, for someone who acts like such an edgy bad boy, you’re not so tough. I think deep down you know I’m right.”

Max’s jaw ticks stubbornly even as his cheeks burn at your proximity, at the sweet floral scent of your shampoo drifting across the scant distance between you. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

In a daring move, you reach out and lay a hand on his arm. His breath hitches just slightly at the contact as you hold his gaze intently. “Then help me understand. Join me for dinner sometime and we can talk more about this over something other than just shouting at each other.”

The gentle touch, combined with the sincerity shining warmly through those big widened eyes, takes Max completely off guard. He opens his mouth, then closes it, abruptly unsure how to respond to such an olive branch extended from his vehement critic just moments ago.

Before he can formulate a reply, the wail of sirens pierces the air. A police cruiser pulls up as four officers jump out, advancing menacingly towards your compatriots still glued to the pavement.

“Alright, that’s enough here,” the barrel-chested sergeant barks gruffly. “You’re all under arrest for criminal trespassing and failure to obey airport security.”

You hurriedly step between the officers and your fellow protesters, palms raised placatingly. “Please officers, don’t arrest them! I was the one who orchestrated this, I’ll go quietly. Just let them go.”

Max’s heart does a strange little flutter at the selfless gesture, at the protective way you shield your group from the aggression of the snarling police officers.

Before he can think better of it, he’s striding forward and planting himself at your side, a steadying hand on your arm. “Actually officers, I’m afraid I can’t let you detain this woman.”

You blink up at him in surprise. The lead sergeant looks far from impressed, folding his beefy arms across his chest.

“And just who the hell are you to make that call?”

Max lifts his chin defiantly. “Max Verstappen. I’m sure your supervisors would love to hear how the biggest name in racing got falsely arrested on the tarmac because one of their officers couldn’t exercise some restraint.”

The sergeant’s eyes widen almost comically and he takes an unconscious step back, disarmed by Max’s threat to leverage his fame and money. “Oh. Er … Mr. Verstappen, sir. I’m sure, um, we can sort this out ...”

Max cuts him off with an imperious wave, turning his attention fully to you. Your expression is a mixture of shock, curiosity, and — though Max certainly doesn’t dare name it — just maybe a tiny flicker of attraction in return.

“You asked me to try and understand your perspective. Fine, I’ll take you up on that dinner.” He looks you squarely in the eye, expression unreadable. “But you have to promise to hear me out too. No judgements, no protests. Just two people trying to figure out how to make the world better in their own ways.”

You stare searchingly at him for a prolonged moment. Then a slow, wondering smile spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes in the most disarmingly beautiful way. You give a small nod.

“Deal. I’ll keep an open mind if you do.”

Max finds himself returning the smile before he can stop himself. “Deal.”

He doesn’t know why this odd, passionate woman has gotten under his skin so quickly. Or why he suddenly cares what some environmental activist thinks of his choices. But as you take his proffered hand and he helps you step carefully away from the cluster of protestors, Max feels an unfamiliar stirring of hope. Maybe there’s more to this situation — and to you — than meets the eye.

The sergeant looks between you two skeptically, but seems to think better of pressing the issue further with Max’s steely gaze trained on him. With a resigned sigh, he waves his officers back.

“Alright, we’re going to let this one go. But I better not catch you trespassing and causing problems again, you hear?” He jabs a meaty finger at you in warning.

You just smile serenely, still not releasing Max’s hand. “No worries, officer. I have a dinner to get ready for.”

As the police pull away, you turn that brilliant grin on Max again. He finds himself returning it almost against his will, captivated by the fire that dances behind your eyes. For the first time, he wonders if going toe-to-toe with an idealistic environmental warrior might actually be worth momentarily putting his own deeply-held beliefs aside.

Stepping in close, you surprise him by leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. “Thanks for playing along back there. I owe you one, Max Verstappen.”

The warm breath tickling his neck sends an unexpected shiver down his spine. You pull back with a mischievous wink before turning and rejoining your fellow activists, hips swaying in a tantalizing way that has Max’s gaze lingering perhaps a moment too long.

As he watches you go, Max can’t shake the strangest sense that he’s suddenly entered uncharted territory. And that this is only the beginning of you continually barging into his life and turning everything deliciously upside down.

***

Max lets out a grunt as he heaves the heavy barbell up over his head, sweat beading on his brow from the intense weight training session. After securing the bar back on its rack, he straightens and grabs a towel to wipe his face.

His phone starts ringing from across the room, an unknown number flashing on the screen. Max debates letting it go to voicemail but finally relents with a resigned sigh, scooping up the device.

“Yeah, hello?”

There’s a brief silence before an automated voice responds. “This is a call from a corrections facility. To accept charges and connect this call, press 1.”

Max frowns, caught off guard. He presses 1 warily, curiosity getting the better of him. The line clicks and then a new, very familiar voice comes through.

“Max! Oh thank god you picked up.” It’s you, sounding mildly frazzled but still unmistakably your unique blend of passion and composure.

A surprised laugh escapes Max’s lips before he can stop it. “You? Calling me from jail? This I’ve got to hear.”

“Don’t sound so delighted,” you chide, though he can hear the smile in your voice. “Yes, I’m in a bit of a situation here. You remember the big event we had been planning to protest that oil baron’s ridiculous superyacht docking in Monaco?”

Max raises an eyebrow even though you can’t see it. “The one where you said, and I quote, ‘No Max, you can’t come. Your pouty little rich boy face is just going to distract everyone from the real injustice we’re protesting here.’“

“... Yes, that one.” You don’t miss a beat. “Well, we may have taken things a step too far. The police showed up and arrested all of us for trespassing and disturbing the peace.”

“You don’t say?” Max leans back against the weight bench, a teasing lilt to his voice. “So let me get this straight — you got yourself chucked in the slammer for causing your signature environmentalist dramatics, and now you’re calling me to help get you out?”

There’s a slight pause before you respond, tone turning softer. “I didn’t want to call Seb. You know how he gets — he’ll just give me that disappointed head shake and lecture about being more responsible. Acting like I’m still a reckless teenager instead of a grown woman fighting for a noble cause.”

Max feels a small pang at the uncharacteristic wistfulness in your voice. For all your sparring back and forth, he knows how much your activist work means to you. And how tirelessly you dedicate yourself to it, often at the expense of other aspects of life.

Chewing his lip, he considers his next words carefully. “I may give you endless shit about being a tree-hugging rebel without a cause, but you know I actually respect what you’re doing, right? Even if your methods are … shall we say, dramatic.”

You let out a small surprised huff of laughter at that. “Did Max Verstappen just pay me something resembling a genuine compliment? Aww, you really do care.”

Max rolls his eyes at the teasing, though his lips quirk in a reluctant smile. Something about your back-and-forth banter has a way of putting him at ease in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m still holding out hope this is just a pesky phase before you eventually come to your senses and realize the error of your ways.”

“Fat chance, hot shot.” The warm amusement in your tone is impossible to miss. “But anyway, since you’re in such a generous mood — think you can do me a favor and come bail me out?”

Max hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, bringing you home with me seems like a surefire way to get your activist cooties all over my ridiculously expensive non-vegan furniture.”

“Max ...” You let out an exaggerated whine that has him fighting back another grin. “Come on, I’m begging you here! I’ll be a model prisoner, I swear.”

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Max pushes off from the bench and starts grabbing his shoes and keys. “Fine, fine. Twist my arm, why don’t you? I’ll be there in twenty minutes to ply your jailers with my generous pile of my money and spring you from the clink.”

You let out a squeal of delight that has his heart doing an odd little flip despite himself. “You’re the best, Max! Seriously, I owe you huge after this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to make a habit of it. This is a one-time kind of deal.”

The two of you say your brief goodbyes and Max hangs up, head shaking in bemusement. He’s not sure when his friendship with the passionate eco-warrior became so effortlessly comfortable, bantering back and forth like a long-married couple.

But he also can’t deny the way his pulse kicks up just slightly at the thought of seeing you again — windswept hair, fiery eyes, and that bright smile that still catches him off guard every time it’s directed his way.

As Max jogs out to the garage to grab his Ferrari for the short drive to the station, he vehemently tells himself it’s merely because he’s intrigued by the novelty of your clashing personalities. That your relentless conviction is a fascinating change of pace from the empty glamor that usually surrounds him.

But a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispers that he’s lying to himself. That there’s something magnetically addictive about you and your tireless ability to see the world through a different lens than his own. Something that challenges him, stimulates him, reels him in over and over again no matter how much he pretends to resist.

He quickly banishes the thought, jaw setting in stubborn determination. Max Verstappen isn’t the type to get pulled into a girl’s orbit, no matter how intriguing she might seem on the surface. He’ll bail your reckless ass out of jail, have another enjoyable round of opposition-attracts banter, and then carry on with his usual life of racing and living by his own well-established rules.

Right?

The sleek crimson SF90 Stradale tears through the winding Monaco streets, wind whipping through Max’s hair as he pushes the pedal towards the floor. The adrenaline pumping through his veins feels vaguely familiar to the thrill of a heated race — though he refuses to dwell too deeply on why bailing out an eco-terrorist gives him that same edge-of-the-seat excitement.

He pulls up to the modest local jail in record time, the guard at the entrance giving him a skeptical once-over before waving him through. No doubt recognizing the signature Ferrari and flashy persona of the championship-winning driver.

Max swaggers up to the front desk where a bored-looking officer sits shuffling through paperwork. The young man startles at his approach, shooting to attention with widened eyes.

“Oh! Mr. Verstappen, sir! How can I help you today?”

Puffing out his chest just slightly, Max gives the officer his most imposing stare. “Yeah, I’m here to post bail for one of your … residents. Y/N Vettel.”

The cop’s brow furrows as he scans the intake files. “Ah yes, here she is. Environmental activist, part of that big protest at the marina. Disturbing the peace, trespassing, and a few of them even got hit with property damage charges from graffiti.”

Max scowls, that damned protective streak rearing its ugly head again before he can stop it. “I’m only posting bail for Y/N Vettel. The hell did she get charged with?”

“Just peaceful trespassing and disturbing the peace.” The cop frowns contemplatively. “Well, and resisting arrest when she tried to stop us cuffing one of her friends. But that’s about it.”

Rubbing his temples with a pained sigh, Max can’t resist a rueful grin. “Yeah, that tracks. Listen, what’s it gonna cost me to grab her so I can get out of here?”

“For those charges? €1500 bond should cover it.”

Max scoffs at the paltry sum, already pulling out his monogrammed money clip and peeling off a stack of euros. “Whatever, here’s double. Keep the change for your trouble.”

The cop’s eyes widen almost comically, but he knows better than to question Max freaking Verstappen. Hurriedly taking the bills, he produces some paperwork for Max to sign and process the transaction.

“Alright Mr. Verstappen, just need your signature here and here. And if you’ll allow me to get your fingerprints as well for the release forms ...”

Max begrudgingly complies, wanting to get this circus over with as quickly as possible. He taps his foot impatiently as the officer takes his prints and finalizes everything in the computer system.

“Okay, all set. I’ll have one of the guards bring Miss Vettel around to the release lobby. Might be a few minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, just hurry it up,” Max mutters distractedly.

He crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, letting his eyes drift shut for a brief moment as he tries to compose himself. Your voice rings in his ears, that unmistakable mixture of sheepishness and determination that seems to sum up your entire persona.

Goddamn it, why did you have to call him? Why couldn’t you have just phoned up your doting big brother like a normal person instead of dragging Max into this? Part of him wants to be annoyed at how easily you’re able to play him, batting those big eyes and pleading for his help like you knew he would give in.

But the thought of leaving you to stew in a dingy jail cell somehow makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. Almost like he’d be letting you down in some weird, convoluted way. Ridiculous as the notion is, Max can’t deny this increasing pull you seem to have over him.

His eyes fly open as the door to the cellblocks finally opens, heavy footsteps approaching. Max takes an automatic step forward, pulse kicking up in anticipation despite himself.

And then you’re there. Hair tousled, t-shirt and jeans covered in smears of dirt and grass stains from the protest scuffle. But those defiant eyes are still ablaze, jaw set stubbornly as the guard leads you out in handcuffs.

“Max! You’re actually here!” Your face splits into a bright, surprised grin at the sight of him.

He tries and fails to suppress his own answering smile, raking an admittedly appreciative gaze over you from head to toe. “What, you didn’t think I’d show up for my favorite little jailbird?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, you flash him a sly look from under your lashes. “I don’t know, I had my doubts Mr. Bigshot Racer would sully his palms rescuing little old me.”

“Well, you know what they say.” Max steps in close, dropping his voice to a faux-seductive murmur as he leans towards you. Your eyes widen infinitesimally but you hold his gaze, seemingly transfixed. “I just can’t seem to quit you.”

You bite your lip in a badly suppressed grin at his corny line. “Did you seriously just incorrectly quote Brokeback Mountain at me right now?”

“Maybe.” He rocks back on his heels with a shameless wink. “Doesn’t make it any less true, does it?”

A delicate blush blooms across your cheeks in a way that has Max’s heart stuttering unexpectedly. The guard clears his throat loudly, shattering the moment between you.

“Erm, right. If you’ll just sign here for Miss Vettel’s release ...” He offers a clipboard to Max.

Tearing his eyes away from you with concentrated effort, Max scrawls his signature across the form. You watch him intently, an unreadable look flickering across your features for just a moment before the guard undoes your cuffs with a loud click.

You immediately bring your newly freed hands together, rubbing at the chafed skin of your wrists gingerly. Max’s jaw tightens at the sight.

“You good?” His tone is gruff with concern despite himself.

Glancing up, you give him a reassuring smile and nod. “All good, just a little tender. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Something about your easy dismissal of the discomfort rankles Max in a way he can’t fully explain. Like he wants to grab your hands, bring them to his lips to inspect the damage more closely. The sudden urge catches him off guard and he quickly tamps it down, fists clenching at his sides.

The guard seems oblivious to the undercurrent between you, simply giving a curt nod and motioning towards the exit. “Right then, off you go. And try to stay out of trouble from now on, Miss Vettel.”

You shoot the cop your signature wry grin. “No promises, officer.”

Rolling his eyes skyward, Max grabs your elbow lightly and ushers you towards the doors before you can cause any more scenes. You fall into step beside him easily, shoulders brushing in a way that has his skin tingling with awareness.

As the two of you step out into the late afternoon sunlight, you turn to him with those warm eyes that never fail to set his heart racing just a little faster.

“I really do owe you one, Max. Thank you for coming to my rescue, even after everything“

He gives an exaggerated huff, fighting a smile. “Well, it’s a tough job but someone’s gotta bail out all the reckless idiots who can’t stay out of handcuffs for five minutes.”

You laugh brightly, punching his arm in playful admonishment. A spark of electricity seems to jolt between you at the contact and Max freezes almost imperceptibly, mesmerized by the radiant smile you’re beaming up at him.

In that moment, with the sunlight catching in your hair and reflecting those fierce, captivating eyes, Max is struck by how breathtakingly beautiful you are. Not just physically, though that’s certainly undeniable. But the whole intoxicating aura of your idealism, your passion, your relentless fighting spirit that leaves him in a constant state of incredulous attraction no matter how much he rails against it.

You cock your head slightly, drawing him out of his reverie. “Max? You still in there?”

“Huh?” He blinks dazedly before recovering with a shake of his head, shoving his hands into his pockets in what he desperately hopes is a casual gesture. “Yeah, no, I’m good. Just thinking.”

Your brow furrows in concern as you study his face intently. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Max clears his throat, avoiding your piercing gaze. He nods jerkily towards the car glinting fetchingly in the sun. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they decide to re-arrest your ass for loitering.”

As the two of you make your way across the parking lot, Max resolutely ignores the persistent voice whispering that he’s in deeper than he’s willing to admit this time. That you might just be addictive enough to become something he can’t simply shake off when he’s had his fill.

But rather than finding the notion disconcerting like it should be, he finds himself fighting the strangest flicker of excitement at the prospect instead.

***

The Monaco paddock is a dizzying whirlwind of activity as teams and personnel rush about in their usual pre-race frenzy. Max weaves through the chaos towards his driver room, helmet tucked under his arm.

He pauses as a familiar voice reaches his ears — that unmistakable passionate cadence that always has a way of stopping him in his tracks these days. Max turns to see you holding court in the middle of a cluster of wide-eyed engineers and PR reps, gesticulating emphatically.

“... and that’s just the start! We also need to look into renewable energy sources to power the entire paddock operations. Sustainable cooking practices in the hospitality suites. Comprehensive recycling and composting initiatives. Not to mention overhauling the travel logistics for a lower carbon footprint when we’re shipping this whole circus around the globe every other week.”

One of the hapless reps looks shellshocked, struggling to keep up as he scribbles notes furiously. “I … yes, of course, Miss Vettel. We’ll look into all of that right away. Anything else?”

You fix the poor man with one of your signature intense stares, full lower lip catching between your teeth as you consider. Max feels his heart skip at the seemingly insignificant gesture, cursing under his breath.

“Well, we haven’t even touched on sustainable sourcing for uniforms and merchandising yet. Or the complete overhaul needed for fuel compositions and racing technology to align with a realistic net-zero roadmap.” Your eyes spark with renewed fervor. “But we can circle back on those aspects later. For now I want you to-”

Sensing an opening, the bewildered rep seizes his chance to politely extricate himself. “You know what, Miss Vettel? Why don’t I go gather all my notes on your suggestions so far and we can regroup for a more structured meeting on next steps? I’ll, uh, be in touch!”

He scampers off before you can protest, leaving the rest of the staffers gaping at you with a combination of terror and admiration. You just shake your head bemusedly, rolling your eyes skyward as you catch sight of Max watching from across the way.

“What?” You shrug innocently at his raised eyebrow, the very picture of angelic nonchalance. “Someone’s got to light a fire under these people if we want to actually get some sustainability practices in place.”

Max bites back a grin, sauntering over with exaggerated slowness. “Is that what you call demolishing that poor rep’s entire understanding of the world? Just lighting a fire?”

“Hey, we’re not being paid to settle for complacency and half-measures,” you shoot back without a shred of remorse. “I got hired to shake this whole damn organization to its core until it goes fully carbon neutral. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Your unapologetic defiance never fails to send a peculiar thrill zinging through Max’s veins. He rakes an admittedly assessing gaze over your crisp pantsuit and loosely swept updo — quite a change from the scruffy activist’s getup he’s so used to seeing you in.

“You clean up nice, I’ll give you that,” he muses teasingly. “Who knew you could look so respectable in professional garb?”

Rather than rise to the bait, you simply flash him a wink and smoothing your hands over the fitted blazer, drawing his gaze helplessly to the enticing curves beneath the tailored lines. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.”

Heat prickles at the base of Max’s neck at the unexpected flirtiness, his tongue suddenly thick and useless in his mouth. He quickly masks the moment of flustered silence with a dismissive scoff.

“Great, so in addition to harassing race staff you’re assaulting my senses too? Good to know where your priorities lie, Vettel.”

You laugh easily, canting a hip as you fix him with those dancing eyes that never fail to set his heart racing. “If you can’t handle a little playful banter, Verstappen, you’d better get used to keeping your distance now that we’re colleagues for the foreseeable future.”

The words slam into Max with surprising force, hitting a little too close to the bone. Unconsciously, his gaze darts over you in a way that feels far too intimate for mere colleagues. Lingering on the delicate curve of your neck as you tip your head back, the lush pout of your lips, the swaying tendrils of hair escaping your updo which he inexplicably longs to brush back into place.

All at once the reality of your new role truly sinks in — that he’ll be seeing you at every single race from now until god knows when. The thought fills Max with a dizzying blend of elation and trepidation.

On one hand, the prospect of having you perpetually woven through his life in this shiny new professional capacity is enough to make his pulse kick up in giddy anticipation.

But on the other, it terrifies him to his core. You have an uncanny ability to constantly keep him off-balance, as endlessly fascinating as you are maddening. This casual flirtation between you has taken on undercurrents he’s no longer certain he wants to shy away from acknowledging. At least, not when the thought of shutting it down fills Max with a hollow ache he can’t put words to.

He’s pulled from his spiraling reflections as an impeccably dressed older man in a crisp suit materializes at your side, placing a wizened hand on your shoulder.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Vettel! I was just coming to fetch you for our preliminary sustainability council meeting with the rest of the advisory board.” The man’s eyes twinkle with unmistakable approval as he regards you. “Although from the looks of it you’ve already started getting the lay of the land around here and, ah, asserting your new directives shall we say?”

You shoot him a conspiratorial grin, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “Let’s just say I’ve had a productive first day on the job so far, Mr. Haywood. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Max recognizes the man as Stephen Haywood, one of the senior F1 board members and the person primarily responsible for bringing you on in this ground-breaking new eco initiative. He chuckles indulgently at your quip.

“That’s exactly what we’re counting on from you, my dear. Ruffling some feathers and dragging this whole operation into the future, come hell or high water. I have the utmost confidence you’re going to revolutionize Formula 1 in ways we can’t even conceive yet.”

You beam at the praise, visibly swelling with determination. Haywood gives your shoulder another squeeze before gesturing down the paddock. “Shall we? We’ve got a long agenda ahead to tackle your big plans.”

“Absolutely,” you say eagerly, turning to follow him. But not before pausing to shoot Max one last heated look from over your shoulder, dropping your voice to a sultry murmur. “Don’t go too far, Verstappen. I’ve still got plenty more to say to you later.”

And with a tantalizing wink, you sashay away after Haywood in that maddeningly hypnotic way that you know reduces Max to an incoherent mess every time. All he can do is gape after your retreating figure, the sway of those hips in that perfectly tailored skirt rendering him utterly useless.

As you disappear around the corner, Max feels the dam inside him finally burst in a torrential flood of overwhelming emotion. Everything suddenly clicks into startling clarity in one shuddering epiphany that leaves him unmoored:

He’s in love with you.

Desperately, all-consumingly, recklessly in love in a way he never saw coming and is wholly unprepared to process. All those months pretending you were just an amusing diversion, a source of intrigue and refreshing friction in his otherwise orderly life. All the times he battled against the obvious chemistry simmering between you, tried to downplay it as mere physical attraction between opposing forces.

But now it washes over Max in one shattering wave of truth — the way his world tilts off-axis whenever you’re around, the gravity of your presence drawing him in against his will. How thoroughly and irrevocably you’ve embedded yourself under his skin without him ever truly realizing it was happening until now.

He grips the wall for support, legs feeling abruptly unsteady as his head spins. How is he supposed to reconcile this revelation? That his heart now lies so completely in the hands of this fierce, untamable woman utterly hellbent on dismantling and revolutionizing his entire life’s work in the name of environmentalism.

The delicious contradictions of having fallen for someone whose core values and purpose seem to exist in such direct opposition to his own are enough to make Max’s head throb dizzily. You are his antithesis in so many ways — that headstrong passion a perpetual thorn in his side, continually pushing and prodding him out of his self-imposed boundaries.

And yet … he couldn’t be more completely enthralled.

It’s that relentless challenging of his beliefs, that refusal to settle for complacency, that has drawn Max in and held him captivated against his will from the very beginning. In you he’s found a riveting counterpoint to the blinkered single-mindedness of his existence, a refreshing perspective that somehow makes him want to be a bigger, better version of himself.

Even now, just the phantom echo of your parting words has him straightening unconsciously, feeling almost chastened and bereft in the wake of your absence. Max has never been one to dwell on his emotions, preferring to analyze and compartmentalize until they’re boxed away into neat, manageable parcels.

But this all-encompassing feeling storming through him in your wake is anything but neat or manageable. It’s wild and catastrophic, crackling with the dangerous intensity of a lightning strike clawing its way across the horizon in slow motion.

Just the thought of looking into those blazing eyes and owning the truth of his feelings for you sends Max into a panic, chest squeezing with anxious breath. You have always seen through his feigned nonchalance, cut straight through to the bone with that penetrating stare. He has no idea how to even begin existing openly in the same space as you without his heart shining through brazenly for the entire world to witness.

His fist clenches against the cold metal of the garage wall as an irrational surge of bitterness lances through him. How dare you just sweep into his rigidly controlled life with all that blistering confidence and conviction, making him feel things he never wanted to feel? Upending his carefully maintained reality without a second thought, all in the name of your damned causes?

You weren’t supposed to get this far under his skin. He was just supposed to have a bit of fun, indulge in your company as a momentary diversion at most. And now Max is in so disastrously deep that he has no idea how to drag himself back out.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there warring with himself, torn between exhilarated possibility and vehement denial. What he does know is that his entire world has been turned upside down. And despite the terror rattling his bones, despite the desperate urge to somehow ignore the sheer enormity of this jolt to his system … he can’t muster the will to try and wrestle back control.

Not when the thrill of finally surrendering to you sends such intoxicating electricity crackling through every fiber of his being.

Max peels himself from the wall with renewed resolve, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He needs to steel himself, because avoiding you is clearly no longer an option. Not when your irresistible pull is only amplified now that you’ll be a near-permanent fixture in his life.

He has to face this head-on, confront the exhilarating chaos you’ve wrought in his carefully cultivated existence. Which means pushing down the churning jumble of emotions rattling around in his ribcage before they become too overwhelming.

“Get a grip, man,” Max mutters sternly to himself, knocking the heel of his palm against his temple as if to physically dislodge his internal storm. “It’s just Vettel. You’ve dealt with her shit-stirring antics a million times before. You can handle this new ... development.”

His words carry neither confidence nor conviction, but Max forges on anyway, straightening his shoulders as he plunges back into the fray of the paddock. If he can just maintain some semblance of outward equilibrium, he can get through this.

One foot in front of the other, he winds past the crowd towards his driver’s room as if in a trance. Any minute now, you’ll saunter back through in that mouthwateringly crisp ensemble, eyes bright with hard-won strategy and single minded intent.

And Max will just … what? Calmly confront you as if his entire understanding of your dynamic hasn’t undergone a seismic fucking shift in the last five minutes?

He barks out a mirthless laugh at the impossibility of such a scenario. Any pretense of indifference has surely been shattered between you now. All his meager attempts at deflecting through banter and heated bickering ring hollow to his own ears after this shattering realization.

No, for better or worse, Max has finally tumbled over that precipice he’d been teetering on for so long when it comes to you. Now more than ever before, he dreads and craves the prospect of your next meeting in equal, searing measure.

Because whether he’s ready or not … whether he thinks he can handle the fallout or not … you’ll be able to read every devastating truth written across his face this time.

When your paths inevitably cross again, Max knows there will be no more hiding from you the shift of feelings you’ve unleashed within him.

This time, he’ll be entirely and terrifyingly laid bare.

***

Three Years Later

The crisp mountain air fills Max’s lungs as he straightens up, wiping a trickle of sweat from his brow with a satisfied smile. The freshly tilled soil stretches before him in neat rows, ready and waiting to nurture the seeds you meticulously selected.

“Nice work, Mein Löwe,” you call approvingly from across the yard, one hand resting on the swell of your pregnant belly. “That plot is going to be perfect for all our veggies.”

Max’s chest warms at the undisguised pride in your voice as you survey his handiwork. Just a few years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of voluntarily getting his hands dirty like this. But ever since that fateful day at the airport … everything has changed.

“Yeah, well, be sure to put me to work weeding and watering too,” he shoots back with an easy grin. “Gotta earn my keep as the cabana boy around here.”

You roll your eyes in playful exasperation even as an affectionate smile tugs at your lips. “I’ll be sure to get you a tiny little outfit.”

The teasing remark might have once pricked Max’s fragile ego. But now he simply shakes his head with a low chuckle, marveling at how natural, how right it feels to be the subject of your gentle ribbing. In the years since that first charged encounter, your barbs have sanded down his prickly edges until only his core of wry tenderness remains.

You cross the yard toward him, sunlight glinting off the tousled tendrils of hair that frame your face. Up close, Max can make out the dark crescent smudges under your eyes from many sleepless nights spent mapping out plans for this property — from the aerogel insulation in the walls to the extensive geothermal heating system to the solar panels spanning the roof.

Most people would have long ago surrendered in exhaustion when presented with building the world’s most environmentally sustainable home from the ground up. But not you. You had steadfastly urged him onward, determined to make this place a paragon of renewable living for your growing family.

His growing family, Max mentally corrects himself with a jolt of surprise that still hasn’t faded, even after all this time.

As if reading his mind, you pause before him, gently taking his calloused hands in yours. “Think you can handle planting all those seedlings tomorrow without me? The back pains are really kicking my ass lately.”

Max’s lips quirk upwards at the feisty lilt to your voice. “Getting a little too old to be bending over in the dirt for hours, liefje?”

“Hey, watch it!” You protest with a laugh, playfully batting at his chest. “I’m literally growing an entire human here. Maybe have some sympathy for your poor wife?”

“Alright, alright,” Max chuckles, sliding his hands reverently over the swollen curve of your belly. A sense of awe washes over him, just as it does each time he’s reminded of the incredible miracle blooming inside you — a tiny life that is half him, half this fierce, passionate woman he once couldn’t stand.

He leans in to press his forehead tenderly to yours. “I’ve got it all covered tomorrow. Why don’t you take it easy for once?”

You let out a derisive snort at the suggestion. “Yeah, like that’ll happen. Maybe if you massage my back tonight, though ...”

“Deal,” Max murmurs without hesitation, tilting his head to steal a lingering kiss.

Your lips are soft and pliant against his, still electrifying even after all this time. Max marvels yet again at this strange, thrilling new world you’ve ushered him into — one of quiet moments and domesticity and fulfillment. A world that his former self, obsessed with roaring engines and adrenaline, could have never envisioned.

But even as your mouths move in that timeless, familiar dance, Max’s mind drifts back to that fateful first encounter outside his jet all those years ago. The sheer force of your convictions had rocked him to his core then, cracking open the crusty shell around his heart. And before he could blink, you had blossomed into so much more than an impassioned activist — a friend, a confidante, a lover … and now the mother of his unborn child.

At last, you pull away with a contented sigh, cradling Max’s face in your tender palms. “Have I told you lately how grateful I am for you?”

“Once or twice,” he teases gruffly, though his chest clenches with an all too familiar ardor. “But you know I never get tired of hearing it, schatje.”

You beam up at him with utter adoration shining in your eyes. A look that never fails to disarm Max straight to his core. How had it taken so many years of chasing empty accolades for him to finally find this all-encompassing serenity?

“I just ...” You pause, worrying your full lower lip between your teeth. A sure sign you’re struggling to untangle an emotion webbed with complexity. “I never imagined I could be this … content.”

Your gaze drifts wistfully across the sweeping valley before your mountainside property, the majestic peaks dusted with snow on the horizon. For a beat, Max envisions it all through your eyes — the staggering beauty of this utopia you’ve carved out for your budding family, its self-sustaining existence treading as lightly on the earth as possible.

“After so many years fighting and railing against the system, to find this pocket of peace ...” You shake your head slowly, almost deliriously. “It’s more than I could have dreamed.”

Inexplicably, Max feels his eyes prickling with a sudden thickness at your reverent murmur. A lump forms in his throat, welling with all the indescribable gratitude and tenderness that still threatens to overwhelm him at times like this.

“You know,” he rasps out at last, tracing his thumb reverently over the sharp line of your jaw. “After that day at the airport in Nice … I tried so hard to shake the way you made me feel.”

A wistful smile plays across your lips at the memory as your eyes meet his in silent invitation. You’re hanging on his every word now — a state Max still struggles to wrap his mind around at times.

“No matter what I did, or where I traveled, part of me couldn’t escape your voice in my head,” Max continues, pushing through the lump in his throat. “Demanding that I question my way of life, open my eyes to how careless I had been.”

You nod slowly in recognition, lacing your fingers through his. The remembered combativeness from that long ago confrontation has faded now, giving way only to understanding between the two people who recognize each other most profoundly.

“At first, I just tried blocking you out,” Max admits with a rueful chuckle. He dips his head until your foreheads are brushing again as his voice lowers to an intimate rasp. “But the more I pushed you away, the deeper you burrowed inside me. Until I finally stopped fighting it and just … listened.”

He feels your sharp inhale as his words skate warmth down your skin. Slowly, almost unconsciously, your fingers tighten around his in solidarity.

“And look at us now,” you murmur at last, awestruck and achingly tender all at once.

In your eyes, Max glimpses the past, present and future stretching out in dizzying symmetry — those first fierce sparks of passion blossoming into the steadfast love that shelters your growing family. He sees the painstaking nurturing required to transform a confrontation into a partnership over years of effort and understanding.

Most of all, he sees the promise of new dawns yet to come, with each one awakening to your cherished, reverent teachings about the earth’s splendor and fragility.

His heart clenches fit to burst as Max drinks in your beauty — flushed and glowing with new life, still beaming with that incandescent fire that had first seared into his soul. Only now, it burns only for him, a flame stoking devotion and passion and sanctuary.

Just as Max leans in to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, the shrill chime of the doorbell shatters the moment. You spring apart with a breathless laugh.

“Fuck, I forgot Seb was supposed to be coming over today!” You give Max’s chest one last pat before turning toward the house, waddling slightly with the added weight of your pregnant belly.

Max grins fondly, trailing after you at a more leisurely pace. He can’t resist one last admiring glance over his shoulder at the pristine vegetable garden stretching behind the cottage — an oasis of sustainable beauty, just like the life you’ve created here.

As you reach the front door, pulling it open eagerly, Sebastian’s familiar lopsided grin greets you both from the other side. Your brother’s eyes immediately zero in on your rounded midsection, his expression melting into one of pure adoration.

“Oh, Bärchen, you’re positively glowing!” He exclaims, sweeping you into a gentle hug. “How’s my little niece or nephew treating their mom?”

You let out a dramatic groan, leaning back to shoot Max an exaggerated look of suffering. “This kid’s already high maintenance, just like their father. I’ve got swollen ankles, back pains, you name it.”

“Hey now,” Max interjects with a chuckle, sidling up to join the familiar banter. He claps Sebastian’s shoulder affectionately. “If they end up being anything like you in the baby stage, we’re in for a whole new world of sleep deprivation.”

Sebastian returns the grin, unfazed. “Like you aren’t an even bigger handful than me.”

You snort indelicately, looping your arm through Max’s as you shuffle back to allow Sebastian inside. “Are you kidding? With my influence, this baby will be an expert environmentalist before they’re out of diapers.”

“You wish,” Max shoots back with a smirk, his eyes twinkling. He knows better than anyone the depth of your convictions — and appreciates them more than he can put words to.

As the three of you bicker playfully, Max’s chest fills with an overwhelming sense of contentment. Just a few years ago, he could have scarcely imagined this scenario — the love of his life heavy with his child, her doting brother at their side, their sprawling eco-paradise as the idyllic backdrop.

But now, as he guides you both into the spacious, sunlit living room, Max knows without a doubt that this is exactly where he belongs.

Here, sheltered in the passionate wake of your ceaseless quest to better the world. Here, in the eye of the storm you had first raged into his life, upending everything until his soul had no choice but to still and listen.

You shoot him a private smile, reading his thoughts as easily as breathing. In your bright eyes, Max sees the future stretching out blissfully — a path paved by your determined heart that he will gladly tread in partnership forever.

All because on one fateful day, you had dared to make him question everything. And in doing so, unveiled the peace and purpose he never knew he craved.

[caeunot]

Can you do a friends to lovers fic for johnnie with them being super touchy as friends

i love this !! thank you for also being my first ever ask<3

johnnie guilbert x reader

you and johnnie have been friends for a few months now, you two became close quite fast since you both have similar interests and world views. you didn't have a youtube channel of your own but you loved making lil cameos in johnnies vids or even jakes since you love eating almost as much as he does.

you were hanging out with jake and johnnie with a few other of their friends like jc and scuff, you guys had been out the whole day and you were exhausted. as you made it to the couch you slumped next to johnnie and complained about how tired you were, "im sure it's fine if you lie down for a bit" he said, you nodded and lay down on johnnies lap using it as a pillow. at first he looked a bit confused but he soon relaxed and started gently playing with your hair while still talking to the others.

your friends definitely noticed how touchy you two were, but to be honest your love language was touch and it was painfully obvious, so no one over thought when you were extra affectionate towards johnnie. when the two of you were together you would often fix his hair or if a peice of his clothing was folded you would fix, sometimes the two of you would even cuddle depending on the circumstances.

you didn't intend to actually fall asleep but you did, and when you eventually did wake up you felt a soft blanket on top of you, you then looked around and realized that everyone was gone. well everyone except johnnie. he was still on the couch with one hand on your waist the other on his phone.

"hey sleepyhead you finally awake?" you sat up and rubbed your eyes, "why did u let me fall asleep that's so embarrassing.. how long has it been" you say anxiously as you can see it's become dark outside. "only 4 hours" he says with a smug face, making you roll your eyes.

you dramatically fell forward into his shoulder, "four fucking hours" you mutter through his shirt. he puts his phone down and let his hands run through the hair by your shoulders before slowly pushing you up to face him. "everyone was already tired and left soon after you fell asleep and I didn't mind at all okay? I promise it's fine" he says with a reassuring smile.

you appreciate his words but demand that you do something for him in return, as your looking into his eyes you then decided what it is, "can I remove your makeup for you? as like a thank you!" he makes a confused face (which reminded you of a puppy). "you don't have to do anything, makeup wipes take basically a minute to use there's really no need"

but your mind had already been made, plus since you were staying over for the night you had brought all your skincare and decided to give him a mini facial.

you sat down on the side of their bathtub and johnnie sat down next to you, you took out a wipe and started removing the makeup. you then held his cheek in your other hand so that his face can be more stable. when your done you let him splash his face with water and you take out your foaming cleanser. to do this you sat even closer to him, basically feeling his breath as you took your hands and gently massaged the cleanser into his face.

"i don't think you could be a professional with those nails, like your so close to poking my eyes out" he says after you finished, he noticed your facial expressions change, "but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it" he says almost defensively.

as you finish off with moisturizer you can see he's on the verge of falling asleep, you knew you were done but a part of you didn't want this to end. "hey johnnie there's ooone more thing to do okay?" he nods and let's you lead him towards his room. "you can just sit down on your bed" you say confidently, as if there was an actual need for any of this. johnnie is that exhausted to the point where he is just mindlessly following your instructions, which made what you were going to do a whole lot easier.

when he sat down you also started yawning yourself, as if you didn't just come out of a nap but anyways. you took his hairbrush from his side tables and sat down next to him. without saying a word you started to brush his hair while gently moving it around. "are you having fun" he says, scrunching his face up slightly.

once you finished and put the brush down you decided to be a little more forward and leaned back against the end of the bed while gently moving johnnie so that he's laying on your chest. he didn't say a word until you started brushing your fingers through his hair, this time you moved it in a way where your long nails were massaging him and he accidentally let out a small whimper.

he immediately got embarrassed and sat up. "shit sorry I know you didn't mean it that way I'm just exhausted and it felt really good'". you noticed that from those words the tension between the two of you seem to change. "hey it's okay, just come sit back down". he bites his lip in slight hesitation but he then goes and sits back down in his original spot.

you massaged his head gently for a bit longer before slowly moving yourself lower to where you faced him on the pillow. "the spare room is so far away, can I just sleep here tonight?" without responding, johnnie slips his arm around your waist and tucks himself gently against your chest. "yes please".

❣

[munsonsmixtapes]

Smutty request ? ;) Perv!Eddie, Dark!Eddie?

Eddie and the reader and neighbours, their bedrooms and wall to wall and one night Eddie heard the moans of the reader, she is touching herself. He decides to join in, but whilst listening he hears her moan his name…

perv!Eddie x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) masturbation (both f and m) oral (m receiving) slightly dom!Eddie, perv!Eddie, clothes ripping

It wasn’t a secret that the walls of your apartment were very thin. You could always hear your neighbors and vice versa. That was why you always tip toed around the place, although, the neighbors to the right of you never seemed to extend the same curtesy since they always seemed to scream at each other late into the night.

And your neighbor to the left of you played his guitar when you were trying to go to sleep, but you hardly minded that. It was like a little lullaby that helped you go to sleep every night, and maybe sometimes you pretended that the song was for you.

In fact, you actually had developed a little crush on him. And how could you not have? He was hot and rode a motorcycle and would flirt with you when you both ended up at your mailboxes at the same time.

Your little crush escalated, though, to the point of no return. It had gotten to the point where you were trying to see him every chance you got, so close to just knocking on his door to give him your number. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the confidence. So, you settled for the company of your fingers when your feelings got to be too much, imagining that it was him who was doing all the work.

You got into your bed after a long night at work and felt yourself getting worked up as you spotted Eddie in the lobby with a girl on his arm. He was escorting her out of the building and you didn’t know why you were jealous. The man had maybe uttered a few words to you and flirty as they may have been, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Or anything to you for that matter, except for your neighbor.

You were more horny than you ever had been and you really needed your fix especially after having thought about the man all day. He was quickly becoming your the star of your fantasies and you were going to take what you could get, knowing that he was never going to actually do any of that stuff to you. If he had wanted you that way, you would have already slept together, right?

Your quickly took off your jeans and stuck your hand down your pants, shoving your fingers up your cunt, a loud moan escaping from your mouth as you moved them around, on the hunt for that particular spot that always had you seeing stars.

Eddie’s ears perked up at the noise, his tv show no longer interesting as the sound floated through his ears. He had heard you masturbate more times than he could count, but never like this, never hearing you so enthusiastic while pleasuring yourself.

And he knew it was you because he would have recognized your moans anywhere, able to remember exactly what you sounded like even without you making noises on the other side of the wall to compare. Those sounds were living rent free in his head and he never wanted them to move out.

If he was being honest, he thought it was hot, loving to hear the sounds you made, them often leading him to masturbation, but he would always move to the bathroom so you couldn’t hear him.

He had gotten off more times in the small amount of time that you liver there then he had in his entire life. It had gotten to the point where he was jacking off almost every night, not being able to keep his cock from tenting in his pants at the delicious moans that were falling from your lips.

At some point, though, he decided to add a woman into the mix, needing to actually fuck someone instead of having his hand do the job. And it was good, great, even, but he couldn’t help but imagine your face on top of hers, your moans filling his ears instead of hers.

And he didn’t feel right fucking her when he wasn’t all in, so he sent her home, trying his best to be a gentleman about it. So, he was back to square one, listening to you, wishing that he was the one to do the job.

He pressed his ear to the wall, trying to see if that would help him hear you even better. It didn’t. It just made the noises sound more muffled and not nearly as hot. He looked down and could see that he was already hard. That had to be a record of some sort. Maybe if he went over there, you’d take care of him-

“Eddie.” His eyes widened as he realized that his name had come out of your mouth. He paused, his hand hovering over his very hard cock as he waited to see if you’d say it again to confirm that he wasn’t just hearing things.

“Eddie, oh my god,” it was louder now and an involuntary whine fell from his lips, suddenly needing yours to suck him off. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He had to do something.

Before he could stop himself, he rushed out of his room and suddenly, he was in the hallway, knocking on your door, hoping that you would answer it before anyone could see his very hard cock.

The knocking on the door immediately pulled you out of your trance and you realized what you were doing. It made you feel crazy for even thinking about it, but there you were, coming up with your own scenario, wondering who was at your door, ruining the whole thing for you.

You removed your fingers from your cunt and wiped them off with a tissue before pulling on some sleep shorts you had in the floor. You then let out a groan and headed to the door, contemplating on pretending that you weren’t home so you could go back to your fantasy.

You ripped the door open, fully prepared to yell at the person on the other side, but only let out a gasp as you saw who it was. And then, without another thought, you slammed the door closed, pushing yourself against it as you felt your chest rise and fall as your heart rate picked up.

He had heard you moan his name and now he was coming to complain, telling you that he thought it was weird and that you needed to knock it off. That had to be it, right? There was no way he was coming to help you…finish the job right? Maybe only in your dreams.

Once you had calmed down, you opened the door again, met with his smile that always made you melt. He was dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt that was promoting his band, Corroded Coffin. How was it that he even looked hot in pajamas? God, you really needed to get laid.

“Hi,” you said, unsure of how else to greet him since it wasn’t every day that he was knocking on your door. In fact, he had never done that in the six months that you had lived there. It was odd to say the least.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I couldn’t help but overhear you, you know, thin walls. And I was wondering if…you wanted some help? Again, let me know if I completely misread the-“

Before Eddie could even finish his sentence, you pulled him into your apartment, letting the door slam behind him. You then pressed your lips to his in a messy kiss, the thing being all teeth and tongue as you both tried to satisfy your hunger for each other.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth as his hand moved down your panties, on the hunt for your pussy, and once he found it, he shoved his fingers inside you, a delicious moan falling from your lips.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” He chuckled as he pumped his fingers in and out, his lips right by the shell of your ear. “My fingers inside you? Could hear you begging for me, but don’t worry I’ll take care of you. Open you up so you’re wide enough for me.”

His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, but your underwear proved to be a problem, a barrier in the way of your pleasure. Before you could even ask him to take them off, they were already on the floor by your feet.

He then continued his work, watching you come undone just from his fingers, your head falling back and your loud moans and whines falling from your lips. You were so fucking hot. An angel for sure.

“Look so hot on my fingers, but I bet you’d look even hotter on my cock.”

“I second that,” you replied as another moan left your mouth. “Eddie-shit.”

“Look at you. Barely even did anything and you’re so close,” he chuckled. “I have to say, those sounds are even hotter without the wall to separate us. Come on,” he urged, curving his fingers and they hit just the right spot. “Cum for me angel. Wanna hear you scream my name.”

You did just that, a scream ripping through you, his name on your tongue, sounding so pretty coming from your mouth. He removed his fingers and waited until your eyes were open before holding his fingers out to you.

“Want a taste?” He asked, the words sounding so innocent, but seeing your slick covering his fingers, it just sounded so filthy. You had a feeling he had a dirty mouth.

You nodded furiously, wanting to know what you tasted like. Eddie grabbed onto your chin with his free hand and pushed your mouth open before slowly putting his fingers inside.

“Now suck.” You did as he asked, licking and sucking on his fingers, not even focused on how they tasted, his pretty brown eyes taking up your every thought. They were clouded with lust and you knew that just by looking into them that he could have gotten you into trouble if he knew that you’d do whatever he asked just by batting his long lashes.

A whine fell from his lips as he watched you, desperate to have you suck him off, but he wanted to get inside you first, wanting to know what it felt like with his cock bare. He was fully intending on pounding into you for hours on end, not wanting you to be able to walk for days.

“Good girl,” he said as he removed his fingers from you, your slick completely licked clean from them. “I think you deserve something for being so obedient.”

“You finally gonna fuck me?” You asked, your words coming out much more desperate than you intended.

“Yup,” he nodded and backed you up the wall that was right by your room. He pressed his lips to yours in a rough kiss, taking no time to slip his tongue inside, letting it swirl around yours. He then pulled away and pushed his pants and underwear down, your eyes immediately moving to his cock. It was large and veiny and you were even more wet thinking about where it was about to be.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Me neither. But I kind of like the idea of you not wearing one.” You were saying all the words he had been wanting to hear, almost as if you were in his head.

“Me too.”

“I’m on birth control so go for it. Please.”

Eddie grabbed onto the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slid inside you, not hesitating to pound into you. You moaned so loudly that he couldn’t help but do the same thing, not even able to control himself when he heard you make those pretty sounds.

“Sound so pretty, angel,” he said. “Make some more noise. Be as loud as you want. I want the whole building to know that I fucked you good.” He continued to pound into you, your sounds being music to his ears, letting him know that he was doing all of the right things.

You had fucked people, sure, but never with so much urgency, never with the man being just as needy as you. And he had such a way with words, able to make you close to cumming just by whispering the filthiest things into your ear.

He continued to pound into you, so close to cumming right there, his own moans falling from his lips. He looked so hot, soaked in sweat, the stuff clinging to his curls and weighing them down a bit. You could see a bit forming on the collar of his shirt and you were hoping that the piece of clothing would have been drenched by the time he was done with you.

You grabbed at his shirt, tugging on it with so much effort that you both paused when you heard ripping noise. You both looked down to see that the middle that ripped apart slightly, his white skin very visible underneath.

“Rip it,” he encouraged. “I’ve got a ton just like it.”

You ripped the shirt a little more then pulled it over his head, wanting to get rid of the thing entirely, his tattoo covered chest coming into view. You could feel yourself salivating as you found yourself wanting to run your tongue all over his torso.

Eddie could see the look in your eyes, pounding into you once more as you let vision went hazy, your orgasm ripping through you, his name falling from your lips just like he had been imagining for months.

He then pulled out, his cock still leaking with cum. Once you came down from your orgasm, he set you down and you pressed your lips to his, backing him up to the couch where you pushed him down. He loved seeing you like this, wanting you to take control and do whatever you wanted to him as he was pliant underneath you.

You removed your shirt and lowered yourself down onto him, your lips connecting with his collar bone you then moved down, licking and sucking as you did so, not wanting to leave any tattoo untouched. You could hear his stuttered breaths and his moans perfectly the walls no longer being a barrier. They were so clear and loud and you were eating it up, loving how you were able to make him come absolutely undone.

“Wow, look at you,” you said, grabbing onto his cock, giving it a slow stroke and he let out a gasp, his eyes looking blissed out, but he could definitely take some more. “Cumming so much that it’s all over you, baby. Need me to take care of you?”

“Please,” he whined and you smirked, removing your hand from him and taking his, guiding it to his cock.

“You’ve gotta jack off first. I want to see if it’s like what I’ve been imagining. If you close your eyes like I think you do. If you moan my name. Bet you do, don’t you Eddie?”

He put his hand at the base and moved it up and down just like he did in his bathroom so many times before. He let out a moan and you sat back and watched him, his eyes shutting tight as he did so. Cum leaked from it and you were salivating just thinking about sucking it all up. How it would taste.

He continued to move his hand back and forth, the most delicious moans falling from his lips, your name being his word of choice. He looked so fucking hot like that and knowing that you were the reason he was jacking off was even hotter.

“I think you’re ready for me,” you told him and he turned on the couch, his back lining up with the back of it and he spread his legs wide so he had space for you to fit.

“I’m ready,” he said through labored breaths and you took no time to grab the base and take him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head to test the waters, wanting to hear him beg for it.

You gave a small suck and looked up at him, his whine sounding like music to your ears. He let out another one and you decided to give him what he wanted, giving his cock a hard suck, your tongue moving back and forth the bottom of it. You rested your hand on his knee while the other gripped his balls, giving them a hard squeeze.

“Oh my god,” he moaned and that sounded like an invitation to continue. “Fuck, you’re really good at this.”

You removed your hand from the base and looked up at him as you took all of him into your mouth, a gasp escaping his. Your eyes watered, but you didn’t care. You were just so focused on pleasing him, hoping he’d fuck you again the next day.

You gave his balls another hard squeeze and spread his legs wider to give you more room to get closer. You continued to lick and suck, pulling even more sounds from him. He was now seeing stars and you could tell that he had finished when a large wad of cum leaked out onto your tongue.

You pulled him out of your mouth and looked him directly in the eye as you swallowed before standing from the floor, feeling your legs getting wobbly from the way he had just fucked you senseless. He was quick to grab you by the hands and stood up from the couch before gathering you into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Bedtime, hm?” He asked and it looked like you were about to argue, but he squeezed your hip, causing you to let out a yelp. “Don’t worry, angel. There’s more where that came from. But we’ll continue in the morning and I’ll eat you out since you were so generous with your mouth just now.”

He carried you to your room, laying you down onto it then pulling the covers over top of you. He then got in on the other side and pulled you to him, bare skin to bare skin. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before promising to be there in the morning before you both drifted off to sleep, dreaming of nothing but each other and what you had gotten up to. Both wishing that it was already morning so you could go for round two. There was no way it could ever be a one night stand.

[jamieenthusiast]

I yap about Forever + Falling with you

Forever being the end song to murder drones- and its lyrics being what they are

gives me the impression Murder Drones was a big love story about opening up and trust hidden under mounds of comedy and violence

And I dont mean that it ACTUALLY is, its more just.. a silly little feeling I get when i listen to it

Theres something about the song thats so... cozy? So like, softly spoken. A very hummable melody from one lover to another.

also falling with you, like what the fuck

never in my life have I felt a track was so carefully crafted- and prepared, carved out for two specific characters in one specific moment.

She made the choice to sacrifice herself- for him. In her eyes it was the end and if at the end of everything she could guarantee the life of one person it was going to be the one she loves, she didnt know what would be at the other end,

The thing is, he wanted to be there for her. Even when they're knocking on deaths door, he needs to be there.

Its like trust fall exercise, except the focus isnt on 'catch me' cause they'd never let the other fall,

its about making sure they dont fall when youre not looking. It hurts both parties, to crash without warning and to see the one you love fall

I *love* that they dont speak here. She looks to the side, shifting her glances before looking at him.

An unspoken guilt ridden apology.

The response he chooses?

forgiveness,

Even if the result of her actions hurt him- her intentions were good and meant to be entirely in favor of him

And in this moment, with their current history and with a yet to be seen future, he forgives her,

Cause at the very least, they're together again. He could save her.

And her look just, screams thank you to me.

Thank you for forgiving me, saving me-

for everything :) /ref

lighthearted preparation for whats to come :)

legitimately, what she says, reiterating herself "die mad bitch"

knowing theyre heading into the end of the world to prevent it?? Theyre going off to the fucking trenches together, key word this time being together

And then the horrible unexpected !

Uzi is ripped away from N, confronted with what her home has become, the universe is practically screaming at her to fix it, pushing her towards the end without mercy

But shes not doing it alone, she cant do it alone, not again, not this time

And he wouldnt let her

The universe could endlessly attempt to wield its cosmic grasp to push these two apart but itd never work, itd never end with them alone

Their love- their pure devotion to each other,

is so celestial in its own right

Not super related to my ramble but i love that in them becoming official (I will not call this a confession, N definitely confessed the previous episode)

Uzis so.. wagh.. her eyes.

That trademark look of panic or worry- I mean what would you expect from the black sheep of the colony? Being excluded on the daily, left to your own abandoned devices?? The reassurance she was requesting just, ughh.. my heart...

and the way. He fucking looks at her

Its so, soft. He knows she has not a thing to worry about. His heart is completely and utterly hers. Where most would die for their love, he lives for her.

The universe would be dammed to ever try and separate pure unbridled love like this ever again

ERM< ANYWAY that was super gay ew idk why im like. obsessed with their relatinshuio ahhajfhdgjbsjhfm someone blow me up

[freelancearsonist]

Parts and Labor

➔ Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - 5k

➔ Eddie’s van is practically falling apart, but he doesn’t have the heart to replace it. Luckily for him, you’re willing to put in the effort to fix it—as long as he helps.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (f receiving), heavy petting, creampie, fingering, cumplay, Eddie has scars and lies about where he got them, reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader is a mechanic [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

“SHIT, FUCK!”

Eddie slams down the hood of his van, kicks the front tire as hard as he can, then winces–both at the sudden pain in his foot and at the overreaction.

“Come on baby, please,” he pleads futilely to the unresponsive engine. “I’ll give you anything, just start.”

The engine, apparently, won’t be seduced.

Eddie digs through the pocket of his low-slung jeans, finds a dime somewhere in the pile of gum wrappers and old receipts, and runs to stick the coin into the nearest payphone booth.

The garage answers on the last ring, and Eddie doesn’t even have to identify himself. They’re almost as familiar with his junker van as he is himself. They’ve wrung more money out of him for repairs than the damned thing is worth, and Eddie knows it. He knows the vehicle is on its deathbed–repeatedly resuscitated at this point–and that he should just replace it. But he can’t. Beyond fear of hurting its feelings, he’s become attached to it. He’s made memories in that stupid van. To him, replacing his ride would be like wading a huge portion of his life up and throwing it in the trash. He just won’t do it.

The garage is merciful enough to give him a ride there along with towing his poor, lifeless van. He’s not eager to spend a day in the waiting room sipping lukewarm black coffee, but he needs to be there for her. His lady is dying–waiting for news from her doctors is the least he can do.

He forgets all about his lady when you walk through the door.

You’re the Porche 944 of women. He’s never seen anything or anyone quite as breathtaking as you–with the small grease smudge on your cheek, your hair pulled back so sloppily that half of it is already fallen down, and your denim overalls unclipped on one side to show off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt you wear underneath. You’re wiping your hands on a grease rag as you approach him and Eddie just stands in dumbfounded silence. Who are you and where have you been his entire life?

“Munson,” you greet with a slight smile. 

He almost chokes. You know his name? He knows he’s never seen you before in his life–you’re the kind of girl he could never forget. Especially with how much time he’s had to spend here.

“Having trouble getting her to start?” you continue without missing a beat. Eddie doesn’t miss the way you refer to his van, and it makes him impossibly more hooked. “Seems to be a bad ignition coil. Easy enough to fix, except your crankshaft is rusted to shit and I’m honestly surprised the whole engine hasn’t fallen apart when you hit a bump or something. Seriously, it’s dangerous to drive at this point.”

Eddie hears you, but he doesn’t comprehend a single word you’re saying. He’s hyper-fixated on the way your lips form around your words, on how you’re speaking mechanics and you actually understand what you’re saying. He’s never met anyone like you.

“But you can fix her, right?”

You smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “Honestly? My professional advice is to just sell it for scrap and buy a new car.”

It’s like a smack to the face. He has to blink the shock out of his eyes while you stand there so simply, like you didn’t just tell him to kill his darling.

”What’s your unprofessional advice?”

You bite your lip, busy your hands with a grease cloth. “I could fix it. But it’ll take some time, and it’ll be expensive as hell. It would honestly be cheaper to buy new.”

”I’ll pay for the fix,” he says firmly before he can consider what he’s really agreeing to. “I can’t just replace her.”

Your smile is softer when you look back up at him. “I really admire that.”

Those words shouldn’t have as much of an effect on him as they do.

”I can do the job, but not here. There’s no way my boss would let me take up a lift for as long as I need to actually do a good job, and I don’t believe in doing mediocre work. But I’ve got enough equipment at my place if you trust me?”

You’re not only saving his lady, you’re promising not to screw him like so many people have before. He’s thinking about proposing, but he keeps his cool long enough to say, “yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

”How much do you know about cars?”

He notices a strand of hair that’s fallen down into your face, and it takes all his restraint to keep himself from pushing it behind your ear for you.

”I know enough,” he says with a modest shrug.

Your eyes shine with something that he can’t identify as you gaze up at him. “Well, if you wanna help me, I’ll only charge you for parts.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to consider. A chance to spend more time with you, and a discount on repairs? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

The first night he comes over, it’s the sticky hot of a midsummer Indiana evening. He’s in low-slung faded jeans and a baggy white tank top that shows more of his chest than should be legal. There’s so much lightly tanned skin on display that you can’t decide where to focus—much less consider the engine you’re supposed to be working on. You can’t help asking about each little spot of ink you see on his skin, curious to learn even the smallest nuisances of his personality.

He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in this podunk town since your move to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He’s goofy and aloof, charming yet awkward. He’s so gentle and sweet you can practically smell the saccharine of his words as he speaks. He’s an animated speaker—so passionate about everything he does that he puts his whole body into it. There’s a refreshing energy to him that recharges your social battery as he goes, rather than draining it like everyone else does.

By the second night of working on Eddie’s van with him, you’re close enough to call him a friend. You know what seems like every small detail about him—his favorite color, the story behind the small scar on his left knee.

By the third night, you’re fighting every instinct in your brain to keep from throwing him inside said van and having your way with him.

Especially when you deliver to him a cold glass of iced tea and he drinks it in the sluttiest possible way he can—big gulps that send the condensation on the outside of the glass spilling down his chin to leave little paths of wetness down his neck and chest. It’s like full-on torture.

On the fourth night, you’ve had the engine block completely disassembled and ready for the new crankshaft for a couple days. It’s hard for Eddie to see his baby gutted and torn apart this way, but he knows you’ve got the most capable hands of any mechanic he’s ever known. There’s a delicacy and attention to detail in your craft that he’s never seen before, and he’s enraptured with watching you work. He’s even more enraptured by the sticky glistening of your skin in the red-orange light of sunset every night.

There’s really no reason for him to keep meeting you every single evening—all you’re doing at this point is busywork cleaning various parts because the real work can’t be done until the new parts arrive. Both of you know it, too—but neither of you will admit it. You’ve both come to look forward to these few hours together, comfortable even though you’re both sweaty, sticky, and greasy. Suspending them at this point would be a crime.

There’s just the faintest peek of reddish light left over the horizon when the conversation lulls, but Eddie’s not ready to go quite yet. “You hear Megadeth’s touring in Indy this fall?”

”No shit?”

”No shit. Tickets are probably going fast.”

”We should get some,” you say with a cautious glance over at him. This is it—this is as grand of an invitation as you can work up the courage to make. If he can’t take the bait here, you’ll be forever casting lingering glances and praying he’ll make a more substantial move than just eyeing you up and down like you’re the finest, purest water in a parched desert.

Eddie’s heart rate skyrockets even as he’s willing himself not to read too far into your words. ”Yeah? You’d… wanna go with me?”

”Might be nice. To hang out and do something other than pretend to work on your car.”

”All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says with a look that’s far too smug for his own good on his face. 

Even though it’s a little ridiculous, his cockiness flusters you. ”Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

”How could I not? I’ve got the girl of my dreams five feet away from me, I’d be crazy to not want to spend every second I can get with her.”

”Oh, is there someone else here?” You try to giggle and make it sound like a lighthearted joke, but it comes out far more flustered than you mean for it to.

”No. Just you.” It’s only three words, yet you’ve never heard anything more fraught with tension in your life. It’s in his dark eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands clench into fists at his side to keep from reaching for you.

All your eyes can manage to do is trace up the prominent veins in his forearms from his white-knuckled fists. If you meet his eyes, you know your resolve will disappear faster than a delicate snowflake on warm skin.

But he takes a step closer to you, and it’s too late before you can even consider stopping yourself.

His dark eyes are swirling with lust. There’s no mistaking it, no other label for it. It looks animalistic, almost dangerous. He looks like he wants to devour you whole, and you want nothing more than to find out if he will.

”You, umm… need a refill?” You gesture with your eyes to the now empty glass in his hand, then nod toward the house. It’s all the invitation he needs.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Eddie’s hands are on you. They start on your waist, effectively pinning you against the closed door and using you as an anchor to press himself as close to you as he can.

It’s eager and rushed, even a little sloppy. He kisses wet, he kisses deep. It’s like he’s trying to suck the air straight from your lungs, and you let him. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

“Christ,” he mumbles as his hot lips work their way down your neck. “Been wanting to do this for days.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as your fingers work their way into his curls, already nearly overwhelmed with the sensation of his mouth on your overheated skin. “Why didn’t you?”

”Didn’t wanna scare you off,” he confesses. It’s so endearing it pulls a moan from your lips.

“There’s not a lot you could do to scare me off, Eddie.” You mean it; you try to prove it by tugging him closer and slotting him between your legs. You can feel his pent up desire, hard and thick, as it presses against your core through his jeans. The feeling alone makes you ache with desire. It’s like a wave sweeps through you, cascading from head to toe and making everything in its wake prickle with unbearable want. You are molten flame, and he is the only thing that can douse your heat.

No one’s ever had such an astronomical effect on you from doing so little.

Eddie isn’t faring much better. He walks in a fog, blinded by clouding desire—especially so when your leg hitches up and around his hip to tug him harder against you. It’s like his cruise control is set, speed regulating with every incline or downward tilt—adjusting every little movement and touch to draw more breathless moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

A slight tug to his hair snaps him back into his own body, drawing a sudden clarity on the situation. He’s no longer an outsider looking in, as if an astral projection watching and criticizing his every move. Eddie is fully present and hyper-focused on one thing: making sure no other person can ever properly satisfy you again.

”You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs over and over into your skin as he traces kisses over your exposed neck and shoulders. His fingers hook into the strap of your tank top and slide it out of place, making way for a series of open-mouthed kisses as he ensures that not an inch of your skin is neglected.

You keen at his praise and reward him with a gentle tug to his messy curls. “So are you.”

He prickles with affection at your compliment, his cheeks warming in a way that feels completely foreign to him. No one’s ever called him beautiful before—he’s really never thought it could even be applicable to him—but he feels like he could get used to it.

He asks so nicely to take your top off and you give him permission without hesitation. You can see the flash of want in his eyes as he takes in your mostly naked torso, gaze skirting around the boundary of your bra as if he’s too shy to ask again for permission to remove a garment.

You decide to put on a little show as you give him what he wants; you unhook your bra and slide the straps down your arms so achingly slowly he thinks he might combust. And then finally, gloriously, you let the fabric fall to the floor and Eddie gets his first look at your bare chest.

He gapes, open-mouthed, for longer than is frankly comfortable—to the point you’re almost about to cover yourself up again.

And then he says, “Permission to do something highly inappropriate and maybe even a little degrading?”

”Uhh… sure?”

In a flash he’s buried face first in your sternum, hands coming to cup your breasts and dramatically smother himself in your cleavage. He lets out a pleasured groan as you giggle, deft fingers lightly tugging and pinching the sensitive peaks of your nipples. He prickles with pride at the breathy gasp you emit when his mouth starts working—he turns his head to suck one hard mound between his lips and keeps up the pressure with his fingers on the other.

”Sh-shit…” you sigh and slump into his attention, arms hanging like limp ribbons by your sides. “Eddie…”

”Love the way you say my name,” he practically purrs. “So fucking pretty.”

He switches sides now, firmly dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipple before sealing his lips around it and sucking. The pure pressure of it makes you cry out, fingers tugging harshly at his curls.

”Jesus, that feels amazing,” you whine. It’s so good, but it’s not nearly enough at the same time. And it’s like he can sense it—like he’s got some kind of a psychic connection with your body. He adapts immediately to what you need, dropping to his knees to unbutton your jean shorts and deftly slip them down and off your legs. He smooths his palms against your bare thighs and lets you feel the cold kiss of his metal rings against the burning flesh there, all the while looking up at you with dark eyes that you can’t quite identify. There’s lust, sure, but something else in those chocolate orbs. Something akin to adoration—like he’s on his knees preparing to worship you.

”Can I?” Those long, thick fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and you’re nodding before he’s even finished asking.

You wish you could put the sound he lets out once he finally has you bare on vinyl to repeat over and over again. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whimper, completely heady with desire and want; need, even. The fact that he needs you like this is so overwhelming and flattering that you can barely process it. You don’t have time to, because in a moment his lips are wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking. He goes straight past gentle and into pure pressure just like he did with your nipples; as above, so below. And it’s bliss—thigh-quaking, breath-hitching, earth-shattering bliss.

All you can manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the wall his hands have you pinned to. You have to sound absolutely pathetic, but you can’t be bothered to care because you’re precariously close to coming and it’s only been a matter of minutes.

He moans, like he’s tasting the finest, most expensive and decadent cuisine he’s ever had. The sound vibrates against your pussy and travels up your spine all the way to your brain—it nests there and makes it’s home, drives you into a fuzzy state of ecstasy. And all the while that luxurious tongue is hard at work, alternating between lapping thirstily at your entrance and fluttering against your clit in a way that causes every muscle in your abdomen to contract.

Nothing should be able to feel this good—it’s so desperately close to overwhelming. Simultaneously, you would rather die than lose this feeling is it crescendos to a fever pitch.

”Let go,” he murmurs against you, and you know he’s not talking about your grip on his hair. “It’s okay. I gotcha, let go f’me.”

You’ve never fancied yourself to be the obedient type per se, but apparently your body is feeling particularly traitorous today. It takes all of three more seconds before you’re doing exactly what he said—legs trembling with the burden of your weight as you crash and burn on his tongue. You whine and beg and plead, all of it meaningless babble as he works you over and through your pleasure with that wonderful, amazing, perfect mouth of his.

You don’t even process you’re collapsing, but thankfully Eddie does and catches you with ease. There’s a cocky chuckle in his throat as he lays you down on the floor, and you would smack him for it if he hadn’t earned it. Instead, you grab him by the collar of his shirt a little rougher than mean to and drag him to your mouth, relishing in the high-pitched whine he admits at your light manhandling.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, and Eddie can’t help grinding himself hard against your thigh in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his untouched arousal. This kiss is nasty—wet, gnashing, desperate. There’s no control to it on either end.

”That good, huh?” He mutters into your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper—you can’t expect much more when you’re kissing him the way you are, grinding your thigh against his aching cock all the while. And even still, despite his obvious desperation, he manages to be cocky about how hard he made you come.

If you weren’t head over heels for this man before, you certainly are now.

You start tugging at his belt and he chuckles, only growing more sure of himself by the second.

”Wait, baby, lemme take you to bed,” he huffs over the feeling of your hand finally sliding into his jeans where he needs you most.

It makes you gasp when you finally have him in the palm of your hand. As big as he felt through his jeans, nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He’s heavy, achingly thick, and you can feel the way he positively throbs in your grip.

And just as you’re about to agree and show him to your bedroom, you shake your head firmly; because as uncomfortable as this floor is going to feel and as much as your back is going to hate you for it later, you need him now. There’s no time for relocating; if he doesn’t give it to you right now, here in the middle of your living room floor, you think you might perish.

”Right here?” He hums as if he’s not affected at all while he slots himself between your legs. “On the floor? Can’t even wait thirty seconds to let me have you the right way? Dirty girl.”

It’s such a shift in dynamic; not an unwelcome one at all, certainly. But he’s been so shy and timid up until this point—always following your lead, blushing when his hand brushes against yours. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone—if he feels some pressure to perform an act or role, to hide his true personality. 

The thought makes your chest ache a little bit, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s breaking you in half. He’s so slow about it, too; barely pressing his tip into you, giving you time to adjust to every millimeter he gives you. Even still it punches the breath out of your lungs and makes your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

”Shit.” It’s not spoken so much as whined, and suddenly you’re starkly aware of just how much you’re affecting him. You bite your lip to steady yourself so you can look up at him, and the sight alone is almost enough to unravel you. Unruly curls spill down over his shoulder and dangle in the air over you. His mouth hangs open—fast, shallow breaths make his bottom lip quiver. His pupils are so blown with desire you can barely see the warm chocolatey color of his irises.

You’re suddenly aware that in your desperation, you forgot a very important step. He’s still fully clothed—your legs rub against his t-shirt as his hands hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. You almost feel bad about it; in your haze of arousal his attention to your body has brought on, you’ve forgotten to be attentive to his. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands unconsciously come to tug at the fabric.

He chuckles but acquiesces—not before you see a flicker of hesitation pass over his face.

It takes a moment to process what you’re looking at as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side… and then your jaw drops. ”Shit, Eddie!”

He’s quick to quiet your exclamation with a heated kiss, unintentionally shoving himself that little bit deeper into your cunt. It distracts you, but only for a moment. Then you’re pushing yourself up onto your elbows, trying to wrap your mind around the myriad of deep, whitish-pink scars that litter his torso.

“Eddie, what—“

“Car accident,” he lies before he can think better of it. It’s a story he’s told so many times that he’s almost starting to believe it himself. “Couple years back.”

“Jesus,” you whisper as your fingers trace over the poorly healed lines.

“I know. They’re not pretty.”

That one sentence tells you everything you need to know. “It’s not that,” he assure him. “Just… a miracle you survived something that bad.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I got lucky.”

He’s deflating a little bit, and the last thing you want him to do is lose that confidence he’s been exuding. You wrap your arms around your neck and pulls him flush against you, feeling every warm inch of his torso against yours as your tongue tangles with his.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him again. And you mean it.

He draws a gasp from your lips when he presses even closer, every inch of his body covering yours and his length shoved all the way into your needy cunt. It’s almost too much for him—the combination of your tight, wet heat around him; the adoration in your eyes as you look up at him like he’s some kind of god; your hands pulling him closer like you might evaporate if you can’t feel every inch of his body at all times. It’s a heady feeling he’s never experienced before, being wanted this badly. It nearly unravels him—especially when you start bucking your hips up to him in search of the friction you so desperately need.

He sees your need, and it pulls him back into his dutiful role. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He starts with deep, slow thrusts that nearly make you drool—you feel the drag of every single inch against your walls, every vein and ridge and contour. It’s like you’re memorizing the shape of him from the inside out.

One ringed hand slides down your hip and along the length of your thigh to hook beneath your knee, hitching your leg up as high as he comfortably can to spread you wide open for the taking.

You get barely a moment's notice as he draws himself almost all the way out. And then he slams himself back into place—deep, hard, unrelenting. He revels in the sound it draws from you, something between a cry and a plea for more; he silently vows to himself that those little pleasures sounds are going to be all you’re capable of making by the time he’s done with you.

It’s borderline violent, the way he fucks you. His thrusts are relentless and expert in a way you didn’t expect him to be. His lips hardly leave your skin, muffling his moans into hickies and bruises on your neck and chest. His hands grip hard to your body, marks blossoming beneath his fingertips.

You’ve never fallen apart so easily.

“That’s it,” he purrs into your ear as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “Don’t hold back, lemme have it. Please, baby.”

And really, it would be rude to deny him after he’s asked so nicely.

Your orgasm comes like shattered glass. The sound is the first thing you process—your moans drowning out his steady grunts. And then it’s sharp. It drives its shards into your and makes you flinch away from the sensation, so pleasurable it’s almost painful.

You’ve never come just from being fucked before. Sweet, wonderful Eddie carries on working towards his own release like he doesn’t deserve a goddamned award.

“Can I…”

But you’re already nodding, wrapping your legs around his waist and coaxing him deeper—urging him to make a home in the deepest part of you.

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice. He rocks his hips as deep as he can and then presses even closer, the head of him bruising your cervix as he falls apart. And maybe it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the sensation of him painting your walls with rope after rope or warm, sticky release; but you’re not in the mind to psychoanalyze yourself right now. Instead you do your best to help him through it, lightly ghosting the tips of your fingers in soothing patterns on his back as he pants and shudders.

“Holy…”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

It takes him a few minutes to summon the courage he needs to pull his softening length from your warmth, and he bites down on his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood when he sees the absolute mess that slides down the curve of your ass.

”Jesus H. Christ,” he murmurs. His fingers come to swipe up some of the combined cum before he can stop himself, pushing it back into where he’d spilled it to begin with and relishing in the moan you afford him at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your over-sensitive entrance.

He’s so thoroughly enraptured with the sight before him. Your cunt squeezing so tightly around his fingers, cum dripping, desperate to reject due to the overstimulation. And yet you take it without flinching, chest heaving, head falling back against the hardwood floor.

He swipes his thumb over your clit so lightly and yet it still makes you squeeze like a vice around him, and so he does it again. He curls his fingers in search of that spot that made you fall apart so prettily on his cock, and once he finds it he doesn’t relent. That, combined with the light pressure on your clit, is more than enough.

Your thighs tremble, caught indecisively between spreading further open for him and clamping shut on his cum-slicked hand. He watches in awe as your lips part in a silent scream, ass arching up off the floor; and then, as you come down, you have to push him away because it’s finally too much.

”Fuck,” you whimper—he coos so reassuringly as he leans down to gently kiss your lips, errant curls brushing and tickling against your cheeks.

”I know, baby,” he whispers. “God, you’re incredible. Did so good f’me.”

You have to stay still for a moment—let his sweet, gentle kisses bring you back down from the clouds. And then you’re aware of the ache in your back and the absolute puddle forming under your ass, and you push yourself up with a weak groan.

”M’sorry,” he winces in sympathy. “Bed next time, I promise.”

And really, the promise of there being a next time shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat the way it does.

You’re worried things’ll be awkward now, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Working with him now is so much more effortless. The tension isn’t as palpable—it’s a fluid thing that you move through confidently now that your feelings and his are known. He isn’t afraid to watch you anymore, awe and adoration in his eyes as you show him how to reassemble the engine block. He observes your skilled fingers at work, and he’s not afraid to tell you how fucking sexy it is to him. He’s not afraid to rest a hand on the small of your back as he stands beside you, even occasionally getting brave enough to let it slip down and cup your ass. He’s not afraid to be his goofy, adorable, manic self—it’s the best metamorphosis you’ve ever seen.

You finish working on his van finally, and he almost tears up at how well she runs now—although he definitely doesn’t let you see that.

And as worried as you were that finishing this job would feel like the end of whatever this is with Eddie, it doesn’t. You feel secure, somehow, that he’ll keep coming back—for more than just parts and labor.

THE END

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 ily lots

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[kennedyalike]

sex with leon after a fight like jealousy or something idk 🤭🤭

all mine

hope you like this, sorry if it isn’t what you hoped for!!

pairing: leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags: jealousy, possesiveness, p in v sex, car sex, semi public sex

summary: leon sees you working out with carlos and can’t help but feel jealous

word count: 1,78k

you: comin’ to get me?

leon: i’m already in the parking lot, can i come in?

you: be my guest

The gym wasn’t your favorite place, but you had to do what you had to do. While squatting up a huge barbell, your eyes can’t help but to gaze at the door, wondering when Leon would come in. Suddenly the barbell feels lighter and you snap back to reality.

”Hey, focus!” Carlos grunts behind you as he helps you lift the barbell back to the rack. You sigh and stretch your legs quickly, pulling yourself back in the moment. ”Go again. I’ll help, okay?” He reassures you as you lift the barbell back onto your shoulders again. Widening your stance and fixing your posture, you get ready to squat.

Carlos’ hands finds itself grabbing your waist on both sides to help you keep your form. He pulls himself closer, hip almost joining yours as he watches you squat down slowly. You almost forgot all about Leon, focusing on squatting this thing. As you come up and lift the barbell back to its rack, you turn around to Carlos and smile. ”I did it!”

He smiles back at you while you hold your hand up, waiting for a high five. Instead, he pulls you into a hug and you accept it, chuckling as you wrap your arms around him. Carlos’ hands grab your waist again as he hugs you. Over his shoulder, you see Leon standing at the door, waiting for you.

You quickly pull out of the hug and say your goodbyes to Carlos. ”See you monday, lookin’ good!” He compliments you and you nod back, grabbing your gym bag and walking towards Leon. As you walk, he just stares your body up and down the whole way until you’re in front of him, waving your hand jokingly across his face. ”Eyes up here, Leon.” You tease him, but he only looks past you, his brows furrowed. He seems annoyed.

He grabs your arm and practically drags you out of the gym. If Leon knew this was what you were doing at the gym, he wouldn't have allowed you to go there in the first place. Who was he to decide that anyways? He was a friend, just like Carlos. A friend. Except he wasn’t. He was far more than a friend but he wasn’t your boyfriend either. You both knew it was more than friends. Couple dates, hangouts, calls and maybe you two did fuck on occasion, who knows?

Leon wasn’t as dumb as you, Carlos was a good ”friend” you met at the gym who offered to help you to ”keep your form” or whatever. Bullshit. Leon saw right through it just now. The way Carlos’ hands sneaked around your waist, pulling himself closer to you as you squat in front of him. He definitely had ulterior motives, he wasn’t just helping you. But of course, you were too innocent and oblivious to understand.

You furrow your brows in concern while you follow Leon to his car in the parking lot, letting him slightly drag you. ”Leon, is something wrong?” You hesitate to ask as he opens the backseat door of his car for you. Quietness follows and it makes you uneasy, you begin to wonder if Leon is actually jealous of Carlos. Maybe that was your plan all along.

You settle your bag into the legroom and sit, grabbing the door to close it until Leon stops you, suddenly getting into the back seat with you and closing the door after him. Before even beginning to speak, you’re interrupted by his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. A blush creeps on your cheeks as you grab his shoulders and ground yourself, settling both thighs on the sides of his. ”Naughty girl.” Your eyes widen from confusion but you feel your stomach flutter from his words, sending a small sensation down between your thighs.

”You’re not even gonna say anything, hm?” He asks angrily. ”What do you mean, Leon?” You ask confusedly as you look at his annoyed face. He scoffs in return and you feel his grip on your hips tighten. ”You and him, stop that shit.” He says and you can’t help the small smirk forming in the corner of your mouth as you grind into him slightly.

”Are you jealous, Leon?” You tease him as you drag your fingers across his stern chest, looking up at him innocently. He looks away in annoyance and sighs. You continue looking at his face, seemingly unamused. ”He’s just a friend, means nothing bad, I promise.” You say honestly as your hand caresses his cheek, prompting him to look at you. His gaze finally turns to look you in the eyes. ”How would you feel if I went and grabbed some girl's waist while she squats in front of me, huh?”

Your hand never leaves his cheek as you think about it for a second. It would feel horrible, Leon looking at some other woman than you, grabbing her waist like he’s grabbing yours right now. You nod slowly. ”I get it. m’ sorry.” You apologize and nervously look away. He leans in closer to you, whispering to your ear. ”Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart.” His deep voice whispering to your ears sends a tingle down your body as you gasp slightly. ”W-What?”

”You heard me.”

”How?”

He smirks at your words and looks down at your lap, grinding your hips into his and you feel his erection through your gym shorts. ”B-But someone could see us..” You say unsurely as you try to deny the heat that was growing between your thighs. The thought of Leon taking you right here, where someone could see was getting you so wet. ”Then let them see.” The last word of his sentence mumbles quietly as his lips join yours in a kiss. He’s hungrily kissing you, while grinding your hips down on his painfully erect cock.

You grind into him and wrap your arms around his shoulders as you keep kissing him back. The sensation of his soft lips dominating over yours feels as amazing as ever. He was right, you were his and you were gonna prove it to him. His other hand trails up your body from your hips to your tits, he fondles them through your gym shirt, causing you to moan into the kiss slightly. You tilt your head to the left and let him press kisses into your neck. Rough kisses that would definitely leave a mark.

Your body shivers as he breathes into your neck, still pressing kisses. You whimper and grind your hips into his, desperate for some friction to your cunt. ”Show me how sorry you are, ride me.” He whispers into your ear again and you only nod frantically. ”Good girl.” He praises as you take off your shirt, leaving you in your busty bra as you start inching your gym shorts off. His big hands come to your aid as he slips them off, leaving you in your underwear.

You forgot all about your surroundings as you straddle his lap again, starting to unbuckle his belt while he carefully watches you, feeling proud of your obedience. You eagerly unbuckle his belt and push his pants down to his knees, boxers coming with them. His cock is fully erect and it stands against his clothes abdomen. You immediately grab it with your hands and start stroking it up and down. Leon groans from the contact as his hands find your hips, trying to pull you on top of his cock already.

His length was veiny, long and girthy, tip leaking with a small bead of precum as you stroke it a couple times before lifting your hips on top of him. His fingers hook around the fabric of your panties and pull them to the side. Slowly you guide his tip to your wet hole and you can basically feel yourself clenching around nothingness. You whine as you slowly start sitting down, pushing his cock deeper into you. His heavy breathing against your neck as you grab his shoulders with both hands and he grabs your hips, slamming you down on his cock.

”Oh my god!” You whine as he fully sheathed himself in you and starts bucking his hips up, fucking into you roughly. The stretch of his cock in you without any foreplay hurt at first, the burning contact as he fucks into you as he pleases. He lets out small breathy moans as he continues his pace, pampering your neck with suckling kisses as you turn into a whiny mess on top of him.

”Leon, s’ too much!” You moan into his ear as the slight pain starts turning into pleasure. Your pussy clenches around his cock while he pounds into you, forgetting that you were supposed to ride him. ”You can take it, right, baby?” He mocks you while lifting your hips up slightly so he could gain a better angle.

”Apologize, maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

”F-fuck! M’ sorry-Ah! Leon-h!” You desperately moan as he pounds into you. Wet sounds of your pussy wanting him even deeper echo in the car, you forget all about your surroundings as you start meeting his thrusts, broken moans escaping your mouth as you listen to him groan from the feeling. ”Good girl, just like that. Fuck, so tight.”

His other hand leaves your hips and sneaks down to circle around your clit as you keep lifting your hips up and down on his lap, rutting his cock inside you. ”Please, Leon..” You desperately whine when his thumb rubs on your clit, causing your pussy to clench on his cock, trying to milk it dry.

”Cum, it’s okay.” He reassures as his hips start picking up the pace again, feeling himself come closer to the edge of orgasm as well. Babbling incoherent ”m’ sorry’s” and his name all over again, you let go of the feeling and feel yourself cumming on his cock. You moan loudly as you lean towards his chest, basically hugging him as your body does numb and the orgasm washes over you. Leon keeps holding your hips with both hands, rummaging a few sloppy thrusts into your clenching hole until he finally is satisfied and releases his cum into you. He holds your hips close to his and tucks your hair behind your ears. While small whimpers still leave your mouth, he whispers into your ear. ”You’re all mine, d’ya understand?”

[1whore1gang]

it’s the little things 🤍

In which the TF141 become toddlers.

This idea has been stirring in my brain for awhile.

Imagine some weird force of magic nature turns the boys into cute little toddlers, you and price being forced to care for Soap, Ghost and Gaz.

It makes things awkward at first, but you and him find a groove as you figured out how to not only fix this, but find a way to hide it from Shephard.

Cute little enemies to lovers in a way lol

(yes this is gonna be a series)

Part 2 here

ENJOY PART 1 FRIENDS!! 🤍

You sat up in bed, waking up from a loud bang that came from down the hall. “The hell…?” You said groggily. You swung your feet over the bed, going to investigate what that bang was.

Deep down, you knew it was just Soap in the kitchen making food, especially at this hour, but you’d usually hear a loud “Sorry!” for the noise. You approached the kitchen when another loud bang happened, signaling pots and pans had fallen, but this time it was followed with…a child crying?

Your feet quickened as you turned into the doorway to see a small boy, maybe less than 2 years old sitting on the ground, a pot over his head, muffling his crying. You panicked seeing a small child on the base, knowing none of you had children. “Hey sweetheart. You’re okay!” You cooed as you removed the pit from the child’s head, trying to comfort him. When you saw the face of the little one, you froze.

Blinking a few times and rubbing your eyes, you thought you were for sure in a dream. In front of you, sat a sad child with cobalt blue eyes and a small brunette mohawk shaved in the baby hair on his head. “What?”

You picked him up, rocking him on your hip to get him to hush down and quiet his crying. You stared adamantly. Surely this wasn’t actually Soap right? Somebody had to be playing a prank on you. This isn’t Soap, somebody just took their own baby and dressed it up as Soap to prank you, yeah that’s right. You nodded to yourself and turned to go interrogate people when the baby cooed and grabbed sweetly at your hair, smiling and giggling as you spoke. The little blue eyes looked up at you in adoration, but then his head laid on your shoulder contently, cooing again.

You shook your head and went searching for anyone who might be awake. You knew Ghost didn’t sleep much, so you went to his room, trying to find someone else who saw this little baby too, proving you weren’t going crazy.

You knocked on his door, expecting the grunt of ‘its open’, but no noise came. You knocked again and heard some of his sheets move. He’s always awake during this time, so no response was weird.

Slowly turning the doorknob, you blinked to adjust your eyes to the darkness of Ghost’s room. You prayed he was awake, and not doing anything that’d make you regret bursting in like this. “Simon…?” You said cautiously, trying to audiably scan the room. You moved your way over to his bed, the little baby who looked like Soap still contently clinging onto your side and shoulder.

Once you approached his bed, you turned on a lamp to see a little child, the same as the one you’re holding, dressed like Ghost with similar features, except he wasn’t crying or asleep, he was chewing on the foot in his mouth. “Get that out of there. Come here.” You picked him up, getting a good look at him.

You easily thought this was definitely some sort of prank now. There’s no way this is a coincidence. You shook your head as the Soap baby whined and reached out for Ghost. You froze.

The baby who looked like Ghost simply sat on your hip, his head turning as the little baby who looked like Soap reached out with grabby hands towards him, whining.

You watched as their hands met and both babies calmed against you. “There’s no fucking way.” You sat and thought a moment. “Johnny honey?” The little boy’s face perked up as you said his name. “Simon sweetheart?” The other little boy looked up at you with wide eyes hearing his own name too. “Oh god, it IS you!”

You bursted out of the room, both boys on your hips, trying to find Gaz and Price. You found Gaz’s room first, bustling through the door to find your worst fear. Gaz’s little self was spread out, mouth drooling as he slept on his massive bed. “Oh no…” You adjusted Ghost over to your hip with Johnny, the two quickly falling into a sleep being next to each other, placing a sleeping Gaz on your free hip. “You boys are heavy for being so tiny.”

You felt a panic settle in your chest as you approached Price’s room, fearing the worst.

Knocking on the wood of his door, you questioned yourself for the action until a fully adult Price answered the door, staring down at you with wide eyes. “What is this? It’s 2am?”

“It’s the boys. This one’s Soap, here’s-“

“I see that, and the resemblance but why are you doing this at this hour Y/N?” He was annoyed, I knew that. There was some sense of relief though knowing I wasn’t the only adult here.

“Listen, I know we don’t get along but something is going on. Watch this.” You cleared your throat as you cooed the boys’ names, each one responding with a giggle or a smiley wide-eyed look. “Tell me these littles aren’t our coworkers?”

Price stared down at you as you held all three of them, your back obviously hurting. “Give me Gaz.” Price reached out and took one of your hands. Soap and Ghost were awake again, but you chuckled as you watched little Gaz drool all over Price’s sleep shirt. “Have you found out who’s pulled this prank?”

“I don’t think it’s a prank Price, how else do you explain-OW!” You looked down, seeing a sad Soap, on the verge of tears. You see Ghost’s little hand still raised, entangled in your hair. “Simon!” You silently asked Price to let him come in, and he stepped aside without a word.

You set Soap down on Price’s bed, watching as he plopped back onto the bed, still sniffling. You held Ghost to where he could see your face as you spoke to him. “You do not pull hair! You know this!” Ghost just blinked and titled his head. “You hurt me!”

As soon as those words left your mouth, Soap began to cry. You sighed as you set Ghost down and picked up Soap, cooing him. His little eyes were roaming your face as his sniffled and cried. “I’m okay! He just pulled my hair!” You said sweetly. This was very much like the adult Soap you knew. If you even hissed in pain, he was right there checking over every inch of you to make sure you were okay.

You heard a little grunt as you look down to see Ghost looking up at you with little grabby hands and a straight face. The only noise coming out were little grunts. You couldn’t help but laugh as you looked at Price. “That’s actually really cute.”

Price let out a single chuckle, “That’s Simon for ya. So run me through what happened?” You look up to see him rocking a half asleep Gaz on his hip. It makes your heart ache, seeing him in such a state.

You set the three littles down on his bed as you and him sat down at his kitchen table. (Being a captian has perks). He had brewed some coffee as you got Soap and Ghost to quiet down for sleep.

You both sat as you recalled the series of events that brought you to his room. “I was freaking that I’d find you as one too.” You laughed a little.

You and Price were never really on good terms, you were too alike and hard headed that you were always arguing about something, but right now, you felt at ease. “I still don’t understand why we aren’t i. their state right now.” Price spoke, nodding towards the three toddlers dead asleep on his bed.

“Me neither.” You shook your head, scouring your brain for any answers. “What’re we gonna tell people in the morning. They’re gonna notice.”

“Luckily, if we stick to this corner of the compound and this wing’s kitchen and common areas, no one will know. We get lucky having our own private sector. Outside of that, I don’t know, we’ll have to venture away to get supplies for them. We have no idea how long they’ll be like this.”

You sighed as it hit you, “That never hit me until now. We’ll need baby food and supplies. I’ll be honest, I’ve never had to take care of any kid that little, I don’t know what I’m doing. What kind of formula to buy…” Uou turned your head to see your captian smiling.

“Did you know MacTavish was breast fed?”

Your eyes widened. “Okay first of my body can’t even do that, I don’t have any kids. Even if it did, no way.”

Price let out a chuckle, “I’m only teasin’ ya.” You looked at him in confusion, he never did this. “But we have to find a way to make this work, and try to figure out what caused this.”

You let out a large yawn, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, we’re gonna have to work together-“

“Like that always turns out well.” You both nod in agreement as he finished your sentence. “Why don’t I watch them for a bit while you get some rest? In the morning, we’ll go to the store and try to get as much as we can to take care of the buggers.”

You looked at him for a minute, “Wake me if you need to switch out, ok?” You stood to go to your room, but he stopped you.

“Sleep on my couch, it pulls out. That way you’re not too far if I need ya.” You parted your lips in an exhale as you moved to lay down on the couch. You were confused at Price’s actions, not knowing why he was acting so kind when usually you were quite snippy with each other.

But, you would take it.

——

“Sit still!” You quietly scolded as Gaz was squirming in the shopping cart.

“I think he wants to be held.” Price said, scooping him up, which immediately calmed little Gaz. You sighed as you set Soap and Ghost in the shopping cart’s seat. The two of them were half asleep still, droopy eyes and small cooes.

“Let’s just get in and out before anyone sees us.” You said, grabbing some formula off the shelf. “I hope this one’s okay?” You turn the can to show Price and he nods.

“I never realized how expensive this shit is.” He says, running his finger over the price tag below it. “Wow.”

“I know. It’s insanity.” You give him a straight smile as you both continue through the store, having an old lady compliment how cute your boys were. You have her a cordial ‘thank you’, trying to hide the red of embarrassment creeping onto your face.

As quickly as you entered the store, you exited quicker, checking out with speed.

You had two crying babies while Price installed the car seats. You tried your best to load the groceries in, cooing the boys. “Sshh, you’re okay. Why won’t they stop-“ You stopped your sentence as you felt Soap try to latch onto your breast through your shirt. You peeled him off, staring at him. “Price.”

“Hm?” You saw his head pop up as he finished installing the seats.

“I think they’re hungry…”

“We’ll feed them at the base.” Price watched as you looked at Soap in a mix of confusion and horror. He watched you quickly load the boys in as you became quiet. He was curious what had you all locked up.

Returning to base, you and Price tag teamed unloading everything and warming up three bottles. As soon as the boys were fed, the crying subsided and you felt yourself ease into the back of the couch, your eyes closing.

“You okay? You kind of closed up earlier?” You were laying there with Soap laying drowsily on your chest, Ghost in your lap. Price’s voice made you hum.

“Yeah, just had something happen.”

“What happened?”

“Soap tried to latch himself onto my breast in the middle of the parking lot.”

Price let out a snort and your eyes shot open. It was a sound you’d never heard. “Sorry, I warned ya the lad was breastfed.” He shrugged with a cocky look.

“Why don’t we get these boys down for a nap? I could use the time to catch up on paperwork.” You said, hoisting all three boys into your grasp, struggling but managing.

You went to your room, where there was a good sized playpen, big enough for all three boys to sleep comfortably. You set them down, tucking them in, then heading to your office.

Hours had passed when Price poked his head in, Ghost on his hip, Gaz in the chest carrier he bought. “You hungry? It’s around time for dinner.”

“Uh, not really but if you made something?”

“No, I was gonna see what you thought sounded good.” Price was a sight with two of the boys clinging to him.

You parted your lips to answer, then paused before responding. “I’ll come find you when I’m finished, but don’t wait for me to eat. If you’re hungry, I’ll catch up.” Price shot you a straight smile before dipping out, leaving you to the stack of papers claddered around your desk.

You finally rubbed your eyes, submitting your final report. Looking to the time, you saw it was almost 9:30. You silently cursed yourself. It had been 5:00 when Price popped in.

Rising from your chair, you go to your room, seeing the boys asleep. Price is sitting in a chair, reading a book. “I’m sorry, I got caught up-“

“All good, did you happen to stop in the kitchen?” He closed the book and stood, tucking it under his arm.

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry. Did they go down okay?”

He nods, a straight expression coming across his face. “No problems. Im gonna turn in for the night, come find me if you need me during the night.” He brushed past you, leaving the room quiet as his footsteps dissolved into the night.

You stared down at the three little boys. “You sure are cute. Im never gonna let any of you live this down.”

With that, you laid down for the night, finally resting. You thought about your interactions with Price throughout the day, he was never this cordial with you, nor were you with him.

What was it about your coworkers being children that made you both act so differently?

[hazbinwhoree]

Haiiiii

So I’ve been thinking bout it and I have a sona who’s Asmodues’s daughter

And while I’m not asking to specifically write for my oc,I’m asking for your to write for the idea of it

Like Asmoduess daughter x Adam

And he’s like really fuckin suprised when she says she actually a virgin and then he’s like

“I could fix that”

Asmodeus’ Daughter

Asmodeus’ daughter and the first man in existence was a very unlikely friendship indeed, and neither of them could really tell you how it had happened. Adam normally would never be caught dead fraternizing with a demon, the daughter of one of the Seven Sins no less, but while he’d never admit it, (Name) had wormed her way into the position of his best friend.

Similarly, (Name) would normally avoid angels like the plague, but Adam was an exception. She couldn’t tell you why, but he was. She had to hide their friendship from her father, who would surely lose his mind were he to ever find out.

They were hanging out one day, in (Name)’s bedroom, discussing body counts. “I don’t even know the number anymore,” Adam admitted. (Name) laughed. “You slut!” “Hey!” Adam pretended to be offended. “You’re one to talk. The Avatar of Lust’s daughter? I know damn well you have bodies on bodies.”

(Name) bit her lip. “You’re never going to believe my body count.” Adam leaned forward, interested. “Above or below one hundred?” “Below.” “Ninty something.” (Name) shook her head. “Eighty seven!” “Nope.”

Adam leaned back. “I don’t wanna guess anymore just tell me.”

“Zero.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Zero,” Adam repeated. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m dead serious,” (Name) said. Adam’s jaw dropped. “You’re fucking Asmodeus’ daughter, how are you a fucking virgin?”

“My Dad is the sin, not me,” (Name) said.

“Wow.” Adam was processing this information. “So you’re really a virgin?”

“Yeah.”

“...I could change that.”

Another beat of silence. (Name) decided he was joking, laughing suddenly. “You’re funny.”

“I’m serious.”

There had always been sexual tension between them, but neither of them ever acknowledged it for the sake of not ruining their friendship.

(Name)’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Oh.”

“I’d be honored to be your first body.”

“I wouldn’t mind you being my first body.”

A pause.

Then they both lurched forward and crushed their lips together. The kiss was passionate and desperate, months of pent up tension being poured out in one kiss. Their tongues tangled together and (Name) moaned against Adam’s mouth.

Adam pushed her down on the bed and crawled on top of her, spreading her legs to settle between them. They continued to makeout, Adam’s hands beginning to wander. He slid his hands up under her shirt and grabbed her chest. “Nice rack.” “Shut up.”

Adam squeezed and massaged her breasts while they reconnected their lips, (Name)’s arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer, trapping his hands between their chests.

(Name) could feel Adam’s erection against her inner thigh and it gave her a thrill.

“Adam,” she moaned.

Adam liked hearing his name, evidently, as his dick twitched. He pulled back to hurridly unzip and shrug off his robe. (Name) pulled her shirt over her head. Adam also removed his shirt. He dropped back down on her again, and ran his hands up and down her sides while they kissed, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He snuck a hand down between them, sliding under the waistband of her sweatpants. He felt the wet patch on her panties and grinned. “I’m going to be the best body you’ll ever have,” he bragged, pulled her panties to the side and running his finger up and down, collecting her slick.

“How does it feel knowing your first dick is the original dick?”

He slid two fingers into her and her back arched at the intrusion. His thumb pressed on her clit to loosen her up.

“Feels good,” (Name) panted.

“Fuck.” Adam was so hard. It was taking everything in him to not just start fucking her brains out.

He added a third finger and (Name) took it without too much resistance. Adam pumped his fingers in and out for a minute before pulling out and yanking down her sweats and panties. She helped him, kicking them off, and he kneeled back to begin undoing his belt.

His movements were frantic and desperate, tugging down his pants and boxers, and tossing his belt behind him.

(Name)’s mouth went a little dry when she saw Adam’s dick. He really didn’t call himself Dickmaster for nothing. She briefly wondered how she was supposed to fit that inside of her but she trusted Adam.

Adam flipped her onto her stomach and tugged her hips up so her ass was in the air and her face was pressed into the bed.

“This position will be easy,” he told her, dragging his cock up and down her slit. “You ready?”

(Name) had never felt the need to be fucked so badly in her life. “Yes, fucking do it.”

Adam didn’t need to be told twice, and slowly began pushing himself into her. (Name) buried her face in the bed as he sank into her, overwhelmed with pain and pleasure simultaneously. Adam reached around her and began toying with her clit and pain was quickly overcome by pleasure.

Adam bottomed out with a groan. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

“Fuck me,” was (Name)’s response.

Adam obliged happily, snapping his hips. (Name) cried out, gripping the bedsheets. Adam grabbed her hip with his free hand and began to thrust, setting a fast and hard pace. “Adam!” (Name) moaned. Adam bit his lip, his name on her lips shooting straight to his cock.

“Yeah, say my name. Who’s making you feel this good?” “Adam~” “Who’s the fucking Dickmaster?” He thrust particularly hard. “Adam!”

Adam groaned, his hips never slowing their pace. His finger steadily circled her clit in time with his thrusts. (Name) was absolutely fucked out beneath him. Her legs were beginning to shake and Adam had to hold her hips up. He could tell she was close.

“Who’s going to make you cum?” (Name) clenched around him and cried out, her orgasm hitting her hard. “Adam!”

Adam hissed as (Name) tightened around him, the sensation pushing him over the edge. He buried himself as deep as he could and came with a string of curse words.

They both stayed still for a moment, panting and collecting themselves. When Adam pulled out, his cum dribbled down her inner thigh. She collapsed on the bed. Adam collapsed next to her, pulling her into his chest. He covered her with his wing.

“So how was that? Great, right?”

(Name) laughed. “Not that your ego needs to be stroked any more but yes, it was pretty great.”

“I told you, I’m the fucking Dickmaster.”

[redstarwriting]

the clash | iv. london calling

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, smoking weed, alcohol, mentions of a gwen canon event, mentions of death, lil angst

a/n: nother long one! i can’t wait to make it crazy angsty bc when i tell u i have THOUGHTS 👀 thank you to everyone who’s reading, i’m trying to update it every day, so hopefully i can stick with that schedule! enjoy this chapter, friends :)

now reading: iv. london calling

previous chapter: iii. black planet

next chapter: v. ever fallen in love

───────────────────────────────────

He fixes his watch to open a portal to his world. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr basically run to get to it. He motions for you to go ahead, and you walk through. Immediately when you step into his room, you’re hit with the smell of weed and incense. You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You glance around. You see drums, another electric and acoustic guitar, empty spray paint cans, spray paint on the walls, stacks of newspapers (all defaced in some way)… it feels very Hobie to say the least. “Now this. This is a livin’ area,” he says, appearing behind you. You shake your head. “So loud, both figuratively and literally. How do you ever get anything done?”

“By being louder than everyone else, obviously,” he responds, and you roll your eyes. “What a way to live,” you remark. “Better than that quiet, dark, and gloomy, way,” he retorts, and you shrug. “If you say so.”

“Hey, Hobie, do you still have the roof all decorated?” Gwen asks and he nods. “Course I do. I own the place, head on up,” he jerks his head upwards, and Gwen turns to Miles and Pavitr with a smirk. “Race ya!”

“Hey no fair! You have been here so many times!” Pavitr yells as Gwen takes off. “Come on, Miles!” you hear her yell. Miles smiles gently and shakes his head before going after the two of them. “He’s so obsessed with her it’s making me sick,” you mumble, and Hobie snorts. “What? Miles and Gwen’s relationship too much for you? You hate love?”

“Love has never done anything but cause me pain. And not the good kind,” you glance at him with a frown, and he raises his eyebrow. Suddenly his eyes get wide. “Oh shit… you had a Gwen canon event.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you respond, and he frowns. “You know, actually talkin’ about that kinda shit is a good way to not sit on it and let it build. You could face some serious problems if you keep doin’ that.”

“Who said I gave a fuck what you think? I didn’t ask for the unneeded advice, alright?” you say, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Oh, right. Forgot I was dealing with a bloody doughnut,” he mumbles and point to the window. “Care to go to the roof and get out of my sight?”

“Sound like the best thing you’ve said since I got here,” you say, leaping out of his window and climbing up the side of the building. While clinging to the wall, you glance out at Hobie’s world. His city looks almost exactly like Night of Yore City, except for the fact that there are a shit ton of fires burning, over half of the buildings look abandoned, the sky is a reddish-orangish hue, and it is so much louder. The name is also vastly different, as his version of NYC is New London. Universal differences get weird and confusing. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued, you turn around, putting your back against the wall and supporting yourself with your hands and feet. The graffitied buildings are a nice touch, you must admit. You snort to yourself when you see a mural of Hobie. If only they knew the asshole behind the mask.

“Now why the hell aren’t you up there with everyone else?” you hear his voice pull you out of your thoughts as he crawls up next to you. You shrug. “I’m a sucker for views, I guess.”

“Well, believe it or not, view is a lot better from the top of the buildin’,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Can I please just be secluded and observe in peace?”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Come on,” he says, starting to walk up the wall. You sigh and lazily roll backwards and up the wall to come to standing and follow him up. When you get to the top of the roof, you see a boombox (blaring punk music, of course) and blankets surrounding a barrel with a fire going in it. Multiple coolers decorate the roof which all look stockpiled full of different beers. “Hey, Hobie, you know that they’re all kids, right?”

“New universe, new rules, love. Drinking age is 16 and up ‘round here, not that I’d give a fuck if it wasn’t anyway. So, sit down, shut up, and drink a damn beer. Maybe you’ll loosen up,” he says, tossing you a random bottle. You roll your eyes and sit down but put the beer to the side.

“Hey, Hobie, do you have any of that–” Miles gets cut off by Hobie tossing him another bottle. “Nice. Thanks, dude,” he says excitedly, cracking the top and taking a drink. Gwen gets her beer of choice, and Pavitr does the same. Hobie, you notice, doesn’t drink anything. “So, what were you guys talking about?” Gwen asks, pointing between the two of you with her bottle. “What?” you ask, and she shrugs. “You guys were alone in Hobie’s for a while and no one died, soooo did you guys finally talk about something you could agree on?”

“We can’t agree on nothin’, Gwen. They were just bein’ their usual self and annoyin’ the shit out of me at any chance they could get,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “Good to know it worked, mate”

“Stop imitatin’ me, poser.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll make you.”

“Try me, Hobart.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that. What were you guys talking about?” Miles asks, and you and Hobie look at each other. “Just asked where the bathroom was,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You weren’t necessarily ready to reveal you faced the Gwen canon event. Especially not to another Gwen. At least Hobie isn’t enough of a dick to bring it up in front of them. “Oh, yeah, you did change into your everyday clothes. Don’t know how I didn’t notice that,” Gwen states, taking another swig of her beer. You had changed in your apartment after cleaning your wound, but you don’t say anything. Hobie nods at you, and you nod back.

“Why aren’t you drinking anything (Y/n)? Here, try this it’s so good,” Pavitr pushes his bottle toward you, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to drink, but thanks Pavitr,” you say, and he frowns. “Awww.” You smile slightly at how disappointed he sounds. “Well, I want to remember everything you all tell me without it being fuzzy because I was hoping you could let me know a little bit more about all the spider people in Spider Society. I’m still new, you four, Peter B. Parker, and Miguel are the only ones I’ve really met.”

With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr start telling you everything they know. You learn about Jessica Drew, Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker, and so many more. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr talk for hours, and since they’re kids, they do not know when to stop drinking. Eventually, the three of them are passed out. Miles is cradling Gwen’s side with his head on her chest as she wraps one of her arms around him, and Pavitr is laying straight on his back, lightly snoring. You giggle softly at the sight. Suddenly the punk music you’ve been listening to for the past however many hours gets softer. You glance over to where it is and see Hobie bent over and turning it down. “Don’t wanna wake ‘em,” he mumbles, walking over to you. The volume of the city has decreased quite a bit, and with the low hum of music coming from the boombox now, his world is actually kind of enjoyable. Though you’d never tell him that. He motions to the skyline, and you turn and look. He was right, as much as you hate to admit it. The view is a lot better from up here.

“Why didn’t you drink anythin’?” he asks, and you shrug. “Didn’t feel like it. Why didn’t you drink anything?” He shrugs and pulls out a rolled cigarette from his vest pocket. “Got somethin’ better.”

“And you didn’t offer any to them?”

“Hey, they can drink here, they don’t need to mess with this shit. ‘Sides I knew they’d be pissed. Gonna have a god-awful hangover tomorrow,” he says, pulling out a lighter. You shake your head. “They can’t mess with your shit, but I can?”

“The two of us are the same age. We’re ‘adults’ or whatever the fuck that means. Are you too stuck up to be ‘round some grass or somethin’?”

“No, Hobie, I don’t give a fuck if you smoke weed. Building manager might, though.”

“Love, I am the building manager. This place is abandoned, so it belongs to me. And you’re not tellin’ me I’m supposed to smoke this myself?” he asks with a sly smirk on his face. You raise your eyebrow at him. “Actually I am.” He groans, putting the joint to his lips and lighting the end of it.

“Do you know how to have any fun?”

“Do you know how to have any–” Before you can finish, he puts his finger over your mouth, and raises the joint to his lips again. He takes a deep breath in, blowing out the excess smoke and glancing at you. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Don’t care. The answer is no.”

“Have you ever actually tried listening to anything anyone says?” “Nah. I don’t listen to no one. I’m me, and if people don’t like that, good,” he says, taking another drag. He glances over at you and holds the joint out. “Y’sure you don’t want some?”

“You actually want to share with me?”

“I want you to not be as much as a ragin’ fuckwit, so yes,” he blows smoke in your face, and you glare at him. “If I take one hit, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“Probably not, but it would sure make me happier.” You roll your eyes, and take the joint from him, taking a drag. He watches you. He’d never admit it, but he wishes you weren’t such an asshole. The way you look doing that in the moonlight? Stunning. You pass the joint back to him, some of the smoke coming out of your nose. “Stop staring at me.”

“Just makin’ sure you did it right and didn’t waste my shit,” he says, taking another drag. “I know how to hit a joint, Hobie.”

“Really? Never would have guessed you’d do anything remotely excitin’.”

“Oh, please. You barely know me,” you say, angrier than you probably should be. “Then tell me about yourself, love.”

“Hard pass,” you say, and he groans. “I get the desire to stay anonymous and mysterious, obviously, but come on. Chances are we’re gonna be seein’ each other more than either of us wants to, so just open up a bit,” he says, and you frown. “There’s nothing you need to know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me something about you.”

“I killed Norman Osborn with my guitar after defeatin’ him and all of his V.E.N.O.M. forces and successfully led a rebellion against fascism,” he says smugly, “Until those other fuckin’ Nazis showed up, but one day I promise you this world? Will be capitalist and fascist free.”

“No, it won’t. Am I supposed to be impressed?” you ask with a deadpan face. He scoffs. “Damn, you’re a wanker. I’d like to see you try and defeat the V.E.N.O.M. forces. From what I seen your world’s villains are rubbish,” he says and to his surprise, and yours, you laugh. A hint of a smile plays on his features, but you shake your head. “Green Goblin is, you’re right, but... there are others who are much worse. And what the fuck is a venom force? You’re saying that like I should just know what it is.”

“It was a symbiote that– wait, you sayin’ you don’t know what venom is? That’s something every spider-person deals with at some point,” he says, and you shrug. “Guess I haven’t dealt with it yet.”

“Yeah, well, when you do, call me cause you’ll need my help,” he says and you roll your eyes. “I’d rather die than get help from you.”

“I helped you today, love.”

“I could have done that myself,” you retort, and he shakes his head, taking another drag. “I guess I should thank you though.”

“Hmm?”

“For not telling them what we were really talking about,” you say, and he hums. “What they won’t know won’t kill ‘em. But just so you know I was being so serious. Not talkin’ about that shit is more harmful than good,” he says, and you frown. “I’m not much of a talker.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up,” you groan, and he laughs. He loves pissing you off, might be his favorite thing to do now. But the conversation might actually need to get serious. He may hate you, but he’s Spider-Punk for the people, and you’re apart of that people. He’s there to help, so he may as well try with you.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why not? Why won’t you talk about it?” he asks, and you huff. “Because it was my fault, and I don’t want to think about it.”

“Nah, I bet it wasn’t your fault,” he mumbles, taking another drag. You glare at him. “Oh, right, I forgot you were there when their neck snapped after I tried to save them,” you spit, and he glances at you. You can feel that hit starting to affect you, that’s the only reason you said anything about… the incident. Of course, Hobie has good shit, why wouldn’t he. “What were you trying to save them from?” he asks, his voice oddly calm. “The Prowler,” you reply, “He’s the worst of the worst in my universe.” He hums and nods. “Well then, reckon it’s the Prowler’s fault then, innit?”

“What? But I’m the one who couldn’t get to them in time after he–”

“He did it, (Y/n). You did your best, but it ain’t your fault what happened there. That’s what they want you to think. Try and get that through your thick skull, would you?” he says, and you scoff, “They?”

He nods, and you go quiet. He glances over at you as you just sit and stare out at the city. “Stop doin’ ‘at.”

“Doing what?”

“Blamin’ yourself,” he says, taking another long drag. You sigh. “I can’t help it,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “You can. Just takes time,” he responds. You scoff, “You’d think three years would be enough time.” You look out at his city. It’s so different from yours, but you can still see the beauty in it. And you can see the stars. None of the constellations of your world are here, but the sky is still beautiful. “If you need a place to crash, my couch is very comfortable and has your name written all over it,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “I should probably just go back to my universe–”

“No way. No dimension hopping under the influence,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “I had one hit,” you say, and he shrugs. “And one hit is enough for you to think you’re goin’ home only to end up in Peter Porker’s shower. You’re stayin’ here tonight.” You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m insufferable for watchin’ out for your well-bein’? Okay, sure.”

“I don’t need you to watch out for me. I don’t need anyone,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Too good for everyone else.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Like you wouldn’t say the same thing,” you say, and he shrugs. “You’re right. I would say I don’t need anyone, because I don’t. Especially not a miserable thing like you,” he says, and you frown. “Good.”

“Great.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

The two of you just glare at each other for a bit before he flicks the butt of his joint off the building. “Goin’ to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Shut up and follow me back to my place,” he says, getting up and walking down the building. You follow, yawning as you realize just how tired you are. When you get back inside Hobie’s place, he points at the couch. “Lay there, and don’t move until mornin’, got it?”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“Amazin’. Just don’t wake me up, and I won’t give a fuck,” he says, walking into his bedroom and kicking his door shut. You roll your eyes and lay down on his couch. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, and you find yourself actually dozing off faster than you anticipated. Hobie walks out of his room to get a drink of water and ready to fight you verbally again, only to see you passed out on his couch with literally no blanket or pillow.

He sighs, grabbing a throw blanket off his bed and gently placing it on top of you. In the morning, you wake up before everyone else. You notice the blanket, and know only one person could have done that, but you don’t feel like sticking around to say anything. You just go home. But before you do, you leave a little note saying, ‘didn’t need your sympathy, thanks but no thanks,’ and draw a little middle finger.

He’ll get the hint you appreciated it.

───────────────────────────────

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[the-kr8tor]

Hiii!

I don't request often, but I had this idea in mind and I absolutely NEEDED to see it in ur writing style 😭

a fic where Hobie and reader both work at the daily bugle, and they both take photos of spider-man for hte newspaper. except obviously Hobie's going to have the better pictures because he literally is spider-man and reader absolutely despises him for it

he loves beating her in this little competition but what he doesn't know is that she's only a few pictures away from being fired because at the end, there can only be one photographer for the bugle

and she really needs this job

hopefully this made sense!!

Hihi! Thank you for requesting! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, co-worker! Hobie, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie acts like he's making coffee, the coffee table is conveniently placed in front of JJJ’s office. Where said man is currently screaming his head off at you, hell even laughing at you occasionally. Hobie can't hear what he's saying or why he's screaming, the sound proof glass walls seem to do the trick. But because of the glass, he can see everything.

JJJ is so mad that Hobie can see the veins on his temple pop out, and face turning into a giant tomato. Hobie's sure you're about to break your composure by how you grip your expensive camera on your lap. He's kind of proud of you that way, the way you don't break your resolve and eye contact even though your infamous boss is screaming his head off and looking like a character in an old 90s cartoon about a cat and mouse.

Hobie watches on, he tells himself that he only does just in case one of you gets physical. If JJJ gets hurt, and he will get hurt based on your searing glare, then no one's gonna pay him if the boss is injured. If you get hurt then who is gonna push his buttons down at the bullpen? Who's gonna push him to do a better job and take better pictures when you're gone? It's definitely not because he fancies you or anything like that. Or so he likes to lie to himself so he doesn't actually act on the feeling lest he gets called to HR and have the most uncomfortable talk of his life since the birds and the bees conversation.

JJJ seems to finally cool off, fixing his obvious combover, he sits down on his leather seat, sighing, eyes still aflame. Hobie wonders what you've done to get him all riled up like that. He hasn't seen him that mad since the doc ock debacle.

Everyone in the office seems to have the same curiosity as him, some blatantly watch in their seats, ignoring their own paperwork. Some hide the fact that they're watching the car crash right in front of them. And you're in the middle of the road.

Right when JJJ dismisses you, the entire office returns to their work as if nothing happened. You open the door with hidden anger, knuckles shaking on the doorknob, eyebrows knitted together. Hobie can feel your restrained anger from where he stands on the doorway of the break room. You pass by him and he swears that he felt heat radiating from you.

You close the microwave door that someone left open with a slam. Huffing over the sink, hands gripping the sides, you want to punch something but at the same time you don't want to break company property.

“What did the poor microwave do to you?” Hobie jokes to lighten your mood, but it lands wrong over to you.

“Not in the fucking mood, Hobart.” You turn to leave but he blocks your way. “What? You here to goad?”

“No,” he almost sounds offended. “I was gonna ask if you're alright.” With his tone sounding genuine, you sigh heavily, hand rubbing across your tired face. Hobie guides you towards a chair, sitting you down gently, you crumble immediately on the old chair.

Head in your hands, back curled, you refuse to cry especially in front of a co-worker who you've grown fond of over the years of working together. A cup of cold water is placed in front of you, ice clinking inside the mug that has your name scribbled with a red marker.

“Here, figured coffee wouldn't be good for you right now and we ran out of the tea you like so much.” Hobie sits across you, eyes scanning you for distress.

“Thanks.” You murmur, taking a small sip. “You know what tea I like?” For some reason, you calm down from his stare, when it's someone else it would piss you off more.

“Who do you think buys it? J? Fucker won't even shell out for two-ply toilet paper.”

You smile, now remembering all the times he has brought you tea whenever you're both at the field hunting down the latest scoop. “I remember now, it's because I always had the label out.”

“Yeah,” he nods, even though he knew about your favourite from the first time he saw you make it on your first day. Which was also his first day.

“He's gonna fire me.” You blurt out after a few beats of silence. “My photos were, he said and I quote, ‘fucking horrible, the worst pictures of Spider-Man I've ever seen!’ for someone who hates Spider-Man he's awfully obsessed with him.” You scoff.

“You're not gettin' fired over that. You're a better photographer than me.”

You chuckle softly, “I am,” he shakes his head with a ghost of a smile on his pierced lips. “but your Spider-Man pictures are much better than mine. And a photo of him sells more than a picture of some new public park.”

“Don't belittle yourself, love, he's hard to shoot. Anyway I loved those pictures of yours. Nice angles and lighting.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better, Hobart.” You take a gulp of water when you feel the tremors start again. “I can't get fired. I have so much shit to pay, I'm behind on rent, utilities and I haven't even bought my own car!” Hobie wants to scooch his chair closer to try and calm your shaking. So he does.

Standing up, he picks up the chair, plopping it right next to you. Sitting down, arm casually draped on the back of his chair, silver chains on his neck in full display thanks to the two buttons undone on his work shirt that you know he hates so much. You watch him with curious eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you have no idea why. Knee to knee, he ducks down to meet your downturned eyes.

“How behind?”

“You gonna pay my rent for me?” You joke, eyes flicking away from his chest.

“Nah, even better.” You tilt your head, wordlessly saying, ‘go on’ “want to know my secret?” He pauses, trepidation behind his eyes. “On how I get those pictures of Spider-Man?” Hobie's nervous, you can tell by how he taps his index finger rhymically on his jean clad thigh. A tell you've come to be endeared to.

“Yeah, you're gonna tell me?” Your eyes widen. Will he finally tell you what you've pieced together years ago?

He leans closer, you can see every speck of green in his hazel eyes, a detail you take note of in your mind. He whispers lowly. “...he's a mate of mine.”

You take a deep breath, “oh, that's cool.”

“I just told you I'm best mates with Spider-Man and all you can say is ‘cool’?”

You straighten up in your seat, eyes warm for him. And in turn, he copies your movements. “If you put it that way, then yeah.” Chuckling, your worries are pushed aside for now. He has that effect on you. “I'm impressed, Hobart. I guess it makes sense that you both run with the same crowd. Are you in the same band or something?” The last comment was to throw him off the scent that you already know of his alter ego.

“Fuckin' Hobart,” he clicks his tongue but his own smile betrays him. He has a brilliant idea. “If I can convince him to meet you somewhere so you could take his pictures, will you finally stop callin’ me Hobart?”

You grin, heart full and eternally grateful. “Yeah, okay, it's a deal.” Reaching towards him, he takes your hand and shakes it. Your thumb rubs softly on his knuckles, so gentle that he can barely feel it, but he does. While his warmth practically consumes you, he drowns in your own. “Thank you, Hobart.”

“Oi—”

“You haven't arranged it yet, so until then, I'm going to keep calling you that.” You both don't notice how your hand is still clasped in his. Or maybe you two chose to ignore it.

“Cheeky,” He has no idea what he's in for.

[hg-aneh]

will you ever come back, or is this an indefinite hiatus/straight up dipping?

i don't know

all the i miss yous are making me want to come back but ik i would just be terrified and motionless as soon as i do

Vent-ish Rant downstairs

CW: Pedophilia, Antisemitism, Suicide, Ableism, Harassment, Bullying, all the important words except for murder basically

i want to fix things in private with the people who hurt me so things can be okay and I don't out them for being wieners

but i also want everyone to know who hurt me, yet I'm aware it's not the right choice to make. social media outrage barely leads to anything, specially where minors are concerned

hell,now that i think about it, considering the fact that they genuinely don't believe people older than them are allowed to have feelings, I don't even think talking would be the right move

it's scary, its fucking scary

fuck. the whole thing started with a person mocking the way i spoke about crowley telling me to stop babying him because i was a legal adult and shouldn't be speaking like that

i had just turned 18 and the person was only a year younger than me

like when it's gone to that point and shit is that fucked up, what can one person even do

i remember i laughed about it back then but truth be told, every single little thing I've been told and that I've listened to coming from the people who hurt me has fucking destroyed me as a person

I looked at my older Discord messages, from before this whole mess started. I was so fucking happy and shameless with my joy, now look at my sorry ass

i just.

it's crazy that i have to go around masking in social media of all places because there are people that take such offense to me being cringe that they legitimately turn into high school mean girls

it's crazy that there are people who claim I'm something i am not because they want to make me look bad in the eyes of their little circlejerking friend groups so they can feel like the hero of the story

it's crazy that empathy goes completely out of the window when an account is big, that people don't see human beings as human beings when they're behind a screen

"just log off lol" i am a lonely shut in motherfucker due to my autism (that, surprise surprise, hinders my ability to socialize), you do not understand what you're asking of me, specially while being in this country and at this point in time where I'm actively craving to kick the metaphorical bucket, at daily risk of doing so, and what basically is house arrest for my own safety and well being

(aka, avoiding to physically yeet myself into upcoming traffic or buying something to actually seal the deal)

thus far I've been accused of antisemitism, pedophilia, being too self-centered (which. bro, the reason why i talk about myself is because it's the one thing i can comment on without being scared of some random person coming to tell me "NuH uH" about it out of nowhere or worse, having their feelings hurt because I don't agree with them 100%), proshipper (which, to those people, the word implies wonderful labels such as "incest apologist" "pedophile" (again) "abuse endorser" among other things) ((sidenote, I'm on neither side on that particular discourse. my friends from both sides know this. I would elaborate on my stance if this wasn't already long enough, but it is, so I'm leaving it at an "I don't care, you do you, but please leave me out of it")), being... mean... because i blocked someone...? (this one is just. that's how the second wave of hate started btw. yeah, because i blocked someone. holy fuck), and there's probably a handful of other things I haven't seen yet. fuck it, there's probably someone out there calling me a zoophile because of my catboy au

My friends who I will not name because I don't want the high school mean girls crusade to get to them, have helped me stash out evidence for all of the accusations and bullying.

fuck, they were the ones who let me know about it on the first place, both actions for which i am eternally thankful for because it means I can defend myself properly should the occasion arise (dios no quiera)

I've already had to make a post on Xitter responding to the antisemitism and pedophilia claims, in which, for the latter, i had to reveal extremely personal information for the people who started this to give me respite if only for a while

and. ugh

What I'm trying to get at with all of this is. it's. coming back is scary. i want to but at the same time I don't think I can take this shit anymore

I wish I had people defending me like this when the harassment started because I'm a spineless little bitch who'd rather talk things out and at least be neutral with people than clap back and tell them to stop being stinky

but what's done is done and now i just gotta figure out how to fix my head before i do something stupid

this is not the full story obviously, I'm cutting off certain details as well as more personal depression stuff to not make this bible longer than it already is

fuck

TLDR: I need a hug, idk if I'm coming back, I probably will cuz I can't say no to people, and some teenagers are horrible

[kittyhui]

baby fever anon again. god u cooked so hard i am. a little insane help,,, also full semi public sex fic PLS i will kiss u

here r some more bcs i can’t help myself except some of them r fluffy cus actually i think cuddling w him would fix me.

woozi finding out his partner has a rlly intense oral fixation. this one’s super self indulgent. but i feel like he’d always see u with some kind of candy in ur mouth or chewing gum n one day he asks abt it. and the conversation ends with his fingers in your mouth as he splits u open in missionary.

going back to the camping thing,,, i feel like you’d both wake up in the morning n go out to join everyone for breakfast and someone would side eye the fuck out of y’all bcs they had to go to the bathroom n heard noises coming from your room last night even though you tried sooo hard to be quiet. later i feel like that member would be like “don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone” n he’d get so embarrassed n red that others would think he’s Still drunk or something.

also taking care of him with a hang over :((( he’d be so clingy and i can see him being kinda snappy at other ppl but not u. if it’s rlly bad he’d probably explicitly ask u to rub his back,, or hold his hair back bcs he feels like he’s abt to throw up. woozi sick fics make me feral. i would take such good care of him UGH.

ohh god. convincing him to go on a little two day vacation when he has a little break n he’s just so,,, happy to spend time with you away from the city. something abt being in nature with you is so much more healing than it normally is. swimming w u,,, he’d pick u up n make u wrap ur legs around his waist as carries u around the pool. he’d fuck you by the pool too. n then he’d ask u to help cook dinner n he’d back hug u as u cut up the vegetables GODDDD. i feel like something would change in ur relationship after a weekend like that,,, like he’d be more comfortable with affection. you’d be sitting outside watching the sunset n he’d just have a moment of realization n then after that he’d try to shower u w more affection, even around other ppl.

another kinda drunk woozi head cannon i have rn cus im,, tipsy rn. if u both have the energy to be around svt but not enough energy to participate,,, he’d make u rest ur head on his thighs n he’d definitely play w ur hair, rub the back of your neck,, n maybe use his free hand to hold one of yours. you’d start playing w his fingers n he’d pull his hand out of your grip to brush your hair out of your face. i feel like he’s rlly only okay w kissing his partner in front of the other people when he’s drunk or tipsy cus the alcohol makes him not gaf. so you’d look up at him w a pout cus u wanted to hold hands n he’d lean down n kiss u so softly n sweetly, holding the side of your face. GOD.

ok that’s all i have for now,,, i have so many thoughts i do not stop thinking abt him ever.

Baby fever anon.. you are killing me

i didnt write more for a few but the oral fixation will have a full fic definitely cuz i relate!! And I will try to write that semi-public fic

MDNI!!

~drunk woozi~

drunk! woozi being cuddly with you in front of his members, the thought of him getting teased not even crossing his mind in that moment

drunk! woozi kissing all over your face to the disgust of the boys, yelling at you two to ‘get a room’ just to be flipped off by the man

drunk! woozi always having at least one hand on you at all times. rubbing your back or playing with your hair

drunk! woozi who settles down with you and the boys to watch a movie, your head resting in his lap, hand holding his

as the movie goes on, you play with his hand, kissing each finger repeatedly

drunk! woozi feeling shy, pulls his hand away much to your dismay, letting it rest on top of your head, petting you gently. you look up at him with a pout

drunk! woozi who will stare at your face with so much love in his eyes and when you look at him with a quizzical look on your face he just whispers ‘i love you’ before leaning down to kiss your lips

~going on a trip with woozi~

finally getting time off from work, jihoon books a trip with you

nothing crazy but he just wanted to relax with you with no responsibilities

the moment you get on the plane with you to your destination he’s already on clingy jihoon mode

he barely sees you because of his hectic schedule so he wants to have you all to himself now

he’s all on you when you finally land and get to your destination.

by the time the sunsets, you two spent so much time together: going out to do touristy things and eating at expensive restaurants

you decide to relax at the pool near where you were staying since it was late and no one could disturb you two

he looked amazing as he dipped into the cold pool, calling for you to join him

“pretty, the water is so nice. come in for a bit” he says to you before plunging his head underneath

you decide to dip in for a bit, the brisk water hits your skin as jihoon holds you by the waist, pulling you in slowly

the two of you linger in the pool, playing around like you were little kids. its definitely very late now but you wanted to soak in all the time you could with him before he had to get back to his routine of long work days

you gaze at him, smiling before saying ‘ thank you,, for this’

“there’s nothing you need to thank me for, pretty” he pulls you closer to his chest, speaking again, “wanted to spend time with you because i missed you.”

“missed you too” you let him peck your smiling lips “my fingers are getting pruney though, jiji. time for me to get out.” he nods, agreeing with you, before taking your legs and wrapping them around his waist, picking you up and walking towards the edge of the pool. he sits you down, your legs still around him and kisses you again. “go inside. i’ll be inside in a bit”

when jihoon comes back you’re cooking a midnight snack as you said. it was just simple ramyeon you found in a random store earlier but when he saw the three wrappers his heart swelled. obviously, you would’ve made some for him but just the little acts that make him love you more.

when you’re snack is finally done, you sit down with him to eat

as you eat, jihoon admires you. you were like an angel to him, glowing its you sit there.

“i love you” he mutters softly to you

“i love you too, hoonie” you reply in the same tone

“i’ve been thinking” he says, shuffling inside his sweatpants pocket “i know this is a bit rushed and i didn’t really plan anything. i was going to ask you while we were out but.. ugh i couldn’t do it. would you want to get married- to me?” he places a velvet box in front of you, letting you open it to see a ring- the ring you’ve dreamed of always having

“hoonie…” tears well in your eyes

“its okay if you dont want to but i thought i’d ask cuz i just want to spend the rest of my life with you and i know i’m always busy but-“

“yes.” you cut him off, “i want to marry you, jihoon” he sighs in relief, taking your hand in his, grabbing the ring out of the box and slipping it on your hand.

“i’m glad” he kisses you, “i love you so much, pretty”

~hungover woozi~

“ugh so bright…” his eyes close as fast as they open, the lights causing the headache he woke up with to get worse.

You wake up hearing his groans, turning to him with concern “are you alright?”

“Just a hangover.. I’ll be fine.”

you rub his chest slowly, “you need anything? water?”

“no, im fine… just need to rest” you nod, leaning down to kiss his forehead

“ill get you some anyways hoonie” you grab him some water and lay down next to him again, “let me know if you need something, okay”

“mmmh just need you” he says, his arms wrapping around you, your warmth slipping him back to sleep.

a/n: anon i didnt not give these justice im sorry😭😭😭 but i hope you like cuz the jihoon drought rn is killing us woozidans

[doodler16]

long one ahead. discussion of ableism and disability.

i have a very strong feeling viv only added disabled characters for clout/praise. none of the disability "rep" is good or realistic imo. yes, it's hell and heaven etc etc. idc. not to mention she's ableist towards disabilities, mental or physical, she can't or doesn't want to romanticize. look at the bellhopper from ghostfuckers and the goat lady at the reception of the hospital blitz and loona went to. ableism is funny there, but when someone is mean or ableist to fizz, it's wrong?

not to mention every single disabled character gets their disability "fixed" without any issue or actual impairment of their life. it doesnt impact them or shows itself as an actual disability, just as an event that happened to them that got fixed eventually. which is fucking wild. wouldnt be surprised if she "fixed" autism or anything in that regard too in the future.

vaggie - gets her wings back for no damn reason. never mentioned or tackled how she manages with only one eye. how does she coordinate with dancing and fighting? depth perception? it seems like her getting attacked/ her eye torn out by lute was just for shock value. its literally never mentioned again.

lute - gets a perfectly working arm prosthetic. why did her arm get crushed in the first place? only for drama?

fizzarolli- perfectly working prosthetics yet again. at least its shown that he struggles with self worth and confidence with his remaining horns and 'disfigurement'. yknow, seeing that the disability had an actual impact on his life. like those in real life do.

blitz - literally had half of his face burned off, plus most of his arms/hands, and his eye on the affected side is perfectly intact, and his hands are too.

what even is the logic in all of this? (there is none surprise surprise)

i wont even get into how addicts & mentally ill ppl are treated... maybe another time.

sorry for the ramble.

I don’t think Vivziepop and Brandon thought much about the disability aspect besides making into a punchline/dark humor. Because Helluva Boss was supposed to be a comedy while Hazbin Hotel handles all the serious lore and drama. Now in Helluva Boss they want to be serious about their topics, creating a double edge sword.

You are right about Fizzoralli, Anon. The Mammon Special bothered me for 2 reasons: Blitz and the way Fizzarolli is babied in and outside of the show. The fans would shower Fizzarolli with praise for leaving his abusive environment and gaining weight (I’m sorry I barely see a difference regarding his weight, dude is built like a twig) but meanwhile nobody in and outside of the show keeps the same energy with Moxxie. I remember making a video all about that because that episode was so hypocritical and the double standards.

It’s not fine for Fizzoralli to be made fun but Moxxie, the goat nurse, and the bellhop can be? Like cmon. Fizzoralli got like a whole protection squad it’s not even funny.

Vaggie getting her wings was not only awkward animation wise but out nowhere and I have to question is that how all the angels get their wings back by.. dancing and jumping around while another person is singing confidently about love?

Like what is the process/requirements of getting your wings back? Looks it is not a permanent situation. I get what they were trying to do, Vaggie coming full circle similarly like a butterfly except hers was nonexistent/rushed. I’m honestly surprised nobody in the hotel asked about her eye or Vaggie has not been insecure about it.

Like Angel Dust can make fun of her tits and name but never mentions her eye. That would be great character development for both Vaggie and Angel Dust. He pushes her to edge and goes too far, in the process Angel Dust learns more about Vaggie and why she is so guarded and closed off to sinners.

Vaggie’s eye being ripped, It was definitely for shock value and show how ruthless the excorists can be especially Lute. Lute losing her arm kind of adds to drama but it’s mainly Adam dying that takes the cake. Lute is the type to use anything that happened negatively towards her as an example of why sinners are dangerous.

I’m surprised Blitz can see properly, I thought he would be blind, wear an eye patch like Vaggie, or his vision would be 10x worse than before. Blitz getting that main character plot armor. 😂 Overall, the person who truly acknowledges their disability is Fizzarolli (even if it’s brief). I would love to hear your thoughts how addicts and mentally ill characters are treated in the show, no need to apologize for rambling. I find these conversations interesting.