#i think my favorite character is bonnie

[slyferslackers]

due to my whole avoiding everything ever i didnt know supermassive released a new game till it was already out. i watched a bit of it by gab smolders off youtube and honestly. i think i like it. but i literally havent finished watching the stream..

[royalphantompain]

Every single NPC from In Star and Time be like: "OMGEE!!!! MIRABLLE IS SOO COOL!!!!!! SHE IZ THE BEST THING EVAR!!!!"

And I agree :]

[arolesbianism]

Sometimes I just look at Isabeau and just know that if isat came out and I got into it when I was like 16 he would be my favorite character and I would've gone absolutely buck wild over this man and feel like he was laser targeting me. But alas Odile has a grip of steel on me rn due to her virtue of being a middle aged woman

[jackass-jones]

Btw I’ve started playing the funny stars and time game. The the one about the loopty loop and the white diamond ass shit

[the-difference-of-one-man]

1x3 Deadly Maneuvers

[l1m3g0r3]

Fnaf doodles I should’ve posted a while ago

[bonnielunkas]

marx and marx ( aka milky way wishes marx ( right ) and present-day marx ( left ) )

[daandyli0n]

me, who hasn't read The Week Before but likes Ralph because he sounds like a silly lil guy:

The Universe while i'm just trying to play Minecraft with a Fnaf mod that lets me make a functioning pizzeria:

HEY SO YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN. IT'S REALLY WILD YOU'LL NEVER GUESS

(long story short: guess who's a Ralph kin. canon divergent too)

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Also, in now being through FNAF Sister Location, I understand what people meant about the lore of this series being fucked up. Like, I had a general idea about what the lore was. But still seeing it for myself is different, of course. And there were also some things I didn't know.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Meat Loaf - I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That) 1993

"I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" is a song written by Jim Steinman, and recorded by American rock singer Meat Loaf. The song was released in August 1993 as the first single from the singer's sixth album, Bat Out of Hell II: Back into Hell (1993). The last six verses features English singer Lorraine Crosby, who was credited only as "Mrs. Loud" in the album notes. While visiting the label's recording studios on Sunset Boulevard, Crosby was asked by her manager Steinman to provide guide vocals for Meat Loaf, who was recording the song "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)". Cher, Melissa Etheridge and Bonnie Tyler were considered for the role. The song was a commercial success, however as Crosby had recorded her part as guide vocals, she did not receive any payment for the recording but she receives royalties from PRS. Crosby did not appear in the Michael Bay-directed music video, where model Dana Patrick mimed her vocals. Meat Loaf promoted the single with American vocalist Patti Russo performing the live female vocals of this song at his promotional appearances and concerts.

The power ballad was a commercial success, reaching number one in 28 countries. The single was certified platinum in the US and became Meat Loaf's first and only number one and top ten single on the Billboard Hot 100 and Cash Box Top 100. It also became Meat Loaf's first and only number one single on the UK Singles Chart, and was the best-selling single of 1993 in the UK. The song earned Meat Loaf a Grammy Award for Best Rock Vocal Performance, Solo.

American film director and producer Michael Bay directed the accompanying music video for "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)". The cinematographer was Daniel Pearl, particularly known for filming The Texas Chain Saw Massacre in 1973. Pearl says that this video "is one of my personal all-time favorite projects… I think the cinematography is pure, and it tells a story about the song." The video is based on Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera. Bob Keane did Meat Loaf's make-up, which took up to two hours to apply. The make-up was designed to be simple and scary, yet "with the ability to make him sympathetic." The shoot went over budget, and was filmed in 90 °F (32 °C) heat, across four days. The video, which was the abridged seven-minute version of the song rather than the twelve-minute album version, was put into heavy rotation on MTV.

Meat Loaf appeared in over 50 films and television shows, sometimes as himself or as characters resembling his stage persona. His film roles included Eddie in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and Robert Paulson in Fight Club (1999).

"I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" received a total of 77,7% yes votes!

[heyhollow]

My favorite gag ever tbh

Their first sleepover as a group was wild

Characters from left to right:

Micheal, Jeremy (freddy bully), Jacob (Bonnie bully), and Ter (Chica bully)

I have a reason in my hc why Micheal's eyes would glow I think it's neat maybe I'll explain my whole theories and HCs eventually but for now just get silly comics.

[hitomisuzuya]

Gamer! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Fingering. Degradation. Edging.

I'd like to tag and thank @wanderingconstellations and @scara6 for letting me run with this idea❤️ Here is what I came up with. In honor of the Five Nights at Freddy's movie coming out next month, that's the game Scara is playing.

The frustration radiating from Scaramouche was almost physically tangible in his room. His eyes were narrowed into a concentrated glare on his computer screen. One hand was poised over the buttons on the keyboard.

The other was thrusting three fingers angrily into your cunt. Your slick was starting to cake on the insides of your thighs, he'd been at it for so long. Your hand was gripping the edge of his computer desk right with every push of his fingers, to the point where you were clawing at the surface. Sometimes he kissed your sweet spot. But, most time he didn't.

"Be-ah-be careful, Scara. I think," You trailed off, a strong jolt of pleasure shooting straight to your throbbing clit when his fingers suddenly hit your sweet spot. Admist the hazy cloud of pleasure, you are still trying to help him out, "I think Freddy is..up..ah, ah,..and about," You could barely get the sentence out.

"Shut up, slut. I'm trying to concentrate," He snapped, withdrawing his fingers to smack your clit, making your body tense before you cried out loudly.

Scaramouche could feel it. You were right, Freddy was gone from his usual place when he checked the cameras. Any second now, he was going to pop out and rock his shit.

It had happened 4 times already, and he wasn't going to let the stupid bear beat him again. The pace of his fingers got harsher, squelching slowly in and out of your cunt, not really caring if he hit your sweet spot or not.

He growled in frustrated concentration, straining to hear any little noise in the game that would warn him of Freddy's impending arrival. You let out some desperate whimpers, moving your hips to seek for friction from his fingers.

Scaramouche grit his teeth. It had been quiet for awhile now. Foxy and Bonnie were on the move as well, but Freddy was nowhere to be seen. He knew he was in Freddy's crosshairs, it was just a matter of when.

"Scara.." You whimpered, however you received no response. Not even an angry thrust of his fingers. He suddenly reached up, pinching your nipples roughly. Bonnie hadn't moved, so he focused on watching Foxy (because he was your favorite character).

You moaned louder, receiving a rough pinch on your nipple. "If you are gonna cum, then cum, empty headed slut," He hissed without sparing you a glance. He abruptly plunged three fingers back inside your your cunt. Your walls immediately clamped around his fingers, making you tremble as his fingers stopped just short of reaching your sweet spot.

Why?

Chica was active now too. "Fuck!" He cursed, slamming his fingers relentlessly into you. Never once hitting your sweet spot. Tears of desperation started to burn in your eyes.

"Camera..outside..the..ah!..door.." You struggled to find the words, you wanted to cum so bad.

Focusing on Foxy had been his mistake. Scaramouche completely missed the warning that would've saved him. And what was worse is that you saw it, and he didn't.

Freddy's music started playing, and then BAM, the lights went out, and Freddy closed in. Scaramouche hissed angrily, tossing his headset onto the desk. "Motherfucking bear!" He snarled, standing up from his chair.

You heard him yanking the button of his jeans undone, his cock harshly pushing inside of you. "How did you see it while my fingers were stuffing your whore cunt full, slut? How?" Scaramouche hissed angrily, groaning as he bottomed out into you.

Now he was hitting your sweet spot with his cock at a pace that was making you drool all over his desk as you moaned. One hand found the side your head, holding it down on his desk as he thrust, smacking a hand on your ass when you cried out.

You mewled in bliss. Scaramouche pinched your clit, rubbing his fingers against it. He groaned when it made your walls clamp tighter around his cock. "Your pathetic whimpers were breaking my concentration," He hissed, gripping your hips tighter.

"Finally, finally! More, Scara, more!" You moaned, feeling dizzy from the intensity of his thrusts.

"What a fucking slut!" His thrusts turned sloppy, his orgasm closing it. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out of you only to slam him cock back inside of you. "So needy..so good for me..fuck.."

His hand stroking through your hair was appreciative after his cum throbbed in ribbons inside of you. He continued mindlessly fucking you through his orgasm.

You were breathless, sobbing weakly from pleasure, cumming hard as your release soaked his cock. Panting, Scaramouche kept his cock sheathed inside of you, leaning around to give you a sloppy, rough kiss. "How about I try again while you cock warm me? Your cunt is a great stress reliever."

He enjoyed the way your cunt quivered and clenched as he lowered you down into his cock.

[shirajellyfish]

Sun wears a shirt btw (Freddy doesn't)

I've seen so many people say Sun is shirtless. Valid interpretation, I love you, but also wanted to throw in my 2 half joking cents on why I see him as wearing a shirt. (Actually more like 2 dollars, because I'm incapable of being brief when taking about my favorite guy)

Animatronics often use paint to imply clothing. No one would look at Toy Chica, for example, and say she's totally naked down there with just an unclothed neon pink pelvis. And Sun's paint does imply a shirt. His chest is split into two colors, with buttons on one side and everything. It's a little more unclear what's going on on his arms (is that supposed to be... elbow length sleeves and fingerless gloves? That can't be right), but those are definitely buttons like you would find on clothing. The paint is trying to imply that he has at least something to wear.

You might say that Sun is in fact shirtless because he's wearing real actual cloth pants, so the paint doesn't count. But! I activate my trap card! Toy Chica has a cloth bib! Looking carefully at fnaf 2 screenshots, the bib does not use the plastic texture or the shiny plastic lighting. That's a CLOTH bib on toy Chica, but the paint still implies her little pink bikini bottom or shorts or whatever all the same. So the existence of cloth pants on Sun doesn't invalidate the painted shirt.

Why exactly did they combine cloth and paint on the daycare attendant? Probably because he is a jester. Those jester pants would be completely impossible to make out of hard plastic. While they're clearly not concerned with softness judging by the cage-like metal frame under the pants, a solid hard material just wouldn't work. Either they'd be unable to stand straight due to the bulk, or the pants would have to be flat on the inner side. Like this

So cloth pants were pretty much mandatory to make jester characters with jester pants work. Similarly, hard plastic ribbons would be a terrible idea (imagine Sun with two perfectly straight red sticks molded to his arms), and it would be hard to keep up suspension of disbelief with a plastic hat for Moon (where would it go when he was Sun?), so those elements all have to be cloth. But for everything else the Pizzaplex can cheap out on it and paint on the clothing like they do for other animatronics.

Not being shirtless actually make Sun and Moon potentially the most clothed animatronics at the Pizzaplex. Just for fun, here's a list of animatronics from most to least clothed:

Sun and Moon. They wear shirts, pants, shoes, sometimes even a hat.

STAFF bots. It's a little ambiguous how much exactly they're meant to be wearing, but the shirt is there for sure, and you could see the 'legs' as a sort of dress or apron shape if you squint. (Theoretically they could rank higher than Sun and Moon, but that would depend on how much they have in the way of sleeves. Too ambiguous on both to rate properly.)

Glamrock Bonnie. His entire body and legs are covered, plus fingerless gloves, leaving only his arms and feet uncovered.

Glamrock Chica. Similar to Bonnie but with a gap that shows the upper half of her legs.

Roxy has her stomach uncovered. She also has arm warmers where the others didn't, but I don't think a slightly covered lower arm beats her upper legs and stomach being unclothed.

Monty is completely shirtless. He has pants and some shoulder pads not connected to anything at all, but his chest is completely bare.

DJ music man is NAKED. He is naked! His gloves are a different texture than his face, but his face and body are the same. That means this man is wearing NOTHING but gloves, headphones, and a hat. You could also argue either for or against his arms being covered, but regardless- This entire spider's body is completely naked and we didn't even notice.

FREDDY is in fact the most naked of all the Pizzaplex animatronics. He wears ONLY accessories. Hat, shoulder pads connected to nothing, bow tie, leg warmers on the lower half of the legs. He has NO shirt, NO shoes, not even underpants! People are going on about Sun having a bare chest despite his paint implying otherwise, but here is Freddy just completely naked. If you did a human AU with accurate clothing you'd need censor bars for Freddy.

So in short, I think it would be absolutely hilarious if someone wrote a fic where Freddy was a nudist. All the other animatronics look away when he enters the room, and none of the humans can figure out why.

No, this was not a serious post haha

But it is true that Freddy is naked.

[arolesbianism]

Why would I draw or further flesh out the other members of Chou's party when I can instead think abt how all of them play in game and spiral out into making up a shit ton of other game mechanics that do not matter to the actual story

[remxedmoon]

“an innocent kid. its bleeding can fill the belly of even the strongest warrior, but do you have the heart to do it?”

hooved

0 power - 1 health - 1 blood

worthy sacrifice - cards bearing this sigil count as 3 blood rather than 1 blood when sacrificed.

morsel - when a card bearing this sigil is sacrificed, ⁣it adds its stat values to the card it was sacrificed for.

hidden trait - hearty meal

when this card is sacrificed, add an additional +3 power, +2 health to the card it was sacrificed to summon. this trait stacks with the morsel sigil and stat increases from the campfire event.

teehee. people are going to yell at me for this one i think. ANYWAYS!! BONIBAHS!! THE KID!!! my poor little blorbothing. they get extra card art because they’re my favorite (joking). writeup below!!!

sowwyyy this one’s evil. i think the sigils are pretty self explanatory this time? worthy sacrifice lets you play super powerful cards, and morsel lets you buff em even more. plus!! with the hearty meal trait they get at least +3 in both stats! the ethics are questionable though.

this was like. the second card i designed out of all of them. my original concept (when it was like 1 am and i was half asleep) was uh… morsel, trinket bearer, and waterborne? trinket bearer because they carry the items, and waterborne to keep them out of danger. but that’s a really weird card. plus…

baby goats are called kids!! the name is wordplay!! i decided to make them a variant on the black goat purely for that reason. and just like the black goat, the symbol on their head is the symbol for sacrifices!

ok i should probably acknowledge the sog in the room. in the base game, you’re able to replace your eye with a goat’s eye. this decision does literally nothing except make the black goat cuter. and bonnie’s a goat!! so they also get silly art. they turn into a sopping wet pathetic cat. i don’t have an inhabited version of this sprite because i couldn’t. find footage of it being inhabited. which is probably because you can’t get the goat’s eye in kaycee’s mod but. eh… i don’t want to deal with the sigil patch nonsense again.

my initial sketch of this card had them as a 2 blood but… it kinda made them worse than the regular black goat thanks to the fair hand mechanic. so they’re the only 1 blood here. they’re my blorbo they can be overpowered. as a treat.

the sigil patch is many lives! which allows a card to be sacrificed without actually killing it. both for synergy with worthy sacrifice and also because i’m Evil

also additional fun fact: the black goat is actually my favorite card in vanilla inscryption!! i basically cheesed the entirety of kaycee’s mod with it. i like it a lot :). i didn’t intend to fuse my favorite character and my favorite card together but it’s a happy lil coincidence.

huh. weird. that’s the entire party right? it feels like we’re missing one though… whatever. patchless alt below!

[swordsandholly]

Keep it Casual

NSFW | MDNI

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem.plus size.Reader

cw: injury mention, death mention (in passing - no character death), brief weed smoking

Word count: 3.7k

One-shot/Drabble

Boy loves girl, girl loves boy. They’re not allowed to admit it, though. It’s good, right? All the benefits without any of the commitments. It’s what they both want, right?

Johnny MacTavish is an enigma to you in many ways. You’ve known each other for years - ever since you came over to the UK for Uni. He was in basic training then, out drinking when he approached you. His buddies were brutish and rude, only looking to add a soft American to their list of conquests, but Johnny… he spoke to you differently. Looked into your eyes, listened intently, gave you his full attention and nothing less.

You’ve been thick as thieves ever since. Beyond that, even. You and Johnny are entirely indivisble. Even when he’s gone for weeks, months, at a time, you’re inheretnly interlinked. Whether by phone calls or the matching tattoos you got on your ankles one drunken night, you’re connected.

There aren’t any labels for it. When people ask you default to best friends, but that doesn’t quite encapsulate it. There isn’t a word in the English language for what you have. You’re not partners - you’ve both had plenty of those each, however briefly. Even those always end. You and Johnny can’t be torn apart, though.

You know what the problem is. The reason you both keep it this vague, amorphous thing between you. Labels are frightening. Labels make things real. Labels mean you have to tell other people what you are, that suddenly there are expectations to live up to.

Labels feel like a death sentence in his line of work. Too many lost husbands, partners, lovers.

You lay on your belly in bed, legs kicked up in the air as you engross yourself in a book when the door knob clicks to the side. Johnny has a key to your place, of course, just as you have one to his. You don’t bother to get up. The chain always hangs loose when he’s gone - knowing he’ll come around at any moment. The door would stay wide open if it could, just for him.

You hear a thunk as as he drops his duffle on the ground. He didn’t go home yet, just came straight here. His boots fall on the floor next, then his jacket drops quietly in the hallway as he slowly makes his way to your room - to you.

“Bonnie lass…” Johnny greets, crawling across the bed toward you. He managed to get down to just his standard issue t-shirt and boxer briefs before climbing in. He knows you hate outside clothes on the bed.

“Johnny.” You smile, rolling onto your back as he climbs over you. Your fingers card through his mohawk, tugging gently on the strands curling at the base of his neck. “Need a trim there, bud.”

“Aye.” He chuckles. “Was waitin’ tae see ye. No one does it as good as my girl.”

His girl. Your boy. That’s the closest either of you ever get to tempting fate.

You hum. “How was work?”

Work. That word doesn’t even come close to what Johnny does. You can’t say more - can’t utter the word deployment. Coward.

“Ach no’ tha’ bad this time. Go’ my heid knocked around a bit.”

“So the usual?”

“Oi.” He scoffs in mock offense. “Donnae be rude.”

“I’m never rude.” You snicker, turning over and reaching for the top dresser of your nightstand. “Do you want to roll or me?”

“I think I’ve earned some princess treatment.” Johnny flops back on the bed, a finger hooking in the hem of your cotton panties as you sit up. He always does this when he first gets back - has to have some part of him touching some part of you. Not that you’d ever complain. You need it just as much as him, though you’d die before admitting to it.

Those blue eyes bore into you as you roll. It’s tradition - a celebratory joint when he gets back. Then you’ll binge all the TV shows and movies you saved up while he was gone and order an ungodly amount of take out. Indian. His favorite. Sometimes Johnny will go back to his apartment the next day to get some quiet time, maybe visit his parents, before he has to go back to work on the base but other times he’ll stay with you his whole time back home. Just taking up your space and being so domestic it makes your teeth hurt like too-sweet candy.

You always hope he stays.

“First hit for the guest of honor?” You smile, holding the joint out for him.

“Och, yer a blessing, hen.” His hand is warm as it brushes yours when he takes the joint from you, eyes locked on your own. There’s something intense in his stare that you aren’t used to. It makes you look away, almost shy under his gaze. He coughs suddenly, a harsh burst of smoke puffing from his lips.

You can’t help but laugh at him, “Getting weak lungs, soldier boy?”

“Oh, feck off.” He elbows you gently.

Somehow you’ve already got the giggles. It’s just something about being around him that makes everything feel better - brighter. More lively. Even the colors of your ugly little ashtray (the one you painted terribly when Johnny’s niece insisted the three of you go paint pottery while babysitting) feel so much more clear with him near.

“Oh!” His brows shoot up suddenly, as if he just remembered something direly important. “I got somethin’ fer ye. Be right back.”

You watch him jog down the hall - definietly not staring at his butt, no ma’am - and listen to the sounds of Johnny rooting around through his duffle bag. Your lips quirk up into a smile when he lets out a distant “aha!”

He comes back with a small, velvety box, flopping back into bed beside you and criss-crossing his legs. “There was this little artisan shop in a town we stopped through. The Captain wanted tae get his wife somethin’ an’ I saw this an’ thought of ye.”

The box slips into your hands. It’s small and light. You roll it between your palms a couple times before shaking it with a grin. Before you can make one of your usual silly quips about what might be inside, your eyes meet Johnny’s. They’re on fire, sparkling with anticipation for you to open the little gift. He’s gotten you things before (you actually have a shelf dedicated to his nicknacks from around the world) but this seems… different. There’s a heaviness to his expression that you’re not used to.

You glance between him and the box briefly - opening it slowly. Your eyes turn to saucers as you come face to face with a finely crafted silver necklace. A little four pointed star with a sparkling gem in the middle that looks the same icy blue as Johnny’s eyes. Little flecks of pink and green catch the light as you turn it between your fingers.

“Johnny-“ You gasp, at a total loss for words.

“Ye like it?” He asks with an uncharacteristically nervous pitch to his voice. His palms rub together absently as he glances between you and the necklace in your hand.

“I love it.” You smile softly, heart fluttering as Johnny breaks out in a grin of his own. “Put it on me?”

“Course.” He whispers, pushing your hair to the side and locking the clasp with deft fingers. It hangs perfectly underneath your clavicles, resting between the other jewelry you wear daily.

Those hands linger for a moment, before both slowly brush down over your shoulders. Rough, calloused fingers glide across your skin and leave an electric current in their wake as light kisses trail up your neck. “Missed ye, bonnie.”

You sigh and lean back against his broad chest. “Missed you too.”

Teeth sink into the crook of your neck, pulling a gasp from your lips. Large, rough hands grab and knead your tits through your thin tank top. He plucks at your nipples - rolling them between his fingers as he sucks deep marks into your neck.

You open your mouth to complain about leaving visible hickies but all that comes out is a breathy moan. You run your hands up his thighs on either side of you, dragging your nails across his skin in the way that always leaves him panting.

One hand travels down, grabbing onto the softness of your belly appreciatively before continuing. His fingers glide over your covered pussy, teasing you to gasp and squirm under him. Rough fingers continue to pluck at your nipple, eventually pushing their way under your tank top for better access. A low hiss escapes Johnny’s lips as your breasts fall free of the camisole.

“Fuck, bonnie. Can I taste ye? Please? Need ye so bad.” Johnny groans in your ear. “Please.”

How could you ever say no to him? He doesn’t even have to ask, really.

He repositions you on your back, tucking a pillow under your hips. Ever the considerate type. His fingers hook in your panties, a low, pleased rumble echoing through his chest as he shucks off the soaked fabric.

No matter what he’s doing, Johnny’s eyes always find yours. He could be across the most crowded room in the world and, imminently, they’ll find yours. They crinkle at the sides with his smile that pulls the scar on his chin.

“So pretty fer me.” He murmurs, lowering himself between your thighs as he bites and kisses up the soft flesh between your legs.

Johnny is a lot of things, and a total much is easily near the top of the list. Maybe number one, even. He presses his face into your cunt - mouthing over your clit and dragging his tongue down between your lips. It’s almost more for him, you think, the way he drags his tongue through the crease between your thigh and pussy. You can’t complain - you would be a fool to with the way he absolutely worships your body.

A harsh suck to your clit as your back arching. Strong arms wrap around your thick thighs to hold you down as he devours you.

“Taste so good, lass. Sweet as fuckin’ candy.” He moans against your cunt.

“Johnny!” You gasp, hand tangling in his overgrown mohawk. A low moan pulls out of you as he licks from your back hole to your clit before stuffing his tongue as deep in your pussy as he can. Chants of obscenities and pleading and oh, god, Johnny please you’re so good fall from your lips.

You know better than to try to hide your sounds. If he could he’d devour them just as much as he already does you - inject them straight in his veins to live there forever. Two fingers push into you, the stretch causing you to gasp. Johnny chuckles as you buck into the touch. The fingers curl directly up into that spot inside you as he nips at your clit.

Your climax hits you like a train - stars blooming behind your eyes and your back arching sharply. You’re always so sensitive after he’s been gone. So ready to have him again.

“Thassit, tha’s my good girl.” Johnny kisses up your thigh, working you through your orgasm with his fingers. “Ready fer me, baby? Missed this pretty cunt so bad - thought about her every day.”

You nod excitedly - mind too fuzzy and content to come up with the words to respond. Lazily, Johnny reaches over to the nightstand to grab a condom. He knows your home, like you, inside and out. Every nook and cranny might as well be his.

It could be his.

It should be his.

Johnny cups your cheek, kissing you slow and deep. His tongue parting your lips gently before exploring every inch of your mouth. Those rough hands trail down your body with reverence. One going from your cheek, to your sternum, over your belly to sink into the softness of your waist. The other holds tight on your hip as he lines up.

You gasp and moan against each other as he pushes in. The stretch is delicious. Your nails sink into his strong back.

“Practically made fer me, bonnie.” He groans as he moves. It’s slow, languid.

He’s so beautiful. Always has been. No matter how he changes - new hair, new scars, new tattoos - he’s still beautiful. The prettiest man you’ve ever met. You run your fingers through the downey layer of dark hair over his chest - tracing the outlines of his muscles, up over his thick shoulders to cup his cheek.

Your bodies move together easily - a well practiced dance that you’ve perfected over the years.

“Christ.” Johnny gasps into your ear - strong forearms bracket your head, burying you under him. “I lov-“

You turn your head, catching his lips in a kiss. It’s terrible of you, you’re sure, but there’s nothing those words can communicate that a well timed gasp or a perfectly placed caress can’t say better. His nose knocks against yours, your hands travel all over him, seeking out any purchase they can find.

It turns desperate. A clawing need as you rediscover each other for the millionth time. Wet, open mouth kisses against each others skin and bodies moving perfectly in tandem. The light high from smoking leaves your skin warm and buzzing with electricity. It borders on overstimulating - just barely this side of too much.

“Johnny…” You whine, tilting your head back.

“Aye?” He pants, laving at your clavicle. “Gonnae cum f’me? Cream all over my fuckin’ cock?”

All you can manage is a keen, teeth sinking into his shoulder to hide you face form him. A hand tangles in your hair, pulling you down to stare up at him.

“Eyes on me, hen. Want - ah - want ye lookin’ at me when I make ye cum.”

It’s too intense. It always is looking into those baby blues. As if they can see right through to the most buried parts of yourself. Johnny shifts your hips up ever so slightly, the new angle bullying his head against your g-spot with each thrust. Your nails claw across his shoulder blades.

It doesn’t take long before you’re careening over the edge with him, bodies tensing against each other. Clenching down around him like a vice while you gasp for air.

“There she is. Tha’s my girl.” Johnny murmurs against your lips, still rocking into you in short, sloppy motions. Just to drag it out a little longer until you whine at the overstimulation.

You let yourself lay back to catch your breath, floating back to earth while Johnny disappears to toss the condom in the trash. He’s back nearly as fast as he left, pulling you against his chest and burying you both under the soft sheets of your bed.

“Shower?” Johnny whispers into your hair, eventually. You nod against his chest, slowly peeling yourselves apart. Your fingers remain tangled all the way to the bathroom.

He whirls you after you turn on the shower, kissing you slow and deep as you wait for the water to warm up. A warm hand splash across your lower back - keeping you close. You’re left breathless when he finally pulls back, pupils blown so wide in the low evening light that you can hardly see the blue of his eyes.

You sigh to yourself as you step into the shower, grateful that you splurged on the apartment with the especially large bathroom. It definitely wasn’t with Johnny in mind. You’d never make your decisions based around such a nebulous relationship.

Not the size of your bathroom - enough to fit both your wide frame and his broad shoulders.

Not the location of your apartment - only a few blocks from his.

Not keeping his favorite snacks stocked at all times just in case he comes home early.

Not referring to your apartment as his home.

“Lean down a bit.” You smile, pouring a glob of shampoo into your hand for him. Johnny’s always been picky about his hair care. You always make sure it’s on hand in your bathroom.

He does the same for you, of course, when he can, but somehow you both always end up at your place instead. Not that you’d ever complain. You like your place. It’s safe. Warm. A cocoon away from all the parts of the world that have scarred you so deeply.

Johnny groans happily as you scratch his scalp, the quality shampoo cleaning far more deeply than any of that standard issue stuff he gets on deployment ever could. You watch the suds slowly drip down over the lines of his back, breath catching as your eyes settle on a nasty, raised patch of skin you hadn’t seen before.

It looks like a chunk got ripped out of his back, right under his ribs.

“Johnny.” You gasp.

“Hm?” He looks over his shoulder at you, brows raising as he realizes what you’re looking at. “Oh tha’? It’s nothin’. Just go’ a bit knocked around, remember?”

You bite your lip, tamping down the rising fear in your gut. “D-does it hurt?”

“I’m fine, lovie.” Johnny turns, giving you that sparkling, million dollar grin. He knows it scares you, shakes you to the core.

You’ve already lost everyone else in your life, having the ever present threat of losing Johnny as well is too much to handle sometimes. It keeps you up at night, when he’s away, imagining all the worst that could happen to him.

How easy it would be for a simple bullet or knife to shatter your world.

That’s why the two of you keep up this little arrangement. This song and dance at arms length. To spare you. Both of you. Either when he doesn’t come back or you break and run.

You won’t run, though. As much as it hurts, the good is too good to give up. You’ll stay through it all, with just enough distance to keep your sanity.

“Ye with me?” Johnny asks gently, slowly pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Long week.” You lie, leaning up on your tip toes to plant a small kiss in the corner of his mouth.

He hums, turning to meet your lips. You let yourself fall into him, fingers running through the hair on his chest, up to the back of his neck. He just feels right under your hands. Perfectly molded to press up against you - hard muscle to balance out the softness of your body. Angles and curves. Push and pull. Sun and moon.

Holy hell, you’ve become a sap.

“Sit.” You point to the chair you drug into the bathroom and Johnny happily plops down - big, fluffy towels tied around your chest and waist respectively. A content smile settles across his face as you slowly work your way across his scalp with the electric razor. You let your fingers to scrape along after you just the way he likes.

When you were young, you watched your mother cut your fathers hair. It seemed so subservient to you. Shameful, almost. You said you’d die before doing that for any man.

You carefully raise each section of his mo-hawk, cutting it down to the exact length Johnny likes to style it. A little on the short side, actually, so that it has time to grow before looking messy. Shearing the sides and taking extra care around his ears. He doesn’t need any more nicks or scars.

Johnny suddenly looks pensive as he watches you in the mirror - carefully taking in each of your movements.

“You’re worrying.” You murmur.

“I-“ He sighs. “It’s nothin’.”

“Johnny.” You level your gaze on his in the mirror, he looks off to the side.

“I’m just- I cannae-“ He sighs. “I miss ye.”

You snort. “I’m right here.”

Johnny shrugs. For once, he stops talking. You hate when he does. It’s the only true hallmark that something is wrong.

“Johnny-“

“Do ye want tae hear a new Ghost joke?” He interrupts. It’s an out. You’ll let him have it.

“Lay it on me.”

“Whit’s the difference between the bird flu and the swine flue?”

“What?”

“One requires tweetment an’ the other requires oinkment.”

A huffy laugh escapes you despite yourself. “That’s terrible.”

“Aye. Imagine listenin’ tae that in a life or death situation. Could be the last thing I hear!”

You giggle, finishing up with shaping the edges of his hairline. “How is it?”

Johnny stands, leaning close to the mirror and running a hand over his hair. Your eyes lock onto that newly forming scar again. It makes your throat feel tight.

He stretches his arms way over his head with a groan. “Think it’s time f’some proper lazin’ about.”

The rest of the night goes by as they usually do when he gets home. Indian take out, a romcom in the background, another round of fucking. Or two. It’s near eleven when you finally settle into the sheets, Johnny long asleep beside you. Comfortably snoring with that angelic peacefulness you only ever see in his sleep.

Will he look that peaceful if he dies?

The thought makes you want to throw up.

It takes all your mental fortitude to push that train of thought away. Opting to lay beside him, eyes flicking across his features as you attempt to memorize them all. The curve of his strong brow, the arch of his nose, the slight part in his lips as he sleeps. Your thumb traces the scar on his chin while you cup his cheek. As if sensing your current state - and, if you’re honest with yourself, you’re sure he can - a strong arm wraps around you to lock you against his chest. You let your legs tangle, breathing him in and following the pattern of the rise and fall of his chest. Real and tangible under your hands.

You’re just so glad that, at least right now, he’s home.