#or bc you can't keep up with your own brain and all the ideas and you don't have the time to do them all justice

[visceravalentines]

this is a post scribbled angrily in glitter pen in my diary pls ignore <3

[qtkoshi]

Maybe gn!Reader and Hobie adopt a kitten and the other three (Pavitr, Gwen, and Miles) come to see the kitten? Maybe a orange kitten gn!Reader wanted to name Spunk or Spike while Hobie gave them a spike collar? Would be cute lol

i luv ur brain anon

"you got....a kitten?"

- ok ok idk if this is what u meant, but u can feel free to run this with the bubblegum reader + hobie bc i think it fits alright :-) - also get a little deep with describing relationship,, but it’s necessary for the plot ! (...) - also!!! tysm for the requests; i am very excited to get into them, but will prob wait till tmrw to release bc it is my birthday today <3 much love to you all

──★ ˙ ̟ to the stars ！

general headcannons

alright first of all: hobie with a kitten? i’m in tears. 

i love the hc that hobie has a soft spot for cats and the fact that y’all got one together? bye.

NAPS WITH THE KITTEN JUST NESTLED BETWEEN BOTH OF YOU

this cat is gonna be SPOILED in attention i tell u rn

hobie isn’t as obvious ab it as u, but the amount of times u see him chilling with the cat just perched on his shoulder?? (why are u taking the baby swinging across the city hobie; wait a min now–)

how u got him

imagine this: ur walking past an alley and hear this small little meow; after further investigation you find this tuft of orange fur crying outside the dumpster and

now u gotta take it in what r u talking about!!

bringing him home immediately ; hobie's spidey senses prob picked up the cat's presence before you got in the door.

'baby what's that.' 'c'mon spiderman we got saving to do'

man can't even argue with you

hobie not naming the cat himself bc he doesn’t wanna enforce socio-constructed labels on an unsuspecting creature that can’t consent

u can tho.

and while you very much want to, you tell hobie you gotta think on it for a bit – it has to fit just right!! (tbh he rlly doesn’t mind the cat being nameless, but he’s kinda whipped and will kinda go with what u want if it helps give that pretty lil smile to him again)

spider-squad finding out ab him

the besties r wrapping up something with a fight and hobie’s all k gotta leave and check on the cat and the rest are like ????? 

pav absolutely floored bc how dare did u not mention this sooner hobie

'so you lot wanna come see him?' (inter-dimensional travel ensues) – also never gonna complain ab coming to hobie’s house they all think his place is dope

i’m sure we all know orange cats are fucking crazy and that does not exclude the little gremlin jumping off the walls of your flat rn

hobie ofc is smirking bc his son the cat is a little agent of chaos and he couldn’t be more proud 

you, on the other hand, are just a little tired trying to get the fucker to stay still for a second so u can put on the damn flea medicine

everybody loves him are u kidding (miles a little hesitant tho, he still has beef with the last spiderman-variant cat he met :/ ) 

“so whats its name?” miles was watching with wary eyes as the little ball of fur darted around. with a heavy (and definitely not dramatic) sigh, you walk over to the group “still haven’t picked. we just found him yesterday.”

luv the idea of hobie looking at u anytime ur in the room (stay with me now) — can’t help it u just grab all his attention, maybe stop being so lovely idk

speaking of your relationship: he has spent years battering against everything life throws at him that having your love in the palm of his hands? something to protect not in the way he does as a hero, but in the way to cherish as a person?? give the man a break, he deserves to admire you whenever he can.

anyways hobie’s looking at you before going ‘oh yea’, just grunts and pulls out this little collar with little spikes and their matching and oh my that is so cute

says he found it in some garbage, most def made the collar with some scraps like he did his own (gotta keep it cool yk)

you giddy and putting the collar on the little heathen and just all ‘omg wait a min’

promptly lifting the cat up and “THIS IS SPIKE.”

cue golf claps from the squad with some ooo’s and aah’s

more gen headcannons

remember when hobie and the cat were swinging around the city? yea he's taking that mf everywhere. puts him in his pocket like a little surprise

hobie loves to play fight with the cat

spike is the perfect mix; got hobie’s energy and your brightness it’s a win-win

i could write more but i'll stop here for now 🕸️

⊗

[gor3-hound]

lacerated to the bone

ft. danny johnson as ghostface x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, masked men, stalking, photography, heavy dub-con, knife play, coercion, choking, blood, threats, predator/prey play, fear play, major character death, p in v, creampie

a/n: requested by anon! hope it lives up to the idea you had, bcs i had so much fun writing this one !! title from 'a life less ordinary(need a little help)' by motion city soundtrack

word count: 2.1k words

“Come on… come on.” You say under your breath as you work at the generator, your heart rabbiting in your chest. You're looking over your shoulder every few seconds, trying to make sure that the killer isn't on your trail. You did your best to save the others from the entity, but you'd failed. You were all alone now. You had to survive.

You can't shake the feeling that he's watching you. There's an eerie silence around you, the only sounds coming from the generator you're working on. The final one. You let out a deep breath as you look away again, but your fingers falter, and the sounds of the generator failing echo throughout the forest.

“No, no, no…” You say quickly, perking up to examine your surroundings, hoping that you hadn't alerted the killer. You curl up behind the generator, waiting for a few moments as you try to listen out for any movement. The minutes that stretch by feel like hours, but there's no sign of him.

You let out a deep breath, standing up before you lean over to work on the generator again. Before you can get started, you feel a finger tap your shoulder. You turn around quickly, coming face to face with a camera. You hear the click of the shutter, and then a bright light flashes that ends up blinding you for a few seconds.

You blink rapidly to clear the spots from your vision, stumbling back. You knew who it was. It could only be one person. You needed to get out of here, and fast. When your vision finally refocuses, you're left face to face with Ghostface. The mask tilts to the side as he cocks his head, his voice husky and slightly crackly from the vocal modulator as he speaks.

“Boo.”

You're running before your brain can even register the movement. You do your best to escape, weaving through dilapidated structures to try and lose him. At every chance you got, you sent wooden palettes tumbling in narrow spaces, keeping a mental note of where you'd cut off the path, hoping to slow him down.

At this point, the chase had become a matter of stamina rather than technique. It was clear the killer wasn't going to let you go, barely letting you out of his sight for more than a few seconds before he was on your tail again. You knew better than to hide, but you were running out of options. Your breathing was becoming laboured, and your legs burned from the chase. You knew you didn't have much of a chance - he was stronger, faster and smarter than you.

It was all down to luck. Your eyes flick over the treeline rapidly - it's a bit far out from the generators and the exit, but it was your best chance of staying concealed. The feeling of being watched irks you once again, causing you to stop and try to find the source.

It's quiet. Too quiet. All you can hear is the sounds of your own breathing. For a moment, you almost feel like you've lost him. That is until you hear a sound that's becoming far too familiar for your liking.

Click!

You turn to try and run again, but a gloved hand wraps around your ankle, yanking you into the underbrush. You cry out as the branches scratch the skin that's exposed as he drags you towards him.

“An image is worth a thousand words, don't you think?” A voice echoes from behind the mask, his free hand shifting to press down on your chest to keep you flat on the ground as he pins your legs down with his knees. With his other hand, he snaps a few pictures of your fearful expression with a beaten down looking film camera.

“Can't wait to get these developed… add them to the collection.” He adds after a moment, placing it down carefully so he can reach for the knife he had tucked in his belt. “I think I like this look on you…”

“Please…” You croak out weakly, your voice wavering as he trails the tip of the blade down your cheek and along your jawbone. “Please, don't.”

“Oh? Already begging for your life?” He coos, patting the flat of the blade against your cheek a few times. He presses the tip of the knife against your cheek, placing just enough pressure to nick the skin. “You're in luck. See, I don't normally play with my designs, but…”

He slides the tip of the knife down your skin, applying pressure when it reaches the hollow of your throat. The mask tilts down, and you can almost sense the sick satisfaction from him as he watches your blood trickle out with every panicked breath you make.

“Well, you're different. I've been watching you for a while. I wanted this to be special; the kind of headlines that people don't forget.” He leans down slightly, and you can feel his gaze boring through you despite the mask obscuring his features.

“Anyway, look at me getting all sidetracked. You poor thing, you keep shaking. I hope that's not on account of me?” He mocks, holding the knife to your throat to keep you from making any attempts to escape. “My apologies. I've always been one for a good story. And you, my dear? I feel you'll be my best one yet. I have a… proposition for you.”

“Please, just stop. I won't say anything… I swear! Just let me go I… I was so close, please!” You sob, raising your hands to try and push him off of you, as if that'd do any good. You wriggle underneath him, ring to give yourself a chance to break free and escape his grasp.

“You see, I'd love to do that. Really, I would. There's just one small issue.” With that, he loosely nods his head towards one of the hooks not far from you. “See, I could let you go, but that wouldn't be in my best interests… now, if you want to make it worth my while…”

He trails off, dropping his head down so his mask is looming directly over your face. He presses the knife down harder, drawing blood as the sharp edge digs into the skin of your throat. “Either you give me what I want, or I'll gut you and offer you up to the Entity. It's simple, really.”

Your stomach sinks at his words. There's no mistaking his intentions. The mask is tilted towards you expectantly as the knife against your throat is replaced by his tight grip. He trails his blade down, hiking your skirt up with the tip of it.

You nod. What other choice did you have? It was this, or die. You couldn't die here. You won't.

“There we go. Good girl.” He says as he removes his grip on your throat to pat your cheek, slipping the knife in between the top of your thigh and the edge of your panties. You tense as he pulls the fabric taut with the blade until it splits. You shiver as the cold metal brushes right above your folds, sliding the fabric out of the way to expose you to his greedy eyes.

You squirm underneath him as he runs the flat of his blade downwards, trying not to jerk your hips as he brushes past your clit, a small whimper falling from your lips. He smacks the blade down a few times, landing spanks against your pussy until sticky strings of arousal connect you to his knife.

“Filthy little thing.” He hums, pulling his knife away to drag a gloved finger between your folds. “Making such a mess. To think, I was planning to wet my knife in a very different way.”

You watch with a mix of arousal and horror as he shucks off the cloak, exposing the black jeans and t-shirt he wore underneath. He keeps that mask on. Seems to enjoy the way you shiver whenever your eyes land on it. He manages to unbuckle his belt one-handed with little struggle, the clink of the metal echoing in the air for a few moments.

He drops the knife down to free his cock and hold it in his right hand. His left hand slides its way up your body, squeezing one of your tits before his hand trails higher, gripping your throat once more. Just to be safe. He smacks his tip against your clit a few times, clearly enjoying the way it has you jolting. Your cunt gushes as he ruts against your sensitive nub, drawing a moan from your lips.

He slides his cock down until the head catches your hole. With a grunt, he pushes forward, filling you to the brim. He throws his head back, his chest rising and falling visibly with his rapid breaths.

“Christ, doll. Didn't think you'd be this wet.” He hisses through gritted teeth. He drops his head forward again, watching your expression carefully through the mask. The tone of his voice sends heat pooling in your lower abdomen, air leaving you in a breathless sigh.

His thrusts are shallow and desperate. He barely pulls out before slamming back in, not wanting to leave the tight heat surrounding him longer than necessary. Each thrust brings a whimper from his lips. Hastily, he reaches a hand out to grab his camera, the one resting on your throat squeezing down just enough to have you gasping in a breath, your cunt clenching tighter around his cock.

“Oh!” He moans, his hand shaking as he snaps a few pictures of his cock sliding in and out of you, the length coated in a layer of clear slick. “God, that's so tight. You like it when I squeeze your throat, huh?”

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, slightly breathless. He tightens his grip on your throat a little more as he speeds up his thrusts, fucking into you with a more brutal pace, his cock bullying your cervix with every movement. Blood rushes to your head as he pounds the air out of you while leaving you unable to suck more air in due to him choking you. You start to get light headed, your vision growing spotty and blurry with unshed tears. As your eyelids begin to flutter, he lets go and you're quickly sucking in deep breaths, your chest heaving.

“Ah, sorry, darling.” He forces out, sounding absolutely wrecked. He drops the camera to hold your hips in both of his hands, pulling you back on his cock with enough force that you're sure you'd be littered in finger shaped bruises. His balls slap against your ass with every heavy movement.

“Oh, can't wait to get these pictures all done. Gonna build a whole shrine for you, dolly. Such a pretty thing.” He reaches down to pinch and tug at your clit before rubbing circles into it with his thumb. He's too rough, and you're already so sensitive. Your body twitches, whines spilling from your lips as you cum, back arching and dragging along the dirt as you clench around his cock.

“W-wait… gotta… gotta get a picture, fuck.” He croaks, flipping you over onto your stomach. He grabs your hair in one fist, yanking your head back painfully as he sinks his cock back into you, making you cry out. He snaps a couple of pictures of him buried deep inside of you, aiming the camera mostly at your fucked out, tear-stained face.

“Fuck… fuck. Coming…” He manages to choke out, the sensation of your walls squeezing him enough to milk his cock. He drops his head down to the crook of your neck, the material of the mask jarring your heated skin. “Shit.”

He drops the camera again, his hand fumbling with something in the thick brush. In the corner of your eye, you see a glint of metal in the moonlight, causing you to flail in panic, scratching at the ground and trying to fight him off.

“You promised!” You yell, trying to scramble out from underneath him as you realise what he’s about to do. “You said you'd let me go! Please… I did what you asked!”

Your eyes widen with fear - wet and panicked as he lifts the knife up, plunging it deep into the side of your neck. Blood bubbles up in your throat, making you cough and splutter as the excruciating pain shocks your core.

“Sorry, doll. Honest. I know I said I'd let you go, but, well…” He yanks the knife out, and your body convulses as you try desperately to suck breath into your failing lungs.

“A good story always needs a twist.”

[bunnyrafe]

hiii bunny i hope you’re having a better day today<3

so i’ve had this idea in my notes for a few weeks that i was gonna hold onto until after kinktober but if it’s ok to send stuff in the meantime… i’ve been thinking about a corruption kink w rafe where he convinces you to make a sex tape of your first time / losing your virginity for like the sentimental memory of it all bc i feel like he would be so fucking perverted about it but you’re just thinking how romantic it is (i love being delusional)

this has bimbo!reader all over it… and her & sleazy!rafe go together REAL WELL. ♥︎ this drabble kind of got away from me a bit but i still love it, not gonna lie. and as always— i would literally kiss your brain if i could, kittybaby.

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. f / ditsy!reader, pervy / sleazy!rafe, filming, loss of virginity, unprotected sex.

you have a hard time discerning whether you’re really dumb or if rafe is just messing with your head— maybe a fair mix of both.

it’s hard for a girl that's always been naive.

that’s why you don’t think much of it when he tells you he just wants to take a few videos. he's only being a loving boyfriend... the videos range from some of you kissing all wet & sloppy, some with your pretty lips wrapped around his fingers because your throat isn’t trained for his cock yet, one or two with those same deft digits rubbing your clit and dipping into your sweet, messy cunt while he coos behind his phone in response to your little mewls.

you’re a drooling mess before you even end up on your back, promising that it's okay for him to fully tug your sticky panties down your legs while he feigns concern.

rafe is quick to help you keep your legs spread and your cunt on display for him— your smaller hands are tucked under your knees with his gentle guidance, squishing them against your heated tummy and sensitive breasts. you shy away from the flash coming from his phone in the process.

“ready, angel face?”

rafe grunts, lining his cock up with your cunt and smacking your clit with the fat head until you squeal. he rambles above you— no doubt putting a show on for his self; "so sweet f'me— for letting me record your cherry bein' popped. can't wait to watch it back together— yeah? y'want that, sweet girl?”

“want it,” you whine out. you’re willing to agree with whatever he says at this point as you stare up at him, nearly with baby pink hearts in your pupils— “please. i love you, rafey.”

at that, rafe can’t help but fucking you full. bottoming out and pressing in as deep as he possibly can in the next second, watching you writhe and suck in a sharp breath at the sudden and painful stretch. if you had a clear mind you might have realized just how evil it is of him to do such a thing.

but instead you cream around him, just from him stuffing his dick in you for the very first time. he can’t bite back the breathy laugh that falls from his lips while your glassy eyes lock with camera, cumming your brains out on his dick and digging your nails into your own plushy skin on the underside of your thighs— before he even got the chance to fuck you good.

“that’s a good girl,” he sighs out the praise, feeling his heart swell in his chest while he tries to keep his composure and decides to let you have your moment. no matter how hard it is for him to not rear back and pound into you.

plus— he’s sure your home video will be better if you’re as dumbed down and slutty as you can possibly be, like his own lil’ fuck doll.

[hannieehaee]

hii (you’re one of my favorite writers btw) what would seventeens reaction be to a curvy black girl with big tits

18+ / mdi

having a curvy black s/o with big tits

content: no smut, but some suggestive bits, afab reader, established relationship, etc.

wc: 701

a/n: im not black so i made this kind of ambiguous since i dont wanna overstep at all!! thank u sm and thank u for requesting<33

masterlist

seungcheol -

he's literally obsessed with you. one look from you and he's on his knees ready to follow any command. sometimes his eyes would wander too much, so he'd have to get used to keeping them in pg places.

jeonghan -

he's so fidgety and loves grabbing at things, i'm 100% sure his hands would constantly be reaching to your hips, ass and tits (depending on whether you were in public or not), squishing them and just running his hand up and down the skin.

joshua -

instant attraction and instant chemistry between the two of you. to be fair, he could have chemistry with anyone, but he'd be extra charming with someone he liked. would be very vocal about his attraction to you and your body, always appreciating you both verbally and physically.

jun -

sees you and treats you as a queen. obsessed with buying you cute little outfits bc they just look so good with your body type every single time. you cause him headaches from how good you look for him. kinda reminiscent of how awkward his character in his drama was when he started liking the female lead lmao.

soonyoung -

i feel like he has a case of wandering eyes accompanied by an empty brain any time he sees something pretty. that something being you; his girlfriend. doesnt know where to put his hands most of the time but goes crazy on you behind closed doors.

wonwoo -

he's shy about it, but his eyes are always automatically drawn to you. he just finds you so pretty snd fascinating, he can't help himself. it gets so bad to the point where his members have to call him out on it, or even kick you out when you come whilst they're busy, knowing he'll be too distracted to do anything.

jihoon -

as a fellow big-ass haver, he'd now understand why carats always went crazy over his ass. except he still would feel caught off guard any time he caught a glimpse at your body. how was he supposed to react? should he hold back and become a pathetic shell of himself? or should he let his want for you take over? the eternal battle.

seokmin -

overcome with giddiness every time he remembers you're all his. sometimes he just stares and ponders how he got to have you all to himself. shy as shit when it comes to touching any curvy part of you though lol. it could be years and he'd still be shy in grabbing at your ass or hips while in public. he just needs to stay respectful at all times!!

mingyu -

lets out a grutal groan every time he sees you naked. every. single. time. he's just so insanely obsessed with your body (and luckily, you are obsessed with his too!), he can't help but verbally express his addiction to you. shameless in how often he's caught staring at you, clothed or not.

minghao -

appreciates beauty when he sees it, and since you're his girl, he's fortunate enough to see it all the time. insanely vocal about how into you he is, buttering up both your person and your appearance with the prettiest words.

seungkwan -

as a fellow curvy girly, he'd now understand why his members were so obsessed with his ass. being able to grab at yours so freely would give him an 'ah!' moment in realization as to why carats were also so obsessed with his own ass. he'd not only fall victim to an addiction to your ass but also your tits.

vernon -

doesnt verbally express it, but he feels like he's on top of the world having you as his s/o. super verbal to you about how pretty he finds finds you, always complimenting you and everything about you. his hands would also always be on your hips while in public (making their way to your ass and tits when in private).

chan -

has no idea how to handle a bad bitch. his hands would be so shy at the beginning of the relationship, itching to grab at your curves but not wanting to be disrespectful. the moment you gave him the greenlight, he'd go crazy and constantly be grabbing at you shamelessly.

[roosterr]

murphy's law

a/n: ive had this idea in my head for a while so i decided to dump it out of my brain for all of you to enjoy. somewhat inspired by lunarvicar's amazing wonderful fic to the flame i really love her writing so check it out yo also i haven't written anything in years so cut me some slack :')

pairing: captain john price x gn!reader

summary: when a simple mission goes south, you get left behind in the confusion. you just can't seem to catch a break.

no use of y/n, callsign is 'vantage'

no physical description, but reader is (very) vaguely implied to be shorter than price

warnings: descriptions of injury (nothing too graphic), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, minor character death, i don't know how the military works lmao, lots of swearing bc i can't help myself

word count: 8.6k

read it on ao3 here

✹✹✹

it was a straightforward mission; in and out, grab what you need, and you'd be home in time for dinner. nothing you hadn't handled before.

ghost and price were on overwatch; the lieutenant was positioned with his rifle on a rooftop across the street, whilst the captain stayed in the suv with a laptop to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras around the exterior of the building.

you'd had your eyes on this intel for months now, biding your time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. your opening had finally arrived, and with all that time spent planning, it was going so well.

that should have been the first red flag.

the second, more apparent, warning sign was that anything you found as you, gaz, and soap swept the building was either something you already knew, or irrelevant. how was that possible? the location of this facility was a heavily guarded secret, you'd fought tooth and nail to find it; why spend so much effort hiding something which had such little value?

you'd ventured to the second floor, up the damp stairwell and further into the eerily quiet building. there must be something worth hiding here, you just had to find it. you certainly weren't planning on going home empty handed.

you paused your movement into the dark, staring down the empty corridor through the sights of your gun. you felt your stomach turn, and swallow down the sick taste of bile in your throat. for everything you'd done to get here…

it was going so… well.

bringing your hand to the radio on your chest, you don't bother to calm the shake in your voice before speaking.

"does this feel off to anyone–"

you're cut off by price's shouting, a twinge of panic in his voice you aren't used to hearing from him.

"fuck– it's an ambush! get out of there, now!"

you're about to respond, when you hear gunshots from below you. soap and gaz were downstairs, where the hostiles were pouring into the building, and you were on your own upstairs.

the shots from ghost's rifle make your ears ring, even from across the street.

"vantage, get yer arse down here, there's too many of 'em!" soap's yelling brings you out of your haze, and you can't find the energy to respond as you take off running, back to the stairs you came up. "shit– man down! gaz is hit! they're coming up, vantage!"

you just about register what he said when the door to the stairway bursts open only a few metres ahead of you. diving into the nearest open room, you narrowly avoid a bullet to the gut, and slam the door shut behind you.

shit. fuck. fucking shit.

you counted at least four hostiles up here, and with gaz injured, soap would most likely be dragging him back to the suv you all arrived in, where price was waiting, which meant…

you really were alone.

well, ghost was out there, but he was a man of self preservation. he wouldn't risk coming in here to save you. not when you were this fucked.

your chest felt tight, now, and you could hear the enemies shouting on the other side of the wall. come on, you plead with yourself, do something!

snapping your head to look around the room you'd trapped yourself in, your eyes linger on the filing cabinets lining the wall next to you. you can drag them over here, barricade the door. 

prolong your survival, or delay the inevitable.

you hadn't noticed how hard your nails were digging into your palms until you went to grip the cabinet. the half-moon divots stung against the cool metal as you heaved it in front of the door.

now the hostiles are outside, rattling the wall with their attempts to kick the door down.

you drag another one, for safe measure. you pray they'll be heavy enough.

through the blood rushing in your ears, you can just about make out price's voice.

"vantage, answer me dammit! what is your bloody status!"

"i'm good– i'm good," you manage to get out between pants, never once taking your eyes off the door. willing your heartbeat to slow down. "not injured, just– stuck in a room upstairs."

"that doesn't sound good to me."

it all went quiet when he spoke to you. at first you thought it was just because your focus had shifted– because it was him– but it really was quiet now.

"yeah, i… they're– wait, they're not at the door anymore, they…"

hold on.

what?

"ghost, you got eyes? what's happenin' over there?" there's a sense of urgency to your captain's voice, and for a single selfish moment, you think he might be worried for you beyond that of a just soldier. your frenzied mind lingers on that thought.

the gruff voice of ghost brings you back to reality,

"they're setting charges– vantage, you need to find a way out."

charges. explosives.

all you can muster is a half-hearted, "shit…"

deep down, you know that isn't going to happen. you wouldn't have time to run down the stairs, and even if you did you'd only be walking right into their bullets. there's nothing they can do to help. and you think, deep down, they know that too.

this is it, then, you think to yourself, am i really going to die like this?

and for another fleeting moment, you're filled with regret that you would never get to see john's face again. all the stolen glances, lingering touches, inside jokes; none of it would ever amount to anything. would he remember you? would he even come back for your dog tags?

the tightness is back in your heart, but it's different this time.

your eyes still don't leave the door as your back hits the wall. the faint moonlight gives the room a soft glow, serene, and your heart sinks further into your stomach.

the moonlight;

the window, the outside.

not an ideal escape route, but these were hardly ideal circumstances.

you didn't waste a second with hesitation and backed up for a running start. you thank every deity you can think of that you always insisted on wearing a helmet.

this was going to hurt, but it was better than the alternative.

"van, you have to get out, please!" you're not even sure who's talking in your ear anymore, but you know who you want it to be.

for him, you think to yourself, i have to make it back to him.

with a deep breath, you take off into a sprint, tucking your head into your elbow and diving shoulder first through the glass.

as you free fall out the second storey window, you think you hear john calling your name, your real name, and you think you feel a flutter in your chest. it was almost peaceful.

and then you hit the ground.

with a thump and a sickening crack, you rolled unceremoniously and ended up on your side, in the snowy alleyway behind the building you were just trapped in; the building that was about to be demolished. your elbow muffled your pained cry.

right, explosives, the reason you jumped to begin with.

your teammates are still going berserk in your ear, yelling at each other or you or both, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you could answer them once you were a safe distance away– and when you could breathe without heaving. as you stand, swaying on your feet, you feel your ribs shift in a way they definitely aren't supposed to, filling you once again with the innate urge to vomit.

but you swallow that down; it'll have to wait, you need to get as far away as possible, now.

your hands braced your broken ribs– and you notice, then, that your shoulder is killing you too– as you stumble down another alley, leading away from the building. you slip and almost fall on the untouched snow, but somehow manage to catch yourself. in the back of your mind, you notice you lost your rifle at some point. you'd have to survive with just your pistol.

for a moment, you almost felt that you'd gotten away, that you'd made the perfect escape.

of course, it was too perfect.

the charges finally went off. you were thrown forward, and despite your helmet, everything went black.

✹✹✹

your ribs flared with agony at the ragged breath you took, blinking your eyes open as consciousness returned to you. darkness swarmed your vision, contrasting the pure white of the snow that was slowly freezing your extremities, and you fought with every bit of self-restraint you had not to cry. your eyes stung anyway.

how long were you out? you were still in the alley, and you hadn't been found by anyone yet, so it couldn't have been long. i need to move, is the only thought swirling in your head. with what little strength you could muster, you rolled yourself onto your back to look at the ruins behind you.

dust filled the air and coated everything in sight, obscuring your vision almost fully; but what you could make out, was the lights from your enemy's guns as they swept the rubble.

looking for you, presumably.

shit shit shit.

you had god knows how many broken ribs, your shoulder was fucked, and now your vision was swimming, and to top it all off you could barely hear yourself think over the violent ringing in your ears. this night just kept getting better and better.

it took everything in you not to scream at the agony as you dragged yourself behind a fallen dumpster, sitting up against the cold brick of the building behind you in an attempt to catch your breath.

in. out. in. out.

in.

out.

every move had your bones creaking in protest, the longer you sat here the more you felt every little cut and bruise and shard of glass littering your body. the dust in the air tickled your throat and threatened to make you cough up a lung, spots in your vision danced like fireflies, luring you back into the clutches of sleep.

no… i can't rest yet, you urged yourself to fight your drooping eyelids, i have to get back to the suv… they're waiting… for me…

the crunch of debris under heavy boots snaps you back to the present.

someone was approaching.

the optimist in you wanted to believe it was price, coming to rescue you. but you couldn't take that chance. your hand grips the pistol on your hip, drawing it out slowly to make as little noise as possible.

the shadowed figure came stumbling into view. your arm straightened to aim at their unprotected head, eyes wide and breathing laboured.

the man– the boy– locked eyes with you, flinging himself backwards to the wall opposite you with his hands held high.

your expression hardened. he was your enemy. his uniform made that clear. for a moment, neither of you moved, you weren't even sure if he was breathing anymore. like two wild animals, locked in a staredown, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. which one of you was the hunter, and which one was the prey?

shooting him will draw his comrades over here. sparing him means he can call them over himself. a lose-lose.

lost in your internal debate as you stare at him, you vaguely notice his hand lowering to his belt, and in a moment of panic, your heart clenches in time with your finger to deliver a shot right between his eyes.

his body slid down the wall, a perfect mirror of your own as the life fades from his expression.

shit. again.

his friends must’ve heard that. with renewed, adrenaline fueled vigour, you scramble across the alley, and begin rifling through the packs on his chest and belt.

a twinge of guilt fills you as you notice his empty holsters. he wasn't even armed.

shaking your head, you find what you're looking for; a morphine shot. at least, that's what it looked like, the words on the label were swimming with the concussion you surely had. it would have to do.

you take the syringe carefully, and stick the end into the muscle of your thigh, through a rip in your pants you hadn't noticed before, and inject the solution. it would take a minute to kick in, but hopefully the painkiller would help you at least make it back to the suv where your team was waiting.

where price was waiting. god you hoped they were okay, him especially, though he was probably in the least danger of you all. what you wouldn't give to have stayed in the car with him.

pocketing the empty syringe, you spare another glance at the boy's face. his wide, lifeless eyes. the pack he was reaching for. the same one you found the morphine in.

he… was going to help you. and you'd killed him.

oh god. the realisation has your stomach turning for the third time that day.

you pressed his eyes shut and pushed yourself to stand. as you trudge your way to the far end of the alley, you keep your eyes forward. there wasn't time to linger.

with a deep breath, you steel yourself and begin to make your way through the cold, abandoned streets of the small town. the suv wasn't far, only a couple blocks away. it wouldn't take you long to get there, even with your injuries.

somewhere in the distance, you could hear terrified screaming, presumably the residents who were forced awake by the sound of the explosion.

now that the ringing had died down, you realise that you hadn't heard your teammates in a while. absent-mindedly, you bring a hand up to press the comms, and you almost start talking before you feel the plastic crunch under your fingers.

"oh for fucks sake."

of fucking course your radio was broken. it must have been crushed when you were flung forward by the explosion.

brilliant.

whatever, the suv would be in your sight soon anyway, you don't need it.

the cover of night made it significantly easier to hobble through the streets unseen, thanks to your all black gear. the enemy were still hovering around the destroyed building, but at least that meant they thought you were buried under there. hopefully they would stay distracted long enough for you to make it back.

god, fuck, you really couldn't wait to get back to base. you desperately needed a shower hot enough to melt your skin to scrub off all the dirt and blood from your body. the morphine had started to kick in now, but you still felt your ribs shift unnaturally with every heavy step. you'd definitely need a few weeks off to recover from this one, and you’d probably get an earful from the captain. you’d kill to hear his voice right now, even if he was yelling at you for being an idiot.

only a little further. then you’d be back with the safety of your team, with this godforsaken place in the rear view mirror. with the promise of being able to rest, your limbs seemed to grow heavier as the exhaustion finally made its way into your bones.

except, when you turn the final corner, you freeze, an ice-cold dread sweeping through your veins.

the car was gone.

it wasn’t there.

they weren’t there.

there was a stretch of tarmac that fresh snow just beginning to fall had yet to cover, tire-tracks that showed the u-turn the suv had done, blood on the snow from– you assume– gaz, empty bullet casings from the fight they put up.

but no suv.

no teammates.

no john.

no. no, no no no. they couldn’t have left you. that wasn’t how you did things in the 141. it was no man left behind, you knew that. maybe they’re just circling the area, you rationalised, desperately trying to calm your ragged breathing, yeah, they went to look for me. they wouldn’t leave me behind.

but they weren't here.

and as you followed the tire-tracks down the street, they didn’t go back into the town. they made a straight line, directly to the dirt track leading into the wilderness, clear as day in the snow. back the way you had all gotten here earlier that night.

your knees dampen from the snow, the painkiller in your system keeping you from feeling the impact. when did you fall over? there was no attempt to stop the searing hot tears this time as they ran through the dirt caked to your face. your throat constricted, lifting a hand to your mouth to muffle your hyperventilating.

they were gone.

long gone, without you.

they really had left you behind.

a mumble from somewhere to your left interrupts your breakdown. grief morphs into blinding rage for a split second; can i get a fucking break? you swing your arm still holding the pistol to point at whoever was watching you, twisting your abdomen in a way that has you gritting your teeth.

a woman, clutching her young son, shielding his eyes and ears from you.

you lower your gun. that’s not a mistake you’ll make twice. catching her eyes, you gesture for her to be quiet, which is quickly met with her frantic nodding.

it reminds you, you’re still not safe here. you were supposed to be, but hey, it looks like plans change. no man left behind– what a load of horseshit. you push yourself onto shaky legs, you only had a few hours until the morphine wore off, and you needed to be out of here before that happened. as fast as you could possibly muster, you begin to stumble towards the dirt track that disappears into the treeline, following the slowly disappearing tire-tracks.

✹✹✹

you managed to make it into the woods faster than you expected, and you found a fallen tree slightly off the path to take shelter behind while you licked your wounds. literal and metaphorical.

this was unbelievable. how could they leave you like that? if they’d only taken the time to do a quick lap of the building, they would’ve found you laying face down in the snow, and this whole mess could have been avoided. where were they off to in such a hurry anyway? it’s not like you guys had found anything sensitive. 

oh, wait. gaz was shot. that had briefly slipped your mind. perhaps you were being a little selfish by getting so worked up by this, but then again, for all they knew you could have been in the same condition– or worse. they…

your breath hitched. and not from your injuries.

they thought you were dead. that would make sense, in the chaos of everything, and amidst your panic, you didn’t really do a good job keeping up with answering your comms. still though, you were definitely going to rip them all a new one when you got back; or maybe it would be the other way around.

either way, you couldn’t sit here and dwell on it all night. you needed to make it to the safehouse before they flew back to base. if you missed them this time, you really were well and truly fucked.

✹✹✹

"i've gotta be at least half-way by now," you lament, flopping down against another tree with a grunt in an attempt to calm the burning in your legs and chest. the morphine had worn off about a few hours ago, and you were finally feeling all the bleeding wounds you'd ignored before. nothing lethal, you hoped, aside from your shoulder, ribs, and splitting headache, it was mostly just a lot of glass in your skin.

when you left the town, it must have been just past midnight, and at this pace it would be well after morning before you made it back. you could just about see the first signs of dawn poking through the cloud layer.

the snow had gotten heavier, casting a haze over the horizon, but it hadn't escalated into a storm yet. even under all your gear, the cold was starting to bite at your limbs. your lack of gloves was a decision you were coming to regret; if you lost any fingers because of this you really were going to kill price.

"fuck, he thinks i'm dead…" you groan as you stare up at the sky. snowflakes catch in your eyelashes and threaten to freeze the tears as they well up in your eyes. was he as distraught as you currently were, you wonder? was he even moved at all, or were you just another soldier, just more paperwork he had to fill out?

being in love with your captain was so, so difficult. a mistake, most would say, and you used to tell yourself the same thing. but after knowing him, seeing the vulnerable parts of him he keeps closely guarded, you can't bring yourself to care. seeing his expression when you gifted him the cigars you bought for him, learning his favourite drink when you all went out after missions, trading stories over paperwork in his office late at night. even after everything you've been through together, you know, in your heart, he doesn't feel the same; he's your superior, you're his sergeant, and he is nothing if not an honest man. it can never work between you two. but despite it all, the only regret you have as you sit bleeding in the snow, is that you never told him how you felt.

please, don't leave me here… 

in the back of your mind, you know they wouldn't go home without at least id-ing your body, but you were so shaken by the ongoing near death experience that your train of thought wasn't making much sense anymore.

the distant whirr of a helicopter snapped you back to reality. maybe it was… no, the 141 didn't have a helicopter here, which could only mean it was a hostile one. fucking fantastic. where you were slumped was right at the edge of the road, with very little cover from above. you needed to move further off the path, under the protection of the forest canopy.

with a laboured grunt, you pulled yourself back onto your feet, using the tree behind you as a crutch until you could catch your breath again. the helicopter was getting nearer now, close enough that you could almost make out the spotlight through the falling snow.

a brief jog was all you could manage to get away from the road. the snow wasn't deep enough to leave tracks that would be noticeable from the air, not through the shade of darkness. you still as the helicopter passes overhead. there's no change in its course, and you huff a breath of relief. at least you wouldn't have to try and outrun a chopper.

you watch the helicopter's silhouette fade into the night sky. there was nothing to do but carry on. you needed to get to the safehouse.

this was going to be a long night.

✹✹✹

hours, it had been hours since you first set off, so long in fact that it was essentially daytime. the sun hadn't fully risen, casting the world in a dim light that was just dark enough to keep you tripping over roots and holes in the ground.

the snow had let up a while ago, but the overcast clouds had stayed, the perfect match to your steadily declining mood. you thought you felt like shit earlier? if only you could have predicted how much worse it would get. you were acclimated to the pain by now, it reduced to a constant throbbing where your bones were broken. perhaps the icy temperature around you was numbing your injuries; it was either that or the shock.

ahead, you recognised a set of worn tire-tracks making a hard turn through a gap in the forest. there was no way of knowing it was the right way, but a spark of optimism ignites in your chest. maybe you were finally getting close. you just had to pray that your sense of direction was good enough to be leading you in the right direction.

you were right on top of the tracks now, and upon closer inspection, the pattern of the treads might just match the ones on the suv; you've had to fix that damn car so many times you'd know it in your sleep. they were messy, the snow making it hard to pick out, but you needed the hope right now.

this had to be them.

you go to continue down the clear path, to follow where your team had gone, but your luck just doesn't improve.

the mud slides under your foot, catching your ankle and toppling you in your attempt to struggle through. the breath is forced from your lungs as you impact the ground. you cry out through gritted teeth, feeling the strain of your muscles twisting far further than they're supposed to.

pain strikes through your ankle like lightning. drawing a breath is almost impossible from the pressure of your ribs. as you fight to sit up, the mud fights to drag you back down like quicksand.

fuck. another injury to slow you down.

muddy snow covers you from head to toe, the stabbing pain in your shoulder coming back in full force.

was that a car? the low rumbling from the direction you came from drew your attention, and you faintly see beams of headlights through the darkness. you momentarily forgot about your injuries, a frenzied panic making your blood run cold. another patrol. i need to go.

then, as you struggle to get up and out of sight, you feel a concerning pop from your kneecap, and you don't even have to look to know it's dislocated.

but there was no time to check the damage, you had to hide, now, or the truck would reach you and you'd have a lot more problems on your hands. you scramble onto your hands and knees, and yank your ankle free of the wet mud, practically throwing yourself behind the undergrowth just in time for the truck to round the bend.

your ribs are displaced again, injecting fresh pain into the shuddering breath you took, on top of your newly twisted ankle and dislocated kneecap bent uncomfortably beneath you.

it's a miracle you were able to keep quiet as the vehicle passed by.

by some stroke of luck, or just divine stupidity, your enemies drive straight past the space in the trees and your hiding spot. the headlights cast ominous shadows as they cruise by, but they didn't see you.

struggling to your feet once again, this time you give the muddy path a wide berth as you make your way deeper into the forest.

✹✹✹

one foot in front of the other. dragging your injured leg behind you. cradling your broken ribs.

just keep going.

limping through the mud took every resource your body had left, the effort of keeping upright was almost more than you could take.

how much longer could you possibly go, before you can't get back up again?

you couldn't lose hope.

ahead of you, a break in the sea of trees.

just one foot in front of the other. that's all you need. it's all you can do.

closer, stepping out into the open, squinting against the sun.

against the pale light of the morning sky, you see a dark shape. a building? you couldn't tell, you could only pray it was the warehouse you'd been longing for.

one foot in front of the other.

closer still, despite the bone-deep exhaustion in every limb. you could make it out now, the rusted metal siding and fresh tire-tracks in the mud. you were right there.

you taste the salt before you realise you're crying. 

almost,

somewhere between the agony, you hear yourself think,

still too early to celebrate.

your heart stutters. they were here, they had to be.

they had to be.

one foot in front of the other.

closer again, you focus on the keypad beside the door. your ankle twists uncomfortably as it drags along the gravel.

the handle became your crutch as you mustered the energy to lift your arm to enter the code.

seeing double, vision swaying as the edges fade.

a distant beep. a red light turning to green.

the handle turns under your weight, and the door swings open.

you find the floor coming up fast.

voices are all around you.

you give in to unconsciousness.

✹✹✹

the distinct hospital smell is what rouses you from your deep, dreamless sleep. hands prod at your busted ribs, drawing a scratchy groan from your dry throat. you grab the wrist of whoever is there as you fight to open your eyes.

"sergeant vantage?" they call out to you, and you realise with a disappointed sigh that it's the medic and not your captain. you open your eyes fully and see her standing above you with a clipboard in one hand. apart from her, you're alone in the medical wing. she notices you looking around, and looks down at the clipboard as she continues,  "glad to see you finally awake. your teammate gaz got off pretty lucky, the bullet went clean through his leg. you on the other hand, i'm impressed you made it back at all."

your ankle is in a boot and elevated on some pillows, and you can feel your knee is tightly bandaged under the blankets. an ache starts to form in your shoulder at the effort of holding your arm up.

"vantage, i need you to let go of my wrist." she says, and after an awkward pause you free her from your hold.

"sorry doc…" you mumble, bringing both hands up to your face and observing the tiny cuts littering your skin. you let them flop down to your sides again, but the aching doesn't subside.

"how are you feeling?" she breaks the momentary quiet, setting her clipboard down on the table next to your bed, "want me to get you anything?"

"i'd kill for some water…" you wheeze, the dehydration was catching up to you.

"alright, i'll be right back," the doctor affirms, making her way to the door. she turns back to look you in the eyes with a stern expression before she leaves, "please don't go anywhere."

and with that, the door clicks shut and you're left truly alone with your thoughts again.

your bones creak as you push yourself to sit up, your movements sluggish still with exhaustion, and you're reminded of just how badly you were hurt. everything aches, and it feels as though you'd been asleep for years.

gaz was okay, that's a relief. a little insulting that he got shot and was still in better condition than you, but whatever.

you look around the room for something, anything, to take your mind off the pain, and your eyes eventually land on the table beside you. a few cards sat on top, all with some variation of get well soon on the front, along with a small vase of flowers. you pick up the card closest to you and open it to read the scratchy handwriting inside.

'i swear you could survive a nuke, you're like a cockroach! get better soon, lots of love, soap! xxxxx'

what a charmer soap was. you chuckle at his lighthearted message, he always did try to keep your spirits up in times like these. as you place the card back where it was, your gaze is drawn to the empty chair next to your bed. there was a thin blanket folded over the back, probably left by whoever was last sitting there.

your mind begins to wander; how long were you out? your teammates clearly visited, does that mean price did too? you feel your stomach flutter at the thought of him worrying for you, watching over you as you recover. and if he fell asleep at your bedside? the heart monitor might call the doctor back if this train of thought continues. but then again, you doubted he'd be that forward, he would most likely be buried in paperwork like he usually is after a mission. and the mission you just came back from would require more paperwork than most.

because they… left you behind. that's right. you had to walk yourself back to the safehouse on all your injuries. who knows how long you were walking for but it must have been at least ten hours, considering the sun had risen by the time you got there. the butterflies were swiftly melted by the hot anger rising within you.

you were going to give him a piece of your mind, just like you promised.

all thoughts of the pain you were feeling are out of your head as you fling the blanket off your lower body. you grip your injured leg and lift it over the edge of the bed, swinging your other leg to plant both feet on the floor.

just as you were about to pull yourself up to stand, the door opens again and the medic walks in with your water bottle in her hand. she stops, an icy look in her eyes as she observes what you're doing.

you look back at her, debating whether you should give it up and lay back down, but your anger quickly wins over. the heart monitor picks up again as you work yourself up.

"i swear to god, if you don't sit back down right now," she makes her way over, setting the water down on the table you were using as a crutch. you meet her eyes indignantly, and go to step around her anyway. "no! you need to rest!" the doc puts her hands on your shoulders, and she stops your movement embarrassingly easily.

"fuck that," you croak, your voice still hoarse, "where's captain shithead? i need a word."

she maneuvers you back into sitting on the edge of the bed, and hands you the water. you keep your sour expression, but still drink half the bottle in one go.

"i assume you mean captain price? he's in his office, hasn't come out since you all got back." she takes the bottle from you when you're done, setting it down again, before moving to take the iv out of your arm. if she feels your glare, she doesn't acknowledge it. "whatever it is, it can wait."

"yeah right, i got a few strong words for him, and he is gonna hear 'em."

the doc hesitates as she works.

"i don't know exactly what happened out there, but i think you should know… that he hasn't visited you," she speaks softly, watching your angry expression fall. "your other teammates did, i even saw ghost sneaking out of here one night, but you didn't hear that from me."

silence overcame the small room again as her words sunk in. he left you for dead, and now he was avoiding you? even ghost visited you, and you'd barely had a single conversation with him. your heart feels tight again, the same way it did when you were trapped in that building.

"how long was i out?" your voice is low, almost a whisper.

"two days."

you should have listened to all the people who told you loving him was a bad idea. you'd almost died, and he still didn't visit you? that stung. god, you haven't even been awake an hour and you already want to throw up.

i guess i really don't mean that much to him, huh?

you think back to the night before the mission, when you'd sat with john while he did paperwork. at first, he tried to convince you to get some sleep, 

"you wanna be well rested, love."

but you stayed anyway, saying that you'd just sleep on the flight. you would rather spend your nights of insomnia with him anyway.

the two of you had talked for hours that night, about anything that came to mind. it was the early hours of the morning when you finally retreated back to your own quarters. he'd insisted on seeing you back, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and your room was in the next building over. the way he'd lingered by your door as you said goodnight, you really thought he was going to kiss you then. but he didn't, and you went to sleep with a heavy feeling of disappointment that persevered into the next day.

"i'm sorry vantage." the medic sets something down on the end of the bed, and you turn to look. a pile of your clothes. "i know how you soldiers are, you're gonna get up as soon as i leave no matter what i say, so i'd rather you not walk around in a hospital gown."

she was right.

"...thanks, doc."

despite the overwhelming pain in your heart, you were still about to rip into price.

✹✹✹

you limp out of the infirmary after dressing yourself as quickly as your injuries would allow, which is to say, not very fast. thankfully there weren't any stairs between here and your captain's office, you definitely wouldn't be able to make it up them with your crutch.

the sun was already setting, a pink hue filling the sky as you pushed open the doors of the medical wing. you tried to think as little as possible as you made your way steadily across the courtyard. it would only upset you, and you desperately wanted to be pissed at him. you wouldn't– couldn't– let price see how hurt you were, he probably didn't care anyway. he was just your captain, after all, realistically there was no reason for you to be this upset.

but you were, and the few people you encountered in the corridors could see it written on your face, staying well out of your way as you shuffled past them.

as you stared at the closed door of john's office, your anger wavered. despite the ache in your heart, you considered for a moment that perhaps you were being dramatic. he was your captain, you were just one of his soldiers. it made perfect sense that he'd prioritise the lives of three others over yours alone.

it was his job, and he did it well.

you love john, of course you do, and that's why you're so affected by that fact. maybe you were letting your selfishness get the better of you. honestly, you didn't have a real reason to believe he felt the same way about you. everyone on task force 141 was close, that's the way things are, you couldn't confidently say he treated you differently.

but he was smart. he had to know how you felt, had at least had to know that you don't go out of your way for your other teammates as much as you do for him.

then again, even ghost had visited you while you were out, and you considered yourself much closer to price than him. so maybe he hated you now, he'd finally gotten tired of your poor decision making skills. it was the reason you were in this situation to begin with.

you were just about to abandon the idea of laying into him when price's voice sounded through the door.

"whoever's standin' out there, hurry up and come in, or piss off." he sounded exhausted, his tone blunt with annoyance. it wasn't unusual for him to get like that, especially whilst buried in mind-numbingly boring paperwork, but you could feel something else under the surface of his sharp tone.

well, there goes your last chance to run. you took a moment to steel yourself, to remember that you were in fact angry at him, and open the door with the harshest look you can muster.

he didn't look up as you let the door close behind you, keeping his nose buried in whatever report he was currently scribbling on. his hat was discarded on the desk next to him, and the hand in his hair was keeping it the messiest you'd ever seen it. you breathe in deeply through your nose.

"oh you'd love to get rid of me that easily, wouldn't you?" you spit, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

john's head snaps forward at the sound of your voice, the hand in his hair dropping to his desk, allowing you to finally get a good look at him. his eyes were wide and tired, you could tell the bags under them were darker than the last time you'd looked him in the face.

"vantage…" he spoke with something almost like disbelief, like he couldn't fathom that you were really in front of him. the hard lines of his face soften as his eyes meet yours, and then even further when his gaze falls to your crutch and boot.

fuck, how were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? you channel every ounce of bottled up frustration you have before his blue eyes consume you.

"well unfortunately, i am still alive. not that you give a shit; you got a restraining order on the infirmary or something?"

he murmurs your name– your real name, and as he rises to stand, his eyes don't leave yours for a second.

fuuuuuck.

"what? you leave me for dead, now the cats got your tongue?" you hiss at him, but you can feel the venom leaving your words with every second. the way his expression falls ever so slightly has you regretting what you were saying. you came in here needing to hurt him the way he hurt you, but you were quickly losing your nerve.

"don't do that…" he was almost pleading, as he made his way around his desk to stand in front of you, his piles of paperwork long forgotten. he goes to grasp your elbow, but you pull back before he can touch you. 

"sorry if you've already filled out my death certificate, i'd hate to cause you any more headaches." there was little fight left in your voice now, as you stared each other down in the middle of his office.

in the pause, john screws his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, before fixing you with a hard stare.

"don't. you know i would never've left you if i had any other choice!" it's not anger when he raises his voice, it's desperation; trying to convince himself as well as you. he takes another step towards you, toe to toe now as you lock eyes.

"do i know that? because from where i'm standing, it looks like you couldn't get far enough away from me," you can't help the way your voice cracks, nor can you disguise the hurt when you continue, "even fucking ghost visited me, but not you…"

another beat of silence.

"i couldn't…" john mumbled, eyes showing his mind was somewhere else. your chest tightened; every trace of anger was gone, replaced with the heartache you'd gotten so familiar with when it came to him.

"correct me if i'm wrong, but i really thought you cared." you try to take a step back, put some distance between the two of you, but he grabs your upper arm– successfully this time– to stop you going anywhere. it takes an impressive amount of restraint not to melt at his touch.

"of course i fuckin' care!" he growls, tugging you marginally closer.

your eyes hardened again; of course he did, just not in the way you wanted him to.

you jab your finger into his chest as you speak, your expression sour. "well you could've fooled–"

he grabs your hand as he cuts you off, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his face turning sharp again.

"bloody hell, just shut up! it killed me to leave without you, y'know that? if it weren't for simon i would've sent 'em back without me! i waited, as long as i could," he wasn't shouting, but you went quiet as if he was, any retaliation you thought of dying on your tongue. john let out a heavy sigh before he continued, "but you didn't come. you were stuck in that building, and then when it went up in fuckin' smoke, what was i supposed to think? i– we called out to you so many times, but you never responded."

the silence between you was heavy. deep down, you had already assumed everything he was telling you, but to actually hear it from his mouth had you choking up in his grasp.

"i…" you tried to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. despite your best efforts, the tears welling up in your eyes were close to spilling over as your gaze fell to the floor.

john sighed again, softer this time, and using the hand on your arm he brought you into his chest, letting go of your hand with his other and wrapping it securely around your back.

you rest your cheek against his chest, bringing your own arms up around his torso, and revelled in the feeling of his embrace. listening to his elevated heartbeat, you wondered if he could feel just how hard yours was beating too.

"when you came crashin' through that door the next mornin', alive, i swear i've never been so relieved. but then you wouldn't wake up, and you were covered in so much blood… i…" his voice breaks, actually breaks, and you try to lift your head to look at him, but his hand on your arm moves up and presses into the back of your head, holding you tight against him. "...i was fuckin' terrified, love." he whispered.

"... why didn't you visit me?" the question you'd been meaning to ask all along, the real reason you had been upset at him.

you feel him press his lips into the top of your head, gently rocking you both where you stand. the crutch falls from your arm, but neither of you make any move to retrieve it.

"i couldn't. i couldn't face you, layin' in that hospital bed, hooked up to all them machines… knowin' it was my fault…"

"Hey, you know it wasn’t…" you murmur with disapproval; as much as you hate to admit it, you dug yourself into that hole.

"fuck, i'm– so fucking sorry love,"

"don't apologise… please, you did what you had to," you lift your head, and you can look him in the face again. his eyes were slightly red; if your heartstrings were pulled anymore they'd surely break. "plus, i was never really mad at you anyway."

he huffs out a small chuckle, his breath fanning over your face, the crease in his brow melting away as your eyes meet, "well ain't that a relief?"

"i thought you were pissed at me, and that's why you didn't visit…" you clear your throat and avoid his gaze, "i mean, i did lock myself in a building full of hostiles… not my finest moment,"

"no. as stupid as you are sometimes, i could never be angry at you." 

"that is a relief."

a quiet overcomes the two of you, standing in eachothers arms as the evening sun casts the room in an orange glow. you wanted to stay like this for the rest of time, but it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the voice in the back of your head that said this was inappropriate. the way he was talking, holding you, had your hopes high, just like that night before the mission. the one where you went to bed disappointed. it didn't help that you were expecting the let-down now, if anything it only made your heart sink even lower.

you notice that, exactly like you, john was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. you tilt your head, wordlessly urging him to tell you what's going on. he sighs, scanning the multitude of cuts and scrapes that litter your face, "i promise you, i will never let anything like that happen again, alright?"

"i believe you." you smile softly, and you do; of course you do, you'd trust him with your life. it wasn't something you'd admit out loud, but you would do just about anything if he asked you to.

"i swear, i'm not lettin' you outta my sight." the look on his face has you squirming is his grasp, under the intense gaze he pinned you with.

"alright, i get it," you chuckle, your face heating up at the implication. this was doing nothing for the enormous crush you were harbouring. shuffling backwards slightly, you put enough space between you that you can comfortably rest your hands on his chest.

"i don't think you do, love," you feel his chest rumble as he speaks, and his gaze becomes serious, "i coulda' lost you. i thought i did. fuck, when soap and gaz came outta there without you? i thought my heart'd stopped… i just– i…"

it was rare to see your captain so lost for words. you feel his heart beat faster under your fingertips, the distant look in his eyes giving away the internal debate he was surely having.

"john?"

"if i'm out of order, say the word and we can forget all about this, but vantage…" his voice was low, and you felt your cheeks heat up to a boiling point as he cradled your face with one hand and leaned in closer, chest to chest again. the anticipation and the proximity might just make you sick. "you mean the world to me, i don't know what i'd do with myself if i lost you."

was that… what you thought it was? it sounded an awful lot like a confession, and you really really wanted it to be, but… was it too good to be true?

the lack of a response from you had john pulling back with an uncharacteristic cough that radiated embarrassment. he let go of your face, hovering next to your cheek as if he couldn't bear to let go, and you frown at the absence of his warmth.

"just ignore me, i shouldn't've–" he begins to back-pedel, going to move away from you before you cut him off.

"no!" you exclaim, with a bit more panic than you intended, and grasp his shirt in your fists to keep him close. "i get it, i really do. i- i care about you too, probably a lot more than a teammate should." your face heats up at the admission, and he lights up with surprise. "i think i always have."

slowly, he moves his hand back to its place cupping your jaw, searching your eyes for any signs that he was misinterpreting your response. when he found none, he smiled at you so genuinely you doubted anyone had ever been so sincere towards you.

"yeah?" he murmurs, the slight disbelief gone from his expression but still present in his voice.

"yes, john," you mirror his tone, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his neck. his skin burned hot under your touch.

"well thank god for that," his voice is barely a whisper now, as he draws your lips closer to his. the air separating you felt thick enough to be cut.

you let your eyes fall closed, and with a small burst of confidence, you lean forward and close the final distance between the two of you. he kisses you so tenderly, with so much emotion, it makes your head spin. you sigh into him, tilting your head and pressing yourself impossibly closer, revelling in the feeling of being in his arms at last. all your many months of pining had led up to this moment, and you felt like your heart might just burst. regretfully, you find yourself needing to break away for air, and to your delight he follows your lips as you pull back.

"maybe i should get injured more often, if this is what i get," you breathe, a dazed smile on your face as both your eyes flutter open, and his chest rumbles under your hand with a deep chuckle.

"you better not; i'll have your head if you do, love."

✹✹✹

[pupyuj]

im back again

sorry for spam

been thinking about sending nudes to g!p yena while she has to work overtime, not able to come home

sending increasingly racey photos to her before sending a long video of you fingering your cunt moaning her name,

taunting/begging her to come home and take care of you with her thick cock

yena who almost whines in public at the sight of your sopping wet cunt, girly ends up cumming under her desk, jerking off to the video

☕️

☕️ anonnnnn pls never apologize for the spamming trust me i love it you keep my brain fresh w your ideas and you challenge me to venture out of the usual things i do so i want to thank you a lot actually ehe <33 anyways THIS ASK?? i exploded.

OKOK i see the vision but all that + phone sex??? LISTEN. WALK WITH MEEEE—

pushing yena to the point of being so needy that she hits you up just as you planned 🤭 answering her call and the first thing you hear is her breathing heavily and... the faint sounds of her coating her throbbing, hard dick with precum as she mindlessly pumped it in and out of her hand... yena's very whiny while she does it too, finding it so hard to truly feel good since you're not around to help her :( mf yaps tho 😭 talking about how you're being so mean and how it's not fair that she can't come home to you asap bcs of all the stupid work she has to get done <//3

and oh it would just drive her so insane when you start touching yourself too! hearing your moans and whimpers and begging while you ride your pillow, telling yena how much you wished you were riding her instead 🫣 she'd actually start thrusting into her hand, picturing you above her, your tight pussy wrapped around her cock and your tits all over her face... the office might be empty but yena would still have the decency to bite her lip to try and silence her sounds that were getting louder and louder the longer she hears you satisfying yourself without her 😣

and let's say you turn your camera on and let your phone sit in a way where yena can see you ride your pillow?? she watches as you move your hips the same way you would while riding her... moaning obnoxiously against the sheets as you played with your own nipples 😵‍💫 then she would see how you're actually feeling so good bcs she was watching you, and you were getting a kick out of what you're doing to her just by doing this.. nasty whore 🫣

"y-you owe me so much, (y/n)-ah..." yena would say,, she'd already have so many ideas about how she'd get revenge and have you begging her for release, or a break 🤭 and she hits a mind-blanking orgasm of her own soon after you reach yours... making a mess of her hand and her clothes... hehe her blushing as she cleans herself up bcs she's still watching you lay on top of the pillow all exhausted and spent but god you were so fine—

you'd tell her to go home quickly and abruptly end the call after sending her a cute lil kiss and suddenly yena would be the most diligent worker in that damn company! 😭 finishing her work in record time and getting the fuck out of that office,, and sure she goes over the speed limit a few times but hey it did get her home to you faster... thus giving you and her all the time in the world to fuck like animals after a long, rough day of barely seeing each other <33

[willowser]

willow how would bakugo's cuteness aggression manifest 🥺 would he bite your cheeks ��� or anywhere really.... or would he press you harder against his chest 🥺 keep you tucked under his chin so you can't see how much he's furiously blushing 🥺 or or or would he squeeze your hand tighter 🥺 would he the inside of his cheeks!! his lips!! until they bleed!! i am soOOOooOOOO

omg sel all of the above akfhkahfkaha i'm so insane for him you have no idea PLEASEEEE

he's such a bully like. it depends on where you're at in your relationship ofc but he's !! such a biter !!! a wrastler !!! puts you in a headlock !! bc he can't deal !!! i think at ALL TIMES he's making an ugly little face at you too LMAOO like scrunching it up bc he's so akhfkahfkahf RAAAHHHHH you do something so cute and he's like. grinding his teeth together and stretching out his hands, feeling all the tendons and muscles flex LOL omg....and the biting of the inside of his cheek...............your brain................you're SO RIGHT !!!! i think he pulls his own hair too LOL like runs a hand through it bc he's STRESSED and then just TUGS on it. all his blood rushes in his ears. pupils dilate alfhahfa gets the bakugou equivalent of the zoomies akjfhakgha has to box the air jump on his feet a few times to shake it off. i'm chewing him to pieces. i am just chewing him to bits.

[littlebluespoon]

I saw your ask for inspo/ something to write so here!:

(Anon on bc shy + coward also first ever ask I'm sending)

Currently on Octo!König brainrot, so here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain:

(Based mostly off of Octo!König version where his hood hides his tentacles)

Octo!König showing his tentacles to fem!reader for the first time. He's all nervous she'll think it's weird, but to his surprise, when she touches one of the tentacles and it curls around her finger, she kisses it gently. One thing leads to another, and he's using his tentacles to make out with her, curling them around her tongue, the one(s) not in her mouth are groping her and leaving little marks on her neck/chest/shoulders.

Give me one moment, i just have to scream....

Anon! First of all, I feel very blessed that I'm who you're sending your first ask to and second of all, I love you. I screamed when i read this. this will haunt me now, it will be all i think of. Anyway, here's a thing for you. Thank you nonnie, this is exactly what I needed and I just didn't know it. I got carried away with it too...

TW: 18+, tentacles, dub con, sexual content? making out and dub con groping

König was shy around you, but even then it was nothing like he'd been this week. You never saw him, only his shadow as he fled whatever room you were walking into. He had a physical evaluation scheduled with you which is why, you assumed he was running away from you like you were going to dissect him.

Eventually Friday came and the evaluation needed to be done, there was no escaping it anymore so like a person possessed you marched to his office. Barely even stopping to check if he was busy or not, throwing open the door to find him except his chair was empty.

Just as you were about to concede and admit he'd won this time you spotted movement under the desk. He was using his hybrid form to hide from you. You'd known of course that he was an octopus hybrid, it was in his records, but you'd never seen his form. Slowly you moved until you were sat on the floor, the wall of the desk all that separates the two of you,

"König, I know you hate it but it needs done so I can sign you off for duty," keeping your voice soft so as not to spook him as you reached a hand out to him, "I don't even have to touch you if you don't want me to" offering him an olive branch, as you thought the touching was what put him off, you didn't expect what happened next.

A tentacle whips out from under the desk and catches your hand. It curls itself around your fingers, intertwining with them and holding so tight you can't move them. The sensation of the suckers is foreign but not unwelcome, you feel them leaving marks across the back of your hand as they frantically grasp at you.

Trying to soothe the obvious anxiety König is exhibiting you bend down and give a chaste kiss to the tentacle that's the tightest around your fingers. A brief moment that you meant to be gentle except it was nothing but as the remaining tentacles attach themselves to your face. For a moment you panic, thinking he means to cut off your air but instead of suffocating, the tentacles prod. they poke at your lips until they open, giving way for them to reach further, wrap around your tongue and even make their way down your throat.

The tentacles that aren't in your mouth make their way around your neck, you can hear and feel them as they leave as many marks as possible. As they venture further down, slowly getting covered in your drool, you see König squeeze his way out from under the desk. Unable to say anything as he holds your tongue hostage, treating it like his own personal sex toy, you can only watch as he crawls closer to you. Crawls up your body. Until he's attached across your chest, tentacles spread out across your body. In your mouth, creating a collar across your neck and even down your shirt which is now covered in your spit.

[moralesmilesanhour]

okay okay, i have had this one thought in my head about a platonic gender-neutral (or male/masc-leaning) reader fic. this is for either miles (more so 42 than 1610 bc i can imagine his face of exasperation). imagine just being his dumbass friend, like yeah your smart enough to be in visions, but goddamn!! you leave your braincells in your school locker once the final bell rings. your self preservation instincts are questionable at best and the only reason you're not dead yet bc you're proving that quote "you can't kill stupid" as a true fact. at least you bring homemade food over everytime you visit his home and his mom likes you, so you're not completely hopeless in life. (i've had this rotating in my brain for days and still haven't written it myself) -☁

a/n: I went the masc route with this one with a sprinkle of gender envy if u squint

You thought doing homework on a rooftop would be a nice change of scenery.

Dangling off of the rooftop? Not so much.

A tiny group of pigeons had been hanging out near the edge, and you had the idea to try and feed them with the bag of sunflower seeds you'd brought with you. Carefully, you step forward toward the flock, until some unknown force of nature causes you to trip over your own feet and sends you careening over the edge.

Somehow, you manage to grab hold of the railing of the fire escape just below, but your palms are sweaty. You heave as you use all of your upper body strength to hold yourself up while desperately trying not to look down.

It's not enough.

Just as you lose your grip, a strong arm catches you. It's covered in purple leather, ending in a familiar clawed hand.

"Again?" Asks an amused modulated voice as wind rushes past your ears.

"You make it sound like a daily occurrence."

You feel a jolt as the masked figure swings and lands in front of an alleyway before putting you down. As you adjust your crooked glasses, the mask whirs and splits in two before receding, revealing the smirking, deep brown face of your friend, Miles.

"What happened this time?"

His voice is low and nearly too soft to hear, a stark contrast to the tinny high pitch of your own. No amount of lowering your larynx or whispering could ever get it like that. Part of you wishes you could steal it sometimes, or borrow his voice modulator, at least.

If only.

"Tripped," you answer, rubbing your upper arm as a side effect of the claws' tight grip. "Dunno how you always manage to catch me."

"Easy," Miles explains as he unzips his black duffel bag. "I see that ratty ass gray hoodie you always got on and swing right over."

With a whir and a clank, he removes the claw on his right hand, then his left, tossing them into the bag.

"How does carryin' those around like that not damage them?" you blurt out suddenly. Miles snorts.

"You gonna fix 'em for me, genius?"

"No."

"Thought so."

Finally, he removed the grappling hook strapped to his back and tied his jacket around his waist.

You say his catchphrase before he does: "Let's bounce!"

This earns you a burst of laughter from Miles as you make your way out of the alley.

"What, I say it wrong?"

"No, it's just..." he catches his breath and claps you on the shoulder as he passes by. "You make it sound so friendly."

"Whatever, man."

-

"Yo, pay attention, dude!"

You feel Miles' hand yank you backwards by your hoodie as a car horn blares past you. Once you look up from your phone, your eyes widen.

"Oh, shit."

The car had barely missed you.

The streetlight across from you finally turned white, and the two of you crossed. Miles keeps glancing back at you until the short journey to the opposite sidewalk is completed.

He stops, crossing his arms. "How many times are you gonna almost-die today? Lemme know so I can adjust my schedule."

"Until someone finally finishes the job," you joke before remembering something. "Ah fuck, I hope the brownies survived."

You swing your book bag off of your shoulder and kneel to open it, revealing a small Tupperware container filled with home-made brownies stacked on top of your textbooks. Thankfully, there is only a bit of chocolate smudged on the sides; the pastries themselves remain (mostly) intact.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "You know taking the textbooks home is optional, right?"

Zipping your bag closed, you reply with a shrug,"I like re-writing my notes. I need to access the source material."

"I need to access the source material," Miles mimics you in a nasally voice before strolling past you. "If I were a worse person, I'd shove yo' ass in a locker."

You laugh, breaking into a jog to catch up to him with your 'source material' weighing you down.

"Just for that, I'm telling your mom the brownies are just for her-shit!"

A piece of cracked and lifted cement trips you up and scuffs your sneakers. Your hands shoot out to break your fall, planting themselves onto the ground. Your glasses aren't so lucky.

"Aw, man, I just got these!" You frowned as you dusted off your khaki shorts with one hand, holding your glasses in the other.

One of the frames now has a crack right down the middle.

"That's tough, buddy," Miles remarks.

He had spun around as soon as he heard you yell in case of another near-death experience, but was now trying desperately to hold back laughter that escaped through his nose as he walked backwards towards his destination.

"It's not funny!"

"It's a little funny. You're like a Looney Tunes character."

You laugh, "If an anvil falls on my head, it's your fault."

[s1mpactafterhours]

ok so i did a variation of this over on the sfw genshin main BUT i also wanted to make a filthy version too bc like my brain's been wandering- but anyway.. hear me out 🗣👏🏻

al-haitham coming home and barging into his housemate's room to tell him something or ask about something (etc etc) and accidentally walking in on kaveh absolutely plowing you, like you're both going at it hard until you suddenly hear the door open. (kaveh had assured you he wasn't supposed to be home until much, much later!) and so you're just desperately trying to cover up or hide or something, anything- but kaveh's noticed the way al-haitham looks at you, even if the man himself has no idea yet, so he just keeps going at it, witness be damned. al-haitham makes some offhand remark about how neither of you have any decency, but if he weren't wearing those damned headphone looking contraptions you'd be able to see just how red his ears were.

this is unfortunately how he begins to come to terms with his attraction to you, and unknowingly begins his learnings of the ways of heartache. kaveh pays this no mind, feeling that he's finally got the upper hand on his smart ass, seemingly unshakeable housemate. he's on a mission to make you scream his name, as many times as possible, as loud as possible. at some point, though neither of you hear it, al-haitham just ends up slamming the door on his way out, leaving to go to the library or literally anywhere else.... but not before guiltily rubbing one out. you two provided the perfect background noises he never knew he needed, but more importantly, it was your moans that were driving him insane. how would you sound screaming out his name all night long instead?

so off he goes to busy himself with work, so much work, so much that he ends up taking on extra work just to distract himself from the honeymoon phase you're both in, and the way kaveh just can't seem to stop showing you off in front of him. he can already tell the latter is doing so on purpose, but he refuses to let the blonde get the better of him. you're aware that something is going on, but attribute it to their weird relationship and how they're just always fighting.. though it has been awfully quiet lately, and you're starting to get suspicious. kaveh is quick to assure you that al-haitham is just very busy with work, and he's even quicker to get handsy with you. cuddles while he works on his projects, hands on across your shoulders or thighs at dinner, all the nights you two fuck your stress out before collapsing together in bed.. you're far too entranced by your seemingly sickly sweet lover to see through the haze, but it's always harder to think straight when you're getting your back blown out (or blowing him out-) ..and so, you don't.

and even as al-haitham has time to get himself back together, he can't help but wonder if maybe things would have turned out differently had he been more aware of his own feelings. if he had asked you out first, would that be how the both of you would be now? or had you always only had eyes for kaveh? the questions that used to keep him up at night become mindless chatter as he tries (and fails) to block you both out on the other side of unfortunately thin walls. but life goes on, and so does your relationship, and before you all know it, you're making plans to move in together, to share your lives together, and suddenly al-haitham finally knows what loneliness feels like.. all alone in a house that used to house shenanigans for three. he's not sure if he'll bother looking for a new roommate now that he's been promoted, but sometimes he can't help but wish he could share the news with you both, and how he misses your antics and smile and.... he belatedly begins to realize he misses kaveh too. in which a new set of questions unlocks thoughts he'd never even considered... had he harbored feelings for you all this time, or was he instead projecting because he was jealous... and falling in love with his own roommate all this time?

[vicsbasement]

So, @azealiax asked for an explanation about the Monza incident (and then Singapore) in Charlos lore. I'm trying to rack my brain with all of it, and I'll just bullet point the important parts of it. If anyone needs to add anything feel free to reblog this and correct me if I'm wrong. I'm going to be talking about how the press took that Monza podium but I can't recall where the bad press came from (I think it was british) so if anyone else needs to add anything, you're free to do so!

Carlos did pole. It was amazing and the Tifosi were roaring with excitement.

During the race, Carlos' car ate the tyres because he was defending from Checo. (Who ended up passing him and he got stuck with P3) (Max P1, Checo P2, Carlos P3, Charles P4)

Ferrari pitted Charles near the end of the race, giving him priority over the pole-sitter (Carlos) which rubbed many people the wrong way (at least Carlos' fans were miffed about it)

Since Charles had better and newer rubber, he took the fight to Carlos near the end of the race.

The fighting on track was on the limit, and they almost collided a few times, but, to be honest, it was an amazing fight and at least Charles sounded like he was having a lot of fun fighting Carlos.

Carlos defended beautifully but his tyres were gone by the middle point of the fight. So he asked for team orders, which Ferrari ignored and just said "fight but no risk" (basically don't take each other out pls but let's give tifosi a show)

Carlos kept defending until the end and remained on P3, so basically he earned that podium bc he fought for it really hard.

Some announcers (and some press) said that Ferrari put the wrong car on that podium. (Implying Carlos didn't deserve it but Charles did)

Some fans (Carlos') took that fight really badly. And so did Carlos' mother, who liked a tweet about Charles having no honor.

Charles cheekily responded liking a tweet from a fan that posted a picture of his win at Monza 2019 with the caption "honor"

Still, when he got out of the car, Charles looked elated. Like, he'd never behaved like that. He was so happy, playing around, teasing Fred, answering questions about the fight and saying he had done it for the tifosi to give them a little bit of a show.

Carlos was rattled, of course, but he seemed to be fine by the end of the race and happy to had fought Charles on the limit. They both gave similar replies to the press, that it was a fun fight, on the limit, and they were never at any point near collision (which didn't seem like it from the espectator point of view but you do you, boo)

Monza is basically a Ferrari ground, so to see a Ferrari driver on the podium was mayhem. They chanted Carlos' name the entire time and were pretty damn happy about Carlos' P3 (even though some Charles-solo-stans made it seem like they weren't happy about Carlos getting that P3, but we have video proof that they were damn near about to drown out everything from the podium that didn't have anything to do with Carlos with their screams and their chants. They even chanted Carlos' name during the national anthems and drowned them out so much that the TV people had to mute the microphones to keep that from feeding into the streams)

As an add-on, Carlos' birthday was around this weekend.

The thing is that well, the whole bad press-Carlos' mom-fans reaction thing kind of rubed off on the drivers. There was some unmistakeable tension between them the week after this race. So much so, that, during the fan forum the week after (Singapore), someone had asked about liking your teammate (with the mortal enemies Esteban and Pierre right next to them) and Carlos replied that he really did like his teammate, with Charles looking visibly relieved. Of course this is mere speculation on their body language, but it was... iffy. To say the least.

Then comes Singapore. And this is the run-down of what happened:

Carlos gets pole position again

Charles decides to help defend him from Russell who was P2 (it was his own idea, nothing to do with Ferrari strategy at all) and he starts the race on soft tyres. Charles was P3, and he overtook George, getting P2 early on the race.

Max starts the race along the back because he got screwed over during Q2 I think, but the fact is, he started the race P11.

Checo started P13 and had contact with Yuki.

There was a yellow flag in which the Red Bulls didn't pit, so they had older hard tyres which made them vulnerable to the Mercedes.

The Red Bulls were able to reclaim P5 (Max) and P8 (Checo) during the race.

Charles had a fumble in the pits and was passed by the Mercedes (he was P3 and dropped to P5 because of it)

Lando managed to pass everyone and he found himself in P2

At the end of the race, Carlos decided to use a DRS strategy to keep Lando on his tail to defend himself from the Mercedes drivers, who had newer tyres. This way, Lando had to defend his position thus defending Carlos' P1 in the process.

Whenever he'd get too far ahead Lando he'd drop a few seconds time and got closer again.

Final lap: Russell clips the wall and crashes so Hamilton overtakes him.

Carlos led the entirety of the race and showed a brilliant mind and strategy defending with Norris.

It was his second ever win after the British GP in 2022

This was the only race not won by Red Bull the whole year

Fan speculation (based on a very ridiculous comment from Russell, I'm guessing after he saw Charles was on soft tyres) led everyone to believe that "Ferrari had sacrificed Leclerc". The fact is, he had a fumble in the pits and lost his P2 to Norris at some point, so he stayed behind. In any case, he seemed okay with Carlos' win, they even hugged after the race and it was actually a very cute interaction. He was, understandibly, angry that the pit timing had cost him a P2, so people were just talking about him being angry after losing to his teammate two races in a row.

You just have to take into account that some fans like to pit them against each other constantly, but they've never had any public falling out or anything that could lead anyone to believe there's bad blood between them.

In any case, this was Monza and Singapore 2023. As I said if anyone needs to add anything else from the charlos lore archives, feel free to do so.

[thegnomelord]

If you do make the rest please do! Bcs like... Im thristing for sully more than price now LOL IM SORRY 😭😭😭 HE'S JUST SO BBY GIRL??? i want to fuck this prettty man so bad arghhh

I need more reader and oc! They're so good and and!! I wanna fuck em so bad like 😭😭

Okay I have no idea where this came from but you've managed to get my brain on the 'fuck Sully' bandwagon so here's this

CW:NSFW, mean dom x sub x gentle dom, domtop Reader, subbot Sullivan (oc), domtop Knox (oc) I may have forgotten what features I gave sully lol

Sullivan is a pretty boy. Pretty brown curls tussled like a crows nest, pretty thin lips kiss swollen and caught between his teeth to muffle his moans, pretty dark eyes puffy and red from crying, pretty red scales on his cheeks shining with the tears having wet them.

Pretty lithe body quivering and arching off the bed as Knox forces even more of his strap into his clenching hole, hips smacking together when Knox bottoms out with a sharp thrust. "Relax." The admonishment comes with a sharp slap to Sully's hip, just shy of hitting his balls but it earns a pitiful whimper and a spurt of precum all the same.

Sullivan's cock and balls look hilariously large on his small frame, the flared head reaching almost to the bottom of his sternum. His chest and even his chin is covered in cum from countless orgasms, Knox having expertly worked a toy until Sully had cum before switching out for a bigger one.

This had been Knox's idea. To use various dildos on Sully until you built up to a silicon mold of Sullivan's own cock. You had asked Sully if he wanted it multiple times, and by the time you were satisfied that he didn't feel forced to do anything and genuinely wanted this, he was already squirming with an obvious bulge in his pants and red like a lobster.

"Come on pretty thing," Knox growls, serpentine yellow eyes glowing with lust as he bucks his hips, the head of the toy brushing against his prostate. "You can take more than this." He slapped Sullivan's thigh again, claws raking across flushed skin, other hand snaking up to lazily roll Sully's heavy balls in his clawed hand.

It shows how Sully has even your most sadistic teammate wrapped around his finger as Knox has let Sully cum multiple times. Usually Knox preferred to keep his subs on the edge until they learned that begging for release was useless and were forced to wait until he deemed them ready to cum.

Sully numbly shook his head, blurry eyes staring up at you from where his head rested on your lap. "Please- please sir, I can't-" A loud moan was forced out of his chest when Knox pulled his hips back before roughly bucking back in, his stretched hole wetly slurping with all the lube you're using.

Your hands soothingly run through Sully's hair, his head resting on your thigh. Tenderly holding his cheek you tilt his head to look at you, "Do you want to stop?"

Your question makes Knox stop, his yellow eyes observing both of you. Sullivan whines as if you'd kicked him, eyes fluttering open and closed as he tries to focus on you. "I- sir." He whines, trying to buck his hips into Knox, trying to get him to move. He's so close he feels like he'll explode, his cock twitching against his skin as he whines.

Knox isn't taking it, clawed hands gripping Sully's hips and pinning them down. "C'mon, precious, the captain asked you a question." He growls.

You chuckle, but your eyes narrow. "Sully, answer me." Your voice is firm, keeping his head steady so he can only look at you. "Don't worry, we won't be mad if you want to stop."

"No- no, no no!" Sully whimpers, a full body shiver raking down his body. "I- please, sir- I want to continue." He sobs, his cock twitching as Knox continues to deny that mind numbing pleasure he needs. "Please, I'm so close- just, please, please,"

Your eyes meet Knox's before the man moves, slowly pulling out so Sully can feel every inch of the large silicone shaft until only the tip remains. And suddenly shoves the entire thing back in, silicone balls roughly slapping against Sully's own.

"See cap?" Knox grins as Sullivan seizes up, a pathetic sob leaving him as cum spurts from his tip, mumbling words of gratitude that are too slurred for you to understand. "Told you, our pretty thing takes cock better than a seasoned whore." He thrusts into Sully a couple more times, making a big dollop of cum spurt from his cock when Knox bottoms out.

"Th-thank you sir- oh frick- sirs." Sully manages, soft moans and shuddering breaths leaving his lips. He sobs as Knox pulls the large dildo out fully, wet and lewd sounds reaching your ears and you can just imagine his hole clench around nothing, still so needy for more.

You make a curious sound as Knox pulls on Sully and flips him over. The small man moans as his cock, still hard as rock, rubs against the sheets. "Oh come on now sergeant, that's no way to thank your captain." Knox's eyes meet yours, a hungry look in them as he pushes Sully's head closer to your crotch. "Ain't that right?"

"I suppose so." You hum, unbuckling your belt and finally freeing your cock. You'd hate to admit, but seeing Sully be ruined over and over again on Knox's various cocks has made you hard. Sully looking up at you with such adoring eyes through his ruffled hair certainly doesn't help, especially when he eagerly nods his head.

"Alright pretty boy," You see the way your low purr makes him shudder. He leans into your hand when you slide it to the back of his head, loosely wrapping your fingers in his hair. "Open wide for me," Sully eagerly opens his mouth, greedily taking in your cocktip, too fucked out to feel shy so he just takes half your shaft in one go.

Knox slaps Sully's ass in reward and you feel him moan around you. "How's he feel cap?" He asks as if he doesn't pull the poor man into a supply closet at least once a day to have Sully eat him out. Knox's wide palm smacks down on Sullivan's reddening cheek a few more times, watching the full globes jiggle before he leans back to take off the dildo he'd used, picking up one that's a little wider and longer than before.

You hum a small purr, watching Sully mindlessly slobber over your cock, his hand carefully stroking your other one. "Like a dream." Sully can't hide the shiver at your praise, wiggling his ass without even realizing. "Good boy," You say and gently pull him by the hair to take more of you, your eyes flickering to look at Knox. "Don't keep him waiting any more, he's earned this."

Knox rolls his eyes, a scoff on his lips, but you know it's just for show. "I'd argue on that." He slaps the new dildo on Sully's back, grinding it between the cheeks and letting him feel the entire length of it as he lubes it up. Sully arches his back and Knox leans back to position the thick head against his stretched hole. "But who am I to refuse a slut like this?"

[bubble-dream-inc]

TIME TO END THE WRITERS BLOCK- okay here's my request Pookie boo; Simon Riley lets his gf paint his nails. She's going into cosmetology, and needs a muse, and why not ask her hunky-dunky boyfriend?? The plot could maybe be he's on vaca, and she's all like "Yo hot stuff. Wanna get hotter?" (and she pulls out acrylics and polishes) And he's all like "...", but no matter how cold and has no emotions he is, he lets her sit on his lap while painting his nails (fake nails, cuz she put on the longest one possible to irritate him, to hear that smexxxxyyy British voice cursing on how he can't hold a teacup with the witch nails) BRIGHT ASS HOT PINK with a black skull painted on it. AND THEN SHE PAINTS HER NAILS BLACK WITH A PINK SKULL SO THAT THEY HAVE MATCHING NAILS????? COULD BE A HEADCANNON BUT IT'S SUCH A CUTE IDEA POOKIE BOO.

NSAJDNASJKDNJAKSN YOU WERE SO BIG BRAINED FOR THIS I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH

imma do headcanons bc my brain is too fried to come up with a full ass fic but i hope ya like it bb

Simon is very, very tired. He comes home from the gym on the second day of his leave to find you already standing in the living room, a menace with a wicked grin and a small metal suitcase in your hands.

At least you had the decency to let him get settled on the first day before you started with your antics.

"...What's in the suitcase." "A project." "Fuckin' hell."

After you reveal your idea, it might take some coaxing to get him to agree but it works out bc c'mon let's be honest. The man is secretly a simp and a softie when he loves someone. So he begrudgingly agrees, letting himself be dragged by your giggling self to the couch.

So he manspreads on the couch, getting comfortable as you perch yourself prettily on top of him to glue the nails to his gigantic hands (you actually have to dig around your materials a little bit to find tips that somewhat match his natural nail size), and, as grumpy as he is, he at least gets to enjoy the view of you looking so focused on his lap.

(You actually have to stop yourself from giggling a few times because of how the bright pink polish looks out of place on his dark self)

While the polish dries, you offer to go make him some tea, and end up having to help him with it between fits of laughter since he couldn't hold the cup with the extra long coffin nails he has going on.

In the end, you take some pictures and let him simmer in his misery for a while longer before moving to remove them, however, he notices how proud you were of your work, so he just agrees to keep them on as long as you cut them shorter.

So that's exactly what you do, grinning like a mad person. Doing Ghost's nails has you so inspired you actually do your own to match him, and pretend not to notice the soft look in his eyes when you proudly show your work and enthusiastically exclaim how you two are matching.

He ends up keeping them on until they inevitably break or get weirdly outgrown, and he couldn't care less about the weird stares he gets at the gym; as long as his girl is happy, he is happy.

[spiteless-xo]

i need more of ur hc content bc it has me literally sweating at the dinner table. thoughts on eren/jean and their feelings ab a daddy kink???? i must know ur ideas….

hello lovely!! 🥰 so sorry for the delay in getting to this!

also i'm sobbing rn because i wrote like half the post and then my phone glitched and i LOST EVERYTHING AHHHH anyway

daddy kink - eren & jean

jean kirstein

your approach on this is really really important. if you just casually ask him one day like, would you be ok if i called you daddy? he would immediately be like wtf absolutely not! because he associates "daddy" guys w like scumbags and he doesn't want you to think of him like that

but then one day he does a favour for you and you say 🥰 thank you, daddy! and he doesn't say anything but his brain short-circuits a lil bit... and then you notice him going out of his way to do more nice stuff for you just to hear you say it 💀

maybe you guys get into a little argument and jean is 100% in the right so you come up to him and lay your palms on his chest and look up at him w big sad eyes and you're like 🥺 im really sorry, daddy and he immediately pulls away from you with a deep, throaty fuuuckkk because that was WAYYY too hot and now he's already half-hard in his pants

by the time you say it during sex, you already know the kind of effect it has on him. you slip in a lil please, daddy -- harder! and he's going FERAL on you. fucking you into the mattress until you lose your breath and your thighs are sore from his hips pounding against you and you've got bruises all over your body from how tightly he grabbed you

and then he finally says it for the first time on his own and you know you've got him 😈 he's got his fingers buried inside of you, lips on your throat as you pull at his hair, telling him you're so close, so close, you wanna cum so bad and jean just hums against your throat like uh huh, i want you to cum real fuckin hard for me -- can you do that for daddy? and then you're clawing at his back and crying out as you cum all over his hand and he's chuckling in your ear like that's it, you're so good for daddy, baby 😭😭😭

eren jaeger

same as jean, i think this guy would hate it if you straight up asked to call him daddy. he's definitely got some issues w his own dad, so the idea of you calling him daddy makes him literally recoil in horror

but then you slip it in a couple times during sex and he pretends like he doesn't hear you but you can feel the way he grabs you a lil tighter and fucks you a little harder but if you do it too much he will cover your mouth and be like stop that 😡 but you can see the way his face gets all flushed and his eyes darken

and then one time you say it as you're cumming, daddy, fuck! and all of his resolve crumbles entirely. he buries his face in your neck as your gasping and panting and he's just fucking reeling from how hot it sounds when your voice trembles and how tight you squeeze him when you're moaning and he decides he needs more.

and you're just kinda whimpering in the aftershocks of your orgasm but he keeps going, keeps rolling his keeps, and keeps hitting that spot that has you seeing stars and he's like what was that? what did you just say? and you can't hear the lust in his voice from how fucked out you are, so your instinct is to apologize for pushing things too far but then he's like no, no, no. don't get shy on me now -- say it again.

and you're still not quite sure if he's mad at you twist your face away from him in shame, but then he grabs your chin and tilts you back to face him, looming over you as you blink up at him with teary eyes and all you can do is whimper out a quiet daddy?

and then he smiles at you, sinister, and he's like yeah? is that me? and you can only offer him a quick, desperate nod and he leans down against your ear and this time, you can hear the dark growl in his tone as he says you want daddy to take care of you? make you cum like that again? tell me exactly what you need and daddy will take reeeaaaal good care of you

[dogbunni]

[begins coughing like a cat about to throw up a furball] [spits up several nendo headcanons and then looks at u proudly]

-nendo collects hot wheels. I have no justification beyond this except that I also collect hot wheels and I think we'd have that in common. if he was real I would take nendo to a toy shop to look at all the hot wheels. just stand there and observe them for an uncomfortably long time. my friends aren't deeply autistic enough to do this with me so I can never observe the little cars for long enough before making a purchase :(

-nendo trans ally #1

-nendo has no idea what his sexuality is but not in a confused/questioning way, in a "I have never thought about it longer than 1 second" way. he likes who he likes and has no thoughts beyond that. he is label-less in a [shrugs shoulders] way. (saiki is also label-less but in a "fuck you" kind of way)

-nendo loves rollercoasters and watches weird essay length youtube videos about theme parks and animatronics. its a hobby that deeply disturbs everyone around him bc this guy cannot do basic math but he can and will channel the spirit of akechi rambling about defunct animatronics. sometimes he shows saiki pictures of animatronics in late stages of decay in horrible pitch black nightmare settings and saiki reacts as if nendo has placed a live cockroach in his lap.

-he has a condiment problem. steals sauce packets from restaurants with diagnosable compulsion.

-he doesn't Get memes. everyone has tried and failed to show nendo a meme. it's like trying to show your mother a funny picture and she holds the phone as far away from her face as she can and then stares at it for way too long before silently handing it back. he just doesn't Get It.

-hes like, really good at making memes though. he will just absently turn a phrase or take an image so absurd that everyone is still saying and reposting and reacting with it years down the line. he has no idea that he has this power

-he feeds stray cats and makes little shelters for them outdoors <3

-nendo and kaido roleplay together sometimes. I'm talking like, warrior cats roleplay. sometimes dark reunion but kaido gets pissy if nendo messes up The Lore. nendo calls it "playing pretend" bc he has no concept of cringe culture and kaido dies inside every time

-he manages to forget his own birthday. every year. saiki remembers though, and it's the one and only day he will ask if nendo wants to get ramen with him, instead of the other way around. it gets to the point that saiki asks if nendo wants ramen, and he says "what, is it my birthday ahaha" and saiki is just like. you goddamn idiot. good grief.

-last time I did one of these I said that nendo loves cute things like sanrio plushies and holds them so gently. well I see that and I am correct, but I raise you nendo thinking that SAIKI is the cutest thing he's ever seen. something about the pink hair and glasses and the little limiter bubbles on his head and his purple eyes and little frowny eyebrows- nendo wants to. hold gently. sometimes he just grabs saiki by the shoulders and stares at him blank in the face and saiki is like [nervously] "what the fuck? what the fuck????"

-he and aiura actually get along weirdly well. they're unhinged in similar flavours and it gets saiki's blood pressure up. he tries at all costs to keep them away from each other. their singular brain cells cancel each other out on sight.

-akechi makes nendo's brain hurt a little. he just can't process all of akechi's akechi-ness and it makes him feel dumb. he's fine with being dumb most of the time but akechi just makes him feel a little self conscious for some reason. (definitely not because he's jealous that akechi was friends with saiki first)

-he still likes the funny lil guy though. akechi's the only one who will enthuse with him about rollercoasters and he values those talks. so much.

-toritsuka is afraid of nendo for some reason. no one is sure why but nendo LOVES it. he's always trying to jump out and scare him. saiki supports nendo in this endeavour ardently. toritsuka suffers.

-nendo falls down the weirdest tiktok rabbit holes. it got so bad once that they got teruhashi to distract him while kuboyasu lifted his phone and deleted the app off of it. it took nendo several months to realise he could redownload it.