#grease x reader

[callme-holly]

I NEED A KENICKE WHERE HES WITH READER AND HES JUST BEING SUPER LOVEY DOVEY OUT OF NOWHERE IN FRONT OF FRIENDS (he’s a little tipsy) AND THE GUYS START MAKING FUN A LITTLE BIT AND ITS JS ADORABLE

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐠𝐮𝐲 [𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧- some more kenickie stuff bc y'all seem to rlly like it LMAO

The drive-in was surprisingly busy, and despite the movie being long since over, the sun dipping just below the horizon, nobody seemed in a rush to get home. You were perched on the hood of Kenickie’s car, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders as he traced lazy patterns against the fabric of your shirt. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and you tried desperately to ignore the way his breath fanned across your skin, his lips brushing soft kisses along your jawline. 

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on the conversation going on around you, and you’d instead settled for brief nods or hums whenever you deemed necessary. It was rare for him to be this affectionate; sure, he could be touchy, but that was nothing compared to this. He was being sweet and quiet, something entirely out of character for him, although you could probably chalk it up to the few beers he'd downed at some point during the movie. 

Your hand came up to thread through his hair as his lips trailed lower, and you shifted slightly, a gentle reminder of where exactly you were. He made a low, dissatisfied noise, pulling back so that his chin merely rested on your shoulder, his eyes half-lidded as he returned to the conversation, only half listening.

"What'd you say, Zuko?" He mumbles, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling as everyone turns to look at the two of you, taking in your more than cosy state, Kenickie hanging off of you without a care in the world.

Danny raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'd know if you were listening." His tone is teasing, and the other guys all break out into hushed snickers, elbowing each other knowingly. 

"Yeah, what's the matter, Kenickie? Can't keep your hands to yourself now?" Sonny grins, and Kenickie shoots him a glare that silences the group immediately.

"Nah, just can't stand to listen to you dorks." He pulls you closer, and you shake your head softly, batting away his hand as it begins to make its way beneath your shirt, the action causing him to huff quietly. "You're just all jealous that I can keep my girl happy." He nuzzles against your neck again, earning another round of laughs and little digs, all of which he shoots down with a sharp. "Shut your traps."

"Kenickie..." you murmur, your fingers tracing absentminded circles on his bare arm. "Be nice." The way you say it is as if you're talking to a child, a light smile playing about your lips, and his expression instantly softens into a dopey grin, leaning his forehead on yours.

"Come on, baby... I am bein' nice." There’s something in his voice that causes you to pause; the sheer adoration laced in his tone makes your breath catch and your face grow warm. He reaches up to trace your jaw gently before moving forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Let's get outta here. Please?" 

It doesn't take too much convincing for you to agree, although you don't exactly trust his driving abilities with the state he's in, but he refuses to even let you sit behind the wheel, let alone drive. So instead, you end up sitting in the passenger seat, your seat, his hand resting on your knee as the car rumbles to life, drowning out the digs from the guys about Kenickie "growing soft," the comments only earning an eyeroll from your boyfriend in response. 

"Damn idiots..." He grumbles, pulling out of the space you're parked in, purposefully kicking up dust as he goes, and you chuckle fondly.

"You love them." He glances sideways at you briefly, and although he doesn't answer you, the smile on his face says enough, and that maybe, just maybe, there is some truth behind your words. 

[dinerdweller]

who I write for

. the outsiders

Ponyboy Curtis, Sodapop Curtis, Darry Curtis, Dallas Winston, Johnny Cade, Two-bit Mathews, Steve Randle, Bob Sheldon, Marcia Meyrink & Cherry Valance

. grease

Kenicki, Danny, Putzie, Rizzo, Marty, Jan, Frenchy & Sandy

. elvis presley characters

Chad Gates, Lucky Jackson, Danny Fisher & Tulsa McLean

. matt dillon characters

Bob Hughes, Larry Maretto & Sam Lombardo

. austin butler characters

Benny Cross, Elvis Presley, Major Gale 'Buck' Cleven & Peyton Leverett

. random

Art Donaldson [challengers], Patrick Zweig [challengers], Danny Lyon [the bikeriders], Johnny Castle [dirty dancing] & Neil [watching the detectives]

[cherrysfanfics-ily]

Omggg I saw you did grease could you do headcannons for doody with a French male reader

Here is your request! Thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you love it!! This is my first time doing headcannons like these, though I absolutely loved doing it!!

If there are any mistakes, please let me know!! <33

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Doody x Male! Reader

Word Count: 782

Warning: A tiny mention of the laws in the 1950s (didn't go into much detail)

before dating:

He was starstruck when he first saw you, Sonny had to tap his shoulder to get his attention back on the group

You had walked up to the school with Sandy, your cousin, and you caught his eye. He also caught your eye, but Sandy dragged you inside before you could look more

He stumbled over his words upon first speaking to you, especially after hearing your accent

If you allow it, he will have his arm resting around your shoulder most times under the guise of relaxing and not just wanting to touch you in some way

He is THE person to go and gossip with, you guys talk about what you’ve been hearing around school lately

People in the school really enjoy your accent so they go to you for advice, kind of like an excuse but because they assume you give good advice, and while you do share advice with them you also run to Doody and tell him the drama you were told

You accidentally broke one of his plastic water guns one day, and he let you get away with it but when Putzie broke one he forced him to get another for him (you also got another one for him but he told you, you didn’t have to)

If you are hanging with the group before he joins everyone for lunch, you are the first he acknowledges before acknowledging everyone else

You help him with his homework and classwork and he pays attention to everything you say

You are a T-bird so you're around the gangs a lot, and out of the ladies you're closest to Marty and you confide in her about your crush on Doody

He was the first to ask you out with the help of the other t-birds and Frenchy

He had Frenchy help reserve the diner for just the two of you and had the guy's help set it up to be romantic. There is music playing, a couple of candles, a few flowers, and a vinyl you were talking to him about

You definitely flirted with him in French and loved seeing him confused about what you said, you also refused to tell him yourself telling him to figure it out

when dating:

His love languages are touch and acts of service 

He loves holding your hand, or even just your pinky, and he loves doing things and getting you things that you mention you like

You call him 'My love, Honey, and a few French nicknames' and he calls you 'Beloved, My love, and dear'

His parents absolutely love you and always tell him so, which he relays back to you, and invites you to family game nights

He has always loved to hear you speak French, but he loves it so much more once you start dating 

especially when you call him a nickname in French

He loves sharing his lunch when you forget yours

He’d just plop down next to you and put his lunch in the middle of your guys’ laps

He sneaks little notes into your bag hoping you won’t notice (you do but you don’t say anything till after you guys meet back up)

You save the notes he gives you in an old box in your room, and when he finds it he is stuck to your side 

He gets you flowers and replaces them whenever they die (he likes seeing them in your room when he comes over)

He always hides you behind him when Bermudo and his gang come around as a way to protect you (even when he knows you can protect yourself, he just doesn't care)

You were the first to say I love you first, he was always too nervous and stumbled over his words when he tried

He had walked up to your front door with you, and you just told him, and he was blushy and nervous after you told him, but he said it back

You guys don't hide your guy's relationship, but you guys also don't announce it to everyone

there are some people who figured it out but give dirty looks towards you both, though you guys just ignore them

If it goes more than words doody won't hesitate to fight for you both, and neither are the gangs

You and Doody are following along with the laws and fighting to be together publicly 

If you guys ever fight, he will need time to calm down, but once he has, he’ll come back and talk it out

You guys met up at prom with matching ties, though you did not engage in the mooning (you did cover for him)

All in all, you guys love each other very much and he's just very much in love with you

[mixedupmelody]

to the person who requested kenickie x theatre kid! reader. i LOVE the way you think. <- actress

[softaestluv]

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

Mechanic! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

This chapter does contain explicit smut, 18+ content!

Tags: Rough sex, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Paying for services with sex, Vaginal fingering, Oral sex, Office sex, dirty, greasy, grimy, sweaty, mechanic

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4 (final part!) Ao3

A kiss, brush of lips, tongues and teeth.

Wandering hands, firm and steady on your hips— possessive, greedy.

Heavy eyes and shallow lungfuls, trembling fingers and a drowning pulse.

Scorching fever, yearning, aching for something more.

Every morning before work, languid kisses pressed between the oil and cloth fabric of Simon’s truck seats. Awkward angles and smashed positions. A clean Simon, all mouth wash and redwood soap, taste of morning tea on his tongue. Sweeter and longer kisses, gentle hands and a smoothing tongue, soft voice and honeyed croons.

Swoops butterflies low in your core, tightening your chest, hiding smiles between his lips.

Every evening when he picks you up from work, frantic kisses pressed against your front door and his broad chest. Indecent, shaming your neighbors with such a desperate act. Your mechanic Simon, dirty, filthy; sweaty and stained, salty on your tongue. Rough and brutal kisses, pinching hands and clashing teeth, deep timbre and gritted demands.

Burns warmth in your core, nudging your thighs together for any stimulation, quiet gasps and mewls swallowed between his lips.

Never more, never any less.

The first time he dropped you off at work, you were hesitant, swallowing over a thick lump in your throat because you wanted more from the night before. You didn’t know how to ask, or if you even should.

His fingers were reassuring when he held your chin, a murmured, ‘have a good day f’me, okay?’

Then he had stamped a kiss against your mouth. It was supposed to be chaste, you knew that, but you didn’t want it to end just yet, didn’t quite get your fill. You probably shouldn’t have made out in the parking lot of your job or perched yourself in his lap either, but you did. Scratched at the insistent craving in your lungs before running into your work building late.

When he had walked you to your front door after picking you up, you wanted to invite him in, you did invite him in. He declined, shaking his head with a soft chuckle, and a brush of his knuckle against your cheek— just droppin’ you off sweet’art.

And like a man contradicting his words, he pressed you flat against the wood of your door, drowned you in his saliva, dragging his mouth, fangs and all, against yours feverishly each time. Barely managing to pull away to bid you farewell.

It went on for a week, mindlessly feeding your fire with make out sessions in his truck and your porch, like two desperate teenagers trying to quench their thirst.

A week was all it took for Simon to fix your truck, had your engine running like new, but a gnawing itch dug at the back of your skull as you stood in his office. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be excited, not with the imminent lack of pre-work kisses and murmurs, any post-work bites and promises in your future.

As if your truck being fixed was the end of it.

A knot formed in the pit of your stomach as you aimlessly nodded along, pinching your lips between your teeth as Simon explained the work he did on your truck. You didn’t really care, your shitty old pick up was the last thing on your mind, even more so when he kept talking with his hands, thick fingers spread wide with each gesture, dipping into even thicker wrists. Solid forearms, veins curled over each curve, right up to each bicep.

Covered in stains— “Y’alright, bird?”

Your mouth fell open, darting your eyes back to his, “Yeah, yeah I-,” you fluttered your lashes, taking a deep breath, “So, what happens now?”

You mean between you and him, not your stupid truck, and you’re sure he knows that, but all he does is huff a laugh, closing the thin distance between the two of you. Bullies you right up against his desk without a care, hands landing on either side of your hips, consequently boxing you in.

“Well,” He pauses, bending his head to the crook of your neck, brushing the bridge of his nose up the delicate skin, drawing rapid goosebumps, “You still owe me f’my services.”

“A twirl?” You breathe, unsure.

“Go on, then.”

It’s hard to spin eloquently caged against his broad chest and the desk, but he doesn’t seem to mind when the plush of your body rubs against the front of his coveralls. Stopping you when your ass faces him just like he always does with a sturdy hand on your hip, except this time you’re pressed right up against his slowly thickening cock.

Your poor cunt, greedy and desperate clenches around nothing over his bulge. You’re sure he can feel it because he exhales a fucking deep chuckle, blurs your eyes with embarrassment.

And then those same hands are nudging you forward, your palms falling flat against the wood with a gasp as he lays his chest over your back. He’s warm against your cool skin, working in the sweltering garage all day while you sat in his conditioned office. The contrast stings your flesh, makes you painfully aware how hard he had been working to fix your truck. The callouses and scars on his hands evident enough, and the thought suddenly makes every touch even more searing. Taking care of your shitty inconveniences without a second thought.

His fingers skim the seam of your pencil skirt, trailing just a little lower to trace against your knee, rakes chills down your legs, “Had t’work a little harder this time.”

You inhale a sharp breath between your front teeth, “Yeah?”

“Mmh, gonna have to do more than just a little spin, love.” He hums, slowly hitching the fabric of your skirt to your hips.

“Yeah?” You repeat, your default answer when his hands are on you.

Simon laughs again, vibrates your back, “Yeah, baby.”

He hooks his fingers in your ruby red panties and tugs them down your thighs. A sticky string of your arousal clings to the fabric, beads in two when the material pools at your feet.

“Let’s see,” He purrs, “Did two oil changes free of charge.”

His hand smooths against the swell of your ass, thumb resting just under the curve, kneading the flesh gently before leaning back. Drags his eyes steady over your ass, and spreads your pussy open with a stamp of his thumb. You squeak, a bit humiliated at your compromising position; it makes an unbearable warmth bloom down your chest, but you like it.

Can’t do anything but like it when he’s ripping the stitches of your vulnerable flesh bit by bit with the reverence in his irises, the hunger seeping into his almond-shaped eyes as he stares at your pussy.

His thumb sweeps through the seams of your pussy and brushes right up against your sensitive clit. He’s firm on the puffy mound, petting confident strokes against the bead, makes you stutter over your breaths with each new shape like he fucking knew how you liked it already. Your legs spread wider at that, head nodding forward against your chest as you succumb, surrender to the sensation.

This is what you had been waiting for. This. His stained fingers on your clit, drooling over his thick digits.

You had been so well-behaved, let him trace your figure with teasing hands, make you late to work every morning, unfocused and wet in the chair in your office, leave you a breathless mess against your front door, so you like to think you deserve this. Deserve to lay against his desk and let him do whatever he wants to you.

“Fixed your air con.” A finger presses into your poor empty cunt.

Your fingernails dig into the wood.

“Got you a new set of tires.” A second finger joins the other.

A moan scrapes against the back of your throat, pushed straight out from the stretch, knees bumping against the desk as you slump slightly.

The first several drags are slow, using the time to coat his fingers in your slick, agonizing to the insatiable ache you need absolutely smothered. Your puffy walls clamp onto his fingers, using your pussy to ask him to press harder, deeper, further, just like you know his deft fingers can.

He gives you exactly what you want, but he makes an embarrassing show of it. Curls his fingers right where he needs to make your pussy squelch loudly, pulls them out just so he can see your slick cling to his skin, connecting the two of you with a dribbled string. Smears it on your pussy, swiping your clit with each movement over and over again.

Then, he follows the string straight to the source, licks around the digits buried in your sopping folds. You’re already wet, a sticky mess, and it only gets worse when soft lips encase your clit. Your knees out right buckle under you, body weight slumped against the desk when his teeth brush against the bead, coaxing your clit out of the hood by nipping, sucking, toying with it while he plunges his fingers deep.

Yeah, yeah, this is what you deserve.

You’re so close off that, gooey, tacky delicious honey washing over you, panting and shaking under him, toes curled uncomfortably in your heels. Your moans echo off the thin walls, and you struggle to remember if Johnny was still in the shop before Simon bent you over his desk within the brink of an orgasm.

The thought leaves your mind as soon as the strokes turn languid, nothing but really hooking his fingers in your walls as a placeholder while he unbuckles his coveralls. You whine, protesting even though the sound of clanking metal promises a better outcome, something bigger, thicker, because you were so fucking close.

He shushes you, tutting his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “None of tha’, takin’ what you owe me.”

His words make you moan, bobbing your head, yeah, yes, you’ll let him take as much as he wants if he keeps your pussy stuffed. You fidget heel to heel in anticipation, looking over your shoulder to watch. It’s a sight, all beefy muscle, tan lines and freckles, damp chest hair and pubes. Every move is determined, fueled with a purpose, shown in the way his arms flex, his brows furrowed.

You practically fall flat against the desk when you see him free his cock, fat and reddened, leaking with precum. The shaft is thick, a slight curve to it, barely fits in the palm of his massive hand. But all you can focus on is the girth, smacks hard against his fucking belly button.

“And now your bloody engine.”

His cockhead pressed to your entrance.

“Tell me, sweet’art, how’d you plan on payin’ all that?”

“With this,” You whine, arching your back, so your pussy rubs right up against his tip.

He hums, hand on your back pressing your hips flat against the desk, so your cheek is flush with it, “You mean this pretty little cunt, huh?”

You nod pathetically, scratching your skin against the wood because you don’t think you quite have it in you to use your words, confess that you’re willing to use your pussy. And he doesn’t push for you to, takes it as a good enough answer.

The stretch stings, makes tears well in your eyes, but it’s hurts so good. You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the burn, really drown yourself in the feeling of being so full. It’s a slow start, shaping your spongy walls to take his full length, moist lips mapping shapes against your neck in encouragement to take it all.

You think you’re ready for it, clenching around him, bucking your hips and pleading with quiet words for more— please Simon, I can take it.

Then, he’s just fucking brutal, unforgiving.

Your teeth knock together with the first determined thrust, your eyes snapping open in shock because you were not ready for that. It tears the breath straight out of you, hurts your lungs from the force. Rips a cry of his name from your core, your chest, your throat because you’re sure you’ve never been fucked like this.

Each thrust is harsher than the last, hip bones painfully slammed into the desk with each smack of his cock. The sound of his balls slapping against your flesh, loud and obscene, echoes how aggressive he’s really fucking you.

The gooey honey from his fingers and tongue turns to white, hot, searing pleasure. Borderline painful, as he forces you to take it with no where to run, so you just lay there and take it like a good paying costumer. Accept the onslaught until his hand bands around your throat, curls around the small muscle, and arches your back as much as you physically can so his mouth can press hot against your ear.

“D’ya think I’d jus’ be done with you too?”

You nod, squeak a strained ‘yes’ because you had thought that. Anxiety pinched your chest before his cock split you in two, before he made you his.

“Can’t get rid o’me that easy, sweet’art,” Simon grits through each word, “Work in grease and grime; you’re stuck with me now, baby.”

The words remind you of how dirty he is, how dirty you are for liking that fact. Even more so when his other hand tugs your shirt and bra low, digging indents into your breasts, and you can see how filthy his hand is from work— the same hand that was buried in your pussy moments ago.

Oil, dirt, sweat, grease and grime smeared on your skin, all over your dainty skirt and white blouse. Marking you as his in more ways than the dark hickeys he leaves on your neck and bruised fingertips on your hips.

It numbs your thoughts to nothing but the way you know his cock is just as filthy. Fucking you into a slippery, sticky mess with each rut of his hips. And then he hoists your foot onto the desk, hits a gummy spot that has you arching, quivering in his grasps. Blinding you and consuming you whole.

Your body decides that’s all you can take, squeezing so tightly around Simon as your orgasm becomes ferocious and unbearable. You seize up, Simon dropping his forehead against your shoulder as he tries to fuck you good and well through it, cussing under his breath. Everything’s fuzzy, blurry, and hazy; you’re dizzy, every part of your body melted into the sensory receptors of your body.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it, what words you’re saying, but you’re babbling for him to finish in you, cum inside you, taint your delicate flesh with every thing he possibly can.

It’s a few more shallow thrusts before his fingers are digging harsh into your hips, sharp teeth pinching against your shoulder. Warms your already scorching cunt with his spend, bucking his hips deeper with each new spurt.

Even after you milked him for all he’s worth, he rocks his cock into you again and again. Slower, softer, more careful from the way he was just bruising your cervix seconds ago. Relishes in the way your folds flutter overstimulated around him, middle and index finger tracing around where the two of you meet, where your pussy stretches so pretty for him, like he doesn’t want to slip out just yet.

Your fingers tangle into his on your hip, “Don’t think I paid my full debt yet. If you take me home, I can really show you how grateful I am.”

You’ve never seen him speed faster to your house, ripping the keys from your grasps when he deems you took long enough to open your door. It makes you laugh, finding it quite hilarious how eager he is to fuck you all night, a trucks engine worth of orgasms.

That night you let him fuck your mouth, slobbering and choking over his fat cock as he carves the shape into the back of your throat. Sucking the salty taste clean from him.

When morning comes he fucks you again, even though your pussy is sore and swollen, your muscles contracting painfully with each movement from overuse. The way he coaxes your orgasm out of you is worth it all, the way he kisses you goodbye soft and sweet after a shower at the door is even more so.

His promises to return later that night with his thumb rubbing tender strokes behind your ear are even better. Except this time you don’t have a theoretical debt to pay or a shitty pick-up, just a simple guarantee.

masterlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

[sukunasteeth]

Picking You Up From Work

Sukuna leans on the bumper of his Camaro, hoping a drop of rain doesn’t land perfectly on the tip of his cigarette and snuff it out. He’s pretending not to watch the front door of your workplace, like an anxious dog waiting for his owner to come home, but it’s ten minutes past the time you said you’d be out, and he was ready to take you to his apartment and settle down for the night. It had been a long day- he wanted to forget it in the taste of your whimpering on his tongue.

Customers pass him on their way into your workplace. Sukuna wonders briefly what has them whispering to each other and sneaking glances over at him: the nearly sixty year old car or the man covered in tattoos leaning against it?

Fifteen minutes pass before he checks his phone again. It was unlike you to be late, you knew Sukuna had a pet peeve of not being on time and, despite how hairbrained you were, he knew you tried to meet him halfway. Looking over his shoulder, he peeks at the flowers sitting on the passenger seat waiting for you. If he had known you'd be a minute, he would have put a splash of water in the bottom of the flower wrap holding the bouquet together. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, hoping they don’t wilt by the time you get to them.

“I’m sorry, I have to get going-” Your voice chimes through the sound of the rainfall like a cleansing bell, bringing Sukuna’s attention snapping back towards the exit of your work.

You're standing halfway between his car and the building, directly in the middle of the parking lot. A man dressed in a similar uniform to yours is standing a little too close to you for Sukuna’s comfort.

He flicks the ash off of the end of his cigarette and takes a drag.

~

“Are you sure?”

It’s been a long day.

“We could go get some coffee and just hangout for a bit-”

A really long day.

Granted: working customer service you expected long days. Grating days. Days in which you questioned your faith in humanity. But, that all usually ended when you clocked out for the night and headed home. You could easily forget all of it at the door. Tonight, however, the annoyance of having to save face continues.

You had been trying to give this guy a hint all day as he followed you around, desperate to catch your attention and doing anything to gain a brownie point. It was really starting to tick you off.

Not only that, you knew Sukuna was waiting for you somewhere in the parking lot and it was only a matter of time before this man was decapitated before your very eyes.

Dammit, you just wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve got someone waiting for me. Have a good night!” You try to wave him off, offering a polite smile before you turn your back to him.

"Who's waiting for you?" Sam calls out, still not catching the hint.

Before you can reply, a hand reaches around your waist, securing you to a familiar side- but you've been on edge all day, just waiting for your coworker to make one bold wrong move. On instinct, you snatch the wrist at your hip with a deathgrip before realization is able to save you.

Your eyes whip up to meet Sukuna's smirking gaze, his smile flashing into that serpentine grin that makes your fight or flight mode go off.

"Ohoho-" He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous darkness lurking beneath it. 

"'Kuna!" You ease your grip immediately, cradling his hand in sympathy. Part of you is instantly relieved he’s here to sweep you away, and the other part is sweating over how he’s going to handle this situation.  

Sukuna could be a bit possessive. 

"Good grip." He purrs, snatching up your own hand instead and continuing his original plan of tucking you securely into his side. "You turned your back to the scum bag, though." He tsks quietly. "My brat should know better."

Sukuna easily turns the both of you around, lifting you slightly to move without tripping you. You’re forced to face your coworker once again, although you notice that your unease has dissipated with Sukuna next to you now. 

“Is this...? A-Are you guys…” Sam sneers at Sukuna's sudden appearance, his poorly shaven lip curling up in disgust. 

Sukuna merely hums in response, “Every night while you’re wet dreamin’ about it.”

“S-Sukuna!” You interrupt, squeezing his fingers. Heat burns in your ears and you can feel them going pink under Sam’s now incredulous stare. “Is… my… yes.” You finish quietly, trying to avoid either one of the men watching you. Letting people into your personal life was not something you liked to do, even though you're sure your fiance would love it if you screamed it from the rooftops.

“Aw,” Sukuna makes a fond, sentimental noise and you press your elbow into his rib cage when you hear a mischievous lilt to his tone. 

“You and this guy?” Sam gives Sukuna an obvious once over, crossing his gangly arms over his chest in disapproval. “He’s not even your type!”

Oh.

Maybe this guy deserved a good beating.

Even you were too afraid to look at your fiance at that moment, you could tell by the look on Sam’s face that Sukuna wasn’t happy. 

The scariest part about Sukuna getting angry, was the lack of reaction. There was no glaring. No muscles going rigid. No shouting. There was only this overwhelming sense of danger, like a prey animal realizing it was about to meet its predator. 

Sam tries to fix it, sensing the murderous intent hanging in the air, but his ego still tries to bite: “Look, dude, I don’t mean any harm. I just think she needs a gentleman.”

…

Now that piques your interest.

You need a gentleman?

You almost completely forget about Sukuna for a moment, your head snapping in your coworker's direction with breakneck speed. 

“Gentleman?” You repeat, scoffing. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been breathing down my neck like a fucking animal in heat all day. Practically begging for half a second of female attention in any form you can get it and you’re standing here-after trying to follow me to my car like some fucking pervert- and you’re trying to tell me you’re a gentleman?”

When you try to take a step forward, you're reminded of Sukuna's unrelenting grip on your hip bone, holding you in place.

“Calm down- all I wanted to do was walk you to your car.” Your ill-favored coworker rolls his eyes, although you can sense his discomfort in the way he takes a few steps away from you. His ego speaks again, and you see red. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.” 

What.

“Alright, alright” Sukuna is shoving something cold and jagged into your hands, distracting the sudden confused rage that washes over you. Before you can expel it, he unfastens his hand from around your waist and nudges you in the direction behind him. “Go start the car.”

You blink up at him, taken back by the entire situation. His keys dangle in your frozen fingers, clinking together. 

Sukuna knows you're mad. Knows the only thing on your mind is curb stomping the man in front of you. And you know he won't let you get anywhere near that.

“Come on, Duckie.” He purses his lower lip in a mock pout when you don't turn to leave immediately. There’s something dark glittering behind the faux playfulness in his eyes, reassuring you that nobody was going to get off easy, asking you politely to turn your gaze from what he was about to do.

His calloused thumb sweeps over your fingertips, gliding over the deep red nail polish there. The kiss he presses against your knuckles is one meant for royalty. Soft and sweet. And incredibly persuasive. “I just got these nails done. Lemme keep ‘em pretty for ya.” 

~

When Sukuna opens the driver side door and slides in, fifteen minutes have passed. There’s a smear of blood on his cheek that matches the one on his knuckles, the red catches his eye in the review mirror. He licks his finger, using his spit to try and wipe it off before he turns to meet you, smiling sweetly. 

“What should we get for dinner?"

[rueclfer]

drive safe // katsuki bakugou smau

i made this at 4am and wasn't gonna post it until later but the caffeine got to me!!

part two

[anifever]

Gang w/ a Sandy!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : HC’s of the gang with a reader who’s like Sandy Olsson from Grease

A/N : This doesn’t mean specifically being Australian, blonde, white, blah blah- just her personality and stuff 😭 anyways I watch grease at least once a month

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🎙️ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ He thinks you’re precious

୨ Probably not the type of person he thought he’d end up with, but he doesn’t care

୨ On the contrary, could’ve been a high school sweetheart situation where he played football and you did cheer teehee

୨ Anyways, no matter when he first met you happened to be, he was mainly worried about how you’d handle the boys LMAO

୨ Tells the guys off whenever they tease you about something

୨ You kind of remind him of his mom which is comforting (not in a weird way, go away Sigmund Freud)

୨ That being said, you become somewhat of a mother figure over the group

୨ Ponyboy looks up to you a lot, Johnny loves how nice you are, and Soda thinks talking to you is refreshing

୨ Overall, he’s happy that you also bring them so much comfort

୨ Him wearing a light blue button-up shirt to match one of your lil’ pastel blue dresses 😋😋

୨ Fussing when they all come back from a rumble- you would’ve been extremely against the idea in the first place

୨ Getting sick when you see the blood all over him

୨ Him assuring you he’s fine but still freaking out, but you take a breather and try to help clean him up nonetheless

୨ You’re really good at helping him relax wether it’s massaging his shoulders or cracking a joke to try and lighten the mood

୨ He’s overall really protective over you

୨ If you ever asked to go watch a rumble, which would be unrealistic anyways, he’d immediately refuse and die on that hill

୨ He also really likes that you’re still able to stand your ground and speak your mind

୨ He ALSO likes that you have manners, it’s the bare minimum but it makes him love you more

Two-Bit

୨ Says the NASTIEST stuff to you just to see your reactions

୨ Has definitely pulled the thing he did with Marcia where he playfully offers her tobacco

୨ You were at a party either he or your friend dragged you along to or something and he offered to get you a beer but you said you didn’t drink

୨ He then offered you a cig and you hastily declined and he was just like “You’re real pure, ain’t ya baby?”

୨ Some clip of Elvis performing came on the TV once and you got all flustered/uncomfortable and he got giggly about it

୨ Anyways, his little sister thinks you’re an angel

୨ She’s always talking about your perfectly styled hair, painted nails, pretty outfits, etc

୨ He responds pretty coolly when she does it with a lil’ grin, but he’s so proud of himself on the inside

୨ Imagine having tea parties with her and him just watching from the doorway with a lovey dovey smile ARGGAHAHAGAG

୨ If someone dares to call you stuff like “wet blanket” or a “goody goody” he will be coming for them HARD

୨ The insults would be so creative

୨ He’s probably convinced you to drink just once and you threw up immediately after

୨ Never again.

Steve

୨ Absolutely thought you were a prude at first

୨ Even after he got to know you better, he still teased you about it

୨ One-sided enemies to lovers 😇😇

୨ You coming into the DX and him just mumbling under his breath while Soda rings you up

୨ Then proceeds to gossip about you after you leave; not without you giving them both a big smile and filling the tip jar first

୨ “Ain’t ever seen a girl that cheery. She apparently hasn’t even kissed anybody, y’know that? 🙄” and Soda’s just like “Man, who cares..”

୨ Soda slowly notices how much he talks about you and realizes what’s happening

୨ He brought it up and Steve was like “NUH-UH”

୨ Even with that, it was extremely obvious

୨ He constantly stares at you whenever you come into the store, he sees you at school, or just anywhere in general

୨ Anyways yada yada he finally asked you out after some subtle flirting that slowly became more obvious

୨ EVERYBODY is surprised

୨ An innocent, friendly soc with a greaser mechanic who does backflips off of cars; not a common pairing

୨ If you ever happened to swear ONCE, he’d have a field day

୨ A “damn,” “hell,” or “shit” slips out and it’s like someone died- he’ll never let it go

୨ He’s the type to tease you then get pissed when someone else joins in

୨ He’s “Only I’m allowed to do that” in the flesh

Dallas

୨ Caught off guard at first

୨ Deadass didn’t believe anyone could be as big of a goody-two-shoes as you are

୨ Fs teases you but you slowly grow on him- he sees the innocence as a challenge (not surprising)

୨ Found out you didn’t even have pierced ears and was like ?????

୨ Dare I say he’s a Kenickie variant

୨ Then again, the scene where Danny’s like “I don’t do parents” when Sandy asks him to come over is so him too

୨ Knocked on your window in the middle of the night and saw your nightgown and started chuckling about it, and you then proceeded to try and shut him up because you were horrified of your parents hearing him

୨ Going to Buck’s with him and either staying in his room or just sitting uncomfortably in a corner

୨ You might watch a pool game but all the smoke and alcohol would overwhelm you

୨ Unfortunately, he’s the type to pull the thing Danny did at the drive in, in which you’d ofc react the same way Sandy did

୨ You calling Buck’s car a “sin wagon” would be so accurate

୨ He tries to make it up to you by showing up to your front door (much to your parents dismay..) and giving you his Christopher again along with some flowers that he definitely didn’t pick from some rando’s garden

୨ I’m lying. He did.

୨ He also takes you on a real date afterwards, which is saying something

୨ Like Steve, he’s also the type of person to get mad when another person thinks they can make fun of you

୨ You’re so understanding and forgiving that he’s kinda confused a lot of the time LMAO

୨ Luckily for him, your good reputation probably gets him out of a lot of trouble

Soda

୨ Oh my god he’s so nice about it

୨ He’s head over heels

୨ Obviously he goofs off with the boys, but he’s overall the nicest/most open minded

୨ You two are so smiley all the time and it makes everyone SICK

୨ Gets a kick out of you not understanding sexual jokes or innuendos

୨ You guys look so good together it’s insane

୨ You’re so calming compared to the stress of being in between Darry and Pony’s arguments constantly

୨ He also loves how bubbly and kind you are to everyone because of it

୨ Going to drag races with him simply because he likes them and you like seeing him happy (the scene where Sandy watches Danny race reference⁉️)

୨ He is not the brightest in the head but you’re extremely patient with him

୨ He’s also extremely protective over you

୨ Like imagine you’re visiting him at the DX and some other soc’s come by and start teasing you to his face when you head inside for a second

୨ He proceeds to get one of the hoses off the pump and start spraying them with gas 😋🤍

୨ Before they can get out, he just keeps spraying them in the face or something which makes them drive away

୨ He just laughs to himself and puts the nozzle up as you come back outside and you’re like “???? Babe what happened?” when you see the trail of gas and all he replies with is “Nothing sweetheart!! 🤗”

୨ He knows Steve’s gonna complain about having to help clean up the mess later but it was worth it to him

Johnny

୨ Probably the most chill with it??

୨ He thinks it’s sweet

୨ Also thinks you’re somewhat of a breath of fresh air from the guys, along with soc’s in general too

୨ Definitely thought it was kinda odd you didn’t drink or smoke or anything, but thought it was nice to meet someone who didn’t for a change

୨ You guys take walks through town from time to time and it’s a huge contrast

୨ A denim-clad boy covered in a bunch scars with a preppy looking girl who radiates happiness

୨ You help him get a better outlook on life with how positive you are

୨ Loveslovesloves all the pastel clothes you wear

୨ When he met you for the first time he couldn’t believe how nice you were

୨ Watching a movie either at the drive-in or Curtis house and some form of nude scene coming on, you covering your eyes, and him just grinning at your reaction

୨ Doesn’t hesitate to talk back to Dallas if he says something bad about you

୨ You never try to force him out of his comfort zone or anything and he appreciates that

୨ He said something about “a weed” to Dal and you had no clue what they meant

୨ “Hey Dal, you got a weed?”

୨ “Huh?”

୨ “Uh, I asked if he had a weed.”

୨ “..A what? What’s that mean?”

୨ Dallas chimes in from the bg and is like “Yo.. Johnny, man, is she kiddin’?”

Pony

୨ The main problem he has with it is the fact you don’t smoke and don’t like it in general

୨ He def tries to cut down for you/at least not do it in front of you though

୨ Started when he lit a cigarette while you guys were walking together and you started coughing like a maniac while he was just like 🤨

୨ Since he’s the youngest out of them all, he isn’t super used to hanging out with girls so it doesn’t phase him

୨ He thinks it’s different than most people for sure, but he knows what it’s like to feel that way so he relates

୨ He admires how nice you are to everybody

୨ Especially to greasers

୨ You’re so soft-spoken that it makes him giggle and kick his feet sometimes

୨ You’re a good student so you probably help him with work a lot

୨ Steve probably said something mean about you once and he got all sassy and made a remark to him

୨ “Heard you’re dating some priss now, ‘s that right, Pone?” and he’s like “Why don’t you go stick you and your big nose in someone else’s business if it’s that important?”

୨ Safe to say Steve kept his thoughts on you to himself after that

୨ Another one who thinks the way you dress (and look in general) is gorgeous, he’s left gobsmacked every time he sees you

୨ He’s always admiring you and has probably drawn you at least once

୨ His sass sometimes comes out on you when you don’t know something, but it’s jokingly

[cursedyuri]

au where vi is your middle-aged neighbor who’s recently divorced and spends her time fixing up a rusty shitbox car in her garage, chugging beer after beer between cigarette puffs and blasting butt rock from a 90s-era boombox. send tweet

[stagtorccio]

SUMMER LOVIN' natalie scatorccio x martinez!reader (gn) request: i NEED more nat x martinez!r summary: travis skips out on hunting. you're next in the line-up. what could go wrong? warnings: none this one is actually normal word count: 1k author's note: wasn't gonna drink tonight but i miss smiley nat

𓃢𓃦𐂂 ── .✦

The forest’s alive with the thick hum of summer– mosquitoes, cicadas, the low chatter of wind through endless green. 

You keep pace behind Natalie, sweat clinging under your arms and down your spine, shirt plastered to your back, rifle slung carelessly over your shoulder. 

She doesn’t talk much on hunts. Today she’d started with a grunt and a muttered, “your brother’s being a dick again.” You’d nodded, grabbed your pack, and followed her into the trees like it was instinctual.

By now, it kind of is.

It’s been months since the plane crashed. Months since your dad died. Months since this, months since that. You’ve fallen into mind-numbing routine to stave off the ache in your chest you wake with every morning.

Halfway up the slope, she pauses to wipe the sweat from her brow with the hem of her shirt, exposing a flash of stomach and bruised hipbone. You don’t mean to stare, but you do. 

She catches you, like a snare hooks a rabbit. 

“Hey, eyes up here,” she snaps, and you flinch– but then she grins slow and crooked, words melting into a breathless laugh, low and from the chest. 

“Chill out,” Natalie mumbles, smacking your shoulder with the back of her hand. “I’m fucking with you.”

You grin back, shake your head, breath catching in the humid air between your bodies. 

“Right.”

She looks at you a second longer than she should– eyes narrowed like she’s trying to read smudged writing. 

You feel the faint prickle of embarrassment at the back of your neck– but then she turns, muttering something like “come on,” and starts walking again, boots crunching dry pine needles, leaving the smell of her sweat and the bite of her smirk lingering in the air like heat off a match head.

You follow, rifle heavy in your hands now, drumming pulse louder than the cicadas’ song.

You don’t talk, but your footsteps fall in sync. Natalie ducks under a low branch, and you copy her, the movement almost choreographed. She glances back, catches you doing it, and for a moment there’s a glimmer of mischief in her eyes– a childishly amused quirk to her lips.

She stops at a clearing, throws her pack down, and flops into the grass without ceremony. You hesitate at the edge, but she pats the space beside her without looking up. 

“Sit,” she says, eyes on her boots. “We’re not catching shit in this heat anyway.”

You drop beside her, elbows brushing, warmth between you that has nothing to do with summer.

Her fingers pluck absently at the grass. You turn your head to look at her, but she keeps her eyes on the trees now, lashes dark with sweat. You say nothing. Just wait.

After a minute, she flops back onto the grass with a groan, hands over her face like the sun’s personally out to get her– which might be a valid concern, given the burn already blossoming across the bridge of her nose. 

“God, your brother’s a total dick. Like, Olympic-level. Takes home the gold.”

You snort, toss a pinecone at her thigh. “He’s not that bad.”

Natalie peeks through her fingers, grinning. “Please. If I had a dollar for every time he looked at me like I kicked his fucking dog, I could buy us a plane out of here.”

“He’s just awkward,” you argue, lying down beside her. “Has a weird way of showing he cares.”

“Yeah, well, if that’s him caring, I’d hate to see him not give a shit.” 

She turns her head toward you, one brow raised. “Is it like, genetic? The whole broody, emotionally unavailable thing?”

“Rude,” you mutter, grinning. “I’m a goddamn delight.”

Natalie hums, unconvinced. “Mm. Jury’s out.”

You bump her with your elbow. “Y’know, you and Travis might actually have something in common.”

She groans. “Please don’t say hunting.”

“I was gonna say being insufferable assholes, but sure, let’s go with hunting.”

That earns you a shove to the shoulder, light but pointed. “You’re such a little bitch.”

You grin wider. “Takes one to know one.”

Her lips twitch, that familiar smirk creeping in like the sun breaking through clouds. “Wow. Sick burn. You rehearse that one, or–?”

“Shut up,” you laugh.

And then, she’s looking at you again, really looking. The kind of look that makes the air tighten between your ribs. Eyes soft, half-lidded, flicking to your mouth, then back up like she’s asking a question. 

You don’t move. You don’t have to, because she grabs the front of your shirt and tugs you in, easy and unceremonious, and kisses you.

It’s messy– teeth bump, her nose smashes into yours a bit, but it doesn’t matter. Her lips are warm and a little chapped and it feels like something that’s been trying to happen for a long, long time.

She pulls back just barely, breath mixing with yours. “You really think I’m a total dick?” she murmurs, a grin playing at the corner of her mouth. “Kinda hurts.”

You snort. “Only sometimes.”

She kisses you again, firmer this time, like she’s trying to prove something.

“You’ve got a type, huh?” you say, voice low, teasing. “Broody, stunted, kind of an asshole—”

“Shut up,” she laughs, shoving you back onto the grass. “You’re projecting.”

“Maybe—” you grin, leaning up on your elbows— “you’re just a freak, Scatorccio.”

She straddles your thigh without thinking about it– just drops there, lazy and unbothered, her hands bracing against your chest. 

“Okay, Freud,” she says, biting back a smile. “What’s your type, then?”

You look up at her, the sun a halo behind her head, wild tangles of her hair lit gold, green light flickering through the trees like the whole forest is holding its breath for her.

“You,” you say, simple.

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Terrible choice.”

You shrug. “More of an acquired taste.”

That gets a laugh– real and sharp, breaking open her face in a way that makes you ache. She leans down again, lips brushing your jaw, your cheek, then finally your mouth. Softer now. Sweeter.

For the first time in months, the weight in your chest doesn’t feel so heavy.

[callme-holly]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐚/𝐧: not my usual stuff but a few of ya'll wanted kenickie posts so here ya go!! if anyone has any requests for fics please just send them !!

Dating Kenickie Murdoch Headcanons

When he first sees you, he acts like a bit of a dick to try and get your attention. He’ll show off, whistle at you, make little comments whenever you walk by, and then act confused when you don’t grovel at his feet.

The more you ignore his poor attempts at trying to get your attention, the more “respectful” he becomes. It probably isn’t until Danny knocks some sense into him that he realises, yeah, maybe he needs to be a little bit more of a gentleman.

He’ll lay it on thick, let me tell you. He’ll offer to walk you to your classes, to carry your stuff, and give you lifts home, and soon you can’t help falling a little in love with him.

When he does eventually ask you out, he’ll be a little sheepish and kinda nervous (which he will deny until the day he dies), and he does just sort of blurt it out. It’s not romantic at all, and he makes a fool of himself, but somehow you still say yes.

“So, uh, look...” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I was thinking—well, not thinking, but maybe we could, y’know, go grab a burger or somethin’...” His voice cracks slightly, and you have to fight to keep the smile from creeping onto your face as you nod slowly. “Sure, why not. I’ll grab a burger with you, Murdoch.” He looks in a state of shock for a minute before grinning, smoothing his hair back coolly. “Yeah? I mean—of course, I knew you’d say yes.”

Once you both officially start dating, he takes his role as your boyfriend very seriously. He’s never cared this much about a girl before, but he’s determined to make this work.

He’s insanely protective of you, and if anyone even thinks about looking at you the wrong way, he’s snapping and jumping to your defence like some kind of guard dog.

He’s got a whole range of nicknames for you, such as “doll face,” “baby,” and “sweetheart.”

He isn’t the flowers and candles type of guy; his romantic gestures are much more grand and over-the-top.

He’s a sucker for PDA, as long as it shows just how tough and cool he is. He isn’t the hand-holding, lovey-dovey type, especially not in front of the other guys. His arm is around you 24/7, and he’s always trying to steal kisses whenever he can. However, when it's just you two, he’s a lot softer, holding you from behind, leaning his head against yours when he’s tired.

Some lunches, when everyone is hanging out on the bleachers, he’ll rest his head in your lap and let you play with his hair as long as you don’t mess it up. If the guys say anything about it, he’ll shut them down with a single glare or a snarky comment. 

Kenickie has a jealousy streak a mile wide. If he sees someone talking to you, or someone paying you a little too much attention, he’ll casually wrap an arm around you and smirk, making it clear to anyone looking that you’re his. 

He’ll try and teach you stuff about cars and let you sit in the garage while he’s fixing up greased lightning. You’re the only one allowed to sit in the passenger seat and make comments about little mistakes.

When it comes to arguments, the two of you bicker quite a bit. You don’t usually have full-on fights, but when you do, they’re pretty serious. He’s too proud to admit when he’s wrong, so just give him the silent treatment, and he’ll stride over to you in no time at all, playing it cool and giving his best attempt at an apology. 

“C’mon, doll, you really gonna ignore me all night?” He mutters, stepping towards you and running a hand through his hair. When you don't respond, he lets out a dramatic huff, feigning indifference. “Alright, fine. Maybe I was a little wrong. You happy?”

Kenickie is a pretty tough guy, and sometimes keeping up that image can weigh down on him quite a bit. You’re one of the only people who he softens around, and sometimes he’ll vent about how he’s feeling. He feels safe around you.

Once he’s committed to you, he’s all in. This boy is loyal to a fault and will stick with you through thick and thin. He’s not the best when it comes to words, but he’ll show his love for you through what he does.

He’ll sneak into your room some nights and convince you to go on little spontaneous trips in the car with him. Do your parents agree with it? No, definitely not. Does Kenickie care? Not in the slightest.

He’s secretly very thoughtful, and while he pretends not to care, he’ll remember the smallest details, such as your favourite snacks or songs, and prove he knows more than he lets on by randomly throwing you said snacks during lunch or making sure your favourite song is playing when you get into his car.

Under all the tough act, he can actually be pretty sweet to you <33

[cherrysfanfics-ily]

☆ Grease Masterlist ☆

♡ Frenchy Facciano

♡ Betty Rizzo

♡ Sandy Olsson

♡ Marty Maraschino

♡ Jan

♡ Kenickie Murdoch

♡ Danny Zuko

♡ Sonny

♡ Doody

☆ Doody x Male! Reader - 782 Word Count - Male! Reader

♡ Roger

♡ Leo Balmudo

[hiskillingjar]

OKAY WAIT um um ummmm okay uh favorite positions and kinks/fetishes of the boyfrgiends or or or maybe maybe their reaction to to mc surprising them with lingerie i have too many ideas starts shaking

cute <3

ren 🦊

ren is fairly easy from a fetish/kink perspective in that it's basically. all. (or at the very least, most)

like mans is a fetish monster. porn brained. gooner.

but the romantic sort, in that he just wants to do anything that'll be done with enthusiasm and eagerness!

like. yeah he's a rapist freak, but he wants you to enjoy it too!

same reason as to why he likes missionary the most! <3 he wants to see your face and talk to you and enjoy your body

(and see your boobs bounce as he fucks you)

if you surprised him with lingerie (especially if it was cute and pink and sparkly), he would LOSE HIS MINDDDDUHHHH

plap plap plap, get pregnant, get pregnant, etc etc.

lawrence 🥀

lawrence is a bit specific, but they like anything that basically revolves objectification and dehumanisation

they love your body, but what's there to enjoy about being human? wouldn't you rather be something else? i can do that for you...

a lot of bondage, degradation, extreme dominance and control...lots of stuff!

law doesn't have sex very often (they're depressed...), but missionary is nice. they like it when you're on top too (especially if an MC was chubbier and heavier than them). they like the pressure of it <3

they wouldn't think much of being surprised with lingerie. they like you authentic, not making an effort, honest...but maybe if you wore something in vinyl or latex...hm <3

strade 🔪

when it comes to sex, strade is. sort of vanilla lol

like he's a tried and true, missionary sex, a hand around the throat, growled dirty talk, kinda guy

but he's super "yes and", so if you were interested in something, he'd be more than happy to appease :)

in The Basement, though, we know he likes sadism/masochism, degradation, anything that just ruins you and makes you hopeless and easy to fuck with <3

strade's a missionary guy, but he likes doggy style too, to demean you and make you feel like shit ^_^

if you surprised him in lingere, he'd have the guy-in-his-thirties response, give you a wolf whistle and slap your ass, like "nice one babe"

[softaestluv]

Grease & Grime Won’t Break Your Bones

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

Mechanic! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! reader

Tags: dirty, greasy, grimy, sweaty, blue collar worker, yeah I’ll take one of those! you own a pick up, & I actually don’t know anything about cars, eventual smut

Pt . 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Ao3

Contrary to popular belief, you weren’t completely daft when it came to cars. There were a handful of things you could do, as simple as they might be. You knew how to change a flat tire, how to change your oil, the oil filter and air filter. Even knew how to change the bulbs in your headlights— yours had gone out more than once.

Kept up with basic maintenance, topped off all fluids when necessary, rotated your tires, visited a shop when needed.

Though, the piece of shit pick-up you owned seemed to have more problems than one. Sticks on wheels, lemon of a vehicle, engine light flashing more often than not. You were quite exhausted from all the maintenance, worked too hard to keep staining your clothes in grease and ruining your manicured nails.

A pretty thing like yourself shouldn’t be doing such hard work, but you put entirely too much time into the old truck for price gauging and scamming mechanics to stereotype you— a woman, naive.

Simple.

Maybe you had been lucky when you stumbled across ‘Ghost’s Garage’ and the mechanic was anything but, even if his shop was a rundown brick building on its last leg. Old, dinky, mortar deteriorating, cracks and chips in the bricks. It was honestly a miracle it was still standing, but he worked in auto-motives after all, not construction.

Maybe you were a little biased when the mechanic seemed to walk out of a Men’s Health magazine.

Blonde hair, white t-shirt hugging his biceps, coveralls low on his hips, grease stained arms and fingertips, tattoos curled over his ridiculously tanned skin. It was almost cliche the way he approached you, dirty rag pressed to his forehead, wiping the sweat that dripped down his temples before using the same rag to clean the grease off his fingers.

“What can I do for ya?” He asked with shallow breaths, thick accent twined around each word.

You swallowed thickly, “My oil, I just need my oil changed.”

He raised his brow, gesturing to your blue truck in the service drive, “This your C10 right ‘ere?”

You nod, “That’s me.”

“Y’can sit in my office if you want, ‘ts hot out here. Shouldn’t be long.” He explained, pointing to a small room in the corner of the shop.

It was a typical mechanics office, small, a little dirty. Papers scattered across the desk and floor, plain beige walls, spare parts thrown in a corner. One frame on the edge of the desk, a picture of him and three other men, one of which he’s not really smiling in, just a slight lift to the corner of his lips.

You’re quite grateful that he let you sit in his office rather than being stuck in the summer sun; it was hot, scorching. Even the shorts and t-shirt you wore clung uncomfortably to your skin, thighs pressed tacky to the leather chair.

Despite the fact that it’s a bit too stuffy, a bit too cluttered, you don’t entirely mind. Not when it gives you a perfect view of the mechanic bent over the hood of your truck through the rooms only window.

Now you could really look at him, appreciate the absolute hulking mammoth of a man he is. Burly, brawny, sinewy, can’t even begin to think of all the adjectives to describe him.

Sweat drips down his thick neck, over broad shoulders, and around stout biceps, accentuates each dip and curve of his beefy muscles. It soaks his white shirt wet, makes it cling to his back and abdomen, displays every defined contraction of muscles.

Makes your body burn hot.

You feel like an absolute pervert, mouth salivating at the sight of a mechanic changing your oil. Maybe there was truth behind loving a man in a uniform, even if it was dirty, filthy, soiled, and half off.

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

It isn’t long, less than 10 minutes, and meanwhile you appreciate the efficiency, a part of you is a little disappointed at the loss of the show.

“All set for you.” He says once he enters the room.

You jump up, “Ah, thank you so much!”

“Nice ol’ thing, ‘aven’t worked on one of ‘em before,” He compliments, zipping up the rest of his coveralls— ‘Simon’ printed on a pocket patch.

You laugh, real low from your chest, “That’s what you think. Just wait ‘til I come back next week cause the engine light came on.”

Simon chuckles, “No worries, bring it t’me for whatever you need.”

“Depends on how much you’re charging me for today’s services,” You joke, rummaging through your bag for your wallet.

“‘ts on the house,” He responds, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against his desk.

“What? No, I didn’t mean like that,” You stammer, shaking your head, “I’ll pay you.”

Simon just shrugs his shoulders, “Just be back for your next oil change.”

Your smile is wide, “I’ll see you in a couple thousand miles then.”

✦.─Masterlist ─.✦

[theladyheroine]

🎵 Little Blues & Dancing Shoes 🎵

Movie! Shadow x Platonic! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Some Comfort

Word Count: 1,801 words

⚠️ Warning: The reader is a little sad for the first half, but don’t worry things get better!

Summary: Hello everyone! This isn’t the end of my Shadow fics, & I am planning more for the SCU in the future. But I figured this would be a good way to wrap things up! This is the song I used, but I hope you all enjoy! Thank you!

6:45PM

The numbers glowed under Shadow’s eyes as he examined the stove’s electric timer. He kept looking at it, as if his gaze would miraculously make the time go faster. 

You were never this late before. 

He turned his head towards the window and watched the sunset turn the deepest orange against the mountains. The vibrant colors now fading into a dark palette. 

It was going to be night soon. Just where on Earth were you? 

Shadow wondered if he should go get you. He knew the address of your workplace, words and numbers you had him memorize in case of emergency. But that was limited to calls on the telephone you bought for the kitchen. Not wanting someone suspicious to discover your little buddy. 

He would be quick; teleporting to and from the house would be a cinch for him. If it was dark out no one would notice him either. But what if you already left? He didn’t want to go searching for you if you weren’t there. 

Shadow’s thoughts quickly dissolved as a loud THUMP hit the door. He watched with narrow eyes, but then the doorknob started to jiggle up and down. He heard the THUMP sound again and a couple grunts, then a loud “OW!” behind the door.

“Shadow!” You called. “Shadow you there!”

He exhaled, letting his body relax as he walked up to the door. 

“Yes!!” Shadow answered back. He heard you breathe a sound of relief before shouting again.

“Hey bud—if you’re by the door, can you open it for me please! The keys are stuck real good this time!” 

Shadow hummed and quickly turned the lock. You stumbled inside, clutching your belongings as Shadow caught you. 

“Well, don’t you have good timing?” You breathed. 

Shadow nodded, “You really should get the door fixed.”

Quickly you took off your jacket and pried the key from the lock. “Yea, sorry buddy. I’ve been meaning to, just-haven’t found the time yet…” 

“But thank you, by the way! And sorry for being late, I got held up at work and the bus was super late today. Thought I’d have to walk back.” 

Shadow shook his head, “That’s alright. Just glad you’re safe.”

You smiled; he was always looking out for you, but you hoped you hadn’t worried him too much. 

Unfortunately though, Shadow was a keen observer. And something about your smile made him feel doubtful. It was too quick, too flat. Even your eyes looked dull under the lighting.

As you put away your things, you pulled out your phone and started typing. Shadow was amazed at the concept of pocket technology, and he knew it held great importance nowadays. Although recently, you’ve been getting a lot of emails. And from your expressions, Shadow couldn’t tell if they were good or bad ones. You just seemed very eager to answer.

“[Y/N]?” 

No answer. 

“[Y/N]?”

Nope. 

Shadow walked over and tapped your arm. 

“Hey—”

“AH!” 

You jolted at his touch and Shadow raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you alright?” He asked. 

“O-Oh, yes I’m fine! Sorry Shadow, I’m just a little busy right now.” You quickly put your phone away and wandered over to the fridge, looking for something to get dinner started. But to your surprise, the fridge was nearly empty. 

Less than half-a-dozen eggs and some week-old scraps sat on the shelves, along with a small milk carton and a bag of apples. Hardly what you’d call a proper dinner. 

“Aw—no!” You facepalmed, “I knew I forgot something! I was supposed to go to the store today!” 

You gave a worried look then rushed over to the pantry, but got the same result. All that was in there were snack boxes and some espresso candy for Shadow. Which already had a pretty good dent in it.

Your head hung low as you leaned onto the pantry door, clearly embarrassed. Shadow walked over and put a comforting hand on your arm. 

“It’s fine, there’s gotta be something in here we can use.” 

You purse your lips together, then an idea pops in! 

“Hey! Why don’t we order pizza instead?” 

“Pizza?” Shadow mimicked, “That should suffice.” 

“Great! I’ll just see what’s open right now and then we can—”

Before you could pull out your phone again, you patted down your pockets. Checking each one frantically before whirling around in a circle. 

“Crap! My wallet’s in my jacket—” You combed your hair with your hand, and Shadow looked at you strangely. 

You seemed far less relaxed than usual, restless even. Something wasn’t right, and running all over the place most definitely wouldn’t help. 

“I am so sorry, lemme just look for it real qu—”

Shadow grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. It didn’t hurt, but you weren’t expecting such strength from someone his size. It was like someone super glued you in place before you  finally shuffled your feet back. 

You turned around, and saw a frown on your friend’s face. It wasn’t his typical droning or any distressed look. 

“Shadow…are you okay?” 

He glanced to the side before he let you go. “I should be asking you that. But first—stop apologizing.” 

Your eyes widened. 

“You’ve been doing it since you got here. You need to stop.” 

You swallowed; had you really been repeating yourself? 

You put your hands in your pocket, opening your mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. You almost said it again. 

“I–I didn’t mean to worry you Shadow. It’s just…been a long day.” 

You trudged over to the table and flopped into a seat. “Things have just been a bit hectic lately. Work’s been a little crazy, and I haven’t had too much time on my hands.” 

“Didn’t mean to make you upset though,”

You rested a hand on your cheek, only to groan in defeat as your phone buzzed. Your demeanor had deflated into a pile of mush, and Shadow couldn’t find any more words to say. 

Words had never been his strong suit. Not since his time with her. 

Even then, Maria did most of the effort. Playing games, picking movies, even dancing were all left to her. Leaving Shadow to enjoy her company as long as he liked. 

Yet here he was with you, someone who had welcomed him into their home. Someone he could have peace around, and hold onto. When he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet, you were there to pick him up. 

He could rely on you, but right now, you needed him.

You had pulled your phone out to check the notification, but Shadow was swift. He grabbed it in one smooth motion. 

“Shadow!! Hey—”

Just as you stood, he teleported away.

“Wh—Shadow?!” You gawked. 

After a moment, he reappeared. Standing on top of the counter with your precious phone in hand. You attempted to grab it from him, scolding him for such behavior, but Shadow didn’t care. He swatted you away as he vigorously started pushing buttons. 

Or at least tried to. It took awhile for the screen to recognize his touch, the gloves likely didn’t help. He finally found the app he was searching for, then held the phone out to you.

“Play this.” 

Your mouth hung open, “Huh?” 

“Just play the song, please.” Shadow turned his head, waiting. 

There was no use arguing with him; Shadow had a firm state of mind. He might even hide your phone if you didn’t listen. 

Sighing, you turned up the volume and pressed the PLAY button. Letting soft, bubbly music fill the kitchen. 

What’s that playing on the radio? 

Why do I start swaying to and fro?

“Hey!” You exclaimed. “Did you watch Grease without me?” 

Shadow smirked, “Maybe.” 

Then he did something unexpected: he held out his hand to you. 

“Sometimes, your feelings–your emotions get stuck. Your body needs help releasing them, but music is good for that.” 

His words soaked in your sorrows like a wet sponge. They took a hold of you, and you grabbed his hand. 

“Guess..you’re right.” You breathed. “When’d you get so wise?” 

“Actually, a good friend taught me that. She liked to dance.”

You smiled, putting both hands in his. 

“Well, she sounds amazing.”

A melody that's never the same!

A melody that's calling your name

And begs you please! Come back to me!

You took two steps forward, striding with the beat as Shadow took two steps back. Then vice versa. 

The music softened your shoulders as it carried you. You swayed as you both stepped to the right. Then to the left, shuffling until you started to turn. 

Shadow followed in perfect sync and you two shimmed in a half circle, playfully swinging your arms to the beat. You gently tugged him closer to the edge, he took the hint and jumped down, hands held higher at the height change. 

“Hey you’re pretty good at this!” You grinned. So did Shadow. 

“Thank you.”

I'll be waiting by the radio!

You'll come back to me 

Someday, I know!

“Been so long since our last goodbye!” You sang. “But I’m singin’ as I cry-y-y!” 

You hopped up and down at the last verse, jerking poor Shadow forward. The second half of the song rolled around and you were basically leading at that point. Unknown to you, his big gloved hands fell limp as you went on. He almost looked like a ragdoll as you danced and Shadow couldn’t be happier. 

Time seemed to move slower, yet the outro of the song drew near as the lyrics shifted. In that time you and Shadow shuffled in a full circle, going round and round til the final words. You ended in a grand “TA-DA” pose with your hand held up, earning a laugh from the hedgehog.

A bit of laughter burst from you too. Then, you bent down on one knee, reaching Shadow’s level. 

Without warning, you tossed your arms around him.

Shadow didn’t flinch, but soon fell still under your touch. At first you feared hugging was too much, but you had to adjust yourself when Shadow pressed his hands against your back. Burying his head in the base of your shoulder. 

The phone had already switched to a different song, but no one heard it. Your voice played just above the music, loud enough for only Shadow to hear.

“Thank you, Shadow. You’re such a good kid.”

“Thank you,” He mumbled. “You’ve been such a good friend.”

After a few long seconds you two pulled away, and you rubbed the top of his spiky head. 

“Now, how ‘bout we order that pizza!” You laughed. “I’m actually starving right now.” 

You went to grab your phone and wallet, scrolling through countless pizza toppings. Leaving Shadow with the warmth of your embrace. Something he hadn’t felt in such a long time. 

“Maria would’ve loved you.”

🩵 —THE END— 🩵

(Quick sidenote: I hope I timed the music right! Let me know if it’s a little funky!)

[mi-co-uk]

GREASE x STURNIOLO AU ──★

ˢᵗᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍ...

MATTHEW STURNIOLO / DANNY ZUKO

ᵖᵃⁱʳᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ...

READER / SANDY OLSSON

ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ NO FACECLAIM ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳ ⁱˢ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗⁱᶜ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿˢᵖⁱʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵖᵘʳᵖᵒˢᵉˢ ᵒⁿˡʸ

ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍ...

CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO / KENICKIE MURDOCH

ᵖᵃⁱʳᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ...

READER / BETTY RIZZO

ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ NO FACECLAIM ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳ ⁱˢ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗⁱᶜ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿˢᵖⁱʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵖᵘʳᵖᵒˢᵉˢ ᵒⁿˡʸ

NAVIGATION || AU MASTERLIST

tags: @pair-of-pantaloons @oopsiedaisydeer @corspebridedelrey @faiyaz555 @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosrtewsexy @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @emely9274 @baebadoobee4ever @fw-lee @afr8idofrats @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @chrxsprettygirl @franticroads @m4gz-png @sosasturns @clairomatt @allisonclairee @mattshorsenecklace @whor3ing @matts-girlfriend @obsessedwiththesturniolos @shadowthesim237 @xeneasworld @chrisslut04