#he was running for that nut like his life depended on it

[girl-lostconnection]

Acceleration AU (part 4) 7.1k

Warnings: smut, insecurities, unhealthy attachment, Johnny is middle child and hates it, possessive behavior, Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader, Simon is a loser😔, mentions of religious elements (prayer beads) as allegory, suggestive themes, abandonment issues

Soap isn’t sure about anything. Soap looks at you and feels a surge of protectiveness, your tears cracking open the soft tender part of him.

The protector. At his core Johnny is a protector, and you look like you could use one. He knows you are capable of doing it all yourself, God, he can see the way you actually snarl at Simon when he tries to make decisions for you.

But he can’t help but move a little closer to you, passing you a pillow for your lower back while you drink your tea. It earns him a small smile and an additional biscuit on his plate.

(He will come off his leave few pounds heavier thanks to your efforts, but God, it’s not fair how delicious everything is)

For some reason you keep feeding him like your life depends on it, sneaking him crackers and nuts and sandwiches.

Passing him juicy cuts of steak Simon fries for dinner. Making him tea and sharing your cookies. Cutting fruit and peeling oranges and tangerines.

Soap feels like you would hand feed him like he’s a sparrow if you could. If he’d let you.

Caring for him comes to you so naturally like you don’t even have to think about it. And watching you notice Simon’s mood swings and the fact that you pinned comfort foods list for his lieutenant on the fridge…it speaks volumes.

Soap isn’t sure what’s going on and what it means but Simon seems incredibly pleased, and you seem to act like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

So, he just…accepts it? He likes to eat and things you pass him are always delicious so there are no actual grounds for complaining.

You aren’t pushy like Simon is with his advances, you don’t hover, you don’t stare him down. Where Simon is a mountain, an enormous heavy presence and heavy hands and heavy eyes — you are the wall.

You are the cover and safety and absolutely unyielding nature. You are wide shoulders and warm fingers passing him food. You feel like shelter.

Still, he can’t help but sneak glances at you and Simon, trying to gauge how you two even happened. How does it work?

Why did you two stuck together for so long?

Two stones won’t make a paper and while he thought that he and L.T. balance each other out, he didn’t know about you in the past. And now when he does the dynamic leaves him puzzled.

It’s entirely new side to Ghost. A side he never knew before, a side no one but you see, probably.

But you mention running low on groceries and Simon gets up without a second word, getting dressed.

Soap isn’t sure he’s morally ready to stay with you in an empty apartment while he wears your…boyfriend’s? partner’s? just yours? Simon’s sweater.

So, he gets up as well and then you hum to yourself and also get up, quickly drafting up a list in your phone’s notes app, murmuring to yourself what you need to get and occasionally asking Simon (who’s already one leg out the door) if he knows whether or not you have flour.

Simon huffs, getting his boots off and pads back to pantry to check before reporting that no, no flour.

Finally, after two more walks to the pantry (you seem to enjoy making Simon walk back and forth simply because why not and Soap hides his grin behind a cup) and uncomfortably warm fifteen minutes in a puff jacket (that’s what he gets for getting ready too quick) you all are dressed and ready to go.

The afternoon is cold but crisp, not a cloud in the sky, sun shining brightly enough for you to pull out sunglasses and push them on Simon’s nose.

Simon presses a short kiss to the crown of your head and extends palm to Soap, making a flexing gesture with his fingers.

Johnny feels something inside of him warm up when he takes Ghost’s hand and gets pulled up close, grinning when sunglasses almost slide off Simon’s crocked nose.

It’s good. He feels like a boyfriend. Like Simon’s boyfriend.

Where he stands with you, he’s not sure yet, because as much as primal part of him surges up to protect you from slick mud and Simon’s glares and stranger almost checking you off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic, he doesn’t know how you feel about him.

Why bother imagining something that may not even come to life? Powering through obstacles is purely Simon’s virtue, Johnny is more used to rebuilding things. To squeezing through the cracks and making his home in people’s heads before they catch the wind of it.

But you prance forward, click your tongue in annoyance when Simon pulls you back. There is a silent moment where you two just stare at each other and Johnny swears he can see the conversation happening.

He’s just not a part of it.

Johnny has never seen before the way you and Simon operate outside of your home bubble and now, he thinks he gets it a little.

There is this years-old familiarity with which you cover Simon’s side in the crowded mall, pressing him to the opposite side of people walking by you — minimizing amount of accidental physical contact with strangers for him.

And Simon lets you do this without as much as a sound, free palm under your puff jacket, on the small of your back as you lead the way.

It’s as if you know Simon like you know the back of your own hand, perfectly attuned to the level of his comfort, hypervigilant as soon as you step outside.

It’s the same deal inside of the supermarket when Simon tugs your puff jacket off, draping it over the crook of his elbow and pushes the trolley forward, following you as you go.

It’s a routine that you two have, it’s a habit born of years and years of knowing and learning each other’s clicks and hurts and little sore spots.

To the point when now Simon just hums and puts headphones on you when there are screaming kids in the store, and you haul in the shopping cart twice the amount of his favorite snacks.

You two just click and go, moving as a well-oiled machine, the intimate understanding of a perfectly combined puzzle — polished to perfect silence and flickering back and forth glances.

Soap feels the way his right shoulder nervously twitches and speeds up, so he doesn’t get left behind. There is a cool spiky ache in his chest at the comfortable silence you two share.

He’d honestly prefer to chat up one of you, but you are already wearing headphones, engrossed in shopping and Simon looks like he’s perfectly content with staying silent.

You two share a routine and Soap doesn’t know how to slot himself into it.

He doesn’t know if he should.

(How do you know when you are in? How do you know that you can make yourself at home? How do you know you are wanted there? How?)

Johnny waits for a sign.

Trying to see whether he needs to pack up his bag or stay by the door.

He doesn’t wait to see if he’s invited in the bed, he doesn’t wait to see whether or not Simon would change his mind, he doesn’t wait to see if you would kick him out like a stray dog.

A mutt that wandered a little close to the warmth of the hearth and wasn’t immediately shooed away.

Now lying under the table, nervous to breathe too often, nervous to ask for things, nervous to lick petting hands.

But Johnny is not a mutt. He doesn’t want to be one.

Johnny is smarter than empty despair, Johnny is stronger than taking it lying down, Johnny is too stubborn to give up easily.

So, he chats Simon up, so he makes his way into Simon’s arms and Simon’s bed and Simon’s life.

And he meets you.

You watch him — wary and tense, eyes growing heavy when he tries to push through you, when he tries to sneak under your table and wait you out.

It doesn’t happen.

John is annoyed that it doesn’t.

Part of him relieved at that. He tries not to think about that part.

Johnny is from a big family with brothers and sisters, born somewhere in between.

Born and forgotten — mom’s kiss on the cheek and sibling’s shove coming a little too late to go unnoticed. Just a moment later than for everyone else, like they have to make a conscious effort to remember that he is there too.

Just one of the children. Just one of the brothers.

Nothing special really.

He fucking hates it.

He doesn’t want to be one of someone’s, he doesn’t want to be blank face in the crowd, he doesn’t want to be second fiddle and second choice and second best.

Johnny wants to be the first. Johnny wants to be the best.

Johnny wants to be wanted.

He’s just not sure yet how to get himself in your hands. If you even want him, if you even would take him as he is or would he need to adapt to you. Would he need to create a separate Johnny specifically for you?

So, he can stay with Simon and you. So, he doesn’t get tossed out as soon as you are done with him staining your pretty hardwood floors and laying in your bed and fucking with your Simon.

Johnny hates that in his head he can’t name Simon his. Johnny hates that he doesn’t even share Simon with you — you already have him. You had him way before Soap.

And you won’t need to do anything to keep him. Simon is not leaving. Simon isn’t going anywhere from you. Simon is not leaving you behind.

Johnny doesn’t know whether or not he will get left behind. Johnny wants to find out.

He murmurs “give it to me, lass” getting your bags of groceries and watches you wrestle the door. Plastic of bags cuts in his palms, and he thinks they bought entirely too much, because do they really eat all of that?

But then he takes another look at Simon, picking coins off the floor and sighs. Yeah, probably they do. He didn’t think how much three grown people eat. Or two grown people and a bottomless pit of a man.

Simon huffs out air and rolls his shoulders when everything spills out of your bloody pockets.

It’s nothing special really, just that you fumble with your keys and send flying spare change and keychain and old museum ticket and some scraps of paper all over the floor.

Simon crouches with a grunt to pick them all up because Johnny is holding the bags in both hands, pressing one more to the wall with his hip and you are trying to unlock the door (God, he will change the fucking locks as soon as he can. That’s ridiculous, thing jams since you moved into the flat and it’s been years).

So, it’s nothing out of ordinary when you finally wrestle the doors open and shake off your coat, cupping your palms in a boat so he can place everything he picked up in your hands.

It’s not unusual, honestly, it happens a little too often to his liking, but it is what it is and then his eyes catch on a receipt stained with liquor.

A receipt with a phone number and cheeky “gonna wait for your call, doll!” in the corner written in the most shit cursive he has ever seen.

Which bloke with a handwriting like that tried to hit on you? A bloody chicken?

But you just hum, throwing everything back in your pockets, not paying much attention to his inner turmoil.

Though when your eyes catch on the corner of receipt, you pull it back out, inspect the cheerful note and hum again in a way that Simon isn’t sure he likes.

Because you don’t crumble the piece of paper and don’t throw it away — you put it back in the pocket of your coat.

You help Johnny with bags, giving him a chance to shake off his own winter jacket.

There is a dark hot coil of anxiety in Simon’s gut when he stares down your puff jacket, fingers itching to get the bloody receipt and throw it away while you are not looking.

It’s childish and he has no right to do that, but the urge is so strong he actually tries to come up with an excuse in case you catch him.

Soap’s voice is the only thing that snaps him out of it, forcing to start undressing, heavy boots thumping down as he gets them off. He’s a little lightheaded with razor-sharp panic and clouding agitation, tension pain in his neck spiking up again.

Will you call the number? Will you go out with the bloke again? Did you like him? Would you date him?

The timing really couldn’t be worse for this kind of thing. Not when he finally realized what he wants and how he wants it.

Not when he got you and Johnny in one place, not when he already admitted to Johnny that he wants you both.

And while he understands that he mostly dug his own grave on his own, Simon also strongly dislikes the idea of you with someone else.

It’s selfish and he has no right to your time and personal space. He has no legitimate grounds to even be jealous.

But he is.

Drives him fucking mad it does.

Simon watches you pour Johnny some tea, Soap’s eyes warm and thoughtful on you.

Like he is not sure he gets you. Like he doesn’t know where to put himself.

And maybe it should soothe him, but he can’t not think about the number that’s still lying in your coat. The number you didn’t get rid of.

There’s heavy dangerous kind of rage beneath Simon’s skull — pulsating and filling his head with migraine intensity, pushing on his eyeballs harder and harder. Until something breaks.

Until he can’t hold it in anymore.

But Simon could’ve gotten Olympic gold in bottling up his feelings if it ever became a sport. He’d be undisputed world champion with how naturally it comes to him.

Would be great if he also could bottle thoughts in his stupid fucking head so he can think clearly, so it doesn’t make him fidgety and snappy, so he doesn’t hole up in the bathroom for forty minutes just standing under the water.

He gets out only when Soap gets in, fingers massaging his nape, fingers rubbing his shoulders and pressing him in cool tiles. Somehow Johnny knows exactly how to pull the plug and drain him.

Somehow Johnny is always there, making it better, biting into Simon’s arm to force him out of delirium.

Johnny’s palms slide down Simon’s waist, forcing him to brace his forearms on the shower wall, forcing his back to arch.

There’s a familiar tap on his thigh, command to open up because frankly the floors are slick and there’s a huge fucking chance for Simon to fall and break his skull open if Johnny plays rough and kicks his legs open.

But Soap presses himself from behind, teeth scraping against Simon’s shoulder blades, fingers sliding down until there is this familiar pressure on Simon’s hole. The one that leaves him empty headed and greedy, the one that makes his legs slide open and his jaw go slack because bloody hell, Johnny and his long fucking fingers.

(Sometimes he thinks that he and bombs are the only things that get Soap’s fingers with his full concentration in addition. Simon often feels like Soap does work him like a tricky bomb)

Johnny and his attention to smallest detail because he knows exactly what he’s doing when he presses Simon into the wall and fucks him stupid.

Coaxes out moans and greedy greedy creature sitting in Simon’s chest, aching for more, always begging for scraps off the table, still not used to sit like a person and ask like a person.

Johnny cracks him open and bleeds him out just to kiss it better afterwards. Johnny is there, pressing his whole body into Simon, holding him together.

Just holding him.

The water in the shower is cold by the time they get out and Simon is blissfully empty headed and relaxed, shifting his weight from one leg to another when he feels familiar pull inside.

Probably should have stretched better but bathroom is cramped, and he needed to get out of his head then and there.

Johnny watches him before swiping his thumb at the corner of Simon’s mouth and popping it in his mouth, blue of his eyes so scalding Simon’s throat bobs.

Soap wipes off the drool and silently promises to make him go slack jawed again later. When he gets his hands on the lube that got left in bedroom.

Simon pads back into the kitchen and you silently place a mug with his tea made exactly the way he likes it, and Johnny plops himself down, leaning in close and snuggling.

All sated aching and pleased rumbles.

Simon isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel after everything, but he feels warm. His body melting into Soap’s, his eyes melting into yours when you swat away a tiny eyelash from his cheek and hold it up so he can make a wish before you throw the thing away.

How did you even notice it there? He has blond eyelashes; the tiny hair would be practically invisible on his skin.

Simon doesn’t ask, staying content with the knowledge that you just did. Like always.

You and Johnny both — keeping him together, noticing smallest thing, making him sane and full.

Making him Simon again and not just Ghost.

Simon watches you standing over the pot with water for future pasta you three are apparently having for dinner. Means he’s in charge of cooking meat a little later than. Okay, that he can do.

But for now, he doesn’t get up anywhere. Doesn’t really want to.

Kitchen is quiet, warm with more than just condensation from cooking, soft from more than just small light of your lamp.

Simon likes evening like this one, when it all slows down and feels home. Like a proper life. And a proper family for him.

The two of you is frankly all he needs. All he wants. He knows that it may be incredibly greedy of him, but he’s been more than humble in anything other than you and Johnny. He’s been content with scraps and leftovers for a long time.

Is it really selfish if he wants to have it all for once?

Maybe it is.

Simon watches you salt water, sleeves of his sweater pulled up to your elbows, your shoulders spread and relaxed as you hum something under your breath. It’s a pleasure to watch you like that. Calm and relaxed in the safety of your home, in the warmth of your kitchen.

Johnny leans on his shoulder yawning and Simon wraps an arm around him, letting him lean in, letting him nap as they sit there.

Feels good. Feels exactly the way he wanted it to.

Better than he imagined.

Simon rubs circles on the back of Johnny’s shoulder, skin under his fingers is warm and soft, littered with smallest freckles he has ever seen. Like his boy was just dusted with cinnamon at birth.

Prettiest fucking thing.

Simon looks back at you coincidentally in the same moment you look at him and you smile silently, mouthing “you okay?” just so he can nod, feeling his chest slowly melt.

Yeah, he’s okay. He’s more than okay. He’s perfect.

Simon smiles as you quietly pour the pasta in the boiling pot, doing your best not to disturb half napping Johnny. You may not be in love with his boy (yet), but he’s rubbing off on you.

You already care after all.

Simon’s eyes slide to your neck again and something in him clenches, scrubbing from inside out with annoyance. Demanding out.

He can’t help but think back to the phone number in the corner of receipt and the way you came back home — neck blooming with hickeys, some bloke’s cologne clinging to your hair.

It disappeared after prolonged cuddling session, of course. He took care of that.

And when the evening of that day came — you were warm, sleepy and smelling like you again. Soft skin and laundry detergent with the hint of something uniquely yours.

The soft scent he could usually feel only by nuzzling into your neck or when he managed to dip his nose in your cleavage.

Same soft scent he could feel on the tip of his tongue, when he’d leave kisses on your cheeks and jaw, soaking you with his affection.

The thing is, he could take care of scent.

But could he take care of some bloke that took interest in you?

Soft, gorgeous, warm you. His moon in the sky, his home, his family. His lovely bird.

Simon doesn’t know how to just tell you what he wants. It’s not conventional and he already fucked in a bit and then some.

But if he was at some point to inevitably lash out when his desperate childish “don’t leave me, not you, don’t leave me, i don’t want to do this without you” pours out into something thick enough to choke the words out of him and possessive enough to try and keep you back…he’d better have some really good reason.

Because if he was to ask of your attention, your time, your effort, you — both for him and Johnny — it wouldn’t be fair if he wasn’t honest about his reasons.

You are grown people. He’s a grown man for god’s sake; he should be able to hold a proper conversation with you about something this big.

Simon knows you hate change and don’t like surprises and have hard time adjusting to changes in routines and patterns.

Honestly, so does he.

That’s one of the perks of being in military — you get the same fucking routine over and over again, you have a clear set of rules and even clearer one of instructions.

(If drill sergeant tells you to sweep the sunlight out of the garage, you sweep the sunlight out of the garage)

But it’s not military this time. It’s home.

And home has always been a safe harbor.

Place for both of you — space designed with your specific quirks and preferences in mind.

Big bed with orthopedic mattress for Simon to help his back aches and sleep apnea, bought bloody thing off the first cheque he got. You bought proper pillows and weighted blankets (filled with glass balls or something, he wonders where you even found it. Probably costed a fortune).

Good ACs both in living room and bedroom for you, which costed a bloody rack at the time, but it’s been more than worth it. Keeps you nice and cool in summer (God knows you can’t sleep if you are sweaty and if you aren’t sleeping — neither does Simon).

There is his favorite beaten up armchair you saw on Facebook Marketplace and somehow hauled back to the apartment. There is your couch with dozens of blankets and pillows, thing that’s sinfully comfortable but a tad short for someone of his size. Though many things are.

There is Simon’s butcher knives in the kitchen and your neat rows of spices. Your herbal tea and his straight black Earl Gray.

Simon’s right side of the bed and yours’s left one.

For so long this home was only for the two of you — the only constant in your lives, the place of comfort and security.

He still remembers how he had to change locks on windows and screw in additional bolt lock for you to the front door. Can’t have any accidents happen while he’s away on deployments and not here.

Simon knows that asking you to even consider making space for an entirely new person is a lot.

Almost too much.

So, a proper conversation about the matter is the least he can do to smoothen over possible transition.

He needs to do this.

Because as much as he loves you, he doesn’t love Soap any less. He can’t ask of Johnny to just wait, standing in the doorway with his bags still packed and ready if he’d need to leave at moment’s notice.

He can’t leave Johnny hanging in the air.

It’s not fair to Soap.

So, after dinner when Johnny is already halfway napping Simon wraps him in a blanket and tucks him comfortably on the couch. Lights on the Christmas tree are still twinkling, there is unfinished plates with pasta on the coffee table and some movie you and Simon watches a million times is playing.

It’s soft and quiet, it’s warm and peaceful.

Simon pads back to the kitchen, nudging your hip with his so he can wash dishes instead. It’s only fair — you cooked, he’s gonna clean.

You hum, moving aside and picking up towel in area to dry off things he passes to you after thorough wash. God knows both of you can’t stand dishes being wet and cold.

“Something on your mind”, you muse quietly and Simon glances at you, moving his lower jaw until there is click before he actually nods.

“Yeah. Think we can have a proper conversation?”, the words feel like he has to physically drag them out of himself, fingers twitching again because there is sharp ping of anxiety in his head, and he hates that he can’t just bottle up some of his thoughts.

You hum, eyes sliding up to him. There is something in your face that makes him pause turning off the water, heart thumping in his chest.

He needs to sit down and preferably right now. This is fucking scary, why is that so fucking scary.

Simon doesn’t know how to properly say everything in a way that would be coherent and make perfect fucking sense to you.

God knows out the two of you, he’s the one who’s worse with words.

A small stubbornly childish part of him still really wants you to read his bloody thoughts so he can be off the hook. But the same part sometimes makes him eat ice cream in the middle of the night and then sugar doesn’t let him sleep so evidently, that’s not the wisest his part.

There’s thumping anxiety behind his thorax, phantom vibrations sending nervous twitch to his fingers, his eyes landing on the useless awkward stump of his absent finger.

Had to re-learn how to fucking shoot after Roba’s torture and even then, he managed to crawl back to you.

Legally dead and everything, he came back, and you didn’t ask any questions. You just accepted him — a finger less and a whole lotta scars more.

You deserve to have a proper conversation about his behaviour and about Johnny’s presence. You deserve so much, and Simon is here fighting himself to choke out something. Fuck, anything at all.

But there’s knot in his throat and lead weights in his belly and it should be funny that he’s that scared.

Only he doesn’t feel like laughing at all.

“Do you want me to move out?”, your question snaps him out of panic induced stupor and every thought train in him stops with screeching of pulled stop lever.

“What?”, his voice croaks with broken shards, thumping in his chest just getting louder and louder, his eyes flicking to you like you might disappear if he lets you out of his sight. “Luv, no, I— wha’— sweet’eart, no.”, there is an edge to his voice.

An edge that scrapes the inside of his gut, carving your initials in tender bleeding flesh. So, he gets to keep something. So, he lives with a reminder of you.

“Why—”, he licks his lips, feeling every crack and that’s the wrong time but maybe he should have used the chapstick you gave him and maybe he should have talked with you before and maybe he should have done more. “Do you want to move out?”, the question tastes like bile in his mouth and God, he hates the way even the thought of you leaving makes him blind with panic.

Because no. Nononono, you— he doesn’t want you to leave, please, don’t leave, please, don’t.

“Thought that’s what you wanted to talk about. So…you know, Johnny can move in”, you explain with tone so casual he’d snap if he didn’t know better.

If he didn’t know you.

There’s tension coiling in your shoulders, that pulls occasional shrug-like motion out of you — half-discreet attempt to loosen some of the muscle pain by rolling your shoulders.

You don’t look at him, staring down in the sink at the remaining cup like you can obliterate it with the power of your mind. And honestly, Simon wouldn’t be too surprised if the bloody thing fell apart.

He for ones certainly feels like falling apart.

“I don’t want you to move out.”, Simon’s hand wraps around you, pulling you away from the sink. “I want you to never move out”, he mumbles in your hair, breathing in the smell of your shampoo and it’s so lame of him and he hates the numb-headed state he gets in as soon as he starts panicking.

Maybe he should actually try therapy like you’ve been suggesting. Or at least start taking medication? He’ll think about it later.

“Luv”, there’s a soft press and a tickling exhale to the back of your head and Simon is very close to wrapping himself around you like a weighted blanket and just pin you to the floor.

Which would be a lame fucking decision but thankfully, you aren’t leaving yet. So, he can do that. He has to do that. “Luv, I want you to stay. You and Johnny both. I want you two to stay with me”

Simon breathes it out, wrestling every word out of himself and it feels like bloody confession he saw in movies and with his palms on the soft roll of your tummy he feels impossibly close to the divine, knuckles gently rubbing idle patterns on you.

Why would he need any prayer beads when he lives with a bloody saint? Your flesh so soft under his fingers he wants to press his face into it and never come up for air.

“I don’t think John would appreciate your friend forever third-wheeling you two”, there’s a small vulnerable crack in your voice and Simon can’t help but dip his fingers in it, opening you up.

Cracking open your ribs and scooping up your heart.

More and more and more and more.

So he can finally see what you are feeling, so he knows he isn’t the only one scared/

So he knows you want him. Them.

“Luv, I don’t want to be friends anymore”, Simon exhales and his lips are trailing down the nape of your neck, drinking in the rapid beat of your heart and soft scent of your skin, his body pressed flush to your back. “Not just friends”

“What do you want then?”, hitch in your voice makes his blood flow south, raw feral need bubbling in him, nose rubbing at the hickeys someone else left on you.

Thick and dark hunger of his threatens to spill over and cling to your skin. Never to be washed away. Never wiped off. Never-never-never.

You can always be his, he’ll take care of everything, he’ll take care of you, of Johnny, of home. He’ll be so good, you won’t need for anything, you just gotta stay.

“Want you. Want Johnny. Want us three together.”, the quiet exhale sends a shiver through you and Simon drinks in it, lightheaded and slightly mad with need, pressing a kiss to the soft place between your neck and shoulder.

“What does Soap think about that?”, you try to deflect, slide into different railroad, branch conversation away from his obvious need to hear your answer.

“What do you think of that?”, Simon huffs out, teeth nipping your soft skin, stubble scratching you. Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

Simon smiles in your neck, his open-mouthed kiss hot and sinfully wet, his embrace tightening around you.

You are warmth and safety. You are home.

You are moon in his sky — he’d be blind without you, he’d be lost without you, he wouldn’t be Simon without you.

“I asked first.”, you dig your heels in and smack his palm away from sliding under the hem of his your sweater, effectively stopping Simon from getting handfuls of you to squeeze.

This man is not going to drop a bomb on you and then turn around and use your tummy as anti-stress toy.

He annoys you even more because Simon is not even trying to look guilty — his smile so wide you can feel it with every inch of your skin he’s pressing his big head to.

“I told him that.”, Simon finally admits, nuzzling himself in your neck. “You are mine. And he’s mine. It’s not gonna change.”

The silence stretches between you two as you turn your head to him, giving him the slowest blink in the world.

Simon pauses for a moment before huffing out air in your neck, palms finally getting a hold of your love handles.

“I can hear you rolling your eyes, sweet’eart. I’s not very nice”

“You are not very nice, Simon. You can’t just drop something like that on a person. It requires proper conversation. A mutual discussion of everyone’s borders and comfort levels”, you hiss trying to wiggle yourself other way in his hands so you can face him.

Simon eases his hold on you so you can reprimand him properly, but he doesn’t let you out of his hands completely. Not yet.

“I’m trying to have one”, which is honest to god’s truth, because he knows he’s not good at that and he knows you are right, fuck, you are right more often than not.

The sigh that he gets in response is so heavy he almost feels bashful. Almost.

“We can have one. All three of us in the morning”, he offers, and he can practically hear the sound of gears in your head turning faster.

Planning and outlining everything, already building a system in case of bad ending or good ending or no ending at all.

“Okay.”, you finally nod, your fingers hooking under his chin to tilt his head so he’s looking you in the eye. “Tomorrow in the morning, yes?”

Simon nods, leaning into your touch, eyes half-lidded and entirely too soft for someone who doesn’t have a definitive answer.

But he knows you.

And if it’s worth anything, the mere fact that he hasn’t heard “no” or “fuck off, Simon” is a good bloody sign. So things are going much better than expected in all honesty. Job well done. Almost.

There’s warmth in his chest as he cuddles sleepy Soap back to the land of awake, fingers rubbing the nape of Johnny’s neck, pulling him out of the slumber.

It’s slow and soft and for a few long blissful moments Soap is warm and heavy, honey is coating his limbs and eyelids.

He is safe and he is home, Simon’s side pressing into his, your quiet voice asking if he’d like a cup of tea.

And then, like a bucket of ice-cold water is “We will need to talk”, sending his heart in a rapid beat, his eyes flying open.

“Talk?”, he sounds hoarse even to himself and you just hum, collected as always, eyes calm when they settle on him.

“About the three of us”, you explain, and he swallows, eyes watching you.

Is that the time for him to pack bags? Is that the time you realised that you don’t want a stray in your bed and a strange man in your home?

Johnny wraps his fingers around your wrist, not even realising until he’s face to face to you, your eyes watching him expectantly.

“What’s wrong?”, there is a gentle care in your face he didn’t expect to see, there is lack of fight in you he didn’t expect to encounter.

Because in his first day here you looked at him like he was a mutt your partner dragged from a cold street and told you that it’s staying.

In his first day here, you hissed and bristled and snapped at him, your silence weighted, your eyes heavy.

Soap knows all too well that nothing comes to the likes of him without a fair price. Soap knows better than to hope without fighting his way up and proving himself over and over and over.

He’s not going to be pitied. He’s not going to be a charity that you do for the sake of Simon’s happiness; he doesn’t want it to be like that.

Johnny is anything if not persistent. Johnny refuses to go out without a fight, without trying to wiggle his way in, without clawing at everything he wants.

If he won’t get place for himself, at least he will leave his mark.

As a reminder that he was here. As a reminder that he was almost loved.

Johnny nuzzles in your palms, eyes a little mad and a little gone, hollowed out pit in his belly, hunger in his chest that he cannot sate, need that you know all too well.

A hysterical chant in his head.

Love me-love me-love me-love me.

Don’t leave me, don’t forget me. Notice me.

Johnny shudders when you hug him, when your hand reaches out for him even if you don’t need him. Just because you want to.

Just because you want him.

Johnny presses his body into you, whines when Simon presses his own from behind, his mind blanking out at the feel of being surrounded by you two.

It’s warm, plush of your tits cushioning on his chest, bulk of Simon’s body pressing him into you tighter.

More. He wants more. He needs more.

Johnny spreads his legs open and hides his face in your shoulder.

Johnny hiccups when Simon’s fingers rub his prostate, torturously slowly stretch him open, kisses littering his back, sharp overbite of Simon’s jaws sinking in the fat of Soap’s ass.

Leaving mark, staking claim, showing love.

Johnny whines when you pepper kisses all over his face, fingers going through his sweat-wet hair, pushing it off his face, your lips the sweetest fucking thing. He never wants to go without your kisses ever again.

He is sloppy and wet, mixed drool dripping down yours and his chins, his stubble scratching your soft face and oh, he’s sorry, bonnie, he’s sorry-he’s sorry-he’s sorry.

Johnny doesn’t realise he’s crying until you wipe his tears off, until Simon doesn’t wrap his hand around his waist tightly, pulling him in, the delicious stretch of thick cock spreading Soap open.

Fucking hell.

Johnny whimpers something incoherent, Scottish Gaelic mixing up with English, eyes glazed over and desperate, hands gripping you and legs spreading for Simon.

Anything. He’ll do anything.

Just don’t leave him behind.

“Love me-love me-love me-love me”, chants in his head, dances on his tongue, tears out of his throat when he sinks into your welcoming heat. Drunk on pleasure and dazed with need.

He wants it all. He wants you both.

Forever and always. Until death do you part.

Until you no longer want him

You make the prettiest fucking sounds when he bites your neck, canines sinking in soft skin, his cock so deep inside of you it should be impossible.

But he pushes himself into you again — dives in and gulps as much water as he can so he stays at the bottom of you.

So he can stay as a small coin in your fountain, a memento you’d never forget, a man you might never love but who’d never be just another face in the crowd for you.

He will always be someone.

Simon presses himself hard to Soap’s back, rumbles out “kiss ‘er more” and Johnny obliges because if this is his last night he’s going out with fireworks and your taste on his tongue and Simon’s bites all over his body.

And the imprint of your combined hands on him — gripping and tugging and holding and squeezing.

It’s so much and so overwhelmingly perfect he doesn’t know how he’s still lucid, pleasure dripping down-down-down, his spine melting, his mouth hungry wet thing full of teeth and promises to be the best.

To be everything. Anything. Whatever you need. Whatever you want.

Your lips find his and Simon bites down on his shoulder, fucking into him with the slow force of a heavy hammer coming down on anvil with all its weight.

You squeeze around him, inner walls of your cunt wet silken heaven that drives Johnny mad, that makes Johnny blabber filthy things, voice cracking with something wet and gurgly and he's kissing you again.

You won't forget him. He won't let you. He won't let Simon.

Pleasure coils in him until there's nowhere else to go, until he's overflowing and pathetic - face buried in your neck and god, Simon was right, you do smell divine - back arched so hard he feels like his spine will fucking crack but he wants more. He wants everything.

Until he's sick from how full he is. Until he can't take it.

Pleasure drips down-down-down and he never wants this moment to end, he never wants to come back to what was before and how fucking ironic it is that orgasm snaps him out of it?

He's coming and coming and coming, his body honeyed and heavy, his head empty and he's wet like a fucking dog - sweat and drool and saliva and combined fluids drying up on the insides of his thighs.

Soap blinks himself back to reality, but he can't move - he doesn't want to really. His face is nuzzled in your tits, your fingers combing through his wet hair as Simon wipes you both off.

The towel is warm and a little scratchy, cleaning you up, taking care of a mess Johnny is right now.

It's good. It's soft.

It almost feels like he belongs here. Like he deserves it. Like he isn't a stray accidentally let in and who purposefully overstayed his welcome.

But you are soft, and Simon is warm, and Johnny is sandwiched between the two of you in the best way possible.

He makes sure to remember every little thing about this moment. After all it may be the first one and very much the last one.

So, if things go south tomorrow - he was here. He felt good. He felt wanted.

For one beautiful hot night he belonged.

That's what matters, isn't it?

Taglist: @thestoriesiread @skeletonsucker @sirbonesly @blackhawkfanatic @rpgsandstuff @danielle143 @parasite--girl @un-aesthetic @vmaxis @kittygonap @love-kha1 @hidden-reblogs @sgt-barnesveins

[justsmilestuffhappens]

I still can't believe we got a whole episode of buck desperate to jerk off

# You Can't Make This Shit Up

There is no stronger or braver man

What's crazier is everyone including Eddie bring curious and in his business about it

Over 6 weeks!?

[21280]

may I request miss🙋🏻‍♀️ some high nsfw katsuki

warnings for nsfw, p star! katsuki, no quirk college au, consumption of weed n alc, masturbation, fem! reader, it’s a cliffhanger i’m sorry i don’t have the brain rn

katsuki bakugo would become a porn star entirely on accident.

the topic would surge from time to time in his friend group, mostly as a joke. because "gosh, bakugo! you have the body of a porn star! you sure you're not on some secret account we don't know about?" and it really got to him. what does a porn star body look like, anyway? it's a mystery to him, as he pulls out his phone on incognito and...

he's in disbelief. he's actually looking up porn. never in his life would katsuki bakugo ever think of doing so. katsuki feels like he'd be less guilty if he's not sober whatsoever, so he's searching multiple accounts on his twitter throwaway with one hand as the other holds a small joint. it's not long before his eyes are completely red, pants and boxers slid down to his ankles, and videos recommended by kaminari going on auto-play.

but he's not satisfied, not one bit. he stopped caring for physique videos ago, he's now entertained by the poor technique. with blurry vision, he reads the replies and quote tweets, expressing their inconformities. comments like "god, her moans sound so fake", or "can't he stroke it slowly? i want it to last" make his mind run. katsuki bakugo was lost in the world of constructive criticism, while his ego began to chew at him.

he can do better than those stupid extras, right?

of fucking course. he's katsuki bakugo. but he's not gonna fucking do it. nope. never.

katsuki bakugo is a lightweight. he feels like he's sitting on the moon instead of his couch as he's gulping down some cheap rum his friends bought the week prior. and soon enough, his camera app is open, cock fully on display, and he's stroking it for a few good minutes. and the camera catches everything—how his cock twitches every time his strokes get slower, how the tip was reddish and filled with precum from the very beginning, his heavenly moans, his white-knuckled grip, and how his knees shake as he comes undone and stains his red, velvet couch.

and he has the video on twitter as a draft, half written caption and all. katsuki needs to visualize how it would look like if he posted. until he does. his finger slips, and the video and half caption are posted. at first, katsuki is mortified and doesn’t know what to do, until he sees a person liking and commenting. he decides to leave it up until he sobers up.

twelve hours and a huge hangover later, user 00179359027728kb is a twitter porn sensation.

thousands of users express their love for him, asking and demanding for more videos, as well as wishing to be his partner in crime. when katsuki realizes he can monetize this, he suddenly has dollar signs for eyes. a few videos later and katsuki bakugo is famous.

so famous, in fact, that one of your friends is in love with him, despite only seeing the lower half of his face. she raves about him to you on the daily, and as a result you find yourself creating a throwaway to watch his videos, and damn—katsuki is fucking sensational. he’s an icon, and you wish he were in your bed right then and there.

but he’s quickly discarded by your own brain as you get ready for an outing. it’s a nice, weekend night, and your friends are ready to go clubbing. once you get there it’s… okay, you suppose. dim lighting, people stuffed like sardines in a can, and the occasional couple eating their faces in the corner. you know the many cocktails you had are catching up to you once you accidentally bump into a person, and as you turn to apologize, you’re stunned.

“y’should watch where you’re going.”

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t see y—wait—are you that kb guy from twitter?”

he’s like a deer in headlights. “…that depends. who’s askin’”

“name’s y/n” you giggle, “i know you cause i have a friend who’s nuts for you.”

you officially pique katsuki‘s interest. his eyebrow rises as he smirks, “oh, is she?” he tilts his head to the side, “what about you, sweets? you watch me too?”

shyly, you nod. his smirk gets bigger as he steps closer, “she here? i don’t really do pictures, though.”

“do you do videos?”

liquid courage. it would cost you a lot to even say that sober, and you blame your drunken state for your boldness. katsuki bakugo has that fiery look in his eye as he laughs. “sure i do, sweets. you wanna be the first model for my page or is it just to spite yer friend?”

first?

only model is your goal. you’re determined to make that happen.

“bathroom? in 5?”

“ya got it, captain.”

[sweetlikemonie]

𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒

synopsis: lil blurbs on how they beat it out the frame in (and out) the bedroom!

featuring: toji fushiguro, geto suguru, gojo satoru, nanami kento, & aoi todo x fem!reader

content warning: 18+ minors scram pls. mentions of sex duh, unprotected sex, spanking, multiple positions mentioned (w/twitter visuals 🫣), use of a sex toy in geto’s, lots of dirty talk, pet names, dom/sub elements, oral (fem receiving), hair pulling, exhibitionism, daddy kink in nanami’s, & orgasm denial and creampie in todo’s

author’s note: hey..hey…how y’all doing *miss juicy’s voice*. i’ve been gone for quite a bit. this is a lil rushed especially towards the end but comments and shares are always appreciated. xoxo hope you enjoy!

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

quite literally the one of the reasons i’m making this cause he takes your nut serious. his mission is to make sure you’re completely spent and satisfied. toji is not a mean, hard dom in my world. definitely gives me very much pleasure dom, fucking you until the sheets are riddled with your juices. when he’s satiated. just like when he’s got your back arched deep in the middle of the couch, pounding into you as if his life depended on it. “oou my god toji. y-you’re fucking the shit out me.” you moan out weakly, your hands frantically reaching out to grab at something for balance.

you try to find relief by scooting up slightly on the couch, his harsh strokes beginning to make your wetness run speedily down your thighs. you could barely keep your eyes open; and the only sounds starting to come from your mouth now were wordless grunts and gasps of immense pleasure, signaling your release. it didn’t take him long to catch on before one of his hands reached for your arms, locking them together. his free one gripped at your hair, pulling you back into his chest. “stop tryna run from me baby. you wanted this dick, so lemme give it to you.” he smirked as he pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

does not fuck around. be bratty and you’ll suffer the consequences. loves rough sex and spanking, reserved especially when he thinks you’ve been stepping out of line. like when you’ve been having problems at your job with your coworkers snickering at you with snide remarks while you were working. so in turn, you’re snapping on him for little stuff you wouldn’t usually. he confronts you about this and when you finally opened up to him about what you’re dealing with, geto is deeply empathetic to your situation and offers you some stress relief in the best way he knows how, but not without a lil punishment first.

“and you better sound off too princess. you’ve hurt daddy’s feelings this week.” he spoke as he his large hands rubbed across the globe of your ass, before feeling two hard smacks on your left cheek. you lurched forward as you hissed. “fuck. i’m so sorry.” you uttered with a whine, hoping he accepted your apology. you weren’t sorry. it’s as if he knew the truth as he continued his assault on both cheeks of your ass, leaving them stinging and warm to the touch. tears rested at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall. “you may not be right now but you will be soon.” you were confused as to what he meant by that but you soon understood as he positioned you onto all fours and you heard the buzzing sound of your vibrator coming from behind you.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

munchiest munch to ever munch. and eats the booty too! does it for himself and will stay down there for hours if you let him. likes to get your pleasure out the way first cause when it’s his turn to focus on his, that stamina is fucking killer. it’s like he spent your first few orgasms as a warmup and this was the real workout. big dick but not in girth; in length, so he likes those deep, piercing strokes where he can hit that spot you like. missionary because you’re pretty? no. missionary because sato thinks he’s pretty but he also wants to see your reactions? yes.

“gotta give me room to move in this tight ass pussy. s-shit,” gojo hisses with a halt of his hips. he moves from side to side, as if he’s getting snug and securing his spot inside of you. he had been at this for an hour now…pulling 4 orgasms out of you with his tongue, and promising the fifth and final one was to come from his dick. your breath hitches as he starts his strokes back up, thrusting into you with vigor. “ah-ah breathe baby. how it feel?” he coos with that stupid fucking smug on his face as he continues to stroke into you deeply. one of satoru’s hands moves off of your hips, placing it right on your puffy clit tracing it in slow, sloppy circles. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt that cord in your stomach beginning to snap, your orgasm so close you could taste it. you snapped out of your trance when you felt a hand grab at your hair, pulling you up to look at those piercing, blue eyes. “i want you to look at me while we cum together, kay?”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

soft man. gentle touches and kisses cause he sees your body like a delicate flower. isn’t real big on rough sex foreal unless it’s been an absolutely stressful and nerve wracking week. doesn’t have to do too much but you still feel him with every nerve you have in your body. loves whispering sweet but absolutely filthy things against your ear, he likes the feeling of you tightening up on him as you take in what he says. since nanami is so laid back reserved i feel like that dick is nice and heavy and is LOUD AF in the sheets. exhibit a & b:

“just like that baby…keep riding that dick.” nanami’s baritone voice spoke lowly by your ear. you were writhing in pleasure as he bounced you up and down along his thick shaft. you two had been all over each other for about an hour now. as soon as he walked through the door, he was greeted by your presence with a warm meal and after that you ran him a nice bath, which is where you two started. nanami was so grateful to have you in his life and he couldn’t think of a better way to thank you right now besides making you come so much you seen stars. “i’m so close kento…help me,” you begged, tears starting to well up in your eyes. you felt your legs beginning to tire out. you had been bouncing on him for about 15 minutes now and on the brink of your second orgasm. his large hands gripped at your hips as he started to fuck you harder and faster from the bottom, signaling his soon release. “tell me you deserve it pretty girl.” you whimpered as you tried to find the words to satisfy him. “i-i deserve it baby. please” you cried out as a huge wave of pleasure overcame you.

𝐀𝐎𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎

the other reason i’m making this. many don’t appreciate him like i do but i loveee a built man. you know that song by sexyy red called ‘mad at me’? todo thinks that’s she made the song for him cause it’s exactly how he likes to put it down. don’t tease him in public cause he’s a lil pervert and will get his when and wherever he wants to. like when y’all were doing a lil getaway to a cabin for the weekend, but you couldn’t keep your hands off his thighs and playing with the waistband of his sweats so he pulled over for a little 30 minute intermission.

“all that teasing just for you to be running? tsk, you know better than that mama.” aoi grunted from behind you, his tattooed hand wrapped around your neck, preventing you from freeing yourself from his grasp. his free hand landed three hard slaps each against your ass. part of you didn’t think he would pull over just to put you in your place. but who are you kidding? you knew how much aoi hated teasing. you just thought he would’ve tried to wait until you guys reached your destination. the fact that you were so out in the open and any car passing by could see the compromising position you were in got you so much wetter. his dick began hitting a different angle inside of you that had you squealing and throwing yourself back on him. you wanted to feel him as much as you could. “you gone come for me? i wanna feel all that shit dripping down my dick.” his deep voice rang against the shell of your ear, kissing and sucking on the lobe. you began to feel your release getting closer and closer, his strokes getting harder and wetness running down your thighs when all of a sudden it just—stopped. aoi’s strokes slowed down as you felt his dick throbbing, pumping the last of his cum into you. he pulled your panties and shorts back up before leaving a wet kiss against your temple. “thanks baby, i needed that.” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he left you there to get yourself together.

[vitalverstappen]

Homecoming - C. Leclerc

summary: have you ever had a massive crush on your team rival?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Red Bull driver! reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, use of y/n

word count: 5.5k

a/n: so @coco-loco-nut (aka my irl bestie) and i both wrote fics based on the same concept, theirs is linked at the end!

smau

masterlist

Contrary to popular opinion, Monaco was one of, if not your least favorite racetrack. It was narrow, making it hard to pass and way too easy to defend. Analysts would say all of that makes the Grand Prix exciting, while you found it to be just plain stupid. For the last half of the race, you were stuck in a DRS train in 10th, sandwiched between Alex in front and Pierre behind. 

“Fucking hell guys, this is boring.” You complained over the radio “Sorry I can’t do any better right now” 

And you couldn’t do any better the rest of the race. While your race was nowhere near eventful, you were able to get glimpses of the screens showing Charles crossing the checkered flag first at his home race. You didn’t bother fighting the smile growing on your face. He had worked all of his life for this moment. He deserved every bit of euphoria. 

You slid into parc ferme along with the rest of the midfield, barely able to get out of the car and reconnect your steering wheel fast enough. Sprinting down parc ferme, you found Charles celebrating with his team and family. When he eventually wriggled his way out of their grasp, you were able to approach him. 

“Congrats Charlie. Well deserved man” You said, embracing him in a hug 

“Thank you, thank you” Was all he was able to get out. 

As the podium celebration ensued, you and Max made your way to the media pen. Dozens of news outlets were scattered around the barrier, prompting you to separate from your teammate. The interviewer greeted you before going through the standard questions of what went wrong in the race. 

“Now let’s talk about something that happened after the race” The interviewer spoke, leading you to raise an eyebrow. “I think everyone who wasn’t looking at Leclerc was watching you run down parc ferme to greet him. Can you tell me a bit about that?” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. At the time, you didn’t think twice about doing it, but being asked about your actions, you probably looked crazy doing it. “Yeah I mean it’s always exciting watching someone win their home race. It’s something I’ve dreamed of since I started watching Formula One as a little girl” 

A pause took over for a moment as you decided on the best way to word your next thoughts. “Charles is a very good friend of mine. He’s someone who welcomed me to the championship with open arms last year. On track I always want to give him a good fight if possible, but off the track I’m always going to support him.” 

Now Charles wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop on interviews. Most of the drivers said the same things over and over again, occasionally rephrasing. But whenever he heard your sweet southern accent, he couldn’t help but to listen in on what you had to say. 

When your words hit his ears, he could feel his heart stop. He wasn’t expecting you to confess a secret crush that no one knew you had to some interviewer, but a guy could dream. Instead, you very publicly friendzoned the Monegasque. 

Little did he know, you did in fact have a massive secret crush that only one person knew about. That one person was your teammate. And boy did he know a lot about it. 

“Did I just friendzone Charles with that?” You asked as the two of you walked towards the Red Bull garage for the team meeting. 

“Honestly maybe” Max said “Depends on if Charles is smart enough to realize you said it because you weren’t stupid enough to reveal your emotions to the media” 

“So then I definitely friendzoned him. Got it” You sighed

You weren’t sure if it was just how boring the entire day was, but the team meeting felt like it was dragging on. While you were zoning in and out of listening to Horner and Marko explain every single thing that was wrong with how you drove, you spotted Max next to you on his phone. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered 

Max’s head snapped up to look at you, quickly turning off his phone as he did so. “Oh, uh nothing” 

You shrugged, not thinking anything of Max’s reaction. He was always a private person, and you understood not wanting anyone to know your private conversations. 

Later that night, you traded your fireproofs for a little black top and jeans, as you and the grid were going out to celebrate Charles’ win. You were the last of the drivers to arrive, all of the boys jokingly blaming it on the fact you took longer to get ready, but in reality you needed the time to calm your nerves. 

You had gone to the club with the grid plenty of times before, but none of them revolved around Charles being the center of attention. You knew he was going to be bouncing around the group, spending time with everyone, and you were sure you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself. 

Meanwhile, Charles was worrying about himself. When he drank, he got flirty. He knew it, Max knew it, even the fans knew it. The only person he was sure didn’t know was you. And that was only because he never drank as much as he usually does when he’s around you. 

He was already a few drinks deep when you finally showed up. He was near the back of the room, but he could spot your figure from a mile away. As you navigated through the sweaty bodies and sticky floors, Charles was easily able to get your attention by a wave of his hand. 

That wave turned into a hug, followed by a kiss on either cheek from the Monegasque. You realized it was just a cultural difference, and that’s how he greeted all of his female friends, but that didn’t stop your heart from fluttering. 

“Congrats again Charlie” You said finally spoke 

“Thank you mon amour, why don't I get you a drink to celebrate?” He asked, his words already starting to slur a bit 

“I can pay for myself. If anything so should be getting you a drink, for the winner after all” You replied. 

“No, no, no. Let me get it for you.” He insisted “You wouldn’t want to disappoint the winner, now would you?” 

You knew you weren’t going to win this round, so you let him buy you a drink. He followed you up to the bar where he easily got the attention of the bartender. 

“Moscow mule and a vodka redbull, blue edition” He ordered

Your head snapped to look at him, surprised he knew what you wanted. Regardless of how many times you’ve gone out drinking with him, you knew you never told him what your usual was. 

“You know my drink order?” You asked 

“I’m just that good” He shrugged as the bartender handed him the beverages. Charles handed you the vodka redbull as the two of you walked away from the bar. “Feel free to put the rest of your drinks on my tab tonight” 

It was a no-brainer that Charles was going to be the center of attention all night. Not even thirty seconds after you got your drinks, his childhood friends whisked him away. Then it was his friends from Ferrari. And then his brothers. And then those people who claimed they were friends with him, but only got close with him after he became famous. 

But no matter how many times he got carried away, he always found his way back to you. Even if it was just for a second, Charles made sure he checked on you throughout the night. 

The majority of your night was spent with Max, Logan and Oscar. You were lucky you got along well with your teammate, and you, Logan, and Oscar all grew close due to being the rookies the season prior. It also helped that Logan was the only other American on the grid. 

“So what’s going on between you and Charles?” Oscar asked 

“Oh uh nothing. We’re just friends” You said, hoping the Aussie would drop the topic 

Unfortunately for you, Logan decided to call you out. “Oh bullshit. I overheard him insisting on buying your drinks tonight, and we all saw you sprinting earlier to congratulate him” 

“Charles is too drunk to realize what he’s offering” You quickly dismissed 

“Still doesn’t explain your actions in parc ferme” Logan reminded

You looked to Max for help, only for the Dutchman to shrug.

“You are no help” You told him as you turned to the two others “I may have a small crush on him” 

Max almost did a spit take when he registered your words. “Small? You were doodling both of your initials together during the team meeting today.”

“Details, details. How about another round?” You suggested, quickly changing the subject. 

The four of you had just finished a round of shots when you saw Charles approaching from behind Max. The Monagasque rested his arm on Max’s shoulder, clearly needing stability. His eyes widened and a goofy smile formed on his face when he saw you. 

“There you are!” Charles slurred, moving his arm from Max’s shoulders to yours 

“Oooohkayy, I think it’s time for you to go home” You said, shifting to support his weight better “C’mon Charlie”

“Ooo Charlie” Logan teased 

You shot the American a glare, mouthing the words “not now”. Charles somehow got himself off of you, only to wrap his arms around himself, embracing his own body in a hug. 

“Uh, are you good?” Oscar asked Charles, his voice filled with concern 

“Yes, just thanking myself for coming out tonight. I picked a great bar” Charles answered with a goofy grin forming on his face. His eyes were shut as he swayed back and forth, almost knocking into a poor girl behind him. 

Apologies quickly fell out of your mouth to the girl. As you turned back to the group, all of the boys except Charles had worry plastered on their faces. Both Max and Oscar offered to help you take Charles home, but you turned them down. His place was only a few blocks away, and your hotel was about the same. You slung Charles’ arm over your shoulder, before bidding goodbye to your friends. 

“Bye Charlieeee” Logan teased his fingers waving goodbye. Another glare was shot from your eyes before Charles was carried out to the street. 

It didn’t take long to get Charles to his apartment. You insisted he sit down as you got him a glass of water, knowing he was too far from sober to do it without breaking or hurting something. Once he downed his first non alcoholic beverage in who knows how long, he changed and you put him to bed. 

You were sober and comfortable enough to walk yourself home, so once Charles was tucked in, you slipped your shoes on. Before you could get near the door though, you heard Charles calling your name. 

“What’s up?” You whispered as you opened the door to his bedroom. 

His eyes mimicked a puppy dog, pleading and full of concern. “I don’t want this to sound weird, but do you want to stay in the guest room tonight? I just don’t want you walking alone in the dark” 

Even though you knew you’d be fine walking home, you knew Charles would blame himself if something did happen to you. So, you agreed. You changed into one of Charles’s shirts that he insisted on you sleeping in, and made your way to the guest room. 

Neither of you dared to bring up what happened in Monaco. Not that anything bad happened, it was simply you didn’t know how the other felt, and it wasn’t a line either of you were comfortable crossing yet. 

Going into media day, you knew the press conference was going to be boring. It was Monza weekend, and your media group consisted of Lando, Pierre, Franco, and Charles. Having the attention on Charles was fine by you. You would be fine without the media taking your words out of context. 

With each question directed at Charles, you zoned out more and more. Thoughts of what you were going to do during the three week break crossed your mind. While traveling around the world for work was fun, home truly was where your heart lived. Your thoughts were cut off by someone tapping you. Looking to your right, Franco’s eyes met yours.

You had made some small talk with Franco throughout the day, wanting to welcome him into the league the same way you were last year. It was painful to receive the news that Logan was being replaced, but you couldn’t resent the newcomer, he just happened to be the one that was promoted.

“Is this usually this insufferable?” He whispered, genuine concern lacing his voice 

You stifled a laugh, careful not to interrupt Charles “Not this bad usually, but yeah it’s bad” 

“Great” He muttered “Thought I escaped it when I got promoted” 

The press room grew silent, leading you and Franco to press pause on your conversation. All eyes were on the two of you, while you guys gave blank stares back. 

“Did you hear the question?” The interviewer asked 

Franco chuckled awkwardly as he brought the microphone to his mouth. “Honestly? No. Bad first impression, so sorry” 

“No worries. Welcome to F1 Franco.” The interviewer said “For a fun question for the drivers: is there a certain trait that another driver has that you wish you had?” 

Franco thought for a second before opening his mouth to speak “Y/n’s friendliness I think. She was the first of the drivers to welcome me into F1, going out of her way to go to the Williams garage and introduce herself. So uh yeah, her friendliness” 

Warmth ran to your cheeks as the Argentinian turned to look at you. His smile was captivating, making your rosy glow even worse. 

“Wow, that was really sweet. Thank you Franco” You whispered before clearing your throat and picking the microphone up.

Your eyes landed on each of the drivers in the room, trying to think of any trait you would want from any of them. Charles’ ability to learn on the fly came to mind, but you couldn’t rave about Charles without revealing your feelings. 

“Ummmm, this may be team bias, but I’m probably going to have to pick Max.” You finally answered “His ability to perform under immense pressure is admirable. Going into last season as a rookie, I don’t think I could have asked for a better partner, or a better person to learn from.” 

The press conference wrapped up, the news stations leaving before the drivers could. You sat and talked to Franco a bit more, getting to know the newest driver better. Charles watched from the other side of the couch, trying not to make it too obvious. 

“Earth to Charles” Lando said, waving his hand in front of the Monegasque’s face

“Wha-what’s up?” Charles asked, snapping his head to look at Lando

“You were staring. Badly.” Lando pointed out 

“Not staring,” Charles defended, but the pink in his cheeks gave him away “Just…observing” 

“Sure, mate.” Lando smirked as he stood up, “You know, if you actually told her how you feel, you wouldn’t have to watch from a distance like a creep” 

“Really? I had no idea” Charles mumbled. He was relieved to see you didn’t hear what Lando had just said, as you were too engulfed in your conversation with Franco. 

“Just saying” The Brit continued “Everyone can see the chemistry between you two”

Charles adjusted his hat as he stood up next to his friend. “I just don’t want to ruin the friendship. What if it goes wrong?” 

Lando rolled his eyes. “Or it could go right. Look at how she talks to you, how she lights up around you. That’s not just a friendship, mate. She clearly likes you.”

Charles stole another glance at you, your eyes still focused on Franco. With one last sigh, he left the conference room, almost slamming the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” Franco asked you as he looked at the now shut door across the room

“I have no idea” You admitted  “Whatever it is, he’ll get over it”

The Austin sun blazed through the sky as you entered the paddock. You always loved being back home, and of course you went all out for it. You had your hair in two braided pigtails with your favorite cowboy hat resting on top, and a matching pair of boots tucked under your blue jeans. 

Most of the other drivers played into the gimmicks that Texas brought, even if they didn’t do them right. Some donned backwards cowboy hats while others tucked their jeans into their boots, both leading you to wince. Some, like Charles, did both.

“You look absolutely ridiculous” You yelled down the paddock as you spotted Charles in the middle of a media scrum

From what you could tell, they were in the middle of an unboxing of some sorts. Plastic and paper wrapping littered the area as a box was cracked open. Both Charles and the media turned to watch you walk over. 

“What are you talking about? I look fabulous” Charles said, showing off his new hat 

“Yeah,” You replied as you approached him “Except for the fact your hat’s the wrong way and your jeans are tucked in.” 

Before Charles could protest, you took the hat off of his head (from the crown of course, you weren’t an animal) and flipped it. His cheeks grew hot, both from embarrassment and how close you were to him. 

“Thank you” He whispered before untucking his jeans 

Saturday went perfectly for Red Bull. Max won the sprint, while you took second, giving the team a few more points in the Constructor’s race. 

As your day in the paddock came to a close, there was only one thing on your mind: the Texas/Georgia game. Growing up right outside the city meant your Saturdays were spent cheering on the Longhorns, and today was no different. 

You found Charles leaving the paddock at the exact same time you were, giving you the perfect opportunity to ask if he wanted to join you. While you knew he knew nothing about football, it at least gave you an excuse to spend a little extra time with him during the weekend. 

“What’s the chance you’re not doing anything tonight?” You asked as you caught up to him.

“Easily 100%. Do you have something in mind?” He replied 

“I have an extra VIP ticket to the game tonight and a spare jersey. Wanna join?” 

“You know I don’t know anything about American football” He reminded you. Charles truly wanted to go, but he didn’t want to bring your experience down because he was an idiot.  

“Pleaseeee” You begged, flashing him a fake pout “I promise you’ll have fun” 

Charles ran his hand through his hair before sighing “Okay. But this better not ruin my race tomorrow” 

You were right, Charles did have fun. Most of the time was spent on the sidelines, getting up close to the action. Charles didn’t understand a lick of what was going on, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to. You walked him through all of the basic things he should know, like touchdowns, field goals, and extra points. 

And Charles would let you talk for days if he could. He was captivated by how your intonation changed as you explained the difference between a pass, a rush, and a kick attempt. Did any of what you said stick in his head? Absolutely not. But that didn’t matter. He was with you, and you were with him, and about 100,000 other people in the stadium.    

The rest of the weekend only got better for you. Not only were you working your way into Charles’ heart, you made your way to the top step of the podium. You knew Max was going to be aggressive going into turn one, giving you ample opportunity to sneak into the lead, where you stayed for the rest of the race. Both Charles and Max were on the podium with you, P2 and P3 respectively. 

“So would you say last night affected your race?” You asked Charles once you got to the cool down room. You quickly swapped the helmet in your hands for a towel and the Pirelli cap that were waiting for you. 

Charles chuckled “Maybe, I coulda ended up on the top step” 

You shrugged as you took your seat in the middle of the two boys. “Guess we’ll never know” 

After the formalities and shenanigans of the podium ceremony, you found yourself in the back of the media pen waiting for your turn for an open interviewer. You could feel a presence walking up to you, causing you to turn. Of all people, Franco was the one to approach. The two of you were decent friends, you being one of the first people to welcome him to the F1 grid. 

“Congrats on the win, amiga” Franco said, bringing you in for a hug 

“Thank you, thank you” You replied, “How was your first race at COTA?” 

“It was good! Definitely glad to be racing closer to home. I can’t wait for the next three in the Americas” He said 

As you and Franco made small talk, Charles was watching you like a hawk from across the pen. He listened to every laugh that came out of your mouth from something Franco said, analyzed every light hearted touch of the arm. Max was next to him, well aware of the events of the night prior. It was hard for him to not know about it, you would not stop talking about it in the paddock. 

“The way he held me? I felt like the only girl in the stadium” “He let me explain football to him, Max. No one ever lets me do that around here” “Are you sure he feels the same way about me?” Were all phrases that left your mouth earlier in the day. 

Max was positive Charles felt the same way about you that you did about him. Any of the few remaining doubts flew out the window as he listened to Charles whine. 

“Whatever he said cannot be that funny, right?” Charles asked “Like there’s no way”

Max muttered a “mhm” as he took a sip of the Red Bull in his hand. 

“I just don’t get how he does it so easily! What is it about him that makes him that likeable?” Charles asked “Is it the accent?” 

“Maybe it’s because he’s a natural flirt.” Max said “You couldn’t flirt with a brick if you tried” 

Charles’ glare left Franco and turned to the Dutchman next to him “You didn’t need to say that.” Max threw his hands up in defense.

“But what am I supposed to do if she can’t understand my flirting?” Charles asked 

“Just tell her how you feel. Ask her out on a date” Max suggested as if it was obvious. 

“That’s just asking for her to run me off the track in the next race” The Monagasque said. He ignored Lando’s advice in Monza, and he was likely to do the same to Max. 

A frustrated groan left Max’s mouth as he smacked the back side of his friend’s head. “Oh my god. Do I have to spell it out? She likes you.” 

Charles’ eyebrows furrowed as he watched you say goodbye to the Argentenian. A spot had opened up in the media pen, and Charles’ eyes followed you as you greeted the interviewer. 

“How do you know that?” He asked 

“Mate, she took you to the Texas game yesterday.  She doesn’t take just anyone. I’ve known her for years and I still haven’t gotten an invite.” He explained “In the garage, she wouldn’t shut up about how much fun she had with you last night.” 

“Really?” Charles asked. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. 

“Yes, really. Now if you don’t tell her how you feel, I’m going to do it for you.” Max threatened as he walked towards the next open interviewer.

The bar buzzed with excitement as the sun dipped below the horizon. It being your home race, you ordered both your friends on and off the grid to join in the celebrations. Most of the guys were already there, already a few rounds deep, but it wasn’t until a certain Ferrari driver walked in that you relaxed. 

Charles navigated the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of you. When he spotted you at the bar, a grin spread across his face. He made his way over, squeezing through the sea of fans and drivers. 

“There you are!” he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I've been looking for the race winner!” 

“Yeah, you’ve been avoiding me since the podium” you teased, crossing your arms 

“Right, totally” He fake agreed “Now, drinks on me?” 

A playful smile broke onto your lips as you turned to face the driver. “Actually, I believe it’s my turn. You got me in Monaco, it’s only fair” 

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but you already had gotten the attention of the bartender. He watched as you put up two fingers, and the bartender quickly got to work. As he waited, he was able to catch snippets of chatter and laughter from the rest of the people in the bar. Logan made the trip out to Austin, and was in deep conversation with Oscar and Alex, while Max and Lando were cracking jokes about their battle during the race. 

You handed Charles one of the two drinks you had received “To a dominant 1-2 finish” you toasted, clinking your glass against yours

He took a sip, the refreshing taste of the cocktail invigorating “This is really good. What is it?” He asked, looking at his drink 

“Texas Cactus Water” You answered “Tequila, lime juice, and Topo Chico”

The night wore on, and with each passing drink, the atmosphere became more lively. You were in your element, charming everyone around you. You were sure to spread your attention out to everyone who came to celebrate your win, but you always found yourself going back to him.

“Want another round?” he asked after the two of you finished your drinks.

“Yeah, sure. Put it on my tab” You ordered, knowing he would have said the same to you. 

As Charles approached the bar, Franco suddenly appeared by your side, a broad grin on his face. “Looks like you’ve got quite the fan club” he joked, nodding toward Charles, who was deep in conversation with the bartender. 

“He’s just being nice” You replied, not wanting to think too much about the flutter in your stomach at Charles’ attention “He bought my drinks in Monaco, so I’ve been returning the favor.

Franco raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he likes you a little more than just ‘nice’,” he said, smirking.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Please, we’re just friends. He’s friendly with everyone.”

“Yeah, but he looks at you differently. Just saying,” Franco teased, nudging your arm before slipping away to join some other drivers.

When Charles returned with another round of drinks, he slid next to you, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair. “What’s got you smiling like that?” he asked, tilting his head with genuine curiosity.

“Oh, just Franco being... well, Franco,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah? What did he say?” Charles pressed, his expression shifting to one of interest.

“Nothing important. Just... you know, how great it is to be back in Austin,” you deflected, not wanting to reveal the fluttering thoughts swirling in your mind.

Charles studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “You sure? Because I could always tell him to back off if he’s bothering you,” he offered, his protectiveness shining through.

You laughed lightly. “I appreciate that, but really, it’s fine.”

As the night progressed, Charles seemed to loosen up even more, the drinks giving him a playful edge. He began to get a bit flirtier, leaning closer and making exaggerated gestures as he animatedly recounted his day.

At one point, he casually brushed your arm while reaching for his drink. The simple touch sent a rush of warmth through you. You could sense the tension building between you two, an electricity that was impossible to ignore.

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but the lingering sensation from his touch was hard to shake off. Each time he leaned closer, you felt that flutter in your stomach intensify, battling with the excitement of the moment. 

“So, what’s your strategy for Mexico City?” you asked, hoping to redirect the conversation and distract yourself from the undeniable chemistry brewing between you

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Honestly? Just to keep up with you. I’ve seen how competitive you can be, and I want to push myself more.” 

You smirked, leaning close enough in to get a whiff of his cologne “Is that so? You better be prepared for a good fight” 

He laughed, the sound deep and warm, and for a moment, the world around you faded. “I’d expect nothing less” he replied. His voice was low, and you could see a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. 

Just then, Max, Lando and Logan rejoined you, breaking the spell. 

“What were you two whispering about?” Lando asked, a mischievous grin on his face 

“Just race strategies” you said quickly, shooting a glance at Charles. The Monagasque nodded, playing along, but you could see a hint of disappointment in his eyes at the interruption

“Strategies for what? How to sneak out of here without us noticing?” Logan chimed in. You shot him a glare in response. 

“Oh come on” Charles said, his eyes rolling but amusement still danced on his face “We’re just having a good time” 

Max leaned in, the smell of alcohol on his lips as he smirked “Just make sure you keep it PG, yeah? Red Bull doesn’t need any headlines about you sleeping with the enemy” 

You lightly punched your teammate, causing him to flinch. “I can handle my own headlines, thank you very much” 

The group continued to joke and banter, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at Charles. He was laughing and enjoying himself, but every so often, his gaze would flicker back to you, that intensity returning.

As the night wore on, the playful atmosphere shifted to something more intimate when the music slowed down. You found yourself back at the bar with Charles, the noise of the party around you dimming to a soft buzz. Both of you had too many drinks, and it was evident by the conversation you were having. 

“Do you ever think what happens after this?” he asked, his tone serious

You looked up at him, surprised. “After what? The day? The season?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “I mean, after all this. When we’re not racing anymore. What do you want?” 

Charles’ question caught you off guard. It was a vulnerability you weren’t expecting. “I-” you started, then paused, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I want to keep doing what I love. Traveling, meeting new people, but also taking the time to enjoy moments like this.” 

He nodded, absorbing your words. “Yeah, me too. I’ve realized these moments are what make the job worth it” 

You could feel the tension building again, that electric connection almost palpable. “So what do we do about it?” you asked, your heart racing

Charles looked at you, his expression softening, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world around you disappeared again. “Maybe we should stop pretending and just see where this goes?” He suggested, finally confronting the elephant in the room

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip “You mean…?” 

He wasn’t sure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the amount of drinks, or maybe it was due to your true feelings finally being on display tonight. “Yeah, I mean if we both feel it, why not explore it?” 

You felt a rush of emotions - excitement, fear, hope. “I’d like that” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Before you could process what was happening, Charles leaned down, pressing his lips against yours. It took a second to kiss him back, but when you did, it was everything you had dreamed of since you first met him. 

Suddenly, a loud cheer erupted from the other side of the bar, pulling you away from each other. All of the other drivers were staring at you, each pair of eyes matched with a shit eating grin. 

“You wanna get out of here?” You asked 

“Yeah, I’d like that” Charles said, taking your hand 

======

want more? check out @coco-loco-nut's sister story below!

[pix-writes]

for the nsfw request for Stan and Ford (which tbh is more like a question lol also be completely free to not answer in case you don't want to); what kind of noises do they make? or they don't make a noise at all? Thank you!!

No problem, thanks for asking!

Under cut as is 18+

STANLEY:

He seems like the kind of guy who would grunt and moan a little, he's not quiet but he's not loud either, as he wants to hear his partner's sounds most of all, but sometimes he can't be quiet either cause it just feels too good. (Also likes to hear the squeak or rattle of whatever furniture he's got you placed on/bent over when you get into it, has broken a worn out, shoddy table or two in his time!)

Knows from experience that a lot of partners like him to make some noise 😉 (say thank you to the ladies who taught him this). Though the very point where he does come, he's practically silent. Will pant and groan afterwards though.

Stan in everyday life is sorta what you get in bed too, just more unfiltered, he opens his mouth to say all sorts of dirty things and feedback about how good you're doing/feel and things he wants to do to you and praises you when you respond in the way he wants. Depends on the circumstances though, as if he's totally in the moment he doesn't run his mouth so much. Can also be more playful too, so at times he'll try to make his partner laugh or be totally cheesy (cue awfully obvious rp where he pretends you're some beautiful/handsome stranger), you might get a chuckle out of him as well. On the other hand, if you manage to rile him up enough, Stan will practically growl in your ear 🥴

If it's just him by himself though, he doesn't make too much sound at all, just moans a little, definitely has that depressing post nut clarity and feels a bit guilty for taking himself in hand.

STANFORD:

Tries to control his volume. Is not successful!

This guy is painfully touch starved and is making up for lost time once he's with a partner, so ends up being unable to censor all the sounds that come out of him from feeling someone else's touch. I'd say his volume is about medium, though, as he does have some self-control. However, once he starts to feel remotely close to orgasm, he will get increasingly more whiny. Increasingly desperate towards climax and starts begging you or saying things, it's so garbled though you don't even know if it's proper sentences or just nonsensical babble. Cannot contain his cries of pleasure when he finally does climax! 🤭 (Edge this man if you want but get soundproofing if you do, otherwise even the neighbours will be able to hear what you're getting up to!)

Doesn't talk too much during, mostly lost in it, will keep giving you necessary instruction or feedback, though. Mostly moans, groans and whines, praises you for how good you are/feel. Though, I think once he starts to get into a relationship and gain confidence/experience, will be more able to control his volume and will run his mouth more, if that's something you're into. Will pleasure you and not let you touch him so he can focus on talking you through it 🫠 gets a little cocky once he finds out that you like the sound of his deep voice (what have you unleashed upon yourself??!!!!)

Thinks that his self pleasure is about average but is probably below average, sees it more as relieving stress than for indulgence in fantasies, feels alienated by the way most men would talk about it as it doesn't fit his experiences at all (e.g. thinks most men exaggerate their drive and promiscuity... Probably not wrong, but I hc that Ford is on the ace spectrum somewhere, probably demi sexual, but doesn't know until the twins tell him about lgbt+ identities). Helps him to sleep, though didn't feel safe enough to do it much at all during his portal days, as he was often on the run. Is often intentionally quiet when doing it because he often is in places where the walls are thin or he needs to hear if he might be walked in on (because it's likely to happen; is happy that so far he's never been caught) still moans a lot when he comes though.

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ I CHOOSE YOU! ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. new year, new you, new school. you’re determined to be the greatest trainer in history, and it starts at a pokemon academy. you hope to finish your studies free of drama, if you can ignore the noise of many battles within the student body to see who will come on top.

CHARACTERS. sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma, tsubakino tasuku, kaji ren, tomiyama choji, togame jo

CONTENT. gn!reader. pokemon au. comedy, fluff. 0.8k wc. inspired by pokemon scarlet and violet and its teal mask dlc. everyone goes to legit school here, whoa. reader sometimes ditches class to explore the wild. electrocution, one bad pun intended (kaji). they/them pronouns for tsubaki.

VERA. yelling with @stunie about pokemon was really fun so why not combine the best of both worlds. for zevie, my fellow pokemon (mystery dungeon) enthusiast!

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SAKURA HARUKA

sakura wants to be the best in the world through unconventional means, to battle the strongest right away. you’ve seen how he fought off a group of students who were ridiculing you earlier, but there’s no way someone could become a trainer with punches and kicks and without a pokemon. by chance, a sprigatito steals the pastry he was holding to eat and sends him on a wild goose chase. those two are a lovely pair, when it’s time for it to stop eating his food and he stops yelling at it for being a “brat”.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SUO HAYATO

if you need a teacher for your team on how to behave on the battlefield, suo is at the yard meditating with his mienfoo. it’s impressive how he’s by your stress filling their air like smokescreen. your pokemon partner suddenly stops listening to your commands, and now your wallet is dry. he says it's the rebellious teen phase, something he can easily deal with. whatever he did to make your pokemon shudder when he calls on it for lessons with mienfoo as his assistant, you dare not to pry.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. NIREI AKIHIKO

midterm season is around the corner, what you dread the most this year. luckily you have nirei, a walking encyclopedia that is very convenient to have as a study buddy and useful to a certain someone who skips classes to explore the wild. his abra will teleport you back on campus whenever you try to ditch. the one day you venture farther, a very strong pokemon has you running for your life. abra has the ability to sense danger so you manage to return safely, but not safe from his disappointment. 

𝄞༉‧₊˚. UMEMIYA HAJIME

major concerns of newbies are what type of supplies to stock up on and how to train pokemon teams efficiently. your problem is money, due to spending too much and losing too much against people. umemiya is an expert in said concerns, but his togekiss handles his budget to curb his spending impulses. for someone who advertised himself as dependable, you definitely can’t depend on him for monetary matters. even togekiss judges him for buying fake plants for his fake garden. 

𝄞༉‧₊˚. HIRAGI TOMA

the academy is a scary place. there are strong and promising trainers in the making, and a tournament is a great start to see what they’re worth. competition drives everyone nuts, tailing down anyone such as yourself in their line of sight to battle. hiragi shoos them away, swearing he’ll be like his annihilape if they keep this up. he mistakes you as one with the crowd because you’re staring at him for so long, his pokemon readies its rage fist to send you flying, stressing him out even more.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. TSUBAKINO TASUKU

as the end of the school term draws near, students become anxious. fear not, tsubaki knows how to turn the doom and gloom around - throwing a party. their checklist becomes so long they need a helping hand. their gardevoir chooses you through its future sight, determining that you’re good luck. while shopping with your upperclassman, there’s an ongoing sale for clothes they’ve been waiting for since forever. they’re so excited that they drag you along and practically buy out the whole boutique.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAJI REN

the stock of candies at the campus store is somehow almost empty every time you check it out. a salesclerk then tells you that they never heard of a luxio with a sweet tooth. the pokemon belongs to a student who wears headphones and a lollipop in his mouth, kaji. you and your partner look at each other with the same plan: ditch class to buy out the entire candy section before those two can. you and him grab a candy bag in sync, but luxio electrocutes you as he and your pokemon stare in shock.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. TOMIYAMA CHOJI

photography in the wilderness for a project is, in reality, easier said than done. your pictures come out blurry as many wild pokemon have tried to break your phone. just as things can’t get any worse, you get whacked by an ambipom from its double hit. your hands feel light, and you look at it with your device. its trainer tomiyama proposes to retake your photos as compensation. but instead of you in there, the entire gallery is full of his selfies. seems like this project will take forever to finish.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. TOGAME JO

you can’t afford to be late for school… again. rushing to campus on your bike, you almost crash into a dozing snorlax that is blocking your usual route. you and your pokemon have done what you can to wake it up, and it turns into a stream of light which went inside a pokeball belonging to an upperclassman. togame was napping at the side of the road, and now he is late going to school like you are. as he’s about to ask you for a ride, you completely vanish, pedaling furiously like your life depends on it.

[scarlettoceaneyes]

Maybe Embry x f!reader where r was foced to ask for Embry’s number as a dare by her friends but he ends up imprinting??

Love it ❤️ send me more request!!

Alright guys my eyes are not focused but I was inspired. My autocorrect is so nuts too. Please forgive my typos.

Dare- Embry x imprint

“Okay Y/N! Truth or dare?” You spent the better part of the evening over good junk food and playing games with your old girlfriends from high school. Most have went off to college either in Seattle or out of state. You completed your degree online with a partial paid internship. It was a real job with real responsibilities, including your future college credit that depended on your success.

Right now it’s the fall semester break and the wine is out. Sitting at Rachel Black’s house for the big sleepover, Jacob and his friends Embry and Quil pass through on their way to play video games. Okay did they look any different to anyone else? Much taller, a heck of a lot more muscles and strength, but the best part? You couldn’t help but notice and drool on the inside to how hot they looked. You were a year above Jacob so you knew the guys.

“Hurry Y/N pick before we give you something crazy!!” Believe it or not my friends would actually do that… you picked dare which was a mistake. You were barely older than him but you felt obsolete and small compared to Embry. You had a crush on him for a few years but he seemed so unapproachable now. “Fine I’ll do it jeezz.”

You take your time, but your feet felt like they were moving faster than intended. Knocking on Jacob’s door, you are asked to enter. As Jacob expected a message relay from Rachel or his dad, instead he was surprised to see you at his bedroom door. You walked past Jacob after a quick hello and went to sit on the bed by Embry. He was sitting this round of video games out, perfect opportunity for you to ask for his number. Receiving weird looks from the guys, they slowly returned back to the activities before your arrival. Sitting next to Embry you turn and say hello. As you decided to lay it out, you tell Embry of the stupid truth or dare, but he can’t hear you. You are a distant mumble to the vision of his life that is running in his brain.

He imprinted. He was a wolf without a known dad who gave him all this lovely crap. Now he is shocked that he was gifted an imprint. He didn’t think he would be so lucky considering he didn’t even know which genetic line he descended from. The world that flashed before his eyes was the dreams that inspire Disney fairytales.

Dancing in a white dress to your song, throwing the garter and bouquet. The honey moon, the baby (surprise), the break up and co parenting. The pain, without a hint to why so Embry can’t avoid it. He will only have to face it, but what he sees next is the will to push through the bad.

The baby is a little bigger. Time passed. The make up, the recommitment, the initials carved in a tree, the IVF after health complications, the triplets surprise. Another two kids after them- yeah Embry wanted a large family since he never had a dad. He wants a full life with a big family surrounding him. He will be granted that wish. Some days he might want to quit, but through his vision he can see it’s all worth it with more joy than he can comprehend at this moment in time.

Your hospital stay from the accident with a drunk driver. The days he didn’t know if you would live. The coming home and walking just fine. His broken bones on his last phase and battle. Growing old again. Weddings for children and grand babies but he blinked and he saw your smile asking for his number.

Fumbling he ask to trade phones.

You smiled and said although it was a dare, you are glad it happens.

Rachel is Paul’s imprint so she understands, but she warns Embry to watch himself and protect you. You might be fierce but you are an emotional wreck at times and need his love more than air.

Phone calls, text, FaceTime, falling asleep to his snores through the other line. He started sneaking into your room at night knowing text was not enough anymore. He couldn’t sleep without wrapping you in his arms to know you are protected.

Truth or dare Embry- he gets asked on the next girls night a few months later. He was just passing through the kitchen and was caught by the game.

Truth. “Your favorite memory?”

Oh that’s easy- the night you picked dare and stole my heart forever. Kissing your forehead he smirks, whispering an I love you, and heads off to game night with Jacob and Quil.

[n04hfiction]

Girl Dad Huskerdust HCs

Content/Warnings (If applicable) : fem!implied reader, profanity, daughter!reader goes to the age ranges of a young toddler to a teenager, brief mentions of alcohol + profanity

Proofread? : ✅

A/n : I think it’s a serious problem that I have parental HCs for nearly every Hellaverse character. I need to be stopped. (Or don’t, I don’t care)

Honestly, depending on your age, the “stricter” father definitely flip-flops here and there

For instance, when you are a young child, Angel is the “stricter” father, even if you don’t have the concept to understand what that entirely means, he’s the one who baby-proofs every thing while Husk kinda lets you run wild

But as you grow and get into your teen years, Angel becomes a lot more laid back, while Husk tends to be more picky about what he allows you to do

Mainly because Husk never imagined himself as a father, so in the beginning, he is sorta unsure, so for him, anything goes, but as you start to age he gets a grip and with that, comes strictness

When you are a younger child, Angel is 100% dressing you until you decide to do that on your own (part of him hopes you’ll let him dress you forever). He’s very protective of you when you’re a toddler/younger child, Hell isn’t always a safe place, everything even slightly unsafe or tempting is gated or baby-proofed

As you age, like I said, Ange is much more lenient. He’s ready to watch you rock the world! Wanna go out to a party? For sure! Be home by 2, go nuts! Have a crush? Great! Your old man will help ya out! Wanna get drunk as fuck? Fine, just do it in the house!

Honestly, Husk is a bit of a confusing father, to say the least. He’s lowkey freaked out by the idea of toddlers and younger children, so when you’re in your first few years he lets Angel take the lead, he kinda watched and observes his behaviors.

Which leads Husk to being more cautious of a parent as an adult (Learned from his hubby, that’s for sure). Even though him and Angel are far from over, he’s still very cautious about the idea of love, so he’s very sketchy about your relationships with boys (or girls! He doesn’t judge!)

When events like your first day of school, first boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, first heartbreak, homecoming, prom, etc - You may think Angel is the one to get emotional, but it’s actually Husk - Angel is just as excited as you are, getting you dolled up and whipping out his camera to take pictures, but deep down, Husk is honestly sad that his baby girl is growing up - Especially cause he was too tense in the beginning to really enjoy your younger years

Seriously though, Husk is happy you’re a bit older, he feels like he’s able to have more of a connection with you. He likes it when you come to the bar and just sit there and talk, even if you’re only drinking a juice box.

Husk still doesn’t know how to talk with a teenager all that well, but he’ll ask you how school is, and how you’re friends are, he wants to show that he takes a genuine interest in the other aspects of your life.

Angel on the other hand is very eager to walk with you through your teenage years, he’s the dad that all of your friends think is cool as fuck, but you think he’s crazy embarrassing. He’s the kind of dad to also be friends with your friends. He’ll come in your room during sleepovers and do your friends makeup, skincare, nails, ect

Despite the fact that Angel does pretty much let you run wild once you get older, he’s very strict on safety, in every aspect. - He doesn’t want you to get fucked over like he did, and he doesn’t want that to destroy you, he really does try his best to guide you on a different path, any path that isn’t the one he fell down

[mrsjellymunson]

🌸🌼 One Fine Day 🌼🌸

Adapted from this ask from @celestialbat for the @steddiemicrofic June 1-year anniversary prompt, ‘one’. WC: 1,111. Rating: G. CW: tooth-rotting fluff, romance, flirting, mentions of food (no actual eating) and Eddie’s difficult childhood (not detailed).

Before today, Eddie never would’ve believed that one day could mean so much.

He and Steve haven’t been together long, and haven't really even gone on a proper ‘date’. But Eddie’s decided: today's the day.

He’s not usually one for cuteness and grand romantic gestures - he’d usually take someone to The Hideout, or spend time in his van out by Lover’s Lake. Not because he doesn’t want to, more because he doesn’t know how to, and prefers to keep things simple rather than run the risk of embarrassing himself.

But with Steve, everything’s different.

Before Steve, he reckons he wouldn’t’ve known how to be romantic if his life had depended on it. But now, he’s finding he loves to do things to make Steve laugh, to make him blush, even just to make him smile, and he doesn’t even care if he makes himself look like an idiot while he does it.

So today, he’s packed up as much of a romantic picnic as he can manage. He’s borrowed a basket and cooler from Robin, along with some tips on what to pack, after he admitted he was just going to get Twinkies, chips and Mountain Dew from Melvald’s. She’s even let him raid her fridge for a few things.

He’s shaken out the blankets from the back of his van, and has borrowed a few pillows from the trailer, so they’ll both have something comfortable to sit on. He’s brought camping plates and cutlery, usually reserved for Wayne’s fishing trips, so Steve doesn’t have to pick things out of packets like Eddie usually would, and purchased some of Steve’s favourite name-brand soda (rather than the store equivalent). He’s discovered he and Wayne don’t own napkins, so he’s Origami-ed some kitchen paper into bird-like shapes so they stand up on their own - fancy.

Steve assumes Eddie’s just taking the pair of them to the local park, perhaps picking something up from Benny’s on the way, but Eddie surprises him, swinging the van along one of the exit roads to a ‘secret spot’ outside of town.

It’s down a quiet lane, a pretty meadow filled with tall grass and wildflowers. And it’s beautiful.

Eddie doesn’t mention that he used to come here with his mom. It’s not far from the house they used to live in, and she’d bring him here when things got really bad with Al. Sometimes they’d even camp out under the stars. It was one place where Eddie felt safe.

Maybe he’ll tell Steve about it one day.

He grabs Steve’s hand and unnecessarily helps him down from the cab with a gallant, “This way, sweetheart”, and insists on carrying everything himself, even though Steve offers to help. (And, as Steve suspected he would, he almost trips twice.)

Eddie chooses a patch that’s more grass than flowers, explaining to Steve that, “I don’t want to hurt them”, and lays everything out on the well-loved blanket.

Steve can’t believe he’s gone to all this effort. There’s cold meats and cheeses, small tomatoes, carrot batons, berries, nuts, apple slices and a few grapes. And because Eddie can’t forego the snack food, there’s also pretzels, breadsticks and, yes, chips.

Steve thinks it’s wonderful; thinks Eddie’s wonderful. And the two of them spend an idyllic afternoon snacking and chatting and laughing and playing with each other’s fingers and tracing their fingertips up and down each other’s arms.

Steve asks about Eddie’s tattoos, and Eddie enjoys telling Steve the stories behind them. He makes up outrageous tales about the creatures and how they fought for their places on his human canvas, occasionally lifting his shirt and enjoying the way Steve’s eyes glitter as they roam his torso.

Once most of the food is gone, Steve helps Eddie to pack away the leftovers and encourages him to lie down, insisting he deserves a rest after all he’s done today.

Eddie smiles softly at him, and says he will, but,

“Only if I can choose the best pillow in the state.”

Confused, Steve glances around at the worn cushions brought from the trailer, and Eddie smirks as he drops down onto his elbows and wriggles backwards to place his messy mop into Steve’s lap. He moves his head back and forth a couple of times, settling, humming to himself, mumbling,

“Mmmm, definitely the best pillow in the state. Wait, the country! No, I’m so stupid, of course I mean the whole entire world!”

Steve chuckles down at him and the corners of his honeyed eyes crinkle as Eddie peeps up with those coffee coloured pools Steve adores so much.

Steve enjoys the weight and warmth of Eddie resting against him, and runs his fingers through Eddie’s bangs. They talk about everything and nothing, and Eddie begins to doze in the afternoon sun. He stirs a little as Steve periodically leans to one side, but thinks nothing of it.

He rouses as he feels Steve playing with his hair again, and thinks he might just be in paradise. Surely, there’s no earthly reason why the two of them couldn’t stay like this forever?

But then something unfamiliar tickles his cheek, and he opens one eye to see Steve leaning over him, examining a small yellow flower with a long stem before cocking his head sideways and appraising Eddie, squinting a little.

Placing it carefully into Eddie’s hair between an orange and red bloom, and just above a tiny purple one, Eddie sees the tip of Steve’s tongue emerge from between his teeth as he adjusts it before leaning back and admiring his handiwork.

Eddie brings a hand gently up to his hairline, careful not to dislodge anything, and discovers he has quite an array of blooms adorning his waves.

Steve reaches into his bag and pulls out his Polaroid camera, wanting to capture Eddie’s beautiful visage. Taking a couple of snaps, he places them face down on the blanket to develop as Eddie gleefully makes grabby hands, wanting to take one of his own. He hadn’t realised Steve had brought it, and he’s not missing this opportunity.

Steve won’t know it, but the sun that’s dipping low behind him is giving him a glorious golden halo that Eddie thinks makes him look like an ethereal, heavenly being. If he can capture even a tenth of that in a photo, he thinks he’ll keep it close to his heart forever.

Eddie’s convinced this is definitely the best picnic, and possibly the best afternoon, of his life. He wonders whether Steve feels the same.

Before today, Eddie never would’ve believed how much romance he actually had in him, or that one day could mean so much.

Thanks so much for reading!!

My masterlist

Tagging my general list (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean

Reblogging divider by @strangergraphics 💚💚

And how could I possibly pass up yet another opportunity to reshare this beautiful and rather gloriously appropriate piece of art by @themultiverseofmars 😉😘 YES I AM OBSESSED, WHAT OF IT HUH? HUH??

[c0smoshit]

I love your writing, the way you write Venom Snake is just perfection. I had a request.. Venom Snake Aftercare hcs, please ? Totally fine if you don't want too and Thank youuu <3

Ofc!!

I'm here to serve you guys ;))

Ohh and I also added some other characters to this request because I though it would be cute🤧

thanks for the request love🫶🫶

Aftercare

⋆ ࣪. ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 ≫ Venom Snake, Big Boss and Raiden

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ fluff, kind of suggestive but nothing sexual just cuddles

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ As for Raiden I had rising in mind while writing it, but Sons Of Liberty Raiden works too! Choose your fav ;)

Venom Snake "Big Boss"

★ Tbh it depended on his mood

★ He would be the sweetest ever, cleaning you up, running you a bath, soothing your trembling legs with his hands

★ Ooor he could fall asleep on spot

★ However, since you had told him what was aftercare and the things you liked, he had became way more considerate with you

★ He loves taking baths with you, so expect lots of them after sweaty situations

★ He is such a puppy anyways and after having an orgasm he is the clingiest you'd ever see him.

★ He still falls asleep (don't blame him, blame Diamond Dogs) but he will always cuddle with you.

Clinging into him for dear life as he brought you to the bathroom, placing you on top of the sink as he rumaged through the bathroom.

You couldn't understand how freely he was moving and all the energy he still had left too. In moments like this was when you understood why everyone greeted him as "Boss"

The room was filled with a comfortable silence as he first started to clean your thighs and stomach, stopping to be more gentle on the areas where he knew you were still too stimulated.

Resting your cheek on his shoulder you lifted your butt a bit like he silently demanded by tapping the flesh of it with a drum of his fingers on your skin.

"Love you"

"Mmh?"

He turned his head towards you, smiling ever so softly at your still puffy and red cheeks.

"I said..."

You paused as you grabbed his cheeks for him to look back at you and stop rubbing the towel against your skin for once.

"I looove you"

You dragged the "o" chuckling at the feeling of his beard against yours as he rubbed his cheek against yours, making you wince in "pain".

"Stop! You're scratchy"

He smiled, kissing you on your lips lovingly before pulling away with a smirk, mocking your tone.

"Well, just a minute ago you were telling me 'don't stop please!'"

Big Boss "Naked Snake" (John)

★ Like Venom, he also is a huge fan of passing out right after nutting

★ However, you also tend to be as tired as him after a full session with him

★ Which leaves a sleepy 80 kg man clinging into you, demanding cuddles

★ However, he often is the first one to wake up, so don't bother on doing the job all by yourself, your legs will not be sticky the moment you wake up.

★ Doesn't tell you, but he secretly enjoys the sight of you laying there, hickeys, fingerprints...

★ That's why he always wants to wake up first

Hand no longer gripping your neck he crashed you further into the bed as he finally acomplished his end. Sticky skin resting on each other, you both grimaced at the feeling.

Opening his eyes after his surprisingly long bliss, he heard you muttering. Well, whining.

Of course you were, he was fucking using you as his personal mattress.

"Sorry y/n"

His groggy voice muttered out as he finally moved, not without him grabbing your hips and arms and manhandling you into the pose he loved cuddling you in.

You couldn't even speak as you were falling rapidly asleep on his arms.

However, he prefered it that way, the silence after such an intense feeling, your arms wrapping around him automatically despite the humid ambience on the room, his hot skin, the stickiness not only between your legs but everywhere now.

"Sweet dreams, guess I'll clean you up when you wake up"

Softly speaking mostly to himself he brushed a strand of hair out of your face, smiling tiredly as he watched you scrunch your already shut eyes.

He loved admiring you while you slept, in fact, he often thanked his job for making him come home late for him to see your pretty face already fast asleep on the bed.

This was his aftercare, keeping you by his side, keeping you in his warm embrace as he kissed your forehead, cheeks, eyes, brows, whatever he wished to forever remember when his eyes finally shut down.

You had him wrapped around a finger that was too pure for his blood drenched soul.

Raiden (Jack)

★ He is the sweetest boy ever

★ Will take him a while to get used to being sexual or cuddly with you due to all his trauma

★ However, the moment he lets his heart get enveloped by your soft and warm hands, he is not skipping aftercare

★ Baths, food, water, a warm towel, a cold one, cuddling...

★ Whatever you wish for, it'll be granted

★ Like the other two, he would become way softer with you after nutting

"Hold on baby"

He whispered into your ear, soothing your belly and chuckling at the sight of your legs still trembling from all the pleasure.

You could only mumble out an incoherent response even for you to understand, too lost in the big wave of tiredness washing over your sore body.

However, soon enough, your white haired saviour was there to assist your needs once again. Towel in hand and a glass of cool water on the other, you thought jesus was in the room with you right now.

Grabbing the glass of water and closing your eyes, you took a sip that felt like heaven before almost spilling it out.

"Wha- Raiden!"

Your feet almost knocking him out, you squirmed at the sensation of the towel touching almost menancingly your worst bundle of nerves, still throbbing from the overstimulation.

"Jesus- Sorry princess, tryna clean you down there"

Supporting your body by your elbows you looked at his apologetic expression, making you try to bit down a chuckle, which didn't work.

But soon he followed your laugh, putting down the towel for a brief moment before he nuzzled into your chest, arms caging you into his warm body. You both stayed like that for what felt like hours, twirling a strand of silver hair as you muttered.

"Sorry"

He turned to look at you, eyes that most would see as inhuman but to you, they were one of the best examples of humanity and emotion.

"Don't say that. I'm a big boy, a little kick from such a beauty would just make me beg for more"

Now it was your turn to blush, shoving his head away as he pecked your jaw.

"Oh shut up"

[blixabargelds]

can u summarize superstars main characters please ? new to this au and i am tuning in

hiii yes ofc it’s being written alternating between gale and johns pov, im writing gale’s which is why you see sm of that. my bestie elo is writing john’s and they’re internet shy which is why you don’t see that jgkgkj

gale is a lil shy, pretty quiet, joins the band after seeing one of their shows bc they need a new bassist and him n john are in love almost immediately lol. he cannot play bass. rosie teaches him :3 he’s got pretty intense anxieties around keeping the people he loves safe after his mom died when he was younger. he’s a bit of a demon in bed. he’s a really hard worker n gets good at bass pretty quick. he can’t write lyrics but he’s incredibly good at picking out patterns that sound good, working with song arrangements, approaches music like a lot of things as a formula to be worked out meticulously. he lives w john in johns apartment. he’s pretty dependent on him, bc he’s practically a runaway and has no money, which isn’t usually an issue but definitely becomes one at a few points. he finds it hard to open up but once he places his trust in someone he’ll come out his shell. rosie is kind of his best friend.

john’s the frontman/ singer/ shouter in there band. he’s very good at writing lyrics. can’t really play any instruments. he’s a kid from a broken care system, never knew his parents. has a shady criminal past with curt but he is a very sweet guy. he’s got the biggest heart out of all of them. walking disaster. uses humour to cover up a lot of hurt, and to keep a Lot of secrets. he’s absolutely head over heels for gale. can be incredibly bossy in band practise, and in bed (gale likes that). has a lot of self destructive habits, a lot of self worth issues. will do literally anything for the people he loves and i mean Anything, but will do almost nothing for himself. him and rosie dated when rosie was in college, which is mostly fine and sometimes pretty messy. we kind of accidentally reinvented richard hell with him.

curt is the drummer. he’s johns best friend from way back when, they’ve done some shady business together in the past. his dad was a criminal, a violent man, but someone curt weirdly looked up to in a lot of ways as a kid. he was strong n didn’t take any shit. curt def separated himself from his family when he got a little older though, realised his dad was running business thru some boots and braces types and curt didn’t want any part in that world. he’s fiercely loyal to his friends, honestly the best person you want on your side. frequently the voice of reason in the band. very cool headed. saves gales life at one point, has definitely saved john’s before. musically he’s an absolutely rabid drummer, like whiplash sticks bloody etc. he’s also a lil basic. or maybe just very straightforward. like his favourite band is black flag. nothing wrong with that but he does roll his eyes at rosie when rosie asks him if he’s heard the latest release from someone no one ever in the world has heard of.

rosie is the guitarist. rosie is. ahhh. insane. lol. he’s patrick bateman. he’s jesus christ. he is a musical genius, he’s got classical training, can play like 10 different instruments, he went to julliard. his parents are seriously upstanding citizens who wanted him to be a classical prodigy but their overbearing attitudes drove him toward punk and distancing himself from them. his mother is Nuts. rosie is endlessly kind and also cold inside, he’s the best friend you want and also the grim reaper. he’s sooo sexy. he does not call women back ever. he had a big breakdown in college. he’s like a lil cracked. but also outwardly so steady and so put together. i have to study him under a microscope. he will play the harp for 6 hours straight until his fingers bleed to avoid having one thought.

fun minor characters include; sandy (rosie’s ex who keeps cropping back up. rosie’s mom Loved her. she’s probably rich enough to not care about voting but she thinks trump is just hilarious), ulrich ([redacted]), Big Tom ([redacted]), and marge. sweet marge gale’s childhood sweetheart who’s always there for him even when they never really see each other anymore.

[spiritualviolation]

HEADCANON FREE SPACE - GRIAN

from the response to this post

hi hello!! this post is a free space for people to come by and share their headcanons about a specific mcyt character, and this post is for grian!

grian is like. one of those chars that are just headcanon central, so i thought it be appropriate to start with him

not-exactly-rules but some guidelines + my own headcanons under the cut!

- GO ABSOLUTELY NUTS!! share as MANY as you like, i literally don’t mind if you’re going to make a ten page essay about your headcanons. just go wild, just as long as it sticks to the character of this post! bc if it i do multiple characters on one post it might get overwhelming and messy

- you can either do it in the tags or you can just reblog and add to this, i don’t mind as long as it’s convenient for you! you can add to other people’s rbs but i do think it would be better if you rb it straight off this post, but that depends on you!!

- if you want to reblog with your design as well so you can explain your hcs, go ahead! i would absolutely love to see how people design the characters individually!!

i will probably make a masterpost for this but for now we’ll start humble, but i’m aiming to release one post per week, but maybe would speed it up if my schedule allows me!

so yea, go wild!

i will probably start with the life series peeps first but i am thinking of maybe doing qsmp peeps as well after!

my grian headcanons cause i wrote a whole thing in my notes app:

- in my hc, the forms of watchers are dream-like and amorphous, basically visual mindfucks in appearance. grian who was fairly new to the watchers still kept his regular human form, but those who have been watchers for a very long time eventually would lose their individual human identity, and is assimilated into the collective that are the watchers. grian, if give or take maybe a century, the same thing would have eventually happened to him.

- his wings, gifted to him when he was ‘taken’, are generally amorphous and shifting, and you can never focus what shape they’re supposed to be (they can give you a headache the longer you try to look at their genuine form), but he can disguise them in any shape he wants (bird wings, dragon wings, etc.) so it doesn’t hurt to look at them.

- grian cut off his association with them just several months after he was taken, joining hermitcraft not long after, estranging themselves from them.

- he can still use his powers (which include astral projection, and etc.), but because of his cut ties they’re significantly weaker than the average watcher. for example, watchers can ‘watch’ over an entire server, but grian can only ‘watch’ one person at a time.

- his reasons for not wanting to be assimilated into the watchers is that he knows what it’s like to have been pushed and forced to take up a role against his will (ahem high school ahem), and it’s hurt him and he won’t want to let it hurt him again. aside from that, he finds that the watchers are extremely boring, considering all they do is observing passively from the sidelines and all that, which is the complete opposite of how grian likes to operate. he finds it extremely restrictive and prevents him from actively participating in things. not wanting to be confined to that, he cut ties with them.

- however he still uses his powers for troublemaking and mischief, and also to help others when they need it. he doesn’t consider himself affiliated with the watchers because he thinks it’s merely some godly title and also because he wouldn’t want anyone to think him differently, so he doesn’t really hide it.

- as he denied his watcher status very early into joining them, he still has the physicality (stamina, energy and such) of a regular human. only his wings are amorphous instead of his entire form since his wings were given to him when he joined them.

- made the life smp as a fun game for his friends, but in my hc, they did a test run before starting 3rd life. it was during that test run when the watchers seized control over the server.

- during 3rd life, he put admin restrictions on himself to remove his wings so he couldn’t fly and it was fair game for the rest.

[barrenclan]

went absolutely nuts one night at 4 an and stsrted absolutely screaming about how you could have been anyone by roar is rainhaze coded before i just passed out before i could finish writing this

Sell off the licensing rights to your mind

(Very easy to pin this line on Rainhaze, he gave his mind to Defiance whole-heartedly, before he himself had even realized.)

You'll sit through some ads before you can see the light

(Can be interpreted as his heel-digging to embrace the Defiance beliefs, not only the resistance he presented but the gradual process and conditioning he went through. Depending on the perspective this line it can be interpreted as him finally understanding the gift of slaughter, or in a metaphorical sense the light at the end of the tunnel, repesenting the death of the old Rainhaze and the birth of a Defiance broken tom.)

Life doesn't mean a thing until you've almost none

(Can align with the beliefs of Defiance directly, so many animals take their lives for granted, submitting to the roles relegated to them and labeled solely as hunters or prey. Only until you understand you can be so much more and see the beauty in killing can you then understand you have power.)

You could have been anyone

(Very fitting lyric, if only he hadn't gone this path, perhaps a mate would have lied away from him, maybe even kits. A loving uncle who helped support his nieces and nephews through their struggle to unserstand their identities. A brother who could provide care to his deeply scarred sibling. A cat who above all else loved his family, instead of the grotesque, twisted love his mind was warped into believing.)

You can find Jesus in every thrift store

(In every single Defiance member lay a fragment of Deepdark.)

And you can catch hell, condemned by the Lord's billboards

(And when he wills it, he can tower above you as the almighty jury he is and damn you.)

Wildfires opalize the skies

While they try thinking of ways to monetize

Ways to monetize

Life doesn't mean a thing until you've almost none

You could have been anyone

I love it when people do all the analyzing work for me!

Well, I wouldn't blame you for just the name. I like it with her, though! I don't think I've ever gotten a song suggestion for Rosey.

And I've seen the way the seasons change when I just give it time But I feel out of my mind all the time In the night I'm wild eyed, and you got me now

What a sweet and romantic song for such a pair of weirdos! Deepdark is always associated with "paleness", though, and I think Prowl being sappy is pretty funny.

Good morning, how's the weather dear? My feelings are so clear I just wanna be with you Doing what you do, always Show me how to live <- big darkprowl energy

"Death Thrice Drawn" has the word 'pining', automatic Pinepaw song. Haha, but I also like it as a song for both Pinepaw and Cormorantpaw, musing on their relationship.

Hotshot, have you got a clue how long I've been pining for you? Spent so many sleepless nights in unbaptized decline

The awful truth has eluded you for too long Uh-oh, everything you know is all wrong

Oh, more vocaloid! Songs about barren, abandoned wastelands always fit PATFW.

I can imagine this song being sung by a young Pinepaw.

I'm missing a house That I've never called home I'm missing a time that I've never known I remember a tree, had a whole leaf of my own But now we're reaching spring Was it just a dream? I don't know

The children hum a hymn And I'd like to run away But to leave would be a sin

A distant memory that itches my brain Now it remains a dream

I am always here for more Kate Bush! This song is really beautiful, and I'd definitely apply it to Asphodelpaw, though I think Mallowstar is a bit too old for the relevance. Perhaps more young cats throughout BarrenClan's history?

But he didn't have the money for a guitar (What could he do?) (Should have been a politician) But he never had a proper education (What could he do?) (Should have been a father) But he never even made it to his twenties What a waste Army dreamers

Give the kid the pick of pips And give him all your stripes and ribbons Now he's sitting in his hole He might as well have buttons and bows

My mom is a big fan of Eurythmics, thanks for suggesting it. I can imagine Slugpelt walking through the warm spring rain of BarrenClan, thinking about her past with Cashew.

Here comes the rain again Falling on my head like a memory Falling on my head like a new emotion I want to walk in the open wind I want to talk like lovers do

Want to dive into your ocean Is it raining with you?

I think I've been suggested this song before, yes! I agree, though perhaps this would fit Saltburn's Clan even better. PATFW is not set in a desert after all.

When the last light warms the rocks And the rattlesnakes unfold Mountain cats will come to drag away your bones

She twines her spines up slowly Towards the boiling sun And when I touched her skin My fingers ran with blood

I don't believe it has! I haven't even heard this Mitski song before.

I better ace that interview I better ace that interview I should tell them that I'm not afraid to die

I wanna see the whole world I wanna see the whole world I don't know how I'm gonna pay rent I wanna see the whole world

[thebigsl33p]

A Safe Pair of Hands

Aleksander Morozova X Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic. Neutral grisha Fem!reader)

Winter in Ravka comes fast. And it stays. It blankets the ground in thick white snow, freezes the soil and puts frost on window panes. The only time it seems to stop snowing in the city is the early morning, just before the sun properly rises, there is always a slight reprieve in the falling snow.

That's when he wakes. Like clockwork, every winter morning. He finds the fire from the night before has long died in the hearth, and the Palace floors are cold beneath his feet, even as he cleans himself and pulls on his dark Kefta and heavy boots in preparation for the day ahead.

By the time the rest of the city wakes, he's already working, his hands meticulously writing letters and commands with a face like stone.

As the early morning sun rises the city swells with sound and smells, of mulled wines and drinking chocolate, sweet nuts and cinnamon. On one street you can hear both the sounds of celebratory folk songs and the wails of an ill child. In the streets and the homes people bundle up as well as they can, food turns from being light and easy to being warm and hearty.

And still, he works.

That is until, his study door is pushed open in a familiar creak and a H/C haired woman walks in with a lazy grin. She's soft and smiling, her E/C eyes are so very alive with a blatant love for life.

"Y/N," The Darkling says her name softly, setting down his quill as she enters the room. She's holding two cups of hot chocolate, one for herself and one inevitably for him. She sets it down on his desk and comes to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder at his work, "Thank you," he uttered.

"No problem." She says nonchalantly, and she leans forward, her fingers gently pulling a map out from underneath the letter he's writing, "Working already? it's barely 8:30, Aleks." she says with a fond, exasperated, sigh.

He responds with his own amused huff, "You know how it is, Y/N." He says simply, running a hand through his dark hair - pushing it off his face in doing so. He feels the chair he's sitting in shift slightly as she rests her arms on the back of it - the only person who could get away with such a thing.

"You working all day?" She inquires, eyebrows raising slightly as she sips her drink.

"Perhaps." His hands reach for his own cup, barely feeling the warmth of the mug for his thick leather gloves, "Depends, really." He says.

"On what?" She tilted her head around to get a better look at him, her eyebrows narrowing in playful inquisition.

He knew her well. Knew, she only ever asked if he was working all day, when she wanted to do something. Something with him, inevitably.

"Depends what it is you want to drag me into now," He said, in mock annoyance, but mostly amusement.

"Oh, cmon it's a lovely day Aleksand-"

"It's snowing."

"A lovely winter's day, then." She folds her arms, leaning down to his ear to teasingly whisper, in a persuasive sing-song lilt, "Os Alta will be a wonder to see in the cold. And you don't get out enough."

"We'll both be stared at like art exhibitions," he answered, gruff and dryly, "Everything we do-"

"Not in the market we won't." she challenged, "Oh, come on Aleksander. One winter market. It'll be good fun, promise."

And that's how he ended up here, his arm linked with hers as they walked through the annual Winter Market. His boots crunched the snow beneath them, his large dark cloak creating a striking figure of darkness in a crowd of bright festive colours. And her beside him, in her (Grisha Colour) Kefta, and her cloak. Without thinking much about it he tucks the hand around his arm into the crook of it and murmurs, half-scoldingly, "I told you to bring your gloves."

She simply hums a soft, half-listening, "Yeah." She's so distracted by the market, the foods, the people, the jewellery, the clothes, the music. It's something she's seen all her life, every winter, but it takes her breath away nonetheless.

"Y/N," he huffs, shaking his head in mock sternness and disappointment.

"What?!" She laughs, turning to face him with a smile, "I'm sorry. I forgot, okay? Besides, I'll be fine. I'll survive." She says with a grin.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, but absentmindedly caresses her hands in a slight attempt to keep her warm... or warmer than she is.

As the day progresses, he finds himself being dragged to various stalls and stands, Y/N already with coin in her hand to pay for whatever sweet treat she's decided they'll share. ...And for once, he lets her.

And so, they walk back to the Little Palace, arm in arm, with a paper bag of sugared nuts between them, having spent the day snacking on various hot chocolates and mulled wines, reviewing different wrapping papers and potential gifts, trying different meats, vegetables and cheeses with soft laughter as the snow fell upon them.

And now as the sun sets early, they walk back. Her hand is still tucked into the warm crook of his arm, and they're laughing together about something or other. In that moment, he's glad the street is empty. No guards, no nobles, no royals or other Grisha. It's just her and him, and for once, in the snow and in the soft winter dusk, he can simply exist as her Aleksander. Her Sasha.

He knows, that when they get back to the Little Palace, she'll kick off her snow covered boots by his study door - despite his insistence she doesn't need to - and she'll enter his study. She'll throw a few extra logs into the hearth as he takes off his Kefta and hangs it up, before they both take their places on the loveseat by the fireplace.

She laughs at something he says, the snowflakes catching on her eyelashes, in her hair, on her nose. For a moment, he allows himself to feel sentimental - a sudden rush of relief and appreciation for human connection. He leans down, and as her eyes and nose wrinkle in her laughter, he presses a soft kiss to her cheek.

it catches her slightly, and she finishes her laughter with a soft content sigh, gives his arm a slight squeeze, and they continue their winter walk home.

A/N: HI I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN SO LONG!! finally got a new laptop so I am working today, working. Working hard so I can please you. (I'm really sorry if you don't know what this is)

[synnamon-hearts]

kay need more of the until dawn men w chubby reader wtf...

need some dom!chris with his plushy little gal UGHHFH nsfw ofc.. !? 🫣🫣🫣🫣

Chris, eh? 😏 I don't get enough of him, to be honest. (Also I know you got more requests waitint in my inbox and I just want you to know that I am working on them. 👀 It's just a really busy time.)

NSFW down below!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Ahhh, Chris, Chris, Chris... Let us be real, this man is an absolute whore for you. But that still doesn't mean he is willing to give up *full* control just because you make him all mushy as well as hard as fuck.

Ohhhh you are just so cute to him! So plush and soft like a little pillow he can cuddle. Although sometimes he doesn't feel like being so gentle. Noooo, no, no... Ever hear of cuteness agression? Well this guy has it. He will pin you down on the bed, squishing you with all his weight just to feel how soft you are against him until you are complaining.

Oh, you don't like it? You don't want him to smoosh you? Is that a bratty little remarkable you just let out? Uh ohhhh, that's not good! Before you know it, you are over his knees, your stomach resting over his legs as he squeezes your bottom.

Mmmm, it is so full and thick! He loves how well you fill his hands. When I tell you that this man will go crazy over slapping your ass, I am wrong. He will go feral. I'm talking only 5 seconds between each smack if you are lucky. He loves your cute little gasps in between each hit.

When you are all red and swollen, he will then be satisfied. He will kiss your crimson cheeks better, apologizes unspoken though still present by the way he presses his lips to your flesh in the most tender way.

Those kisses will soon spread to your stomach and then your thighs. Mmm, he loves those thighs. Biting them is his favorite activity. He enjoys marking your skin right up so you know exactly who you belong to.

"My sweet girl, you enjoy this. Right? Tell me you enjoy this."

He craves your voice like nothing else. Even the subtle mutter of his name has him feeling like he is on cloud 9. Which is why he will fuck you like his life depends on nutting when you tell him how much you love it. I'm talking cervix bruising, hands on the hips and throat, growling through his teeth wild as fuck sex.

Though fear not, he will be the most gentle soul when you both have finished. He will run you a bath, wash you clean, get you your favorite snacks, and play with your hair as he tells you how much he loves you. He really feels so lucky to have such a beautiful woman in his life.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭