#as if I needed any more reasons to love this man

[astonmartinii]

but daddy i love him [guilty as sin part two] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

when an unstoppable force (the sainz men when they feel aggrieved) meets an immovable object (charles and y/n)

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, marcmarquez93 and 783,409 others

carlossainz55: never forget where you came from

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user100: insert cricket noises here

user101: who on your PR team said this was a good idea?

user102: they need to be fired, sorry not sorry

landonorris: i love your dad (tell him to stop beating me at golf)

carlossainz55: if he never lets me win he's definitely never letting you win

landonorris: so unfair i thought i was the third sainz sibling :(

carlossainz55: i'm an only child

landonorris: oh-

user103: i need this man to choke i'm being so serious rn

user104: that's so unbelievably fucked

user105: the fact his dad is probably co-signing this shit is insane that's YOUR DAUGHTER

user106: also someone give lando a lil slap around he's on the wrong side of history on this one

yourusername: scandal does funny things to pride

carlossainz55: if the scandal is betraying your family that's all you

yourusername: if we're talking about betrayal then that's your specialist subject mr. i've cheated on every girl i've ever been with - and while we're on the topic of betrayal, yes i was the one who told them

carlossainz55: i've never cheated why are you stooping to lies?

yourusername: you did it right in front of my face when i was a part of this family

carlossainz55: so you've always been comfortable going behind my back

yourusername: that's the thing, when you're treated like you don't exist by your family you learn that blood is not thicker than water

carlossainz55: i can't wait for charles to cheat on you

yourusername: btw i already called marca, they know any of those allegations from you or dad are false - good luck!

user10: obvs i know they should be doing this in private but MORE DRAMA FOR ME BABY LETS KEEP THIS GOING

user107: thank you for the validation y/n i KNEW THE SHIT STIRRING COMING FROM THAT PAPER WAS THE SAINZ CAMP

user108: and they've got the nerve to be talking about stooping - the call is coming from inside the house

maxverstappen1: ugly twins

carlossainz55: really?

maxverstappen1: i said what i said and i mean what i said

carlossainz55: i would say she's not going to fuck you bro but you really never know with her

maxverstappen1: she would never, homewrecking is a trait only the male sainzs seem to have

user109: OOP

user110: max is a real lestappen queen fighting the battles he knows charles can't

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,405 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: if you know within one glimpse, its legendary

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user114: i love how she goes from fighting her brother in one comment section to just showing off her hot bf

user115: tbf charles does have a face you'd go to war for so i get her

user116: i'd abandon my family for that face

yourusername: finally someone who fucking gets it

charles_leclerc: you made me believe in love at first sight

yourusername: awwwwww you're such a sweet talker the REAL smooth operator

pierregasly: i can verify it was love at first sight cause the man did not SHUT THE FUCK UP about you well... ever

charles_leclerc: is it a crime to love my girlfriend?

pierregasly: apparently!

yourusername: he's too cute to go to jail :(

charles_leclerc: they'd ruin me

yourusername: that's my job 🤨

pierregasly: you keep that to yourselves

user117: does this girl need to shade carlos on every single fucking post... yeah we get it he's the only reason you're relevant but god you reek of desperation

oscarpiastri: is this carlos' burner account?

user118: are the grid just sat around waiting to be tagged in to the fight against carlos?

oscarpiastri: what's he going to do? crash into me? he does that every weekend anyway

user119: uh oh carlos oscar is finally fighting back off track what are you going to do

user120: don't worry i'm sure he'll post a selfie with lando and try the whole carlando shtick to get some more PR points

maxverstappen1: oh this was not the shit slinging post i was hoping for

yourusername: something tells me you're having way too much fun with this

maxverstappen1: yeah you might have been abandoned by your family but have YOU considered that this is letting me express all my mean girl energy off track so i am level-headed on track

maxverstappen1: actually i don't even think i'm being mean tbf

yourusername: i'm glad my suffering could be your therapy

carlossainz55: BOO HOO you're not suffering ... it's something called the consequences of your actions (read: actions being a snakey slut)

yourusername: bro over here acting like i committed fratricide

maxverstappen1: TAP ME IN

maxverstappen1: not this man talking about the consequences of actions. kids, here's a little life lesson: if you spend all your time at your current job talking about how you have a much better job waiting for you and how you're too big for this job and plant stories about your co-workers, you can't be surprised that that same job doesn't want to keep you

carlossainz55: i am better than charles

yourusername: lying is a sin

maxverstappen1: and you're going straight to hell

user121: you guys might be mourning the loss of charlos (whatever the fuck that is) but i'm celebrating the absolute shit ton of LESTAPPEN we're getting

user122: max was like oh my bff is dating charles here's my excuse to be nice about him again

user123: if we're being real here the biggest crime of this whole situation is the fact that charles can't really dig the knife in

user124: @ silvia i have maybe £4.50 and a greggs sausage roll to my name but PLEASE LET CHARLES TAP IN

f1

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,298,006 others

tagged: oscarpiastri & carlossainz55

f1: f1... the sport that gives you just as much drama off track as we do on track!

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user125: at this point even before the whole carlos ousting his sister i think oscar was about 👌🏻 this close to rocking carlos nascar style we should let him do it

user126: i will personally pay his legal fees tbh

oscarpiastri: i'm only 23 i don't need two F1-related legal cases to my name

yourusername: i've watched legally blonde about ten billion times let me represent you

oscarpiastri: yeah sounds legit

user127: THAT'S IT WE NEED PROXIMITY CHAT IN F1

user128: the way we know there was a shit talking session like no other after this race

maxverstappen1: i don't kiss and tell but well - yes!

user128: okay since this is clearly a safe space... who was there please spill mr. verstappen

maxverstappen1: ME! charles, pierre, oscar, checo, alex and george!

user128: why the fuck were the last two there?

georgerussell63: i was on official GDPA duty 🤓

alexalbon: that's a lie we're just very nosey

yourusername: they're the biggest PTA moms ever don't even lie

georgerussell63: yes i'll make allergy friendly cupcakes for the bake sale but i'll also spit in them and gossip about your cheating husband - sorry about it!

alexalbon: he's not

georgerussell63: i'm not

user129: carlos slagging off y/n but she's really brought the grid together

user130: george and alex being like we do not care about that but we do want the latest scoop

alexalbon: oh don't get it twisted we're firmly team y/n

user131: we even got the f1 admin in on the drama

carlossainz55: she's probably fucking them as well

yourusername: BORING get a new bit babe

carlossainz55: if i see whore i'm going to say whore

yourusername: aren't you still in that damn stewards office?

carlossainz55: tell your little lap dog to keep his front wing away from my car and maybe i wouldn't

oscarpiastri: suck my dick

yourusername: now that's true poetry

user132: oH!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 763,409 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, logansargent & oscarpiastri

yourusername: florida !!!!!!!!!!! is one hell of a drug. no seriously what is in the water here i keep picking up these little guys everywhere i go

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user135: she's really like i AM spanish and i will colonise this grid

user136: stealing all the lil cuties for her cause

oscarpiastri: proud to be a part of this weird little circus thing we've got going on

yourusername: oh dibs on ring master

logansargent: i feel like my name is written all over tight rope walking

yourusername: okay yes skinny legend

maxverstappen1: obvs we're a cruelty free circus so no lions but if there were lions, that's me babe

maxverstappen1: SOME people could learn... cough, cough trophy hunters

charles_leclerc: idk i'll just take the one where i can sit there and be pretty

yourusername: and you would be the best at it

oscarpiastri: which one does the least? i'll take that one

user137: bro can we slow the fuck down i was just getting over osc telling carlos to suck his dick now we're talking CIRCUS?

user138: for real couldn't it have at least been cabaret i wanna see ALL of that

charles_leclerc: 🤨

carlossainz55: i think a circus is a perfect way to describe your desperate attempt to stay relevant

yourusername: don't you have a job to go to? oh wait...

carlossainz55: as if i'm threatened by a group with the likes of logan sargent in it

logansargent: bit harsh, i'm a nice guy (unlike some)

yourusername: carlos here's a little bit of a wild thing i'm about to introduce to you.... people have friends?

yourusername: also you WISH you had a face card like logie

carlossainz55: i have friends?

yourusername: no you have PR strategies, there's a difference

carlossainz55: bro learnt the word PR and ran with it

yourusername: tell me one person who would let you crash on their couch?

yourusername: QUICKLY.

fernandoalo_oficial: and don't even think about mentioning me

user139: she hit him with the bianca del rio

user140: OOP and also nando just popping up out of nowhere to diss carlos and never say anything again

charles_leclerc: the drug in question being puppy fever

maxverstappen1: tell me you didn't get a dog

yourusername: boy do i have news for you

carlossainz55: are you trying to baby trap him

yourusername: first woman in history to birth a dog you heard it here first

charles_leclerc: you simply can't be babytrapped when you would literally jump off a bridge if asked to

user141: @myboyfriend TAKE NOTES HONEY ^^^

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,745,093 others

tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc: two kids in one month? someone stop us

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user142: y/n really lost an apartment and a brother and gained about 27 f1 drivers and a dog

user143: glow up of the century some might say

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername: soz it's a coping mechanism

charles_leclerc: and that's okay <3

maxverstappen1: anything to help with that emotional CONSTIPATION

yourusername: have you tried to live with those narcissistic and emotionally unavailable men?

maxverstappen1: you're asking the wrong person that question honey

yourusername: girl are WE good?

maxverstappen1: no

yourusername: BUT THAT'S OKAY

charles_leclerc: not to rain on this parade but i think therapy would really be a positive move here

user144: i feel bad for charles cause i know these hoes are the type to just tell each other EXACTLYYYYY when they make poor decisions

maxverstappen1: true, no smart bitches would let their bff live with THAT man

yourusername: and let their bff constantly chat shit and ruin their image

maxverstappen1: can't ruin my image if i'm spitting FACTS

user145: max will nawt let this go

maxverstappen1: i'll forget you but i'll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived

yourusername: GIRL

maxverstappen1: whoops, one sec. spoiler alert: y/n unleased poetry. trigger warning: c*rlos s*inz

olliebearman: ollie bearman erasure

charles_leclerc: GASP OLLIE I AM SO SORRY

yourusername: no he actually is he's crying

charles_leclerc: it's the pregnancy hormones

olliebearman: it's okay i swear

charles_leclerc: I'M A TERRIBLE FATHER

carlossainz55: i could've told you that for free

olliebearman: why are you in our family buisness

user146: charles is channelling all of his carlos rage through ollie oh my

olliebearman: i am a happy conduit for my father who is in the ferrari PR jail

yourusername: can we send carlos here and throw away the key?

user147: charles is really out there like keep my girl's name out of your mouth cause even the bitch who stole your seat for a weekend is my SON

user148: y/n wasn't joking about with this grid domination

user149: but also i'm glad all of this fun stuff is happening amongst all of the shit that's been thrown at her from her family

oscarpiastri: a leclerc and proud (i race like my dad and throw shade like my mum)

yourusername: the best way to be

charles_leclerc: proud of you, you're such a good dog brother :)

oscarpiastri: i've just learnt to be patient after alpine and lando

yourusername: you still took your shoes being leo's personal bathroom really well

oscarpiastri: he's too cute to be mad at

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, charles_leclerc and 824,109 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: first mother's day with my boys

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user150: gonna enjoy this super wholesome post before... he... ruins it

user151: manifesting a y/n post without that bitter old hag in the comment section

charles_leclerc: the best mother for our fur baby and our miscellaneous other children

yourusername: only the best with you :(

charles_leclerc: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: i love you even more

user152: they're so fucking cute

user153: damn carlos i too would be angry if my baby sister and my teammate outshined my third PR relationship in six months

user154: the sainz family have generational levels of hating, but one does it for good (poetry) and one does it for bad (anything carlos ever says)

oscarpiastri: happiest mother's day to my grid mum! here's to reading them to filth xx

yourusername: OSC!! i always knew you were my favourite aussie

danielricciardo: did my enchante PR mean nothing?

yourusername: i mean i wear it all of the time... but it's osc ...

danielricciardo: true, i broke my hand before i could even think of accidentally hurting him

user155: also babe is looking so unbothered, moisturised and free we need the skin care routine

oscarpiastri: the tears of carlos sainz

yourusername: and cleansing your life of toxic family members

user156: okay clearly oscar was done with the whole "i'm so chill" bit cause since his adoption by charles and y/n he's been non stop on carlos' neck

oscarpiastri: i'm a ride or die for my mum cry about it

maxverstappen1: as the kids would say ... mother is mothering? @olliebearman did i do it right?

charles_leclerc: stop trying to steal my kids

maxverstappen1: BRO I'M TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOUR GIRLFRIEND

charles_leclerc: that's literally my job 🤨

yourusername: tbf i'll take as many compliments as i can

charles_leclerc: are mine not enough?

yourusername: when you've got a self esteem this low, you gotta take what you can get

charles_leclerc: oh :(

user157: max and y/n fighting over who trauma dumps more about their upbringing

carlossainz55: this bit is very tiring. you'll be a terrible mother and all these people you think are your friends will drop you as soon as they know who you really are.

yourusername: you done?

carlossainz55: as you loveeeee to point out, i don't have much to lose anymore so i really wouldn't test me

yourusername: trying to make me homeless and stealing all of my money wasn't enough?

carlossainz55: charles will know the truth soon enough and you won't have us to come crying to

yourusername: i'll take those chances thank you

user158: hold ON what do you mean stole all her money

yourusername: i was never allowed my own bank account so all my earnings have gone to them!

user159: okay that's it WE RIDE AT DAWN

fin.

note: oh girl life has been BUSY!!! i just got a new job and have been looking desperately for a flat to move out to. also i've had family visiting and going here, there and everywhere. but i hope you enjoy! this was a lil more light-hearted lol (until the end) so enjoy the addition of the leclerc family lore xx

ALSO i wanted to say a massive THANK YOU FOR 6,000 FOLLOWERS love you all <3

taglist: @aadu2173@rhythmstars@kqliie@booksandflowrs@2bormaybenot @firelily-mimi @evie-119 @mehrsdigitaldiary @sltwins @bibissparkles @evans-dejong @eiaaasamantha @23victoria @halleest @venusacrossthestars @boywondrgrayson @rare2306 @charlesgirl16 @reguluscrystals @hiireadstuff @destinyg237 @mael1pastry @sweet-creature98 @changetyre @eclipsedcherry @its-elias-world @brune77e @exotic-iris13 @woozarts @alenix @minkyungseokie @sheridamn @boherahpsody @jaydaaasworld @e-nonsense @vogueprincess @loloekie @dckgzz @cluvsya @amberpanda99 @apollosfavkiddo @lyraconstellation @marshmummy @casperlikej @softtina @gabys-gabs @happyhoganluvr @sesamepancakes @mehrmonga @hdigditditdjgd @elijahslover @k4marina @velentine @callsignwidow @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @thetorturedblogger @bwormie @moldyshorts1997 @mellowarcadefun @ietss @cecedrake2217 @charllleclerc @golden-hoax @nikfigueiredo

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #astonmartinii

[fcthots]

I log onto tumblr sometimes just to see your posts lol, and I love all the smut content, but I was wondering of you’d write something for a reader who isn’t feeling up to having sex one night, and they’re worried about how Jason will react but instead of being pushy about it Jason just cuddles the reader and affirms that they’re valid?

(I might be going through it a bit and feel this would be nice to read)

Thank you!! Also I think I needed this too lol

He was running on that post patrol adrenaline rush that leaves him looking for any outlet of release. Usually one in particular. You. He comes in through the window of the living room and lets his boots thudding on the ground be your warning. Before he even closes the window, his helmet is taken off his head and dropped to the carpet. He’s usually so careful about his precious equipment but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The clatter of his helmet is loud, much louder than his boots. You can hear it from under the water of your bath. You lift your head above water, and by the time you clear the water from your eyes, he’s standing in the doorway. His chest is heaving. You can see the tight coils of his fists, the lines of tension in the shoulders, the clench of his jaw. You know what he’s looking for.

But tonight isn’t the night for that.

You don’t stop him when he kneels on the ground by the tub and takes your drilling face between his hands, or when he kisses you with the enthusiasm of a starved man. His hands trail from your face to your neck and then trail down your collarbones, and down more. You pull away.

His hands stop. His face tilts like a confused puppy. There is a slight worry in his eyes, and unspoken what happened.

The words are hard to find. “I don’t um. I don’t think we should-. Maybe it would be-.” His hands trail down to yours. He hold them in his and gives a light squeeze, an encouragement, a go on. “I just don’t quite feel up to it tonight.”

He gives you a small smile reserved for you and you only. He gives your hand a gentle kiss, and then your cheek. “Ok. That’s alright. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

You search his eyes for any sign that he might be lying. You can’t find any but just to be safe, you ask, “are you sure?”

He tilts his head again and smiles. “Of course I’m sure.” He moves his body to make himself more comfortable sitting on the ground. He brings his elbow to the lip of the tub and rests his chin on his hand. “So what have you been up to while I was gone?” The easiness of the question makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy. There’s just something about the casual tone in which he says it, like he wasn’t planning to fuck you not even five minutes ago.

“I’ve just been in the bath.” You swirl some of the water around for emphasis. His nose scrunches when a few droplets of water hit his face. You try to hide your laugh.

“The whole time?” You were hoping he wouldn’t ask. You’ve had to rerun the water a few times after it got cold. You just couldn’t get yourself to get started for some reason.

“Yeah.” You watch the calculating and searching look in his eyes. He doesn’t ask why. You don’t want to explain, not right now.

“Do you want me to wash you? I don’t mind. If you’re ok with it that is.” He moves to sit on the lip of the tub. You just watch him.

“You wouldn’t mind?” He’s already answered the question, but doubt lingers in the back of your mind.

“I’d be happy to. My hands really need something to do right now. Washing your hair would help.”

You smile and nod as you bring your knees to your chest. You wrap your arms around them and drop your head down to watch him reach for the shampoo. Maybe it was something in his training, but that man is incredible at scalp massages.

#saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader

[cameronspecial]

Need the rafe and reader locked up in a room 🙏

Don't Stain The Carpet

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Heated Make Out

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

Topper and Kece were sick of the fighting. It was happening all day, every day now and they just wanted it to stop. They might even prefer the days when the two would be caught in a heated makeout session instead of an argument. So, they devised a plan to get the exes on a more cordial playing field. “Dude, I don’t know what’s wrong with it. One moment it’s running fine. The next, it won’t start,” Topper complains, leading Rafe down to the basement. The other boy grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. Just show me where your laptop is. I don’t know why you called me for it. I’m not fucking IT support.” Topper throws him a sheepish smile over his shoulder. “But you are good with computers.” Rafe rolls his eyes, “Stop being a kiss ass. I’m already here.” 

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Topper shuts up and steps out of the way so Rafe can pass through first. The tall man thinks nothing of it and enters the finished basement; however, when he is face to face with his ex-girlfriend, suspicion overcomes him. It is too late though because as he turns to leave the room and ream Topper out for this setup, the door is locked behind him. He rushes to the door, trying to open it even though he knows it is locked. “Topper, you little shit. Open this door.” He is met with silence, so he steps away from it and turns toward Y/N. “What are you doing here?” he questions. 

She rolls her eyes, “Top said he needed help picking out a gift for his mom. Why are you here?” They both know they have been lied to. It’s obviously from the fact that a laptop isn’t in sight and two separate reasons as to why they are there. 

He glares at her. “Oh, you know, Top said I could meet the Queen of England so I thought wow, I gotta get there. Why does it fucking matter? It was a lie.” She scoffs, “See, that. That is why I broke up with you.” He chuckles and runs his hands through his hair. “One. The breakup was mutual. Two. What. What is the reason you ‘broke up’ with me.” She holds out her hand and motions up and down, “Because you are an ass. That’s why. You only care for yourself and that’s it.” 

“Oh, please. We both know that isn’t fucking true.” 

“Right, sorry. I forgot about drugs and alcohol. Those might be pretty high up your list.” 

“STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH!”

His yell has her flinching back and he takes a deep breath while running his hand down his face “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” Her arms cross and she stands straighter. “You shouldn’t have,” she chastises. “Look, just because we are locked in here together doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other. I’ll go see if a call can get through. I mean we really should’ve seen this coming. His basement doesn’t get any signals.” 

With her final mutterance, she storms away from him. Her back hits against the wall and she slides down it. He observes as she pulls her phone out, hearing the familiar music of the cat game she enjoys playing sounds through the room. He smiles at the memory of her turning onto her stomach after an eventful night of love-making to play the game. He would always make fun of her and then rest his chin on her shoulder to watch her play over her shoulder. She used to get so excited when she would find the cat she was looking for. A crease in her forehead forms and he laughs. The noise has her staring at him over her phone. “What?” His hand extends toward her hand, “Didn’t get the cat you wanted?” her gaze flicks down to her phone with a frown. God, she hates how much he knows her. “Yes,” she whispers, slouching in embarrassment. 

Silence occurs on them. He shuffles over to the couch and decides to stroll down memory lane. His thumb swipes through the pictures. Her smile is so bright in this one and the sun hits her just right so it adds an extra shine to her eyes. He should’ve deleted all their pictures together when they broke up but he couldn’t bring himself to delete them. So he hid them away in a folder and promised to never look at them again. He hates that a distance has grown between them. He has to fix it.

“The only thing I ever cared about other than myself is you,” he mumbles. “Hmm,” she sounds out, not looking up from her phone. He clears his throat, “I cared- I mean I still care about you. Maybe even more than I care about myself.” He takes a second to think about it. “Actually. I definitely care about you more than myself.” The tone shifts in her room and she puts her phone down. He heads over to her, settling on the floor beside her. She looks him in the eyes and her vision has blurred. “Then why weren’t you there? You promised you would be after all the other things you skipped. The worst thing was that you wouldn’t tell me where you were.” He bites the corner of his lip and reaches into his pocket for his keys. He grows through his keys and holds them out to her, “I was out getting this. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” She takes the key ring into her hands and a shiny diamond stares back at her. “You were buying me a ring,” she murmurs. He nods, “I wanted to marry you and I know that this wouldn’t have made up for all the other things I missed, but I was hoping it would show you that I was committed to being with you.”

Everything she has felt for him for as long as she has known him comes cropping up and she takes a chance. “Do you still want to marry me?” she questions. His hand rests on her cheek, “More than anything else in the world.” She grins at him with tears leaking out of her eyes. “Then let's get married.” She presses their lips together and swings her leg over him. His fingers lace through her hair, pulling her in closer than possible. As she begins to grind down into him, a loud crash comes from behind him. “I wanted this to work. However, I didn’t want this to work this well,” Topper gripes. Rafe’s eyes narrow at him. “Get out,” Rafe growls at Kelce and Topper, who are standing in the doorway with wide eyes. Kelce and Topper look at each other with a nod. Topper grabs the doorknob and pulls the door closed. “Don’t stain the carpet!” Topper’s voice pleads through the door, causing the newly reunited couple to laugh together.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

[rajarasas]

Warmth Amidst Dust

Gender-neutral Reader & Jiyan Comfort

Minors DNI - this blog writes dark and sexual content.

Content warnings: Panic/anxiety/ptsd attacks, left vague but reader experiences extreme dissociation and derealization and struggles to breathe due to anxious thoughts. Mentions of minor character death, paranoia on reader’s part. Basically, reader has a panic attack and Jiyan holds you while you breathe. Please be aware of the tags and do not read if these topics may trigger you.

Can be interpreted as romantic or platonic! You are a soldier under General Jiyan who has pushed yourself too hard recently, causing panic attacks. General Jiyan noticed and offered a shoulder to hold while you relearn how to breathe.

Word count: 1.5k - Also read on Ao3

You never once thought you would ever thank the dust of Norfall Barrens. As a rookie soldier you had grimaced through it, determined to protect the city you loved despite the discomforts and hardship of enlisting in the Midnight Rangers.

But now, three years later, it was a welcome respite from the sharp, biting winds. The particles stuck to your sweat-slick skin, a grimy but effective layer that allowed you to fight the abominations with a shield from the bone-chilling wind streams. The icy breeze got to you over time, seeming to attack your skin at every opportunity, leaving your limbs tender and your bones brittle.

Unexpectedly, what relieved the wind chill the most was another gale, one scripted by your trusted general, Jiyan. He moved like a deadly dancer guided by a loong dragon’s spirit. It was clear your sentinel itself chose Jinzhou’s general, his unwavering sense of justice an arrowhead directing the war against the Lament’s effects.

A composed man who overflowed with warmth and care at his core, he warmed every space he ever entered both with his aero resonance and his very spirit. The medic turned leader was almost universally beloved, a man who faught alongside his soldiers, a voice of strength and reason so desperately needed in and out of the battle field. His mere presence strengthened resolve against the Lament’s corruption, igniting and directing soldiers’ will to fight for their home like the strong tendrils of wind that uplift gentle embers into roaring and ferocious wildfires. His guidance inspired you and so many others, and you worked hard to earn your place in a unit directly below him.

The call of your name by one of your companions shook you out of your thoughts. In the relative safety of your camp you were able to let your mind float following your shifts on watch. You tended to do that more often these days. Only in battle was your mind sharp; otherwise you were simply a shell of a human, no different from a golden echo on the field. Warmth graced your hands in the form of a bowl of hot soup, the scent of spices wafted into your nose, a very welcome surprise. Such commodities were rare these days, perking up even your dulled senses.

“Come on, I know you’re tired from your shift but we have a feast prepared today!” a new fellow you fought alongside with today called at you with a smile. You managed to offer one back. A feast in these parts meant warm food and extra proteins, and spices it seemed, this time. A welcome blessing in this hell. While you’re sure you would be glad, truly, your soul never stirred in celebrating any longer. Years of war had stolen your life force, only your determination and spite sustaining you. But it was easy to wear a mask of normalcy, falling into habits to alleviate your mind of a little bit of stress, letting your consciousness float and watch your body acting from above you, a spectator instead of a player.

The warmth of the bowl certainly sang to your body, blood pumping heartily from the sustenance. But your mind was as barren as the lands you camped on, a floating ghost devoid of nearly everything, that only came to life with skill and sharpness gifted to you in battle by adrenaline.

That very familiar chemical rushed through your veins, releasing your body from its cold prison and igniting your muscles to tense, ready for action. A foreign sound had resonated around you, causing the adrenaline to release. The call was loud at first, a deep bellow sounded, followed by quick, breathless exhales of mirth and an echo of the very sound by vaguely familiar voices. It occurred to you then: laughter. The noise was laughter. You shifted your gaze around the camp, finding the young soldier who handed you a bowl howling heartily with some senior officers. How long had it been since you had heard laughter for it to sound so foreign to you?

You truly didn’t know.

It wasn’t unwelcome, but it was a disruption to your routine that allowed the voices in your head to rise louder, your mind waking to make sense of the new occasion.

What was the joke, why was your comrade so happy? asked your mind. Mild annoyance traipsed through your thoughts, uncharacteristic, but an understandable ally. This was not a place for disruptions. Anything could happen here.

What if there were TDs creeping up on the camp right now? What if they had heard the ring of joy and legions of them were gathering to snuff it out, racing here in ground-shaking gallops like horsemen of the apocalypse. You had seen so many of your allies, your friends, fall to those beasts. Resounding memories of their cheers of camaraderie in the early days echo throughout your mind, cruelly juxtaposed with visuals of their brutal deaths. The monsters taunted you, holding your loved ones’ image captive and jeering at you while they poisoned your world, your beloved city, your home.

The world around you seemed to distort at the thought, the sky dropping. You were caged in by some invisible force, and noisy panic bubbled in your chest. Air began to feel denser, a newly elusive substance your lungs had to chase. The very thing you began craving seemed to mock you, seeming to grip your ribs and crush them inwards while refusing to let you draw in a breath. Your chest stuttered and attempted to heave before being yanked back by your achingly empty lungs as you began hiccuping for breath. Only when your airways started to sting and your face began to numb did you realize your situation and manage to gasp for breath.

You didn’t know how long had passed after you wheezed the sound of panic. You felt nothing until the bowl you were clutching was removed from your lap. A large hand came to rest on your shoulder, replacing its warmth. A scent so familiar that it unconsciously calmed you followed its motion: a fresh forest breeze tinged with the sharp sting of metal. The air began to flow in smoothly, enriching your body. A cooperative ally once more.

“Breathe, soldier,” the strong voice rumbled.

General Jiyan. Your general, Jiyan. The air once again blessed your bloodstream, feeding every inch of your body and once again giving you the gift of life. You had begun to breathe slowly and deeply, just as you had learned in training. In for four, hold for four, out for four. The familiar timings of the count served to calm both your body and mind.

The presence of safety, of your general’s strength near you, was a very welcomed gift. You sighed from your chest once the world had returned to clarity and life size in your vision and you once again heard the murmur of celebration around you. Unfortunately, your reaction was not unfamiliar to you. The toll of seemingly endless battle drew on your very soul, leaving your body weak and weary. And yet, after dozens of times, not even a decorated soldier under the great General Jiyan could manage to snap yourself out of the hell on Earth that was your own mind, not on your own, not in a way that left you sane.

“I’m sorry, general. I let my head get the best of me. Thank you for-“

The hand on your shoulder squeezed gently but firmly, a message to stop talking. As you looked up to gaze in the golden eyes of your general, you were met with pure gentle care. His understanding smile reached his eyes.

You caved to your pure exhaustion. Wordlessly, he let you relax into him, your head coming to rest against the front of his shoulder. You sighed once more, lungs filling to capacity and deflating equally in rhythmic undulation as your spirit came back to inhabit your body, bit by bit. Your general was so warm, so caring, so safe. Eyes closing against his form, your breathing slowed even without your measured counting. One steady hand gripped your side while the other came to rest along your shoulder blade, forearm resting comfortingly against your tired back. He rubbed gentle circles firm into your spine, grounding and soothing the ache in your muscles.

“Don’t speak. Ive seen you pick up extra shifts, push yourself hard. It is the most worthy of causes, no one here faults you, least of all me. But your work is done today, soldier. Rest.”

There was no hint of a waver in his voice, no false sympathy or concern. This was General Jiyan. This was safe. You nodded into his chest, accepting the help you so desperately needed. Jiyan hummed his approval as he continued to soothe your back. You could feel him brush away the dusr, replacing its tentative shield with his own unrelenting one. Your very bones seemed to breathe again, and your thoughts wandered not to the chaos and havoc of the war, but to the warmth and comfort of your general’s presence as you were surrounded by a joyful camp, grounding you instead of letting you dissociate. This was safe, and so, you breathed.

#jiyan x reader #jiyan wuwa #wuthering waves #jiyan #comfort #platonic #cw: ptsd #cw: anxiety #cw: panic attack #cw: paranoia #I wrote this following my exhaustion from working myself out of a ptsd attack #jiyan hold me please

[calaisreno]

Sixth Sense

885 Words / Prompt: Intuition

Molly notices. 

She’s not really a friend of John’s. They're friendly, but she never has much to say to him. He’s kind to her, and probably aware of how she felt about Sherlock. 

As one of the few who knows Sherlock is alive, she has a terrible advantage over John Watson. Not the one she used to wish for. 

They met in her lab, when Mike Stamford came looking for Sherlock, to introduce him to John. Well, nobody introduced her. Sherlock was fixated on her lipstick for some reason. She remembers John’s eyes on her, then turning to focus on Sherlock. That was the day she finally figured out that Sherlock wasn’t interested in her. In time, her crushing disappointment was lessened by the realisation that he was gay. It wouldn’t have mattered what shade of lipstick she wore or however many coffees she brought him; he would never look at her the way he looked at John.

At first she thought John was straight. After her blunder with Jim from IT (who turned out to be not only gay, but also a criminal) she consulted her friend Jasper, another gay man. “How can you tell?”

Asking this, she wasn’t thinking about Sherlock, or even Jim. What she was wondering about was John, who sometimes looked at Sherlock as if he’d hung the moon, but still dated ridiculous women. 

Of course men have different taste in women, just as women prefer certain types of men. She was attracted to men like Sherlock— tall, pale, Byronic hair, blindingly intelligent. Men who entered rooms with a swirl, who spoke with voices that made her shiver. They were hard to find, and to expect such a man also to be kind, romantic, and not gay was apparently too much. 

John dated women who were a bit out of reach. Taller women, confident women, the kind who didn’t need the right lipstick to be noticed. The kind who didn’t own three cats and spend the holidays with their ageing mother. These unobtainable women never lasted more than two dates. And he never seemed to mind.

John is not Molly’s type. She appreciates his abilities as a doctor. He has the right manner with Sherlock, a bit snarky, but not mean. He’s not tall, not gracefully slender. He has a temper. He’s blond and a bit sweary, good-looking in an average way, an ordinary bloke who goes out for pints with people like Greg Lestrade and Mike Stamford. 

She’d barely noticed him that day in the lab. He’s a man who doesn’t stand out, who completely disappears in the shadow of a man like Sherlock.

John and she are that awkward thing: friends of friends. He would never introduce her as, my friend, Molly. It would be Sherlock’s friend, Molly. If he asked a favour of her, she would do it because Sherlock would appreciate it, not because she feels any obligation to John.

She doesn’t hate him, or wish anything bad on him. She might have felt jealous for a few days, simply because Sherlock never forgets John the way he forgets about her the minute she’s out of his sight. 

She noticed him watching John, usually when he wasn’t looking. He looked sad. And she thought, I know what that feels like.

The memory of that look weighs on her, weeks after Sherlock’s funeral. A hard day, that was, sitting in a pew trying to fake sadness as she watched others grieve.

As she watched John grieve. 

What does it mean that John Watson looks like he’s lost everything? She sees him at the hospital sometimes, his hooded gaze avoiding the eyes of others, his psychosomatic limp making him wince with pain. 

She can’t say what it is that tells her. Maybe she’s just practiced for so long on other men that she’s developed a sixth sense about it. 

John loved Sherlock— not just as a friend. And he’s probably just now realising that. She supposes that quite a few men dismiss those feelings of attraction. Jasper says, all men are gay, potentially. It’s just easier to stay in the closet.

There are various reasons for that, and she doesn’t want to speculate what John’s are, but she observes his grief, and knows regret is a large part of that. 

Sherlock will be back, someday. He wasn’t very clear about when. Six months, maybe a year. But she thinks he’s being optimistic; he wants to come home to John, not leave him to grieve for years. 

And by the time he does make it back, John will have found another woman. Blonde and pretty. Nothing like the dark beauties he used to date. But still, clever like Sherlock, a bit imperious and demanding. He will look at her the way Sherlock always looked at him, when he didn’t notice. 

She could tell him. There’s only her promise to stop her from doing that. Could John keep the secret? Sherlock told her not knowing will keep him alive, that knowing would put him in danger.

She’s not in danger. Nobody thinks she mattered that much to Sherlock. Her feigned grief is taken as real, but everybody knows she’ll get over it. Just a crush.

As for John Watson, this might just kill him. 

That’s a problem she could solve. 

#mayprompts2024 #POV Molly Hooper #sixth sense

[jack-ackles]

i have waited long enough to say this but LORD DEBLING IS AN ASSHOLE.

i cant fucking take all these tweets and "opinions" saying penelope should've ended up with debling and that debling is better than colin

all those people can go and (i can't stress this enough) fuck themselves!!!!!

A man in his mid forties looking for a bride in a room full of eligible women in the age group 18-22

He was looking for a wife in the room full of girls who wished for a good match, loving and dashing husband.. but HE wasn't looking for "love" as he would always love nature more.

He wanted to marry asap so that he could leave for his tour, which also meant:

he wanted a wife who would basically be his housekeeper and look after his estate.

which probably also mean, since he doesn't have a family, he would leave for his tour but not before getting his supposed wife preggo so that he will have an heir to continue his legacy in case something happens to him. that's why he was looking for a wife urgently this year.

he was looking for someone LOYAL? but when did he ever give any hint that he would not cheat? he was the one to roam the world meet thousands of people.. no promise of being loyal himself but wanted to leave a wife behind him to take care of his properties AND be alone waiting for him?

The way he didn't need more than one hint that penelope was in love with someone else to cancel his proposal makes me sickkk, not a chance, no understanding, just a direct assumption that she WILL cheat behind his back.. its a proof he just wants a housekeeper and someone to make and look after his heir, NOT. A. WIFE!!!

Also, lets look at this from penelope's angle.

to all who think lord debling is in the race and there is a debling-penelope-colin love triangle are sadly mistaken and once again i blame media illiteracy of people.

the only reason pen even looked at debling's way was because she gave up hopes of LOVE and a happy fulfilling life. When she realized if she wants freedom from featheringtons for rest of her life she needs to get out there and marry someone from whatever options she can get,to fit in society. she gave up on waiting for colin to love her back, she gave up on colin (and thus, the first polin kiss). And the first, only and best option she got was lord debling.

And as for colin..

When he said "I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington", The intent behind his words was not to belittle Penelope but rather for his friends to know that the nature of their is relationship as friends only.

(ofcourse this is obvious because colin could never say bad things about penelope.. evrr!! but once again.. media illiteracy! or should i say colin haters)

saying colin is a rake who "slept around half of europe".. colin is 22 or 23 years old. trying to fit in society. trying to find a purpose, trying to find intimacy and not feel distant. he is young, he was single, young, didn't have realization of his romantic feelings for yet.

but people are acting like debling in his mid forties did not sleep around.. he literally travels all the time, colin is still half his age. And also, in the show nothing implied he would stay loyal while on tour after being married.

colin didnt realize pen was in love with him so as his friend, a man, he always kept his distance respected her boundaries as a woman. He interacted with pen very less at the balls and events because he is seen as an eligible suitor in the eyes of society and it wouldn't help pen get suitors. in season 3, he hears pen and wants to help her (selflessly as he did with others) to get a suitor - but started realizing his feelings.

but the day he realizes his feelings for pen he didn't play around like other MLs, went straight away to pen, managed to come on right time to stop debling's proposal, he didn't play around.. just confessed his feelings then and there!

i am 101% convinced that whoever keeps saying pen should've ended up with lrd debling really wants her to live a miserable, lonely life even after the show keeps telling us she wants a loving, fulfilling life after what she has to go through with featheringtons.

wanting penelope to end up with old ass debling who is distant detached over a young tall and handsome man who is also her bestfriend, who she also loved ever since she first saw him?.. its cruel. its simply HATE.

"colin couldn't match her intellect"

"colin will definitely end up cheating"

"who would want to marry a rake over a rich smart explorer who would be gone for years and you could live a life like jane austen"

"it felt like throwing the fat girl a bone"

stfu. gtfo. kys. fys.

#sorry for the rant but this particular topic makes my blood boil #they really hate penelope #they could've asked for the same thing in other seasons where ml was repeatedly deny his feelings and kept going for the sister #colin realized he was in love and went down on his knees infront of penelope #FUCK DEBLING #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton season 3 #polin #bridgerton #polin bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #RANT

[sinisterexaggerator]

John Hancock - NSFW Alphabet

Only out to have a little fun! Enjoy (or not)! This is just my take on his character.

3.8k words (oops).

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

No matter how you decide to do the deed, Hancock has your best interest at heart, as long as you stay in his good graces. He wouldn’t necessarily baby you after sex, but he’ll make sure you’re all right, as you may wind up participating in several experimental or unusual scenarios. But in the end, John wants to make sure his little ray of sunshine is well-rested for round two.

He'd offer you chems for a bit of a pick-me-up, a cigarette precariously hanging from the corner of his mouth—he needs a smoke after. It just “feels right.”

He would pat his shoulder as a place for you to rest your head, then pull you in nice and tight before sharing a drag with you, going insofar as to place the filter against your lips, held loosely between two fingers. No uncomfortable post-coital silence—unless you’re into that.

Hancock might even get all philosophical on you now that his head’s clear. I can see him being into pillow talk regardless—we know he loves to run his mouth—nothing a romp in the sack with you won’t cure.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

I have a feeling Hancock isn’t picky, as long as your heart is in the right place. There is more to him than being a “drug addict.” I’d say he’s well-read, even though he acts on instinct—he may be pretty well fond of your brain.

Hancock puts a lot of stock into how people think or speak versus their actions. He’s not a pushover, doesn’t take any bullshit, and if your belief system matches up with his—if he, “likes the way you operate”— you don’t have much to worry about.

Still, I see him favoring something warm and supple to grab onto, something soft to kiss. And he’ll take his time when he’s in the mood, dishing out compliments as he explores every inch of your body.

Maybe with being a Ghoul, it’s a real treat when you get to knock boots with a human. I can see him missing out on what that feels like from time to time.

As far as his own body, I see this man as a bit self-conscious, though he doesn’t let onto that fact quite often. Comments about his “ugly mug” are made in jest, but there is some truth to that within his own thought process and how he perceives himself, most likely, despite the whole “King of the Zombies” vibe he says the ladies love.

Personally, I think his confidence is partially a façade.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person:

Hancock always makes sure you get yours. Multiple orgasms are in the cards, as he knows exactly how to make your toes curl, and he’s not above using that information to his advantage.

You’re the wettest thing in the Wasteland when Hancock’s around, and you can bet your ass he’s going to comment on it every chance he gets. Otherwise, he loves to play in it; to spread the sheen between his fingers; to lick it clean off while you watch, or to smear it over his withered skin, lubricating his cock with it.

All in all, it’s a stroke to his ego to know he’s the one responsible for making you cum that hard that often. You can be damn sure he’s out to fuck you every chance he gets. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

I mentioned this in another post, but Hancock likes it when you’re addicted to chems because he’s the one providing. As long as he’s supplying the drugs for you to get your fix, you’re not going to leave him high and dry.

Maybe he fears being, “skipped out on,” thinkin’ it’s just another reason for you to stick around. It ties into him being insecure—call it insurance. He’s not proud of it, but you don’t seem to mind, and there’s no one around to call him on it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

Based on comments we hear throughout the game, Hancock was known to be a looker before being a Ghoul. He’s still a looker even after his transformation, and he is well-aware his physical appearance garners the attention of the ladies, or so he says. From this we can infer Hancock has no trouble in finding someone to fuck. I’m sure he has been around the block more than a few times, but it would be the appearance of someone special in his life that might make him rethink his whorish lifestyle.

Despite being a bit of a promiscuous rascal who most likely participates in a lot of meaningless sex, when he finds the right person, I am sure he is more than happy to be monogamous. But overall, I would say he definitely knows what the hell he’s doing—why else would Bobbi make that comment about everyone being in love with him?

Hancock’s a catch, contrary to whether or not he believes it himself, and for more than one reason, me thinks. And it is common for even those people who are “good-looking” to be self-conscious and worried about how others perceive them, so that doesn’t change the idea of him still being insecure despite his charm and charisma, though him saying he’s charming could be him playing at being facetious.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):

The Couch Surfer*

Hancock loves to bend you over the arm of the couch in the Old State House with you face down in the cushions as he plows into you from behind. It allows for deeper penetration and more thrusting power, with your feet either on the floor, or with your knees pulled in toward your own body as your legs hover off the ground.

This also makes it so neither of you have to get entirely undressed if you don’t want to, or if there is simply no time for anything but a quickie. With both of you pulling down your trousers, or with you hiking up your dress, it makes for easy access, and the angle is just right for hitting that sweet spot.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

Hancock is a switch in more ways than one. This can go either way, as he’s not afraid to get weird or try anything once. At the same time, if you’re his special person, he may be inclined to take things a bit more serious. Think body worship in this case, or copious amounts of praise, romantic notions in your ear—that sort of thing.

This doesn’t account for if you’ve pissed him off, as all bets are off, and I’m sure he can think of more than one way to set you straight, even if that involves being more condescending than usual, or withholding sex all together because he’s just “not feeling it after the way you’ve been actin’.”  

In fact, he may be able to home in on if he’s frightening you—that in and of itself can be a turn on. Oh, you’ve been misbehaving lately? Get ready to meet No More Mister Nice Ghoul. Although, you’d have to fuck up royally for him to take any of that so serious.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):

No hair, don’t care (obviously)! But Hancock may enjoy running his fingers through yours, and he does so gently, not afraid to brush that stray strand out of your eyes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):

This can also go either way, depending on Hancock’s mood. One minute he’s treating you like the filthy whore you are, and the next minute he’s spewing off the most romantic things you’ve ever heard. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, no matter the topic of conversation. He’ll tell you to suck his cock like a good little slut, but then don’t put it past him to confess how much you mean to him in the same breath.

In other words, you can simultaneously be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, while also receiving an earful of the dirtiest, raunchiest trash talk to have ever been uttered by man. He knows you’re going to come undone regardless—he just has that effect on you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):

Hancock loves to force you to watch him masturbate when it’s impossible for you to touch him. That American flag at his waist serves well in a pinch, able to tie your hands up so he can sit back and pleasure himself without you interfering.

Long, languid strokes drive you mad, Hancock not skimping on the heady eye contact, enjoying it when you come unraveled at the seams. You’re begging to join in, to please him yourself, but this is where the fun begins—cry for him all you want to, those handcuffs aren’t coming off, not until he says so.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Oh, man. OK, here we go!

Praise kink – Hancock gives Golden Retriever boyfriend energy. Maybe it’s the fact he follows you around in-game, but he would take so well to you praising him. “Mn, yeah? You like that? Let me show you what else I can do…”

Role-play – I can see this man being into role-play scenarios. He already basically cosplays as a historical figure— it gives him the freedom to mess around with you knowing he doesn’t mean any of it in the end. You can be sure he’d have a safe word if that’s something you’re wanting. He’d take on new roles himself, or play along with yours. “Big bad Mayor” comes to mind for those of you who want a little more bossing around.

Sensation play - Hancock is big on touch. He loves to trace your skin with his fingers, or for you to touch him. I can also see him being into sensory deprivation, blindfolding himself so his sole focus remains on the feel of your hands smoothing over his callous flesh. I’m sure besides a lot of one-night stands, he barely gets anything in the way of attention. It’s always quick and easy— to really be close to someone? That takes guts.

Brat taming – This is a given. Maybe it’s not a game, you’re just really a brat. He doesn’t mess around when it’s time to get serious, so if you’re in his way, or if you’re rubbing him wrong, expect to hear about it. Think daddy/little girl vibes in most cases, but this can spill over into the role-play arena as well. But it’s not all negative—if you’ve been a good girl or boy, he’s willing to praise you for a job well done.

Degradation – Shit-talking him to the point of degradation is a thing he’s into. Not that he believes everything you’re saying, but he’s able to take a few verbal punches without psychic damage. The more sarcastic and ruthless you are, the more he respects you, and the more it may turn him on. He enjoys someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, but he also enjoys being put in his place, if you have the balls to try.

Bondage – Tie him up and have your way with him, or he’s liable to do the same to you. He loves a strong, take-charge woman, and a go get ‘em kinda man. He has the most fun when you’re the one who’s “powerless.” He’ll drive you wild before he finally gives in—the best part is watching you squirm and beg for him.

Exhibitionism – He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere; he doesn’t care who watches, but watching’s all their going to do. Hancock’s always down for a quickie, or something a little more intimate, but it doesn’t matter if it’s in the privacy of his suite at the Old State House, or the backroom of the Third Rail. Sex is sex, and there is no one he rather have it more with than you—anytime, anyplace.

Knife play/ Gun play – This Ghoul will use any and all means with which to get his rocks off, and he has a special place in his heart for knives. He’ll draw blood, or not, running the blade across your skin, not afraid to use the hilt to fuck you. The same goes for guns of all sorts, shells or bullets removed. Expect them to be put into places – like your mouth, or cunt. He’s not shy about it.

*I should add he is a total switch. He can play at top or bottom. IMO he plays bottom more frequently for male partners, and tops for female partners, but again, he loves a woman who knows how to take charge – he wouldn’t mind if you stepped on him.

Overall, he has a lot of sadistic qualities, but he’s also a bit of a masochist— he knows when and where to draw the line. He would never hurt you or do anything without your consent, UNLESS you’ve done something to get on his bad side, then there is no telling what might happen.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do):

As I mentioned earlier, this man is an exhibitionist, so he would settle for fucking you anywhere he could. However, the riskier, the better, as he’s not afraid of getting caught—it’s part of the thrill. But if he’s feeling romantic, maybe he takes you to the roof of the Old State House, out under the stars.

Afterward, he lays with you there, pointing out the various constellations he’s read about in books. Maybe he even dragged an old mattress up there—no one will miss it—as it’s a place you frequently rendezvous.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

Violence and compassion, LOL. Allow me to explain:

Put simply, you putting down assholes for all the right reasons gets him hard. Hancock’s all about dispensing justice, about helping out the little guy, so if he gets to watch you kill evil fucking people while doing just that? Talk about a bonus— a really attractive one.

“Mn, the way you cut that guy’s head clean off—I wanted to fuck you right then and there. You should have seen his eyes bug out—bastard knew what was coming.”

Also, you doing a lot of chems and lowering your inhibitions for him? You willing to get freaky with him? That just makes you soulmates.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs:

Cannibalism, which is self-explanatory considering his comments in the game in regard to Sole if you have/use that perk. Hey, at least he’s not too judgmental.

I also do not assume he’s into torture, or blood and gore. A quick, merciless death is more his style, but considering his thoughts on Pickman and his “artistic flair,” plus not wanting to go anywhere near the gallery to see for himself, makes me think he’s adverse to that kind of thing. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting people or causing pain, only when the situation truly calls for it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

I see him as preferring to give, though he won’t turn down a blowjob. It is a high all its own to get you off so easy with his mouth.

All those delicious little sounds; the way you writhe beneath him; the way you hold the back of his head; the way you say his name… It’s addicting, almost more so than chems. And I should say he’s not above eating ass.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):

Again, both—depending on what his mood dictates. He’s not afraid to fuck you hard and fast, but he can also slow down and make love to you when he’s feeling soft. He’s a moody Ghoul, but it is a part of his charm. Time spent with him is never boring.

Sometimes, pure, unbridled lust wins out, or maybe he’s feeling sadistic for whatever reason—in this case, you may find yourself unable to walk the next morning.

But he can also be sensual, taking his time to please you proper while sending you to heaven on a cloud of fluffy, romantic words. He’s multifaceted, and so is your love for each other.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc):

I don’t think I am alone when I say that Hancock commenting offhand about, “you just say the word if you wanna take a little, uh, chem break” is most likely a euphemism for sex and very suggestive.

He sure as hell has nothing bad to say about quickies. Getting down and dirty at a moment’s notice is in his wheelhouse, so don’t be afraid to tell him when you’re in the mood, no matter where you might be or what you might be doing.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):

Bears repeating, I guess. He’s up for almost anything and everything, minus the eating human flesh part. He’s not afraid to take risks in any aspect of his life, always out to do the right thing, even if there are consequences.

In relation to sex, he’s not shy, and doesn’t expect for you to be either. Feel free to open up to him about your deepest, darkest desires—he would be thrilled to help you out in that department.

Expect him to offer chems beforehand, or to check in with you if it’s something a little more high-risk. Safety first and all that nonsense—he truly cares about your well-being, but it’s also nice to know he’s met his match. That’s not to say he wouldn’t have fun corrupting you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):

I’m going to say that the regenerative effect that Ghouls possess also allows them to recuperate quickly after sex. Hancock has a stamina stockpile; he could go for hours, or for multiple rounds.

Of course, he also doesn’t mind just holding you, slowing down to bask for a little while in your amiable company.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

Back to the knife-play, gun-play kink, I suspect he not only uses various, dangerous tools to pleasure you, but also rope, or handcuffs. Everyday items that can he repurposed into something new and fucked up—alligator clamps for your nipples, or an Institute shock baton as a cattle prod—if you’re into that sort of thing. In other words, he’s not afraid to experiment.

As it’s the “end of the world,” I am not sure he has access to expensive, exotic toys, but if he did, he would be sure to use them. Maybe there’s an old sex shop with a few top of the line products still on the shelves. He’d nab anything for shits and giggles, trying various things out on you and on himself. Not like he has anything better to do.

But even so, he probably prefers it just being you and him, nothing fancy. He doesn’t need it— you’re all he needs to have a good time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Hancock often plays unfair. He loves to tease you to the point of edging. He’ll take you as far as the cusp of an orgasm, then let the feeling dissipate, driving you toward insanity a little more each time.

And he’s so good at what he does; you’ll cum when he allows it. Lucky for you, this time he’s feeling generous—but if you pout? He’s done for.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):

Hancock may make you scream his name, but he’s more of a subdued moan, heavy breaths in your ear kind of Ghoul. He’ll whisper sweet sentiments or speak all the filthy, filthy things he’s going to do you, but may be a bit of a pillow biter when roles are reversed.

He’d still take it like a champ, though, chomping down to keep from “embarrassing” himself. I also bet he’s a bit of a whimperer, or a whiner, fingers digging into the sheets as he buckles down under you like a common whore.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

I’ve got two:

1) Hancock is an over-protective boyfriend who is always out to “watch your back,” whether that be keeping his eye out for creeps, or intervening in a conversation on your behalf. I can also see him as the slightly jealous type, though he would bring it up only due to his own insecurities. Otherwise, he quietly stews until it eats away at him enough he feels the need to say what’s on his mind.

“Hey, if you’re getting bored of me, just say the word—I’ll go.” I don’t think he wants to stick around where he’s not wanted.

2) Hancock is into PDA maybe more than he should be. He’d let you sit in his lap in public while his hands travel your body. He’d caress your waist and thighs, and whisper jokes in your ear that are only meant for you to hear— Hancock loves making you giggle. He’s also up for dragging you into dark corners for steamy make-out sessions, or just wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. Let ‘em stare, he gives no fucks who sees you together.

Of course, he’s also OK with just gazing at you lovingly when no one’s looking— not even you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

Hancock’s cock is just as scarred and damaged as the rest of his body, but he can still get it up, and the striations and respective bits of raised tissue are basically just another way of saying “ribbed for your pleasure.”

It’s variegated in color, or various shades—pale, deathly white, intermingled with dark, almost cadaverous-like patches. If you’re into necrosis, this is the man for you, though nothing is falling off or anything like that—he’s 100% intact, willing and able.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

I imagine he has a pretty high sex-drive, but sex isn’t everything to him by any means. He’s always down for a quick romp in the hay, but he’s also not opposed to cuddles.

Yes, he’s a cuddler. With the sappy, over the top romantic lines he says in game, how can this man NOT want to bury himself in your arms every chance he gets? And don’t put it past him to be clingy, either. That’s not always what he’s about, but it can happen with the right combination of brain chemicals and fluffy feelings.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

I see Hancock as waiting for you to fall asleep first, or at least being cognizant enough to know what is going on in the event he has to keep you safe from whatever’s lurking in the dark, whether you’re hiding in the ruins, or walled up somewhere in Goodneighbor—can never be too careful.

In addition, I peg him as someone who may be a bit of an insomniac. He’s a bit hyper in game, and with the fact he pumps himself full of chems just to try to get high, I imagine even as a Ghoul it could fuck up your sleep cycle.

Still, when he falls asleep he sleeps hard—but don’t mind waking him. He’s ready to go when you are, just give him a minute.

--

If you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for my John Hancock x Fem! Reader fic in the next day or so! 6.8k+ words of porn with plot. :D

P.S.: if you have a specific request, or just want to talk about Hancock in my inbox, feel free!!

#John Hancock #Fallout 4 #Fallout #Ghoul #John Hancock x Reader #Fallout smut #Headcanons #x reader #x you #Hannie #FO4 #Mayor John Hancock #Fallout Ghoul #John Hancock Fallout #alphabet game #Hancock #Hancock x Reader

[kandyzee]

These scenes always make me think about Fionas and Frank's relationship pre s1 so I'm gonna talk about it.

The way she flinches and makes herself as small as possible HURTS me.

I think its important to put that she doesn't have the same reaction when men she doesn't know shout at her. Fiona can confidently get into confrontations with strangers. This is why I link it back to Frank. Fiona isn't scared cause she being screamed at its because someone she loves and cares about is doing it.

Whenever Frank's physical abuse is brought up, people almost always go to Ian as an example as he's the one who we see it happen to most. This is fine, but I think because Ian is such a clear representation, people often don't think about the other siblings.

Frank was likely much more violent towards fiona than we see in the show. I have a few reasons for thinking this.

First would ofc be the way she acts in these scenes. She has grown up trying to hide away from Frank's violent behaviour. She knows how these things start, and it's normally with shouting. In my experience, people don't go straight to hitting. They will throw things at the other side of the room, then it's in ur direction but not quite at you. Then It's screaming at someone in their personal space and punching near their head. Fiona had to deal with that where the others didn't. I'm not saying one or the other is worse, but they are different experiences. Fiona didn't know when Frank would finally snap and actually hurt her. Not knowing is a whole different fear. This explains why her brothers screaming makes her so scared.

Second is that fiona was younger and not able to defend herself. Frank didn't face any consequences for his actions. Who was going to stop him when fiona was meant to be the one in charge ? Frank is always less violent towards the youngest kids, like how he hits Ian but not Debbie or Carl in the early seasons, but once Debbie is older, he's violent with her too. Fiona is the oldest, meaning there was no other option than to take his anger out on her. As they all get older, fiona is able to stand up for herself. This reminds me of the "never hit my kid again" scene. The way she talks to Frank so confidently in this scene makes me think she has a long history of standing up to him.

We all know Frank favourite is Fiona. This means he was more comfortable hitting her. Similar to the way mickey is Terry's favourite, Frank's higher expectations of Fiona lead to her disappointing him more. As fiona gets older and her need for his love seems to die down (like debbies), Frank starts to resent her. Fiona is supposed to be a daddies girl. She's meant to love him even more than he does her, but she doesn't anymore. Frank is her dad. He doesn't act like it. Fiona acts out to desperately try to make him act like a dad. Instead of her putting pillows under his head, making him dinner alongside her siblings, she's distant and rude. This just ends up making him scream and punch more.

Now fiona is grown. She's 21 and almost never the target of Frank's violence, but she's still trying to protect her siblings from him. A few years passed, and now her brothers are grown. The boys she raised, protected and loved, the ones who are meant to be her rocks, are screaming at her. In her face the same way Frank, the man who was supposed to raise and love her, did. She is scared in the same way she was when she was 5 years old. She doesn't know if or when she's gonna be hit.

I think fionas childhood is something people don't think about in depth enough. Anyway love her forever.

#shameless us #fiona gallagher #fiona gallagher childhood #fiona and frank #frank gallagher #fuck frank #shameless #fiona shameless #frank shameless #ian gallagher #debbie gallagher #lip gallagher

[tojigasm]

so in love with old man bf butcher. like u make fun of him for being an old man and he gets all huffy and rolls his eyes at u AHHH

"Y'so deep," you sob, words cut off by a pitched wine rolling up the back of your throat at an angled thrust.

"Yeah?" Butcher practically sneers from above you and you can hear the smirk in his voice. His bangs stick to his forehead and veins of his forearms bulge with ever movement he makes.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut.

"Yeah."

"Still think this old man can't give ya' what ya' need?"

Truthfully, you hadn't expected your own words to be thrown back at you – despite your obnoxious claim that 'he was too old to keep it up' was the whole reason the two of you were in this situation to begin with. You both knew there was no serious threat behind your words, you just wanted to rile him up.

His words send a shock of pleasure to your core and you instantly reach down to circle your clit only to have your wrist snatched away.

"Nuh uh." His eyes lid and he cocks his head to the side some, thrusting at a deeper angle.

You shake your head.

"Please–"

"Nope." He quiets you with a shake of his head, "you wanted to piss me off so yr'gonna take what I give you since you can't find it in yr'self to just tell daddy when y'miss him."

There's a layer of soft to his tone that makes your eyes tear up and legs go numb.

A whimper falls from your lips and Butcher moves to throw your leg over to rest in the crook of his elbow, opening you up.

You gasp at the sensation and the older man chuckles above you.

"Thaaats it. Right there, huh."

"Yes, daddy. Yes." You nod, lashes strewn together by the wet of your tears.

He gives you a particularly rough thrust that has your head falling back against his pillows and your toes curling.

"Hey," he's quick to slip a hand under the nape of your neck, tilting your head back forwards, "Eyes open, keep 'em on me."

The stretch of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls has your eyes fluttering closed and your legs shaking in Butcher's hold.

Butcher taps the plush of your thigh and you open your eyes in response, doing your best to make him proud under the intensity of it all.

"C'mon, love, ya'got it – There she is," he soothes, meeting your swollen lips in a gentle kiss as he ruts into you to the hilt.

The intimacy paired with the intensity of it all has you shivering and sobbing into his mouth, grabbing at any part of him that you can in hopes of grounding yourself.

"Butcher, please–" your voice breaks into a sob when he hikes your other leg over his shoulder and sinks his length to the base inside of you.

"Oh shit." Butcher groans, dropping his head to look at the way your cunt swallows his length whole.

Eyes rolling back and cunt quivering pathetically, you let out a broken gasp.

"I can't, oh my god."

Butcher doesn't shed any more time before he's thrusting into you so deep and at such a rough angle that you're nearly seeing stars.

"M'gonna cum," you manage, biting weakly at the skin of his forearm.

"Yr'okay, cum fr'me, dollface."

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher smut #the boys #the boys tv

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Cassian: some honkas

its crack yall

“Baby, do I have man titties?” 

You didn’t know if you should look up or keep reading your book. You love the man dearly but sometimes, some random shit comes out of his mouth. 

“I know you heard me. Your foot twitched.” He said. 

“Maybe my foot is just twitchy.” You dryly said back, turning a page. 

“Maybe you’re ignoring your lovely mate and husband.”

You looked up, sighing. “Yes Cassian?”

“That’s all I get?”

“My love, my light, the reason I breathe, what do you want?” You asked dryly. Even though your tone was dry and deadpan, you both knew that he was in fact, your love, your light. 

“That’s better.” He grinned as he walked to you in the chaise lounge. Pulling your feet into his lap, he wasn’t even out of his training clothes and was already massaging your feet. 

You loved your Lord of Bloodshed bat. He may be the most powerful war general in centuries but he’s a gentleman! 

“Do I have man titties?”

Yeah, hearing it a second time did not help your laughter. You snorted and he gasped. “I do?!” 

“They’re very nice titties.” You giggled. “I love them. Best rack I've ever been with. And I've been with some honkas.” You laughed. 

“Am I just a slut to you?”

“No, you’re a slut for me, baby.” You grabbed his arm, “there’s a difference.” You giggled. 

He looked flabbergasted. You continued. “Who said you have man titties?”

He pouted. “Azriels girl.” 

You snorted even harder. “Hey, Az has man titties too! Just not as scrumptious.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Who else has man titties?”

You shrugged. “Babe, this conversation is not something you wanna do.” 

“No no tell me whose ‘honkas’ you’ve been looking at!” He playfully yelled as he pulled your legs so your butt was resting against his thigh. 

“Feyre’s got a nice pair. I’d motorboat Lucien's any-“

He tickled your foot which cause you to glare and shriek. The shriek ruined the intimidation of the glare. 

“Lucien?!” He asked incredulously. “When did you see his?”

“I haven’t? Do you think I've seen Fey’s?” 

He shrugged. “I don't know what you girls do at sleepovers.”

“uh…Not that.” Except that one time Mor needed help seeing if a mole was worrisome. But. He didn’t need to know that. “But, your pair of titties is my faaavorite.” You drew him closer to you. 

“Yeah yeah.” He looked down at yours, your top shifting so it showed more of your tits. “Yours are mine.”

“Better fucking be.” You muttered and smooched his temple. 

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acofs #acotar x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #acotar crack

[almostnugget]

Pretty Gifts

Coriolanus Snow x fem!plus-size!reader

Your husband bought you a dress, but when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror…

word count: 3.2k

warnings: body-image stuff!, vague…whatever the fuck is wrong with coriolanus subtext, allusions to sex, OC!family/family members for reader and their strained relationship, reader has a LAST name but no first name

a/n: GOD. im suffering from a severe level of brainrot for this man and im finally shedding my fear of posting about him so have this VERY self indulgent piece i wrote…ages ago bc there was just. no plus size/curvy reader for this man. Also this was originally written in 3rd person but i changed it to 2nd so hopefully it sounds alright

Since falling in love with his wife—you, Coriolanus Snow has developed a certain proclivity for buying you things. He used to before, but now it's near constant. They can't leave the house without you coming home with a new trinket, a new piece of clothing, new shoes, anything.

But he'll do it when you’re not around just as well. If he sees anything and it makes him think of you or if he thinks it's something you’ll adore, it's nearly a given that he'll buy it.

Especially clothing.

He's had your exact measurements since you’d gotten married and his cousin, Tigris, designed your wedding dress and while those measurements might've fluctuated, he is well acquainted with your size. Which means, Coriolanus Snow is free to buy his wife any clothing he sees fit.

And he does.

You joke that he likes dressing you up like you’re his own little doll, but you never say it with any annoyance. Something is fun about your husband seeing clothing and simply needing to see his wife in it. It's flattering.

Most days, he'll come home after this or that meeting and drop a bag in front of you with a succinct, "I got you something." You smile almost immediately and always say, "You didn't have to," but you both know he will keep doing so.

And usually he'll insist you try it on for him as soon as possible, if not right away. Other times he'll wait, and declare it's the perfect thing to wear to whatever event they have to attend right around the corner, and you take that as a sign to wear it then.

Some days, however, it's you who comes home from an outing with your mother or father, or one of your siblings. You’ll come home and greet your husband as you usually do: all but tackling him in the hallway with a hug and kiss or the more subtle 'hi' and a kiss on the cheek.

He'll pepper a simple 'there's something for you on our bed' into the conversation and you know you’ve received another piece of clothing. Sometimes he won't say anything, but you know that look in his eye.

And eventually you’ll go into your shared bedroom to find whatever new piece of clothing Snow's picked out for you laying out on the bed—an obvious sign you should put it on right away so he can see you in it when he sees you next. And you usually oblige (though sometimes you’ll try it on just for him and then put back on whatever you were wearing, simply for comfort reasons and he doesn't mind because at least he knows now, and it's always better than his imagination).

Today was no different.

The heels of your shoes click against the marble flooring as you walk further into your home, pausing momentarily as you decide whether or not you want to take off your shoes or not. Before you can decide, you call out, "Coryo?"

It doesn't take a moment for his voice to call out, "In here!"

You hurry into the parlor where you spot your husband sat on the small loveseat, book in hand. His head lifts at the sight of you and you waste little time in hurrying over, falling onto the seat beside him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Hi."

It never fails to make a smile overtake his stoic features and he reaches over, hand pressing into your cheek. "Hello, darling," he whispers and gives you a proper kiss that makes the stress of the day leave both of your bodies.

He pulls away first this time (you swap off), and his brow quirks. "How is your sister?" He asks, thumb still caressing your cheek.

"Normal," you tut, shifting around to lay on the couch, your head landing firmly in his lap. You meet eyes and you smile. "Annoying."

"Better," he remarks, and not even he can hide the satisfied twitch of his lips. You both get a strange thrill whenever the other says something on the edge of mean.

You do love her sister. To an extent.

Geneva Day (née Thorne) is the eldest of the Thorne siblings, seven years your elder, which meant you never spent much time together growing up. Close is not a word to describe you. Especially since, when Geneva learned of Coriolanus' desire to marry the youngest Thorne, she disapproved.

The only ones who knew the marriage started as a sham were the parties involved and your parents, so perhaps Geneva sensed the falsehoods, but in your mind, what right did your sister have to dictate your life? Simply because Geneva had already married? No, you wouldn't have it and you said as much.

But Geneva persisted right up until the wedding when you blatantly told her: "I'm marrying Coriolanus Snow whether you are there or not." And Geneva had no choice but to accept the marriage. Her qualms have lessened with time but you have not yet forgotten about your sister's harsh words towards the man you now love.

"But Cami's ok," you breathe out, sinking further into the couch and your husband's lap, shutting your eyes.

Cami, Camilia Day, is your young niece. While Geneva is on thin ice and probably always will be, you can’t bring yourself to extend the same feelings towards the young girl and in truth, the trip to the park with your sister was more or less just about your niece.

"I played on the swings with her."

"Did you?" Coriolanus asks and although your eyes are shut, you can hear the teasing grin in his voice. "I suppose that means you weren't pushing her?"

Your nose wrinkles. "Cami insisted on pushing herself, I couldn't interfere." Your tone is so matter-of-fact, Coriolanus can only laugh. His fingers twine in the strands of your hair.

"I'm glad you had a good time, dove," he tells you and you hum in response, turning your head to relax more in his lap as he continues stroking your hair.

"I'm just happy to be home."

And Coriolanus never doubts that you mean that.

It's taken him some time to get used to, but his wife genuinely means it when she says she would rather be with him than anywhere else. He used to hate the way his heart would pound when you’d say things like that. Now, he savors the feeling.

Silence passes between you. His fingers continue carding through your lock, his eyes falling back onto the book in his opposite hand, as you lay with your head on his lap.

But eventually, he can no longer help it.

"I got you something."

Your eyes crack open. Your husband's eyes are fixed on his book, but you know he can see you in his periphery because the corner of his mouth twitches upward as soon as you look his way.

"Did you?" You question, unable to hide your own smile for a moment more. Part of you should feel guilty about the way you get constantly doted on, but you can't bring yourself to do so. Still, you say, "You shouldn't have."

"Nonsense," Coriolanus tells you, as he usually does. "It's my job to give you the things you deserve." His eyes finally look down at you. "And you deserve the finest things I can get you."

You stare up at him, mulling between saying something and simply leaning up to mold your mouth to his. You settle for the former. "Then, thank you, my love," you hum, hand reaching up, tips of your fingers running over his cheek.

You know that always gets him, evident by the way his eyes flutter for a moment and you bite back a smile as your hand falls back down.

"I'm assuming it's clothing?" You question and you can tell from the look on his face that it is. But you know it usually is anyway. "I'll try it on later." You shift onto your side, nestling your head further into his lap. "Too comfy to move now."

He laughs, and his fingers continue through your hair. "That's fine. You can wear it for dinner tonight."

The two of you have elected to dine out tonight, if only because it’s been awhile and while love the food you can get at home, restaurants always scratch a certain itch.

And Coriolanus likes showing you off. Sometimes.

You hum in affirmation, content to agree. Once more, silence falls but you’re quick to interject, "Read to me?"

It doesn't matter what he's reading, you like hearing his voice. And as he usually does, Coriolanus obliges, dulcet tones beginning to permeate around the parlor as he reads out the passages of his book for his wife to hear.

You stay that way for a long while until Coriolanus leaves to get some work done in his office and you let him part with a kiss and then settle yourself back onto the couch to relax a while longer.

Eventually, however, with dinner approaching, you head to your shared bedroom. There's a piece of fabric laid out on the bed but you ignore it for now, electing to shower first—whatever clothing you’re meant to wear tonight will look far better if you’re clean, and after a day in the park, the shower feels necessary.

Twenty or so minutes later, you walk back into the room wet hair tied up on your head and a towel wrapped around you as you admire the dress on the edge of the bed. Your eyes light up at the sight of the finery your husband's picked out for you.

Fingers skimming the velvet material, you bite her lip, unable to deny this is exactly the kind of thing you would want to wear.

It's a deep red, almost a wine, made of velvet. The straps are thin, and the top is fitted with corset boning from the looks of it.

Immediately, you move to change, eventually pulling the dress on. It's snug in a comfortable way, not too tight and not too loose. And the skirt is fitted, contouring to your body. It's nice.

You glance at herself in the mirror, satisfied, and move to fix your hair and at least put on a necklace, if nothing more. Makeup too, if only because you don’t want to give the public anything to say about your ‘unkempt’ face.

Coriolanus can only pay off so many people, you’ve found.

By the time you’ve finished getting ready, you flop back on the bed with a content sigh. While you’re excited to show off your new dress, you’re also just hungry for dinner. Whether it’s out or at home, it’ll no doubt be something good, like every night—Coriolanus won’t settle for less, and your mouth waters at the thought.

You know you should head down now, but you pause once more to catch a look at yourself in the full-body mirror that sits in the corner of the room. Your hands skim the skirt, tugging it down your thighs a little when you still.

Your reflection stares back at you for a moment too long. The dress looks gorgeous. The stitching is fine, the design exquisite.

But on you?

Doubts begin to creep in.

The youngest Thorne is by no means skinny. You never have been, but you’ve accepted it. You like your thighs and the way they're on the thicker side. Even your hips are nice, wide perhaps, but nice. At least, so you tell yourself.

But the way the woman in the mirror stared back at you…

Tentatively, you turn to the side.

Most of your dresses, in fact all of them, flare out at the waist. They don't hug your stomach, leaving it hidden underneath the fabric. This dress does the opposite. It hugs your flesh, emphasizing the pouch of fat.

Biting your tongue, you face forward again, unable to miss the way the dress hugs the divots where your hips blend into your thighs. It's all on display. Not an inch is hidden.

Your arms wrap around your midsection and you glance to the door. Coriolanus wants to see you in this. But you can't let him see you, not in this.

It's irrational and you know it. He's seen you in far less clothing and doesn't care, why would he mind the dress? But a little voice in the back of your mind tells you that this dress will simply make him realize.

Grimacing, you sit back on the edge of the bed. Trying to work up the courage to change or go to dinner, you do neither.

Coriolanus is at the dining table, eyes fixed on the doorway in waiting for his wife. All he can hear is the ticking of that incessant grandfather clock in the corner. His hand taps the table and he mentally counts the seconds.

Have you fallen asleep? Is that it?

That's the logical answer, but his mind starts to race with unsavory thoughts about you avoiding him or worse. He bites them back until they leave a bitter taste in his mouth and he leaves the table.

Swiftly, he makes his way to your bedroom and raps his knuckles against the door. "My dear?" He calls through the wood.

Shame wells up inside of you and you swallow it back. "You can come in."

He doesn't waste a second, turning the knob and stepping into the bedroom. Whatever sight he expected to see, he isn't sure, but his wife sat on the edge of the bed completely done-up for dinner yet not moving, isn't what he expected.

"Dove?" He questions, and his unsavory worries start to fade, yet not completely as he shuts the door behind him. "It’s getting late.”

Biting your tongue, you nod, exhaling softly through your nose. "Right," you breathe. "I- I know.”

His gaze narrows for a moment. "Why didn't you come out?" His eyes fix on your attire and his heart thumps. "You're wearing the dress."

"I am."

Your tone. The way you avoid his eyes.

Coriolanus stuff his hands into his trouser pockets and sighs heavily. "You don't like it."

You gasp, eyes meeting his. "No, no, I love it. Coryo, really, it's beautiful," you assure. His head tilts and his eyes narrow again, scrutinizing you now to discern the problem then. It's your turn to sigh. "I don't think the dress likes me."

There's a furrow in his brow as he replies, "It doesn't fit?" That doesn't make sense. He had the dress tailor made to your latest measurements, how could it not fit? Did someone not listen?

"No, I-" Your words bite off and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. "I...I don't look good in it."

The way Coriolanus looks back at you, you'd think you’d spoke an entirely different language. "What?"

"I don't look good in it, Coryo," you repeat, a little surer.

And now he sees it. His wife is hunched over, one arm wrapped around her middle. The other hand is tugging her skirt down.

For a moment, he says nothing, contemplating how to approach this. Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "Let me see."

The heels on your feet scuff against the carpet and your nose wrinkles. "I don't-"

"No," he says and you know he's serious now, "stand up."

You sigh again and he lets you take a moment, knowing he's asked you to do something you deem terrifying. Eventually though, you stand. Your hands wring in front of you for another long moment, before you let them fall to your sides.

Coriolanus says nothing more, eyes roving slowly over you. He begins to circle you and you feel oddly like prey being sized up by a predator.

He comes to a stop in front of you once more. Trying to avoid his eye, you duck your head but his fingers tilt your head up and your eyes immediately find his cold, icy blue ones.

"You're right," he says flatly. "You don't look good in it." Your eyes widen, and he adds, "You look breathtaking."

He's calling you breathtaking but it's his words that take your breath away. Breathtaking?

"I would never use good to describe you," he continues, his voice a whisper in your ear as he moves behind you. His hands find your waist and he directs you to stand in front of that mirror you found so detestable. "Good doesn't say enough."

"Coryo—"

"I'm not finished," he cuts you off, and you press your lips together. His eyes flit to the mirror in front of them and he notes the antsy look on your face. "What do you see?"

"Me. You."

"What do you see when you look at yourself? Right now?"

You sigh heavily, biting your tongue between your teeth. Your eyes fall to your body, particularly that midsection. You don’t get the words out because Coriolanus slides one of his hands around to press flat against your stomach. He pulls you flush against him.

"Is this the problem?" He asks, voice low in your ear. His other hand falls to your hip. "Is this?"

"Coryo-"

"Don’t."

Your lips press into a thin line. He makes it hard to argue. "Yes. That's the problem." His fingers dance over your stomach in a way that makes you shirk back against his chest.

"I don't see a problem," he whispers against the skin of your neck. He makes it very hard to argue.

You try again. "It's— There's too much."

"Good," her husband growls into your ear, fingers pressing against the flesh of your hip. "More for me to have."

The sensation makes you jolt slightly, a familiar heat crawling up the back of your neck and spreading to your cheeks. You can't even bring yourself to reply, but you don’t have to, because he’s not finished.

"You can think all you want," he begins, and his tone is a touch softer, "but you look ravishing, my dear. Every inch of you was made for me." He leans closer, nose brushing the curve of your neck. "And I love every inch. Not even beautiful begins to describe what you are."

Your expression softens and your hand reaches up to your shoulder, hand pressing into his cheek. "Coryo," you whisper, turning your head to face him. "You mean that."

And it's not a question. Because you believe it. You don’t have to believe anything but him.

"I do," he replies, leaning closer until his nose brushes against yours. "Even when I first saw you, I knew you were the most divine woman I'd ever seen."

A laugh bubbles out of you. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Snow," you tease and it's enough to make him smile as well. Your lips press against his for just a moment before you pull back and ask, just to check, "You really like this dress on me?"

"I do," he repeats, a little more emphatic. "And I'll buy you a dozen more like it to prove it."

Another laugh, one that makes your nose scrunch and your eyes crinkle. "That won't be necessary." Another kiss. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

With a sigh, your hands fall to cover his where they still rest over your stomach and your hip. Squeezing his hands, you glance at your reflection and find that it doesn't look so bad anymore.

"I guess we should head to dinner now," you muse, but you don’t have time to move before Coriolanus is pulling you closer.

His mouth hovers over the space where your neck meets your shoulder and he whispers, the sound somewhere between a purr and a growl, "I want to eat something else first..."

Dinner will have to wait.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #reader insert

[oocfreaky]

🍂 ₊ ⊹ unresistable ex . ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

PAIRING :: Matt x Danielle (Reader)

WARNING :: smut, unprotected sex, backshots, ( perhaps writing errors ‼ )

SUMMARY - you go to a party, not expecting to see your ex boyfriend there. you guys end up in the same room once he sees you trying to hide from him, which leads to a intimate moment between the both of you …

✎ AUTHOR’S NOTE - this indeed is my first tumblr so it won’t be as well as any of the other ones out there and lowkey felt like making one for this MAN (he’s too majestic not to), enjoy ??

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

DANIELLE’S POV ::

i wear the outfit my bestfriend made me wear to this stupid party; a lettuce bell bottom sleeved crop top, baggy jeans, sneakers to match my shirt, silver jewelry to compliment my black hair and makeup, topped off with these sunglasses that i don’t need since it is night. i walk toward the party that my bestfriend forced me to come to. i sigh before taking a few steps. there basically aren’t any lights and just led projectors, a movie playing for no reason, music blasting through speakers, then that’s when i see somebody familiar in the worst way.

there he was, matt sturniolo. he looks so good in his orange polo, white jacket, jeans and boots. he looks like a dad in a sick, yet, attractive way. i didn’t like him, in fact, i was over matthew. i roll my eyes playfully, even if he doesn’t see. i smile faintly, making my way upstairs. i take one glance back as i head up; he sees me.

in a panic, i rush to the nearest room and it was dark. i turn the lights on and see it was some guy’s room. i sit on the edge of the bed and play with ring intertwined in the necklace i had on; matt’s ring. i out my purse on and look in the mirror. suddenly, somebody knocks on the door, getting me startled.

i gulped and fix my hair, ready to leave and open the door. i walk so quickly, i run into the guy’s chest. i chuckle, “sorry, didn’t see you ther…” i get interrupted by my eyes meeting matt’s, “could this night get any more embarrassing,” i thought to myself.

he grins ear to ear, towers over me. he looks down at me and chuckles softly, “where do you think you’re going,” he questions and i look away, clearly awkward about this whole interaction. i was still the bashful kind and he wa still confident. of course, when we first met, he was shy too, but his confidence grew onto him and is why i loved him so much, but also the reason why it all ended.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

MATT’S POV ::

she looked like a dream, just like the same day we met, she looked beautiful like always. her embarrassment didn’t change one bit, she was the bashful kind when we started talking and that’s why i fell in love with her, sucks that it didn’t last, but maybe that spark can return after tonight; i got everything planned in my mind.

“i’m going to go get a drink since i walked her, moorest road is a bit far from my place so,” she gets through and tries to make her way down, but she doesn’t make a step down because I grab her wrist and pull her back into the room. she yelps and i lock the door, “are you still trying to avoid me, dani? it’s been two months since our breakup and you’ve been avoiding me at school as well. seriously what’s going on, why did this all happen,” i demand in a calm tone.

she looks away and crosses her arms. i sigh and rub my fingers against her arms and up just below her shoulders. i wanted her to know i was interested in her still and still cared a lot about her the same way i still love her. she sighs and looks me dead in the eye with her dark eyes, “because your confidence, all girls liked that and i felt insecure and needed that time to reflect on myself then be those girls who get angry at their boyfriends because of their own insecurities… i couldn’t do that to you so i ended it and focused on myself, i did it for me and it sounds selfish i know bu…”

i cut her off by crashing my lips onto hers. I don’t know why i’m doing this, but deep down, i kind of felt relieved i did because she returns the kiss. i put a hand on the back of her head and the other on her neck gently, i couldn’t be any more happier.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

DANIELLE’S POV ::

i wasn’t mad about the kiss or his touch. i actually was thinking about trying to get him back earlier that week and here i was, brushing my lips against his. i pant in between kisses and my hands go around his neck, caressing it. i pull away for a moment and his hands go to my hips, gripping it and leaning us back. he sits down on the bed and places me just on top, like a cherry on ice cream sundae.

i kiss him more gently than before, “oh matt…” i moan out loud enough so only he can hear.he pulls away enough to speak. he whispers over my lips “you don’t understand how much i missed you, dani…” a small smile plasters on his face and kisses my neck. i pant in excitement and chuckle, i loved how he called me dani while everyone called me danielle or elle. he then grips onto my ass and i pant harder. he shuts me up with a deep kiss and unexpectedly throws me beneath him in a somewhat of a soft way. he kiss my neck and explores my curves and body with his hands, “you’re so beautiful tonight, dani…” and i grin softly. he takes off my shirt in a swift move and unclasps my bra. i take his shirt off as well and he chuckles darkly, “you like this hm,” revealing his bare chest. i nod and he manages to take off my jeans. i help him a bit, taking off my shoes.

we stand up from the bed and get completely undressed. he takes one look at my bare skin and tells me in a husky tone, “you look way too good not to fuck,” before grabs my hips and collapsing on me, landing on the bed as our lips meet again. i pant and he cups my cheek in one palm and my breast with the other. i pant and he pulls away once again, his cock grinding against just in front of my clit.

he clears his throat, “do you have one,” referring to a condom and i shake my head, “i have been on the pilll, we’ll be fine,” i respond, lying. and he nods. he adjusts himself and flips me over, bending my body and standing us both up until i was in a position for him to give me backshots. i take a deep breath, preparing myself.

he slowly enters inside me and i gasp since the first and last time i did this was over half a year ago with him. i pant as he thrust in and out of my in slow and deep pace. i pant and moan softly. he grabs my waist as he continues at this pace for a few seconds, “that’s the girl i fell in love with,” he fixes my hair and begins to pick up the pace, causing my moans to increase.

i pant and cover my mouth. he groans and buried himself in me, putting his head on my shoulder, rubbing my sides, “you like that, hm,” he asks and i moan softly, catching my breath. i nod in response before he finally pulls himself out of me with a wet pop. i collapse on the bed, exhausted and he smiles softly, “so proud of you, baby…”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #begginer writer #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x reader #nate doe #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine

[cadashhh]

#75 reader teaches ghost a part of their non-military job

minors - do not interact

pairings: ghost x gn!reader

warnings: reader is FAT :) there are some mentions to cleavage & panties but no gender is really specified. i've never played a cod game in my life, etc. there's some flirting, humiliation if you squint, lots of praise, and simon not learning a goddamn thing. edited but not super polished.

summary: you try to teach ghost how to check for a book in your library's inventory. it goes just as well as the first hundred times.

author's note: as part of @glitterypirateduck's may ghost writing challenge (and inspired by my silly little poly 141 x librarian!reader au)

-

"okay, see, you'll type the title into the box there...and then hit search."

you lean over to grasp the computer mouse, waving the cursor over the search button just as you had been taught in all of the library's professional development seminars. despite this particular patron not necessarily caring for etiquette or professionalism, clearly displayed in the way he doesn't even respond to your instructions.

you laugh, somewhat expecting this is the way it would go when simon had originally asked you to check for a book in your inventory. you'd told him before -- "you can search for any title on the computers to check for availability" -- but for some reason he always came to the front desk and asked for your assistance.

you know he's smart, maybe too smart for his own good, and can easily figure out the dewey decimal system. and yet, no matter how many other patrons or tasks are vying for your time and attention, ghost stalks up to the front desk to murmur a quick, "need your help, sweetheart."

"okay, what's the title again?" you ask with a smile, gaze leaving the computer screen for a moment to look back at your masked boyfriend. his arms are crossed over his chest, bulky legs spread almost rudely so he can rub his thigh against yours as you work. he isn't even pretending to watch the screen, staring directly at the deep-v of your shirt that exposes your ample cleavage. hell, no matter what shirt you wore it accentuated your heavy breasts. ghost had definitely noticed.

"the title of the book, ghost," you chide him, voice edging on irritation despite the soft flush blooming over your cheeks and chest.

"the utility of force," he grunts out after a moment.

a corner of your mouth lifts into an easy smirk. "so either more war strategy or you're diving deeper into impact play."

that earns you a hearty chuckle from the man behind you, his arms uncrossing as you type. a warm palm slides between your bare legs around the knee, hardly fitting between your fat thighs underneath your skirt. "i know which one you're hoping for."

you bite your lip, hitting the search button and tensing your thighs around his large hand. your supple, soft skin envelopes his palm completely, overflowing into the gaps between his groping fingers. simon's grip tightens and you can hear the creak of the office chair beneath him as he sits up straighter, letting out a soft, stilted growl. you have his undivided attention now -- as if you didn't before.

"tsk, more war strategy," you sigh as the results flood the webpage before you. "looks like we don't have it in our inventory, but i can show you how to request it from another library."

he ignores you. "what time do you get off today?"

you huff, putting on a fairly good show of being exasperated as you stand up to look over at him. with such a massive man, there was rarely ever a time when you looked down to speak with him, even if he was seated. his size, masked face, and demeanor would be intimidating to most. not to you, never to you. "only another hour, focus. do you want to request the book or not?"

his eyes wrinkle at the edges, warm eyes growing fond even though his grin is hidden away. "you're so sweet t'me. d'ya really think i need help using the search bar, love?"

he makes a check over his shoulder, glancing towards the empty stacks and making sure the coast is clear before he gives a harsh tug to your thigh, pulling you over into his lap. you fall ass first, with a hiss of his name, looking around frantically to make sure no one is paying attention. the library is dead, as is usual for ghost's typical visiting hours. the thought occurs to you much too late that it might be intentional.

"don't get me wrong, pretty. i love watching you with the boys, but i'll use any excuse to get you all to myself," he whispers against your ear and your thighs clench around the hand still anchored to your thigh. his other arm, rippling with muscle underneath a soft layer gifted to him during his retirement, wraps tightly around your wide waist to keep you in place. "and you're just so eager to please, aren't you? such a sweet little thing."

last night ghost had played with you for hours on his own, overstimulating you to the point of tears and encouraging you every time you begged for reprieve. the moments of rest you did receive were sporadic and ended abruptly with another lick against your sensitive sex or a firm hand on on your jaw or thigh with a request to "open wide, love." only when you used your safe word did he finally stop, but the reverent words of praise did not. simon continued to murmur them as he cleaned you up and reset the room around you. you fell asleep with ghost's scarred lips kissing your temple and calling you sweet names.

the memories alone are enough to cloud your mind, but then you feel simon's hand wriggling through the soft heat of your thighs. his knuckle grazes over your panties and you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to stifle your moan. typically, this would earn you a punishment, but simon must take pity on you.

"sweetheart, you're lookin' a little flushed. you feelin' alrigh'?" he asks on the edge of a laugh and you have to bite your palm, the embarrassment only adding to the fire burning in your belly. "maybe you need to head out early?"

in total, it only takes you two minutes to mumble a shitty excuse to your boss and gather your things to leave. despite being in a rush to reunite with ghost, you take the extra minute to request the utility of force from a neighboring library. sure, you could try to teach simon how to do it himself the next time he comes in, but you prefer to help him anyway.

#ghostchallenge #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #fat reader #plus size reader #141 x reader #tf141 x reader #mine #i have no idea if ghost would actually read that book btw #it just sounded kinda kinky lmfao

[green-eyedfirework]

The car drove smoothly and silently, a dark shadow on the dimly lit streets of Bludhaven.  The interior was muffled—Dick couldn’t hear any of the city noises, or the car, or the driver and the guard sitting up front, neither giving him a second glance.  It left him along with his mind, which made it really hard to pretend like he didn’t know what was going on.

He’d been accosted on his way back from the corner store.  They’d taken his grocery bags too, the driver slipping the two recyclable cloth bags from his hands like a poised valet while the guard opened the door for him, dropping the bags in the trunk like that wasn’t where Dick’s body was going to end up.  Politeness masking threat.

They hadn’t even flashed a weapon at him.  They hadn’t needed to.  Slade Wilson’s name was enough of a loaded gun.

Dick had thought things were getting better.  He’d made a new life for himself, a quieter one, less concerned with the shifting flows of power in the city.  He’d thought that if he left them alone, they’d leave him alone.  He was a fool.

The dread sitting in Dick’s gut grew larger as they passed through the wrought-iron gates of the Kane family home.

The drive up was a familiar home, the sight of the front door a looming omen.  His first step inside felt like something was strangling his lungs, wrapped tight and squeezing like it wouldn’t let go.

He shouldn’t be here.  He shouldn’t be here.  He’d quit the police force, he’d squared his debts with the Kanes, there was absolutely no reason for him to be dragged back here.

Except for one.

Dick wasn’t led to the parlor he’d visited last time but down, into the basement.  They were stopped outside a guarded door.  “Mr. Wilson wishes to see Richard Grayson,” his escort said.

The pat-down was impersonal but thorough.  Dick’s wallet, phone, and keys were all taken from him.  Even a couple of empty candy wrappers were yanked from his pockets.  Dick’s stomach twisted into knots as his belongings were taken away, leaving him standing in front of the door with no weapons and no help.  He felt uncomfortably bare.

There was a knock before Dick was motioned inside.  The room was another parlor—bigger, with groups of armchairs by an electric fire, light dim and intimate.  A bar spanned the back wall and shadowed mirrors gave the impression that the room was larger and more maze-like than it actually was.  A smoking room, though Dick could smell no smoke.  Where men of a certain affiliation could drink and play cards while they discussed business.

The room was nearly empty.  Guards at each corner, silent and still, like statues in the darkened room, and Wintergreen, sitting by the fire, watching Dick with a solemn expression.  And, of course, Wilson himself, leaning against another armchair and watching Dick approach, his face so rigid it could’ve been carved from stone.

“Grayson,” Wilson said, voice cold and sharp, like a blade of ice scraping down Dick’s spine.  His eye glimmered in the low light, his gaze searing.  There was no scowl, no raised voice, no narrowed eyebrows, and yet all Dick could sense was burning fury.

Wilson was not a man inclined to rage.

“Mr. Wilson,” Dick said, as evenly as he could manage, resisting the urge to cross his arms.  He didn’t ask any questions.  He wasn’t sure Wilson’s control would stretch that far.

“I had to visit the hospital yesterday,” Wilson said, steady and even.  “Do you know why?”

Dick swallowed.  The sound felt obscenely loud in the silent room.  Dick wasn’t sure if anyone else was breathing—he certainly wasn’t.

“Rose,” Dick said quietly.  “Rose broke her arm during class yesterday.”

Working at a gym was a breath of fresh air and Dick loved teaching.  Even the addition of Rose Wilson to his class, signed up by her fiercely glowering older brother, hadn’t rung the warning bells.  Rose was a kid, after all, and Dick didn’t judge children for their parents.  The Kanes made no motion to interfere at the gym and Rose was treated like any other student, albeit one dropped off and picked up by an armed driver in a bulletproof car with a bodyguard lurking in the lobby all session.

“Mm.  At a class we send her to for her enrichment and entertainment.  A class we’re certainly not expected to being contacted by to relate a major injury.”  Dick winced as Wilson straightened fluidly off of the armchair, his presence a black hole of fury.  “What.  Happened.”

“It was an accident,” Dick said weakly, trying not to flinch back as Wilson strode towards him.  The man’s hands were empty but that didn’t help the shrieking klaxons in Dick’s head.  “A couple of girls got tangled up when they were practicing on the mats.  It’s no one’s fault.”

“No one’s fault,” Wilson repeated in a tone of polite skepticism, like he was giving Dick the opportunity to correct himself.

“It was an accident,” Dick said again, for a lack of anything else to say.  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wilson, but there’s always an element of risk in practicing—”

“Give me your arm.”

“What?” Dick asked blankly.

Wilson didn’t repeat his question, merely held out his hand, waiting.  Dick swallowed, the knot in his stomach a living, growing thing, and offered his hand to the man.

The grip was firm but gentle, not bruising or twisting.  “Rose broke her right arm,” Wilson informed him, as though Dick didn’t know, as though he hadn’t been there, consoling the crying girl as he called for her bodyguard and an ambulance.  “Clean break.  At least a month in a cast.”

Wilson eased the cuff of Dick’s shirt up past his elbow and observed his arm, turning it from side to side.  Dick let him, heart pounding his ears, not daring to put up any resistance.

“Have you broken an arm before?” Wilson asked conversationally.

“Yes.”

“Remember what it felt like?”

“Yes.”  His throat was as dry as sandpaper.

Wilson traced lightly across the skin, finally gripping Dick’s elbow in one hand, his wrist in another.  “It takes somewhere around a hundred and fifty pounds of pressure to break a human bone,” Wilson informed him.  Dick didn’t move.  Dick didn’t breathe.  Dick didn’t dare.  “An injury here would hobble you for a month.  Are you right-handed?”  Dick mutely shook his head.  “I suppose it won’t cause too much hardship then.”

Wilson’s grip tightened—and let go.

Dick took in a shuddering breath.  He choked on it when Wilson stepped past him and behind him, fitting himself against Dick’s back.  He could see the man in the mirror opposite them, looming behind Dick, his expression shadowed and his stare dark.

“But here—” a finger jabbed at Dick, low on his spine—“here, a fracture would do considerably more harm.  Leave you lying on a bed for weeks.  If the bone doesn’t displace further and slice the spinal cord.  Then you’d never be able to walk again.”

Dick stared at himself in the mirror, ashen, wide-eyed, and utterly still.

“Up here,” the finger traced its way up his spine, stopping mid-back, “it’ll destroy a lot of voluntary organ signals.  Things like pissing and shitting.”

Wilson spoke with the kind of unconcern one would use to talk about the weather.

“And up here,” Wilson murmured, voice dropping to something low and gravelly as his finger traced up to the base of Dick’s neck, “you’d never be able to twitch a finger again.”  Dick’s fingers jerked.  “What a shame that would be, for such a star acrobat.”

The lump in his throat was too big to swallow.  Too big to speak.  Wilson wouldn’t, he couldn’t—but he could.  No one could stop him.  Dick was all alone in the lion’s den and no one was interested in saving him from being mauled.  He couldn’t even turn to look at Wintergreen, to beg him with a beseeching gaze, still transfixed by the sight of them in the mirror.

He looked small, standing in front of Slade.  Fragile.  Breakable.

Wilson met his gaze in the mirror.  “Who caused the incident?” he asked evenly.  His fingers curled around Dick’s neck, thumb pressing in at the top of his spine.

Dick distantly registered his mouth opening.  “It was an accident,” he said, hollow and faraway.

“Give me the name.”

Wilson was scowling now, visible anger to match the obvious fury.  Dick remembered the stories of what happened to the people that hurt Joey.  The darker rumors that they all pretended didn’t happen.  The lengths Wilson would, could, and had proven to go to when his family had been harmed.

When Dick blinked, a tear traced its way down his cheek.

“No.”

It came out strangled, but still it came out.  Dick wanted to close his eyes, to turn away from the impending violence, but he was frozen in place by nothing more than the threat of a single hand, watching the predator at his back.

He couldn’t twitch a single finger.

“Excuse me?”  A hint of fury.  An out.  Offering the opportunity for Dick to change his answer, to throw himself on whatever mercy the mobster possessed by selling out another.

“No.”  This time it came easier.

Wilson held his gaze, a long, unbroken moment that felt half like a dream.  Like Dick was already dead and this was what his mind had clung to to stave off the realization.  The world was reduced to Wilson’s single burning ice blue eye and the intent in them.

The fingers uncurled.  Dick didn’t fully register they were gone until Wilson stepped back, turning away from him and heading to an armchair.  “Make me an Old Fashioned,” he said curtly, joining Wintergreen near the fire.

Dick turned to look at him, still rooted to the spot.  “What?” he scraped out hoarsely.

“The drink,” Wilson clarified.

Dick stared at him a moment longer before he forced his legs to move.  The first one felt like walking through toffee, his limbs jerking like they were attached to puppet strings, but he managed to head towards the bar.  The thought of it was slightly ludicrous—Dick was going to be tortured, but goddamn if Wilson had to make his own drinks—and Dick clung to that as he stumbled to the bar with shaking legs.

It was an additional barrier between him and Wilson, as paltry as the protection was, and Dick gripped the wooden tabletop tight.  He tried to slip into a breathing exercise, taking the pause to reorient himself.  There had to be a way to change Wilson’s mind.  He couldn’t let Wilson do whatever he’d planned to that poor girl.  It had been an accident.

Dick found the sugar, the bitters, the glasses and the muddler, plotting furiously, and he was searching for the ice in the freezer when Wilson spoke again.

“Annalise Stryker.”

Dick hit his head on the underside of the bar trying to scramble back up.  “What?” he asked, chest squeezing tight again.

“Annalise Stryker is the girl that fell onto my daughter,” Wilson said, watching Dick.  “Or at least, that’s how Rose tells it.”

Of course Rose would tell her father what happened.  Of course he already knew.  The whole thing was—what?  An attempt to see how much Dick would volunteer?  Whether he would give him a different name?  Dick just—there was too much information swirling around his head, combining with panic, lending terror and adrenaline to his muscles.

“It was an accident,” Dick said.  He made no attempt to confirm or deny the name.  “It was an accident, Mr. Wilson, it was unfortunate, they mixed up a movement and tumbled into each other, that’s all it was.  There’s no one to blame.”

“There’s always someone to blame.”

“Mr. Wilson—”

“My drink,” Wilson said, already turning away from him.  Dick cursed under his breath and dropped a sugar cube into the glass, his hand trembling as he splashed bitters in after it.  The muddler wasn’t a proper weapon, but Dick felt slightly better with it in his hand.

“Please, Mr. Wilson, no one intended to hurt your daughter,” Dick tried again.  The sugar cube was breaking apart rather forcefully under his shaky grip.  “They’re just children—”

“I was sixteen when I murdered my father,” Wilson responded, not looking back at him.  The sugar cube was in as few fragments as Dick’s strained nerves could bear, and he hunted for ice.  “It was entirely premediated.”  There was a tray with ice blocks and it took him four tries to pry one free with shaking fingers.  “Children can be capable of cruelty, Grayson.”

“It was an accident,” Dick repeated, staring at Wilson, willing him to understand.

“Is my drink done?” Wilson asked, disinterested.

Dick’s fingers contracted around the glass.  He turned to stare at the wall of bottles, scanning over labels and distantly noting that most of them cost more than a single one of his paychecks.  He grabbed the first bottle of whiskey he found.

There’s always someone to blame.

More whiskey sloshed into the glass than he expected, but it didn’t matter, the drink didn’t fucking matter.  He dropped a cherry inside and stuck an orange slice on the rim before carrying it to Wilson.  Not, altogether, one of the better products of his mixology skills.

Dick waited until Wilson took the glass from him before he spoke.  “If you need someone to blame,” he said quietly, “blame me.”  Wilson’s gaze tilted back up towards him.  “I’m the teacher.  It’s my responsibility to watch the class.  It’s my responsibility to keep them safe.  If someone gets hurt, it’s my fault, not anyone else’s.”

He didn’t know if Wilson had already gone after Annalise.  If any of his kids were safe.  If this would be enough.  But he had to try.

Wilson took a slow, measured sip of the cocktail.  “Not bad,” he said.

Dick closed his eyes for a moment, balling his hands into fists before loosening them.  “It’s hard to mess up an Old Fashioned,” Dick said tightly.

“I wasn’t talking about the drink.”  Wilson was smirking now, amusement lurking in his eye as he leaned back in the armchair.  “I know full well that accidents happen, Grayson, and especially during athletic training.  But a good teacher minimizes risk.  A good teacher protects their students.”  He considered Dick, gaze wandering all over.  “Even at the cost of themself.”

Dick didn’t understand.  The mood in the room had shifted and it didn’t make any sense.  Wilson no longer looked like a stalking wolf but a satiated one, indulgently watching the others take their fill.  The aura of threat that had hung over Dick like a weighted cloak was abruptly gone.

“I’m not going to harm a single hair on Stryker’s head.  Or yours, for that matter.  It does Rose some good to see firsthand the price of not being careful enough.”  Wilson shrugged lightly.  “Children will never learn if you wrap them in a bubble.”

There was no air in the room.  Or at least there was none in his lungs.  Dick’s legs wavered and Wilson’s eye narrowed when Dick knocked into a side table stumbling back.

“This—this was a test,” Dick said numbly, trying to square together actions and words, trying to fit the terror-inducing fury with the milder amusement.  “You were—this whole thing was a test.”

“You might want to sit down,” Wilson said, voice still amused but expression narrowing further.

Dick hadn’t been in danger.  The threats weren’t real.  Wilson wasn’t going to cripple him, wasn’t going to rend him into little pieces for the affront.  Or at least, not since he passed the test.

His hand found the side of an armchair and Dick let himself collapse into it, heart beating violently and fingers still trembling.  They were getting worse, in fact, and Dick buried his face in his hands and took several shuddering, choking breaths, each higher and sharper than the last.

He didn’t know when he started crying, but hitched tears masked any sign of footsteps and Dick startled out of his skin when his hand was tugged free and wrapped around a glass.  The drink he’d made.  “You look like you need it,” Wilson said.

Dick knocked the drink back in one long swallow, sugar crystals crunching in his mouth as the ice kissed his lips.  It didn’t make him feel any better, it just added a slow burn to the twisting in his chest.  Dick’s next shaky inhale dissolved into fresh tears.

“You’re safe.”  Wilson took the glass from his hands and gently set it down on the side table.  “No one’s going to hurt you here.”

Dick almost choked on the ridiculousness of it, of being reassured by the man that had him brought to his dungeon and intimated slow, personalized torture.  “Says the wolf to the sheep,” he muttered.

Not quite under his breath, apparently.

“You’re hardly a sheep, Officer Grayson,” Wilson gave him a languid smile, thumb settling on Dick’s jaw and nudging it up.  “You have claws.”

“I’m not a cop anymore,” Dick pointed out.  Strangely, the hand on his face was grounding, settling him in place.

“I’m aware.”

“Then why?” Dick asked, waving a hand at the room.  “Why do all this?  Why the inquisition?”

Why me?

Wilson’s thumb drifted higher, until it was brushing his lips.  The look on Wilson’s face was a threat again, dark and predatory and full of desire, the kind that sent a thrill down Dick’s spine.

“Because you interest me, Richard Grayson.”

Dick swallowed.  Watched Wilson follow the movement.  “I don’t think it’s a good thing.”

A slow, wicked smile.  “Probably not.”  He pulled on Dick’s chin and Dick followed the movement, rising up to his feet, transfixed by Wilson’s gaze.  “I’m not a good man.”

Wilson kissed gentler than Dick expected, firm but not demanding, languorous and attentive, like he was trying to taste every drop of whiskey still clinging to Dick’s lips.  Dick’s legs felt weak again, his grip on Wilson’s shoulders feeble, feeling not unlike a leaf being tossed by the raging current.

#my snippets #sladick #mob au #side of the angels #deleted scenes from a planned sequel

[recklessmatt]

nsfw alphabet - m.s ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

matty boy is just the sweeeeetest and bestest at aftercare, he’ll make sure you’re doing okay, if you need any snacks or water, if you need a bath, if you need a massage, you name it he’s ready. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

matt LOVES your thighs omfg he loves it when they’re wrapped around his head while hes eating you out and he loves feeling them up when you’re sitting on his lap or even just sitting next to him at a restaurant

OH AND HES A TIDDY MAN !!! matt loves his hands, especially when they’re accesorized with rings and he notices you tend to stare at em a lot so he flexes them on purpose to get you riled up. he loves feeling you clench around them when hes fingering you mmmm

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

matt likes to cum in you or in your mouth mainly because it’ll be easy to clean up but im like 99% sure he has a breeding kink so the feeling of him cumming in you gets him so turned on

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he likes to be submissive. he loves when you take control and ride him until he cries he thinks its so hot 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i wanna say matt is experienced but not like pro level, probably like 2 bodies max, like he knows enough to get you going and he would probably do research on how to please you even more ngl and he would love to learn from you if you’re more experienced than he is

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary or the one where you guys are both on your sides like spooning, he loves looking in your eyes and he loves to hold you (and your boobies)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i think matt would take this more serious than goofy bc he sees it as sensual and intimate but he’ll definitely joke around with you afterwards. he would finish WHILE STILL INSIDE OF YOU then be like “wanna get ice cream” 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

matt i wanna say is nicely shaved, little to no hair because he wants to feel clean and put together

i don’t think matt cares what you do, he does prefer if you were groomed but then again he doesn’t care just do whatever the fuck you want he’s going down on you no matter what, he’s called matt the munch for a reason

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

matt is a soft dom so he is definitely romantic, but he also loves to get down and nasty and call you a slut at times but he loves praising you especially saying something like “you look so pretty, taking me so well baby” AHHHHH

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i don’t think matt jerks off as often now that he has you, but he definitely will at times hoping you will catch him so you can dick him down

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

blindfolds, he loves seeing you squirm just by his touch not able to see and not knowing what will come next and he also loves to be blindfolded as well when you take control. it’s such a different feeling and it makes his orgasm feel so good

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

the bedroom, it’s a safe spot and you know, what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom. BUT he also loves the car, he likes the risk of possibly getting caught and because it’s a small space you guys are really close to each other

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

overstimulation and whining, he loves seeing you try to grab him and push him away when it gets too much for you, he loves to hear you whine and cry for him

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

pegging and threesomes. he doesn’t like to share you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

OH THIS MAN LOVESSS TO GIVE YOU HEAD !!! he does it for his pleasure and ofc yours but the feeling of you trying to push his head away from sensitivity makes him want to keep going and he loves fingering you while sucking on your clit but he’ll never deny receiving from you, just don’t expect him to be quiet because babygirl he’s gonna be whining and groaning so loud

mattthemunchmattthemunchmattthemunchmattthemunchmattthemunch

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

honestly it depends on the day, but matt is so sweet he loves the intimacy and the feeling of going slow and deep and he wants to take his time with you but he’ll definitely have his rough sex moments

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

matt prefers to take his time with you but he’ll never deny a quickie when you’re both feeling it

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

i think matt is open to about anything to a certain extent, he likes to experiment and he lowkey likes the risk of getting caught

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

mmm i wanna say 2-3 rounds average, but if he’s looking to overstimulate you, probably 8 rounds. he has a lot of stamina idk why

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn’t own any himself because he has you but if you were to own a vibrator he’d want you to try it on him. or if you had a dildo he’d probably use it to fuck you as a tease like does this fuck you better than i do baby?”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

matt lovessss to tease you. he loves to see you begging for more

he won’t admit it but he does like when you tease him in public 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

matt is more of a groaner and whimperer tbh, he doesn’t dirty talk a whole lot but when he does, oh man you are GONE. he’s so good at dirty talk omg

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

hockey player matt! (like duhhh)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

hmmm, i’d say matt is pretty average just a little bigger, he fills you up perfectly, all snug in there, it turns him on to see his bulge through your stomach while he’s fucking you

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i don’t think he’s THAT horny but he’s just always down to fuck

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

matt would wait until you fall asleep first so he knows you’re doing okay, he would rub your back or pet your hair to make you sleepy and comfortable. it’s rare when he falls asleep before you.

author's note: hola i made a matt version, i have nothing else to say, goodbye stay sexy mwah <3 HAPPY 1K TO RECKLESSMATT AHHHHHH GRATEFUL FOR ALL YOU SEXIES !!!

taglist: @luverboychris @mattscoquette @strmbolisworld @nmegamett20 @sturniclo

@shadowthesim @surniolozzzprincess @sturnsintrouble @sturniolo-slvt @mattandchrismakemewett

@stonermattsgf @zivall @sturniolo-fann @gvf23

@thecynthh @jayz4dayz4 @beccaluvschris @cindylcuwho @sturngirly

@sturnslcver @nyktoxs-lover @simplysturn

@jnkvivi @sturncakez

@sturnzsblog @joemamaaa42069 @sarosfilms @il0vecatzzz

@freyaxoxoxo @loliek17372 @slutforsturniolos

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #smut #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets smut

[talia-black]

Nameless! Aventurine Headcanons

I have a million other projects I need to be working on, but this tiny brainworm hasn’t let me go.  :(

TW: Talk of Aventurine’s backstory. Nothing explicit, but his brand is shown and stuff is alluded to. Symptoms of trauma are also explicitly mentioned. Also shirtless Aventurine but nothing sexual. 

Nameless! Aventurine who succeeded in bargaining his freedom from the IPC and became a wanderer. Who always wears a shirt with a high collar to hide his slave tag. Who melted down his sixty tanba and had them made into various accessories for his otherwise nondescript outfit. Who pulled scams and took risks whenever the mood struck him and then skipping out whenever things got dicey for him. Until he runs into the Astral Express.

Nameless! Aventurine who had heard of the Express in passing, and needing a quick passage off-world, offers his help with whatever trouble they’ve managed to get themselves into in return for a ride. Only to be thrown completely out of his element by the attitude of each of its members. None of them are interested in what he can offer them (though it takes him a while to figure that out) and are more than willing to still let him join the Express even when his plan doesn’t pan out the way Aventurine promised. 

Nameless! Aventurine who actually ends up fitting very well into the Astral Express’ dynamic. He is always happy to indulge in March 7th’s antics (You cannot tell me these two wouldn’t have spa days where they do facials, paint each other's nails, and just talk for hours about Robin’s latest album or whatever else is a hot topic for Honkai Star Rail’s version of the internet.) and treats her like a little sister. 

March 7th is also the first to figure out Nameless! Aventurine’s aversion to being touched. He frequently initiates contact, but the first time March came up behind him and touched his arm, the gambler jumped almost a foot in the air. He laughed it off, telling her that she “give a man some warning next time” and pushed the conversation forward. She chalked it up to him being caught off-guard, but then she watched him freeze up when Himeko put a hand on his back, and when Welt patted his shoulder, and whenever March touched him first. 

Nameless! Aventurine who acts like the annoying middle child always pestering the older brother because he secretly admires him. Dan Heng doesn’t warm up to Aventurine nearly as quickly, and is often annoyed when he just waltzes into the room containing the data bank, plops himself in a chair, and talks at him for hours. The first time Dan Heng responded to something he said was actually what got Aventurine to be quiet. Dan Heng turned away from what he was working on to see Aventurine with his mouth slightly agape, not expecting him to actually answer. Dan Heng found it incredibly interesting how the normally smooth talker stumbled over his words for almost a minute before picking up where he had left off. 

Dang Heng is the first to notice how Nameless! Aventurine is always throwing himself in the firing range. Even when there’s absolutely no reason to or nothing to gain from making such a sacrifice. He subtly watched how in every conversation that even verges into dangerous territory, Aventurine pulls all of the attention onto himself with either a comment aimed to provoke, or acting in a way that drastically escalates things. Aventurine had told the Crew about his “luck”, and these instances had certainly liquidated any of Dan Heng’s doubts about that. But if his victory was always certain, why did he smile when he got shot? 

Nameless! Aventurine who Himeko treats like the rest of her kids right out of the gate. Aventurine is the most suspicious of Himeko out of all the Express Crew, but that doesn’t last long. They bond over their love of black coffee and as the two of the only three night owls on the Express (Dan Heng is also one, but he never leaves his room). While he would never say Himeko reminded him of his mother, she gave her own forms of paternal love freely in the way she always made sure he ate at least two meals a day, immediately patched up his various scrapes and scratches herself when he first got on the Express, and offered him his own room without hesitation. He would go to his grave with the knowledge that he had felt his face heat up when she had ruffled his hair after he beat her at chess during one of their 2am coffee drinking sessions. 

Himeko was the first to see Nameless! Aventurine’s hands were in terrible condition. When she checked him over for wounds, she noticed how he was always fidgeting with a coin. Later it would change to a beaten up poker chip, or his bracelet, or whatever odd thing he had picked up. And when she was bandaging his arm, his hands shook with constant tremors. When he was outside the Express, he always stuffed his hands in his pockets, and Himeko frowned late one evening when she saw Aventurine palm’s had scars from where his own nails had dug into them. 

Nameless! Aventurine who loves messing with Welt. Honestly, Aventurine gets along with Welt just as well, if not better than March. Welt is never without something interesting or insightful to say, and combined with Aventurine’s observant and commentative nature, they sometimes end up talking for hours without even realizing time has passed. However, Aventurine cannot live without a little mischief. And Welt’s naivety when it comes to current trends is just too good of an opportunity to pass up. This often manifests in Welt using slang terms in ways they absolutely were not meant to be, and a few interesting videos that have made their way onto the Express’ group chat. Welt has mostly caught on, but he still plays along if only to see the way Aventurine’s eyes light up whenever he successfully “tricks” him. The “kiddo” had gotten more laughs out of the old man than all of the members of the Express combined. 

Welt was the first to notice and tell the others that Nameless! Aventurine was exhibiting signs of severe trauma. During a pit stop, Welt asked Aventurine to go ask around for a certain brand of coffee beans for Himeko before calling the others for a meeting. After sharing what they knew, the group struggled to decide on a course of action. Aventurine was more than entitled to his past, and it would go against everything they stood for to pry for potentially painful details. But it also seemed wrong to let him continue potentially harmful habits without intervention. In the end, they decided to wait until they crossed paths with a specialist who they could ask for advice before taking any particular course of action. 

Nameless! Aventurine who kept making excuses for why he couldn’t get off the Express. He didn’t realize that no one had ever asked him to.

Nameless! Aventurine who upon waking one day to see his name emblazoned on the door of his room refused to come out for an entire day. The rest of the Crew didn’t even know it had happened, and Pom-Pom swore they hadn’t done it. Meanwhile, Aventurine spent most of the morning crying silently into his pillow and the rest of the day deep in the trenches of an existential crisis. He comes out the next day and acts like nothing ever happened, and the new status quo was set in stone. 

Nameless! Aventurine who was with March and Dan Heng when they found the Trailblazer. And immediately became fascinated with them. Especially after they threw themselves in front of March when the Doomsday Beast attacked the space station. He surprised himself with how upset he felt when he saw the Trailblazer was considering staying at Herta’s Space Station as opposed to coming with them. And how happy he was when they ultimately decided to join the Express. 

Nameless! Aventurine and the Trailblazer who get on like a house on fire. Aventurine is persistent and victorious in getting the Trailblazer comfortable with them, and often ends up in a game of tug-a-war with March for their attention. Trailblazer, who at first glance seems like a pretty stoic character, turns out to be quite unhinged, and Aventurine’s lack of self-restraint only enables them once they set foot on Belobog. Aventurine was a man who clung to unpredictability and the mystery of the dice like a starving animal, and the Trailblazer was impulsivity personified. From their out-of-pocket comments at the most inappropriate of moments to their dumpster-diving habits, Aventurine never knew what to expect from them. 

Trailblazer who is the first to discover the truth of Nameless! Aventurine’s past. It wasn’t anything grand; the two had gone out with March and Himeko for a drink and ended up collapsing in the same bed. Trailblazer woke first with an awful headache, a dry mouth, and dots doing pirouettes across their vision. Which is why they thought they were just imagining the brand on Aventurine’s neck. The high-collar shirt that he always wore had been chucked off at some point during the night. Aventurine stirred when a gentle touch carefully traced irritated, scarred skin. 

“You should really be applying some kind of salve to that.”

Reality cut through Aventurine’s hangover faster than a bucket of ice. He leapt out of bed and locked himself in the bathroom. He refused all of the Trailblazer’s attempts to get him to respond, and it was only after they promised they would give him some space and that they wouldn’t tell the others that his heart rate was able to go down. It still took him an hour before he left the bathroom. From there he avoided the Trailblazer like the plague. When the other members of the Crew asked what had happened, the Trailblazer explained it away as “drunken shenanigans” and let the subtext run its course. If only to give Aventurine some initiative to speak to them. This standoff lasted weeks, and probably would have gone on much longer if Aventurine hadn’t taken a dagger to the gut and a crossbow bolt to the knee. And the Trailblazer, out of the generosity of their heart, offered to personally make sure he made a full recovery. And many painful nights later, with the help of a few glasses of whiskey, Aventurine shared a few pieces of his past. He still had enough clarity of mind to keep the less palatable details out of it, but gave more than enough for the Trailblazer to understand what he had been through. Somehow, the bottle was emptied, and the two once again found themselves cuddled up in Aventurine’s bed and drifting off into peaceful slumber. 

Nameless! Aventurine who found a new family, and would continue to protect them with everything he had as he continued his journey starward. 

#hsr aventurine #aventurine headcanons #honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine x trailblazer #aventurine x stelle #aventurine x caelus #himeko hsr #welt hsr #march 7th hsr