#SIR I NEED YOU TO TURN AROUND

[tuxxydo]

look at booty shorts blanka right fucking now.

[quietwingsinthesky]

of ten’s companions, if the doctor couldn’t handle losing them and crossed his own timeline to trick them into traveling with future!him instead of past!him so that he’d have a little more time with them:

rose would do it. first because bless her but she has the situational awareness of a rock, and legitimately would not realize this isn’t her doctor until his facade starts to break down and he starts bleeding grief-laced love for her at every turn. but once she does realize it, she’s both deeply sympathetic and a little scared that she could make him into this. it’s a lot to be confronted with having that much power over someone, to break them so thoroughly. rose would try to get back to her doctor, but while she’s with the future version, she tries to do what she can to ease his pain. (she also tries to figure out a way to subvert her fate. she fails.)

i think martha would be harder to trick. she can smell desperation on the doctor like a bloodhound. she is so tapped into the fact that this man wants to off himself so bad and that she’s 90% of his self-restraint, so present her with a doctor who is lacking that and she’s onto him immediately. however, assuming he gets her to come with him, explains why he’s doing this, there’s like. a minute where she’s kind of. not flattered exactly, but surprised, giddy with the realization that he’d come back for a little more time with her, especially if this is early season 3 martha. which would all come crashing down around the time that he reveals that he wasn’t pushed to this by losing her to some tragedy or her death or anything- but that she chose to leave. that is the point at which martha goes ‘oh i need to get the fuck off of this tardis right now’ and ghosts the past!doctor that she was also traveling with because holy shit, man.

donna, like rose, is easily bamboozled into following the wrong doctor home, provided that he shuffles her along into his tardis too fast for her to argue. but she catches on far quicker than rose does. like, three minutes tops of watching the doctor move through the tardis in a way that’s definitely not enthusiastic piloting and looks more like guilty panic. and then she yells at him for lying to her. and she yells at him for kidnapping her. and then she stops yelling because he’s gone sort of still and quiet and his eyes are just broken. and he doesn’t explain himself, he confesses. donna is going to try to stay with him after this btw. because how do you go back to looking your best friend in the eyes when you know he’d take everything you’ve become away from you, even to save your life? and this is still the doctor, he still did that to her, but he regrets it. regrets it so much that he can’t live with it, he’s breaking time and space just to hear her say his name again. and donna doesn’t want to lose him anymore than he wanted to lose her.

[whisperprime]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Interlude | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Interlude: 1989 | Part 14

Hob had been honest when he said that he’d lost the majority of his network. Anyone who wasn’t immortal had died off with his imprisonment lasting as long as it did and he had yet been unable to rebuild a new one.

But that did not mean he was without connections altogether.

It was one such connection that he was currently seeking out.

With the new semester officially having kicked off, he’s only going to get busier as the weeks go by. It is with this in mind that that he knows that if he wants to get this task done, he needs to do it soon.

Rounding the corner on what could be any street in London, Hob approaches a building that reads “Bernie’s Barbershop” in pealing, faded red and white letters. Contrary to the age of the sign, a modern, red light “OPEN” sign beckons anyone walking past to come in and get a haircut.��

Hob feels a sense of relief upon seeing it. His memory of his contact’s location in this time period had been iffy at best. He had a few other possible ideas, sure, but he’s glad he won’t have to go on a walk through of all of London to find his target.

A door bell rings over head as he enters, announcing his presence to anyone inside. Hob takes in the mixture of old and new, from the older, brick walls to the newer furniture. He’s just inspecting the display of products, when a slim, red headed woman slips out of the back.

“Welcome, do you have an appointment?”

Hob pulls away from the display. “No, sorry. I’m here to speak with the owner, if possible. He wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?”

He knows full well that the man in question will be here, but it is polite to ask.

The woman, who’s name tag proclaims her to be Sherry, blinks at him. She eyes him up and down for a moment, as if trying to figure out if he’s a disgruntled former customer. 

“May I ask who’s looking for him?”

“Tell him Robert Gadling is here to see him.” Hob continues to smile presently at her, to try and show he was here on good terms. “I’m really just an old friend.”

That seems to ease her concerns a bit, but not entirely. Turning on her heel, the moment causing her poofy dress to puff out with the moment, she disappears into the back.

Hob contends himself to another wait.

The owner, however, doesn’t make him wait long.

“Well, I’ll be! Robbie Gadling, as I live and breathe!” A tall, tan skinned man appears in the doorway leading to the back of the shop. He crosses the room in mere strides, throwing his arms around Hob when he reaches him. “It really is you!”

Hob laughs as he allows himself to be pulled into the hug. “It’s good to see you, too, Viktor.” He grips the man’s forearms as Viktor holds him out at arms length to look him over. “I was hoping you’d be in today.”

Viktor laughs, a jolly booming thing. “Ah, you know I practically live at work.” He releases Hob in order to sling an arm over him, directing him towards the back. “You’re going to have to catch me up on all your latest mad adventures.” Over his shoulder, before they pass through the door, he throws over his shoulder, “If anyone asks for me, Sherry, let them know I’m unavailable.”

Hob catches a glimpse at the blank look on Sherry’s face, hears the muttered, “Sure thing, boss,” before they’re through the door.

Viktor leads him down a hall to a door to the end of it. Once they’re inside, the man shuts the door behind them. The moment the door clicks, Hob feels the tingling feeling of he thinks might be some form of magic roll over the room.

Viktor directs him to a chair into which he takes a seat as he says, “You can speak freely while the door is closed.” He moves around a deceptively cheap looking desk to have a seat, himself. “We can hear those outside, but they will not hear us.”

Hob glances at the door. He’s never been certain if Viktor is any kind of practitioner of the mystical arts, but he knows the man’s wards are nothing to sniff at. He turns back around. “Seems a bit much, when you don’t know what I’m here for.”

Viktor snorts, pulling open one of the drawers of his desk. “We are good friends, Robbie,” he states, reaching into the open drawer. “But not so good you visit without a reason.” Out of the drawer, he pulls out a cheap bottle of malt scotch whiskey and two crystal shot glasses, all three of which he sets on the table.

Hob feels a pang of regret for the truth in those words. It’s easy to take people for granted when you know there’s still a good chance you’ll see them in a hundred years. 

He accepts one of the two glasses when Viktor hands them to him, bringing it up to take a sip as the other man points out, “But worry not, I’d still love to hear the latest strop you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Hob laughs. “Aw, that’s not fair. My life isn’t that interesting.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “This coming from the man who spent a month in a ghost town.” He leans forward, pointing at him with a finger from the hand still holding his glass. “And it wasn’t a ‘ghost town’ because it was abandoned.”

In his defense, he had been out of it between the deaths of his nuclear family and near getting drowned for being a witch. A kind hand had been seemed like a god send at the time when the old woman helped pull him from the river.

The fact that the old woman had been a ghost looking to take advantage of his in between state to try and trick him into becoming part of the town indefinitely so they could feed on his life force for all eternity?

Well. Maybe the man had a point.

Hob hums as he savors the whiskey. It’s cheap, but still a good brand. “Sadly, I can’t talk much about what happened without talking about why I’m here.”

Viktor sobers a bit. “You’ve been gone a while. It have anything to do with that?”

Hob takes another sip of his drink. Partially to stall. He nods and looks Viktor dead in the eye as he says, “Yeah, I’m looking for a crew. Discreet and not bothered by a little property damage.”

The taller man of the pair leans back in his chair. He studies him for a long, several minutes. “What kind of property damage?”

Hob smiles. Knows it’s not a nice one. “I want to destroy a house.” He finishes off the whiskey and places the drink back on the table.

Viktor whistles, a little something dark entering his own eyes. “And what did this house do to you?”

Hob studies the other man for a moment. Viktor was a warlock, an immortal one at that. He had no need for houses that curtailed one’s aging, as the man had stopped aging long before the Gadling name was a word on people’s lips. And even if he should show interest in it, he strictly stayed away from sites of deals struck with demons.

He taps the glass on the table, once, twice, and then lets it sit again. “The owner of the house has wronged me and is a threat to those I care about.” He leans forward to hold his cup out, which the warlock refills. “A demon has promised that as long as the roof stands, the owner will not age. I wish to inconvenience the owner by destroying the house.”

That darkness in Viktor’s eyes takes on a shade of disgust. “Hm. And what is the name of the owner?”

Hob raises his glass to his lips, utters, “Roderick Burgess.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of this one. Pompous idiot.” Viktor snorts. “The man everyone says caught the devil in his basement.”

The phrase brings a vicious twist to Hob’s gut. Funny how some things persist. He takes the sip, more to fortify himself this time. “He had a demon in his basement, alright. But the demon wasn’t the prisoner.”

Viktor stills, understanding like lightening across his features. Hob is touched by the anger and outrage he can see behind the shock. “I’m sorry to hear of your misfortune.”

“Thank you.” Hob waves it off, even as he accepts the condolence. It’s hardly water under the bridge, but he isn’t here to talk about it. “There’s one more thing: I want to be part of the crew.”

The warlock doesn’t seem surprised, but he does seem concerned. “You sure you want to go back in there. Any crew I put together will be able to do the job just fine.”

Hob hears where the concern really lies: Viktor doesn’t know what level of trauma he has nor how much it might effect the success of the crew. If Hob wants to endanger himself, that’s one thing, but the warlock won’t let him become a liability to anyone else, both for his own good and the good of the others.

It’s a fair concern, but unnecessary. Hob will not fall apart for the job itself.

Afterword? Well, that’s a different story.

Still, Hob seeks to ease some of the other man’s worries, “I’ll only be in and out.” He finishes his drink and then places it on the table. Waves off any more. “Burgess is a shame, but he has something of real danger. He can’t be allowed to keep it.”

Viktor keeps silent, waiting for Hob to elaborate.

And Hob thinks Viktor is indeed a good friend, but he’s also a very real and very powerful warlock who is only mostly a good man.

Everyone has their weaknesses and who knows what all is contained in the Magdalene Grimoire?

Hob keeps his silence.

After several long minutes, the taller man takes the cue that Hob will not budge on this. Chooses not to take offense and instead nods to acknowledge the fact that the shorter man doesn’t mean anything personal by it. “Well, you’re in luck, Robbie, because ol’ Magus is having party next weekend.” To show the source of the news, he pulls a out a pamphlet, which proclaims the day and time of the event. “Celebrating his 150th birthday, he says.”

Hob snorts. Good to see the man is just as arrogant as ever and still hasn’t learned a thing. It’s that kind of brazen that gets people riled up into mobs and coming to burn you at the stake.

Still, he’ll take the in. “I’ll be there.”

Viktor drags the pamphlet off the table. “Now that that’s settled, what do you say we do a little more light hearted catching up?”

Hob laughs again. They spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, Viktor telling wild tales about the events that led up to the building of his barbershop and Hob talking about his new Inn (”You should come by when it’s finished. The first drink is on me.”) and his new teaching position.

They only realize how late it’s getting when they hear a knock on the door. Sherry’s voice filters through as she says, “Place is all locked up, boss. I’m headed out.��

Viktor rises from his seat and crosses over to the door. He opens it up and leaves it to signify that he’s open to visitors again. Hob can feel the dropping of the wards the moment the door handle turned. “Thanks, Sherry. I’ll see you next Monday?”

She nods, eyeing Hob from behind her boss. He can tell she’s a little curious as to why he’s still here, but not enough to stay and find out. “See you next Monday,” she returns, before heading out.

Hob remembers the shop closes around six and takes it as his own cue. He stands and starts for the door. “Probably should be heading out myself. Still need to make certain everything is all set for the week.”

Viktor pats him on the back and Hob is thankful he doesn’t flinch. “It was good to see you, Robbie. Drop me a line when the New Inn is open and I’ll swing by.”

Hob waves at him as he heads out. Calls over his shoulder, “I’ll save a good one just for you.”

He hears a laugh and, “Always knew you were one of the good ones!”

Over the following week, Hob tries to distract himself with his classes, but finds himself too restless and uneasy to concentrate fully.  According to their surveillance, this party is mostly for his inner circle - Burgess and the people who have helped financed him over the years. There’s even talk of a main event that sets Hob’s inner warning bells ringing. He knows it is very unlikely that Burgess will ever catch his true target, but all it would take is the right circumstances and a little luck, and he might catch something that causes the same level of damage as he did the first time. Even if it wasn’t something of real power, anything he caught wouldn’t deserve it.

On top of wanting to bring that damn roof down, if only fuels his need to get that spell book out of Burgess’ hands once and for all.

When the time comes, Viktor's people have been shoe'ed in with a crew that are in charge of delivering the decorations. Flowers, the cake, and other necessities are to be brought in before the party is to kick off. Hob feels not unlike he’s going into a potential minefield. He likely shouldn’t be involved in this. Really should leave this to Viktor’s men, but he can’t chance the book disappearing in the chaos that will undoubtedly follow the destruction of the manor.

He puts some effort into confusing his appearance. Puts on a quality blond wig that doesn’t look half bad once he has it on with the uniform cap. Uses some makeup to lighten up the tan he’s only just recently gotten back. Some padding in his clothes changes his body shape. It would only need to hold up long enough to meet up with and switch places with someone of similar looks and build, who would step in once the spell book was retrieved and could finish the rest of the job.

When the day comes, Hob watches as a picturesque manor comes into view from the windows of the van the crew are driving in. If he had never set foot in this place again, it would have been too soon. He can only imagine what returning here might do to his subconscious that night when it was time to sleep.

Beside him, one of the women of the group, is leaning forward to get as good a look at the manor as she can without unbuckling herself. Hob thinks he heard someone call her ‘Millie’ at some point. “Seems a bit of a shame to tear it down. Place some interesting history.”

Across from her, an olive skinned man groaned in the way people do when they’ve heard something before. Under his breathe, he mutters, “And here we go...”

Millie gave him the finger. “You just don’t care about history.”

Beside her, another man laughs good naturedly. He’d introduced himself as Tom. He was also one of the only people who’d introduced himself. “Only when history gets me a big paycheck!”

The first man laughs with him and Millie turns back to the window with a disgruntled frown.

Hob, taking pity on her, asks, “What’s so interesting about it?”

Tom’s buddy snorted, but Millie ignores him. She looks like she would have pounced on Hob, had that been the polite thing to do. “Not much is known about it before the 1700s, but it used to be called Blackwood Manor. Rumor has it, King George III gave it to a Lady Johanna Constantine in exchange for Pandora’s Box.”

Hob is too stuck on Lady Constantine’s name to contemplate if Pandora’s Box is real or not. “Is that so?” He side-eyes the Manor, wondering if he’s destined to keep hearing about this woman every couple hundred years. Perhaps her footprints on this Earth were deeper than he’d thought.

Millie nods. “She’s the one that gave it the name, ‘Fawney Rig.’” She frowns. “Funny name that.”

Hob, still distracted by the first bit of information, off handedly states, “It’s a ring dropping trick.”

A few of the people in the van turn to look at him. The weight of their gaze is what pulls Hob back to himself. Causally, he explains, “I’m a history teacher.”

It has the effect he’s hoping it would. Most of the people, especially the two who had proclaimed a dislike for history, go back to attempting to ignore them. Millie, however, has leaned forward curiously. To her, he further explains, “Someone would drop a small trinket, often a ring. When someone else picked it up, the person who dropped it would pretend they’d seen it first. The person would offer to take their share of the finders fee and let the second person have the trinket. By the time the swindled realized they’d been swindled, the swindler was gone.”

Tom snorts, the sound tinged with a hint of respect.

Millie wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Quite the character, then, this Lady Constantine.”

If only she knew.

Seeing as they were about to pull up to the manor, Millie quickly wrapped up her story. “It passed through a few hands before it came into the Burgess family. Supposedly, the Roderick Burgess now is the same Roderick Burgess who bought back in the early 1900s.”

Tom’s buddy doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t truly seem to care either way. “Probably some grandson taking advantage of their similar name.”

Hob decides not to comment, which is just as well, as the van in coming to a stop and everyone is getting their things together. All of the supplies are situated in the back and waiting to be collected. Each of them have been given a task, with Hob’s leaving him on the first floor, where he is most likely to encounter a study.

As they begin to unload, Hob pulls his cap down a touch further to make it easier to hide his eyes. He’s handed two large vases of flowers as a member of the staff he’s never seen comes up to direct him over to where he’s to set them. Hob subtly watches for anyone that might recognize him and finds himself relieved when the few members of the Order that are out and about in the house are too busy to pay attention to the bustle of the decorators.

The member of the staff leads him to an area further back in the house. Hob forces himself to walk past a seemingly ordinary door he has not seen in the Waking world, but would still recognize anywhere. One of the other doors they pass is ajar and within it, he can see his prize: Burgess’ study.

Burgess’ study, where Roderick Burgess himself is currently talking with another man.

Hob catches sight of Burgess beginning to turn in response to the sound of him and the staff member passing. Shifts the vase, as if getting a better hold on it, which incidentally puts the flowers between his own face and Burgess.

He worries for a moment that this could complicate things, but some deity of luck seems to have taken favor with him today, because he can hear the sound of the two men exiting the study - “They never get the decorations right unless you see to them yourself” - followed shortly by the sound of a door locking.

Hob places the first vase where directed. It’s during the placement of the second one that he ‘accidently’ fails to place it properly. They both manage to save the vase and the flowers are only slightly damaged, but most of the water from the vase is now on Hob and the staff member.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” Hob makes himself fret. “I don’t know what happened. It seemed steady enough.”

The staff member sighs, exasperated, but somehow not surprised. He has clearly dealt with much, much worse in his day. “I’ll get more water for the vase.” He waves a hand down the hall, back the way they came. “There’s a bathroom around the corner, if you want to towel off.”

Hob tilts his hat in thanks. He makes his way back down the hall, waits until the staff member is out of sight, and then steals off in the direction of the study.

He finds the area devoid of staff, decorators, or members of the household. Most everyone is busy with the setting up or are hiding out of the way. Hob glances around, before trying the knob.

It’s locked.

He’s not terribly surprised, having anticipated this could happen. He doesn’t have much need for the kind of skills one gains with banditry or thieving these days, but he’s never let himself forget them. The times was always a-changing and he never knows who he’d need to be in his next life.

It’s almost painfully easy to get the door open. He slips inside without a sound. The room is light with the sunset outside, which gives him enough light for his search. The study is old fashioned, with a stone fireplace, wooden desk and various cabinets and other such oddities he’d expect in a rich man’s home from the 1900s. Few things have been updated over the last century.

He doesn’t see much that screams hiding place for a priceless book, until his eyes lands on a wooden cabinet tucked in the back of the room. It’s a dark wood thing, sturdy, and with a decent lock on it. Without the key or a set of picks, someone would have to make a lot of noise to open the thing.

The lock opens as easily as the study’s for him. Inside, dimly light by the last rays of the sun through the window, he finds a hefty amount of cash, some jewels and other valuables. He ignores them all in favor of- yes. There it is.

Sitting on top is the Liber Fulvarum Paginarum that had given away the fact that he wasn’t, in fact, Death herself. From underneath it, he pulls a book, bound in dark leather decorated with gold tooling. It has no name, and he has only seen it once, but he recognizes it.

It’s also a bit heavier than he thought it would be, but not so much he can’t work with it. He’s thankful for the padding, which is only slightly damp from the water, as it makes a good place to hide the book on his person. It’s a bit awkward and won’t hold up to close inspection, but it will do for the short term.

Hob locks up the cabinet. He pauses at the door, listening for voices. When he hears none, he slips out, locking the door as he locked the cabinet. He forces himself to walk as casually as possible down the hall and towards the doors. He’s almost to the door, when he hears: “Excuse me, sir, can you help me with this streamer? Just need a tall person to help set the ends in place.”

Hob almost carries on as if he hasn’t heard, but there a light tap on his shoulder. Heart pounding, He turns enough to see a young woman too nicely dressed to be part of the staff. She must be a guest or one of the permanent members of the household, having come out to help decorate. She’s holding up a streamer in her hands. Beyond her, he can see more decorating one of the sitting rooms.

Hob weights his choices. If he stays, he risks getting caught. If he refuses, it might seem odd. Memorable even. He glances at the door, which is wide open and tauntingly close. Turns back to her and smiles good naturedly. “Maybe with one. I still have other things to bring in.”

Her smile brightens and she ushers him over to where she wants the thing. He’s putting up the other end, when she looks over his shoulder and calls out to someone in the entrance. “Mr. Burgess! Is this how you wanted it?”

Hob freezes, horror turning his blood to ice. His heart skips a beat and he can’t seem to draw any air. He holds absolutely still as the sound of footsteps come up behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck rise up when Burgess comes to a stop behind him.

“Hm.” A long considering pause. “Yes, that will do, Darla.”

‘Darla’ grins, pleased to have done something for the master of the house.

Hob can feel Burgess’ eyes on the back of his head. He doesn’t dare move as the man of the house offers a hand out to Darla, who takes it. Burgess beckons her away, saying, “Let’s leave the decorations to the workers. There’s no need for you to do anything.”

He can hear their footsteps retreating as Darla pouts. “But I wanted to help.”

Burgess hums at her again, placentally. At what might be the doorway, the steps pause. “I apologize for the interruption to your work.” The old man hardly sounds apologetic, and there’s a clear warning in it. “Please, return to your duties.”

Hob manages to rouse himself enough to nod, although he has no clue if it’s seen or not. He doesn’t dare to move until he’s certain that Burgess and Darla are gone. He has to fight to get his breathing under control and knows he absolutely must leave now. 

The sun has set outside, casting more than enough shadows to allow Hob to slip away unseen. The man he was to meet with to switch places with meets him once he’s past the line of sight of the tree line. Hob takes off and then hands him the damp shirt and padding he’d been wearing (sans the book), which the man puts on with only a little grimace. He doesn’t need a wig, as he’s already blond. Hob takes fresh shirt and slips it on. Nods to the man as he makes his way out and back into the party preparations.

Hob, himself, makes his way in the opposite direction, towards where a motorcycle has been stashed for him. He doesn’t allow himself to start to relax until he’s miles away from the Manor, and even then, he doesn’t fully relax until he’s locking the door of his flat.

Near gasping, Hob sinks to the floor. He doesn’t care that the mat his sitting on is dirty. He curls himself up, around the book that has caused so much pain and misery. He wants to throw it away from himself. To start a fire and throw it in. For the moment, he simply sits with it until his heart stops hammering and he no longer feels like his breathing through a narrow tube.

When he finally feels a little like himself again, he rises from the doorway. He places his wretched prize in a safe he’s bought to hold his valuables. It’s barely big enough to hold the book, if place in at an angle, and he’s happy to shut the door and have it out of his sight.

Book secured, he goes straight for the brandy. He drinks straight from the bottle, desperately needing something to calm his nerves. Does so until he can feel the edge coming off enough he can stand to go clean up and change. He’s gotten the make up cleaned off and is just putting on a new shirt when his phone pings at him.

There a single message from Viktor that reads: “Set up complete. Now we wait.”

Hob is equal parts too wired and too tired to settle. He still tries to go through his evening routine. He eats something light, not really feeling hungry, but knowing it’s not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach, immortal or not. Everything seems to go by in a blur, until he finds himself in bed. He’s got a book in his hand he doesn’t remember picking up and he hasn’t read a line from.

Leans his head back against the pillows propping him up and closes his eyes.

He thinks he won’t sleep until he hears this is over.

He falls asleep, despite his resistance, his exhaustion winning out as it inevitably always does.

Part 15

[witchern]

FUCK i just realized i forgot to bring my dreamcatcher lightstick back to the city for the concert in november. goddamnit.

[softquietsteadylove]

For part 4: I've got this idea of mine where Thena blaming Minerva for what happened to Gil and she ordered her that he wants Gil back under her after this mission.

I want you to decide for the rest! I know this is a lot and I am sorry TT, I just wanna say again that your works are beautiful and so are you. Thank you! xoxo

"How'd it go?"

Thena closed the passenger side door with a huff, clipping her seat belt rather aggressively. "It could have gone worse, I suppose."

"So you didn't mouth off and get fired?" Kingo asked as he pulled out of the lot of the agency office building. "I would say I was impressed if you weren't already on suspension for it."

Thena just shrugged. She didn't much care about the suspension, even considering she was a senior agent, and this kind of thing would reflect on her for a very long time to come. It was a well deserved suspension, given how she had screamed in the face of not only Minerva but the Section Chief as well.

All that having been said, Gil had almost died.

The recovery operation was a success. Thena was the best when it came to infiltration, especially after things had already not gone to plan. She and the rest of Special Ops had arrived at the scene and cleaned things up concisely and without mercy.

She had gone further in with Kingo, intent on finding Gil. At the very least they had confirmed that he wasn't one of the reported casualties, but that still left him as potentially injured.

Thena had found him in one of the back corners of the labyrinth of storage lockers. He was barely breathing and there was blood everywhere. If they had been any later, he probably would have...

She had gone in the ambulance with him, Kingo having covered for her absence, with Minerva's help to corroborate Thena's definitely-good-enough reason for leaving the scene.

She owed that much to Minerva, and after she had gotten in her face about the whole thing being her fault. That was unfair of her, and Thena knew it. She knew what being a team leader meant--what it meant to have people's lives in their hands and be solely responsible for it when things went bad.

She was feeling...fragile.

Minerva had taken it like a champ, because of course she had. She didn't reprimand Thena for it, didn't shout back at her, didn't even demand an apology for it later.

The Chief still had her suspended for her behaviour but Thena hadn't cared then and she still didn't, now.

"Did you do what I told you?" Kingo asked as he drove, letting Thena take it easy in the passenger's seat.

Thena crossed her arms, "I displayed...appropriate remorse."

Kingo rolled his eyes, "come on, Boss. I can't do shit with both you and Gil out of commission."

"I know," she mumbled, looking down at her bag on her lap. She really had attempted to appear apologetic for her actions. "I did offer my apologies for it."

"Did you seem sorry?" Kingo looked over at her as he slowed to a stop, "really?"

Thena rolled her eyes and shook her head, "sorry enough."

"So, no," Kingo scoffed and shook his head as well. "If you and Gil get fired, I've gotta get out of this line of work."

Thena smiled, "we're not fired, Kingo. Not yet, anyway."

"Yet," he huffed as he started driving again. He glanced at her, "the transfer?"

"I said that even if I was fired, Gil would be back on Special Ops in exchange."

"Thena-"

"It was the only way I'd go peacefully," she shrugged, repeating it exactly as she had stated it in her probation hearing. "That's all that matters."

Kingo snuck his eyes over to her as she toyed with the bag on her knees. She was fidgeting. "You really think Gil is going to still work here if you don't?"

Thena ignored him. "It's just one more week."

Kingo made a grand show of rolling his eyes at her as he pulled over, "I don't know, Boss. I've already neglected all the paperwork I can. They're going to start asking me to actually do it instead of waiting for you to get back."

Thena gave him a smile as she gripped the handle of the car door, "serves you right."

He leaned down to look at her even as she got out, "just come back soon, please? And tell the big guy I want him back even sooner!"

Thena waved to him as he drove off again. She had to admit, Kingo didn't drive as much like a hellion as she had initially expected he would. And he had very helpfully given her a ride whenever she needed it during her suspension period. She turned, letting herself into the apartment with her key.

"Hey!"

"Hey," she smiled as she walked in, kicking off her shoes by the door and walking into the kitchen. "I'm getting a little too used to not having to wear heels."

"Well, it's not like you need 'em."

Thena rounded the corner, leaning against the wall as she admired the sight of Gilgamesh in the kitchen, on his feet, alive and well. Moderately well, "what's on?"

"Just some easy pasta," he smiled at her from the stove, stirring it with his left hand while his right remained in a sling. She gave him a look and he laughed outright, "relax, nothing strenuous involved."

He had taken a bullet to the leg, as well as endured a shattered clavicle that would have him in a sling for two months. He would still be on desk duty even by the time he was cleared to return to work.

Thena wandered closer, inhaling the delicious smelling sauce. He really was a surprisingly skilled home cook.

He looked over at her, the sizzling of pasta underscoring them. "Get fired?"

"No, but I think Minerva vouched for both of us," Thena sighed. She didn't love the idea of being indebted to her old comrade, but she had to admit that she owed her quite a lot, at this point. "They said that the suspension will be over next week, and after that they'll 'keep an eye on me', so... "

He nudged her with his good elbow gently, "I told you not to speak your mind. Just tell them you're very sorry for what you did and move on."

She raised a brow at him, "is that what you said at your probation hearing?"

"No, I told them that they were old bastards who could go to hell."

Thena laughed, partly from the joke, and partly because it probably wasn't that far from the truth, knowing Gil. For all the shit she got for not minding her manners around their superiors, Gil was a pretty honest guy, even in the worst scenarios.

Gil turned off the stove burner and turned to her, "you were pretty hurt, after that op. I couldn't just let that go."

She looked up at him too, her eyes drifting over the sling holding his arm and then down over the extensive bandaging he had received in the hospital. Even a week after being released, some of them still had to be maintained regularly. "How do you think I felt?"

He smiled, giving her shoulder a squeeze before moving to the cupboard with the bowls, "hey, we got through it--both of us."

Thena moved faster, bumping him out of the way with her hip to reach them before he could, "barely."

He smiled, letting her reach them for herself, instead moving to get them both water glasses. "But we did."

Thena set down the bowls beside the pan of pasta. She had apologised plenty already, and that was after Gil had awoken and told her he didn't have any clue what she was apologising for (and telling her to take it back, too). But seeing him more in the past week than she had in the past month still made her heart clench in her chest.

"Thena?"

She smiled, spooning out plenty for both of them (although that meant that his serving was double the size of hers). "Sit down, Gilgamesh."

He chuckled, obeying the order with a big grin on his face, "yes, ma'am."

She let him see her rolling her eyes at him as she came over with their lunch. She sat down, leaving her suit jacket on the back of her chair. She kept forgetting things at Gil's place, being here to help take care of him so often. She had reminded herself plenty of times already not to get so comfortable here.

"Hey."

Thena looked up, already smiling because Gil was. He twirled some pasta around his fork from his bowl and held up the bite for her. He was cute; she shook her head at him. "I have my own."

Gil shrugged, "you need more. This is why you're so skinny."

Thena's jaw dropped, although it made an opening for Gil to poke at her lip with the pasta fork. She huffed before biting down on it with a glare. "You are still my Agent, Gilgamesh."

"Sorry, sir," he laughed as he pulled the fork back. "Y'know, I thought you were kinda skinny for an Agent when you first recruited me, too."

"Oh, did you," Thena scoffed as she took a bite of her own lunch. "What else did you think?--since you're feeling candid?"

Gil shrugged, his shoulders still moving with his barely contained laughter, "that you weren't nearly as hard to read as everyone said you were."

She rolled her eyes again.

"And that you were kinda pretty, too."

She stopped in the middle of bringing her fork up to her lips. She looked over at him but he was shovelling in another bite, as if he hadn't even heard what he'd said.

"This is isn't bad for only having one hand," he commented as he took a massive bite for himself.

Thena just sighed and took another bite as well. It was moments like this that made her not want her suspension to actually end.

[giggly-squiggily]

Y’all ever watch a character on screen and have to keep telling yourself “They’re gonna get better, they’re gonna get better” because right now all you wanna do is sucker punch them in the nose?

Just me? 👀

[70eeznutz]

every 2 weeks or so i scour the internet looking for art of six and seven (literally any art of them it doesn’t even have to be ship art as long as it’s them) and when i find some i haven’t seen before my pupils dilate and i swing the art around in my mouth like a dog toy for enrichment and it sustains me for the next 2 weeks

[scionshtola]

feel Bad. anyway! ffxiv time

[i-appear-misssing]

So what if we stayed out until the wee hours of morning talking and talking and talking and talking while everyone else had left like 5 hours earlier and what if she let me see her cry when she said she hadn't cried in a very long time and what if I held her so tight while she sobbed on my shoulder and I felt her heartbeat against my stupid fucking Rat-Man shirt and what if I told her things I've never been able to say out loud very quietly and what if she then made to hold me but stopped dead in her tracks cause I'd just told her stuff about my body and then waited for me to say you can touch me and what if she held my head and told me she loved me and that she's not used to saying it out loud and what if I

[foldingfittedsheets]

Since everyone seems to love my sex shop stories, here’s another one.

Phone calls were literally a game for us. Not all phone calls, but there was a specific brand of call where guys would creep on us. 90% of the workforce at the sex shops was women. So we’d get dudes calling jacking off or trying to get their jollies from us.

The game: make them hang up. We could have hung up. On a few occasions I did, but for the most part we made a sport out of getting creeps to go flaccid. It really depended on a caller.

You couldn’t just go in for belittling them straight off- some guys wanted that. You had to tailor your strategy to the perv. Overall it was pretty fun and it turned an aspect of the job that could’ve become a major bummer into a fun sport. We’d get excited when the phones rang.

So one day the phone rings. I pick up and it was very clearly a young teen who was putting on a deep voice. I was utterly delighted, I’d never had a crank call before. He said, “I have a dildo emergency! Can you deliver 5 boxes of dildos to my home?!”

It took everything in me not to crack in that moment. It was so funny. It was like three kids had walked through the door in a trench coat and the phrase “dildo emergency” was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard.

But I kept it together. In smooth customer service tones I replied, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear you’re having an emergency, but due to the nature of our product we do require people to come pick it up themselves.”

The caller audibly deflated. Some of the deep voice he was putting on bled away when he said plaintively, “But it’s an emergency…”

“I’m sorry, sir, rules are rules.”

He hung up. I burst out laughing and told my coworker what had happened. She said, “I will buy you lunch if you call back and pretend you can deliver something.”

This sounded like an all around win for me, and the kid hadn’t used anything to block his number. So I called back.

“Hello!” This was before caller ID was common for home phones and so he picked up in his totally normal voice, several octaves higher than before.

“Hello, I’m calling regarding your dildo emergency?”

“Oh! Hem hem,” he coughed, getting his voice back into character for me. “Yes! The emergency!”

“Well I’ve spoken to my manager and it’s your lucky day. We’ll be able to make a delivery after all. Five boxes you said? We can swing it by later, we’ll just need your name, address, and credit card number.”

He was thrown by needing to provide info and was silent for a moment then said, “Well how much is it for five boxes?”

“About five hundred dollars, sir.”

He slipped out of his character voice to exclaim, “Five hundred dollars?! What kind of dildos are they?!”

“Just standard six inches with balls, sir.”

This was his breaking point. He started wheezing with laughter trying to repeat the phrase “six inches with balls” incoherently.

“So your address and card info?”

He hung up and I broke down laughing too. We both got a kick out of it, and I won the game twice in one day.

[gloomwitchwrites]

There was this tiktok trend where kids and their mums would pull a prank on their dads by telling their mums to shut up...141 with a teenage son who tries it?

Anon, I am very aware of this prank. If mom is in on it, I consider it all in good fun, but omg, these guys would be absolutely stressed if they heard their teenage son tell mom to "shut up." Heads would absolutely roll over that!

Price is certainly old enough to have a teenage son on the older side. I would even say the same for Ghost. Gaz is old enough for a younger teenage son. With Soap's age...that's stretching it. BUT SUSPEND DISBELIEF Y'ALL. I'm aging Gaz and Soap up a bit for this one.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in two double drabbles and two triple drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader (w/ children)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, pranks, domestic, dad!141, brief suggestive themes, marriage

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Ugh. Shut up, Mum.”

There is a brief pause between mum and when the television remote hurtles across the room. Your son doesn’t duck in time, the hard plastic hitting his shoulder before bouncing onto the kitchen island with a loud clack.

Before your son turns, Kyle’s baseball cap with the Union Jack, soars through the air like a frisbee. This one your son manages to avoid, but it’s quickly followed by a slipper. It flies past his head, and you catch it out of the air before it makes contact with the front of the microwave.

You and your eldest son turn in Kyle’s direction as he manifests in the kitchen entryway, the other slipper in hand, poised to launch it at the first sign of any movement.

“Wanna repeat yourself, mate?” Kyle appears calm and poised, but you notice the subtle tension in his jaw.

“It was a joke, Dad! Promise!”

Kyle’s arm holding the slipper starts to rise.

“Kyle,” you say. His gaze flicks to you. “Just a joke. No harm. I was in on it.”

His shoulders immediately sag. Kyle shakes his head. Rolls his eyes. Heading for the fridge, he opens it up, grabbing a can of his favorite beer.

Kyle sets the beer down on the island, pointing the slipper at you and then his son. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out, just an exasperated huff.

Kyle snatches up the television remote and sticks it into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. Keeping hold of the shoe in one hand, and his beer in the other, he gives the two of you his back, heading into the living room.

“No one bother me until the game is over,” he says over his shoulder. “And someone bring me my bloody slipper!”

John Price

"Fucking hell, Mum. Shut it."

John is up and out of his seat so fast you hardly see him move. He strides over to his son, yanking him off the stool by the scruff of his shirt.

"John! It's a prank!" you say quickly, reaching for his arm.

The boy is dangling in the air, toes just shy of touching the ground. "A prank?" asks John skeptically.

"Mum is in on it. Promise."

John sighs heavily and slowly lowers his son to the ground. The moment his feet touch ground, he tries to step away, but John holds firm, keeping his eldest child immobile. He leans forward a bit. Lowers his voice.

"Prank or no, you never talk to your mother, your sisters, or any woman in that manner again. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy." John releases his son. "The lawn needs trimmed."

"Yes, sir."

Your son scurries away. It isn't until the door to the garage opens and shuts that John moves toward you. His arm drapes over your waist, hand landing firmly on your ass, squeezing hard.

"You're coming with me."

"To do what?"

He presses his lips to your ear. "For a different sort of punishment."

John "Soap" MacTavish

"You’re off your head, lad.”

With Johnny’s cold tone comes a tension to your son’s shoulders. He becomes rigid, sliding down into his chair like he can escape from his father by cowering underneath the table. Johnny comes around the corner, a bit of sweat on his brow. He's been building furniture all day for the nursery.

"Want to repeat that for me?" asks Johnny.

Your son’s voice cracks. "It was just a prank, Dad."

"It was what?" Johnny strides forward.

"It's a prank. I'm in on it. Promise," you say, attempting to soothe Johnny’s anger.

Johnny crosses his arms over your chest. "Is it?" He glances between the two of you and sighs, muttering, “Am pure done in.”

He disappears down the hall, returning with a stack of instructional manuals, dropping them into his son’s lap. "You're building furniture."

"But I—"

“You right scunner. C’mon.” Johnny yanks his son out of the chair, the stack of instructional manuals goes flying. Your son reaches for them all, desperately clasping them against his chest.

“Johnny," you call out, walking around the counter to intervene.

He glances over his shoulder, frown gown, sly smirk on his face. “Deal with you later."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Oi, Mum. Shut it.”

Your son is a wonderful actor. You’ll give him that. Even you almost believe him. Not that he would—he’d never—but his delivery reminds you of a completely pissed football fan ready to throw a punch at a member of the rival team.

He should consider theater.

Simon, your husband, is watching a rugby match in the living room. The television is on but at a low volume.

Within seconds of the words leaving your son’s mouth, Simon appears like a phantom guardian in the entryway. In one he holds the remote like a weapon. The other arm cradles his infant daughter. She looks like a small bean. Slightly curved as she snuggles closer against Simon’s chest as she sleeps.

He's not looking at you. He's staring at his son, gaze intense and full of fire.

You’ve seen that look before.

Mission abort.

"He's joking, Simon. It's just a prank,” you soothe, knowing you need to get ahead of this.

Not that Simon would hurt you or his son, but he rarely takes any shit. This prank was a gamble, and you’re completely regretting it.

"Don't mean it, Dad."

Simon just stares for a long minute. His daughter squirms and that is when he glances down, severing the connection. Observing her must change something in him, because his gaze returns to the two of you, and there is a calmness now.

Sighing heavily, Simon shakes his head, completely exasperated. The eye roll is so apparent it’s like a shout.

In the moment he was pissed—livid. But now he’s over it, more annoyed and unamused than actually mad.

Turning on his heel, daughter still cradled in one arm, Simon returns to his recliner, settling back into the soft cushions to finish watching his rugby match.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep

@blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@kadeeesworld @umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @lxblm

@arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @ash-tarte @spookyscaryspoon @enarien

[eyesxxyou]

First Drink 🥃

🍺・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.2k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

or

Logan gives you your first drink

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, drinking, forced alcohol consumption, dubious consent, fingering, squirting, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

Logan is far from a holy man. He drinks too much, smokes too often, hasn’t even stepped foot in a church in his entire life. He’d like to think he’s a good man though, one who tries to make the right decisions when he can, but he knows that what he’s like to think and the reality of it all were two wildly separate things. For how could he be a good man when he’s got it out for you, a pastor’s daughter?

He didn’t mean for it to happen. Kind of stumbled into it as one stumbles into trying cocaine. That is to say, he didn’t stumble into it at all. It was a deliberate decision made with addictive consequences. You were his neighbor, a meek, kind little thing often wrapped up in your bible while you sit quaintly on the front steps of your family house. You were young, not too young though. Freshly turned 21. Yet you still wore your modest clothing and pretty mary janes with frilly socks.

Logan was a perverted man. There was no way to get around it. You were as kind and as innocent as any one person could be. You spoke to him kindly, you brought him lemonade while he was working on his motorcycle and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look in his lap with his large hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock nestled nicely against your womb.

It was one of these days when you brought him lemonade and sat with him in his garage that he turned to you, hands covered in grease and oil. “You’re 21 now, right doll?” Logan grabbed a towel from out of the waist of his jeans and used that to clean off his hands before grabbing the small crystalline cup of fresh lemonade to sip on. It was almost as sweet as you, not nearly as pleasing to taste.

You sat on a small crate with your knees close to your chest. The toes of your sleek, black mary janes pointed to each other. “Yes sir.” He liked that about you, how respectfully you spoke to him. It reminded him of how much power he had over you, how many years, how much authority. Oh, he is far from a holy man.

“You had your first drink yet?”

You were a sweet, little thing, flustered at the mere suggestion of drinking alcohol. “Oh, no sir. I don’t drink. My father would never allow it.” You and your tender sensibilities. You and your innocent nature. Logan thought about how easy it would be to have his way with you. You wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t so much as make a peep. You’d be too entranced by the way his fingers slide along your tongue and his length snuggle sits way into the walls of your unused cunt.

Logan hummed softly. “You wanna?” He watched the way your eyes shifted as you considered it, a world within your grasp if you just had the courage to reach for it. He’d give it to you, all of it, a universe of worldly pleasures. Why restrict yourself now to go to heaven when you can have heaven on Earth right here?

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is slow and unsure. All you needed was a little push and you’d tip right over the edge into depravity. That’s the thing about little girls like you, you long for a touch of what’s beyond you but you’re always too scared to get it.

Logan stood up to his staggering height, all legs and muscular torso. “Come on, no one will know but me and you.” He offered a hand to you and after a moment of hesitation, you placed your hand in his large palm and let him pull you up to your feet and guide you into his house. It was a world you had never before seen, rustic and dark, smelling so strongly of Logan you thought you might faint.

He had a whole cabinet for his alcohol, bottles of scotch, whiskey, and bourbon. Logan grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet along with a whiskey glass for you to sip out of. He poured some out and you watched with utter fascination. The golden brown liquid long kept from you for fear you may lose your spot in Heaven. Worldly pleasures such as drinking doomed you to Hell.

“Come here, doll.” Logan coaxed you towards him with two fingers as he sat down on his couch, legs open just enough to offer you a comfortable seat on his thighs. You trembled like a newborn deer, scared of this strange, new world you’ve found yourself in. He brought you into his lap, his hands resting on your thigh as he pushed the glass of whiskey into your hand. “Go ahead and try it.”

You looked into the glass, golden brown sloshing around. It didn’t look so intimidating, like drinking Coca-Cola. But it didn’t taste like Coca-Cola when you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip. It tasted bitter and burned your throat as it went down. “I don’t like it.” You pouted softly, turning to look over your shoulder at Logan. His fingers slowly began to gather the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up your thigh. “Just keep drinking, doll.”

You were a good girl. You did as told, entirely unaware of the way his fingers kept pulling at your skirt until it was entirely up your thigh. You felt his rough fingertips against your bare flesh and shivered as he traced figure 8s into your skin. “Mr. Howlett?”

“Shh, keep drinking.” Logan murmured as he felt up your thigh, closer and closer to your heated cunt. You writhed in his lap, simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused as you felt his rough fingers brush against the damp fabric of your cotton panties. The stuck to your pussy lips, wet and sensitive as he pressed his thumb to your clit through the fabric and began to rub. Logan took his free hand and pushed the cup back to your lips, tilting it to force you to drink.

Logan couldn’t help himself. You were here, splayed out before him for the taking. He’d be stupid not to take advantage of, take advantage of you. You didn't fight it, just as he had expected, like a good girl. “Spread your legs now.” He clicked his tongue and crooned into your ear.

Trembling, you shook your head. “I– I can't.” Your voice, all small and meek, only made his pants tighter. You could feel it, the bulge against your ass through his jeans. Or maybe that was the large buckle against his pelvis.

“Yeah you can. Open up, doll.” He shifted you slightly so that you were sitting on one of his thighs. He used his leg to part yours a bit further, skillfully. He’s had many girls in his lap, none as pretty as you.

Logan stroked your quivering cunt. “What a wet little girl you are. You been thinking about this, pretty girl?” He bounced you on his thigh and let you slide further into his fingers. A stifled whimper escaped you as you braced yourself against him. “Mr. Howlett– please.” You pleaded for your innocence, for your integrity. Most importantly, you begged for him not to expose your innermost thoughts. The sinful way you look at him, all muscle and hair and man.

Your fingers grasped at his wrist and forearm, nails digging into his skin. It wasn't like you were trying to move his hand, not like you could if you wanted you.

You gasped as he curled a finger into the side of your soaked panties and pulled them to the side. Your cheeks began to swell with the heat of embarrassment. Of course, you never expected to have any sexual experience before marriage so you hadn't shaved between your legs. Logan didn't mind at all it seemed, his finger dipped between your lovely lips and stroked in tender touches.

You squirmed in his lap, whimpering. “Mr. Howlett, I…I shouldn't. Please.” His thumb pressed on your puffy clit, pulsing with arousal, and you choked as the electrifying jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. You had ever been touched like this before, not even by yourself. Logan’s experienced fingers circled your leaking entrance, teasing at all the possibilities of pleasure.

“No one has to know, doll.” Grunted Logan. He felt the way your pussy fluttered, the whole thing aching with want. He eased a single finger into you, sighing out a sweet “Jesus” at the way your walls clamped down around him. You let out a squeal, back arching away from him, your nails sinking into his hairy forearm. Your entire body shivered. “Too big,” you murmured, “‘s too big.”

You were small, tight, and already complaining that a single finger was too much. How could he possibly fit his fat cock into your cunt? Logan was sure he'd tear you in half, his precious girl. “Relax, grab that bottle and drink some more, baby. It’ll help you loosen up.”

With a shaky hand, you reached out and grabbed the bottle off the table in front of you. You brought it to your lips and sipped at the liquid while Logan rubbed your hip with his free hand. “Good girl. I gonna keep going now.” You shook your head viciously. “No, no, no, ‘m not ready.”

He cared not for your concerns. Free hand pulling your legs apart, Logan curled pulled his finger from your gripping cunt before sliding it back in. You were all warm and soft on the inside, just like you were on the outside, even more so. You squeaked and squealed in his lap, his thumb attacking your clit in ferocious circles.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, being fucked with a single thick finger. You mewled, mind growing hazy as your hips rocked against your will. Logan knew you wouldn't be able to handle a second finger. He’d rupture your hymen and he wanted to save that honor for when he pushed himself into you and possessed you completely.

You were dripping down his knuckles. He fingered you so hard and fast, you nearly screamed as you thrashed in his lap. “Mmmh ah, ah… ngh.” Something wet trickled out of you and down Logan's hand, clear and dripping. A weak, little squirt, followed by a much larger one.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't…” You panted out, whining. Logan cooed lowly in your ear. “Got myself a squirter.” He chuckled, a nice puddle on his leg and couch from your sweet show of pleasure. He curled his finger, messaging your soft walls in desperate search of that soft ridge where your g-spot lay.

When he found it, Logan smiled, chucking as you yelped and cried out, a rattling moan shivering up your spine. You tried to slow his hand, grasping and scratching at his arm. You fell back against his chest, legs splayed open while he took the time to abuse your pretty cunt. “You okay, doll?”

You whined vaguely, hazily, your body rolling then slumping, tensing then relaxing. “I– It feels weird.” Something was building within you. Something tight and breathtakingly beautiful. Tears pricked your eyes, wide and pretty, weeping with the brutality of your orgasm, pressing on the edge of unknown pleasures.

And it snapped like a rubber band. Everything that had been held back released all at once, ravishing your body to the point where there goes pointed in your Mary Jane's and your back arched. Shaking, you clawed at Logan's arm so hard you left bright red marks lining his flesh. “Mr. Howlett!”

“Shh, shh, don't want the neighbors to hear you, do you doll?” Logan slowed his hand, pulling his finger from your aching pussy. His entire hand dripped with your cum, sweet and creamy, some slick with your squirt. “Open up, little one.” He teased the tips of his fingers to your lips like he had that glass of whiskey. Coaxing your mouth open, Logan slipped his fingers between your lips and pressed his fingers to your tongue.

You tasted nice, sweet. Your body unmarred by the poison of excessive alcohol, smoking, or junk food. You were clean and pure, untouched by anyone but him. Logan loved it, knowing that he’s the first man to ever touch you. The knowledge was almost as good as an orgasm by itself. You were his, he possessed you. You were his before you were anyone else's.

When you stood, skirt falling back down to your knees, your legs trembled with the aftershock of your first orgasm. You let out a deep, shaky breath, trembling as you turned to look at Logan’s sitting figure. “M–M–Mr. Howlett.” It’s all you could manage to say to him, choking. You had been violated; your sacred temple desecrated.

And you liked it.

Logan hiked himself up to his feet from his couch and stood before you, towering. His hands on your hips, he pulled you in close to him. You braced yourself with your hands against his solid chest. Your cheeks were still wet with tears which Logan wiped away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, doll?”

You were such a good, obedient girl. You nodded slowly. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spanking, pain kink, pussy slapping, caught, hints of jealous!reader, fingering, belt used to choke you, face spitting, hints at a quickie outside/outdoor sex, bondage with a tie/light choking with said tie, pussy inspection, praise/degradation, teasing/begging, daddy(Toji, Kento & Suguru’s)/sir(sukuna’s)/lil mama(suguru’s)/brat, edging/ruined orgasms, choking, pussy inspection, oral (receiving), hints of cock warming, grinding your cunt on suguru’s fat cock, suguru plays with your nipple, biting, mating press, prone bone, vibrator/vibrator goes up your ass

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: you're such a fucking tease, you know that? ❜ sukuna 🙏🏻

Fey: maybe she shouldn’t have flirted with your man (Sukuna) / @maxellera remember how we were talking about Toji getting annoying when you ignore him after a fight well, why not purposely dress up for him to add the cherry on top

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“It’s been all fuckin day! First that damn skimpy maid outfit, and tonight you’re walking around in this?” He grabs a handful of your sheer nightgown ripping it off your body and dropping it. Pushing two thick fingers into your soaking wet cunt with a loud squelch.

His thick rings rubbing your lips, “You’re are such a fuckin’ tease dumb lil slut!.” Your grasp on the edge of his desk tightens as your toes curl into the carpet.

His fingers feel too good stroking your soft soaking wet cunt. Clenching his fingers and crying when he smacks your ass. The sharp stinging on your sorry cheeks feels too good.

Whining, “Thank you for spanking me sir!” Pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt until your thighs are trembling. His desk keeping you from running.

Your cunt is throbbing with a sharp sting. “I just wanted to check on you sir before turning in! See if you needed anything from me.” Sukuna’s assistant walks in and Sukuna yanks your head back by your hair.

He nudges your lips apart pushing three fingers in knuckle deep whilst ordering, “Tell her I’m busy.” There is a small satisfaction when you realize it’s the assistant who was flirting with him earlier.

Pumping his fingers faster making it hard to talk without moaning. “He-he’s busssy nnn fuck he feels so good. He’ll call for you after he cums in me!” Sukuna let’s your hair go, squeezing your throat whilst pumping his thick fingers faster.

Your soaking wet cunt’s squelches are getting louder than your moans. His fingers are magic in your cunt fucking you closer towards cumming.

Sukuna snaps, “Leave, you’re ruining the moment, looking at you is making my cock soft.” The assistant quickly scurries off and Sukuna glides his fingers out of your sloppy cunt.

Letting you go to rid himself of his clothes, looping his belt around your throat. He keeps it loose whilst asking, “What makes you thinking I’m gonna cum in you instead of on you?” Gliding his fat cock head between your lips.

You’re quick to answer, “Nothing sir! I wanted to make her jealous I know she wants to be in my place. I’m a jealous slut!” Tightening the belt around your neck, he yanks you back onto his cock by your throat. Filling your soft tight cunt up with his fat heavy cock.

Sukuna croons, “Aw you want my fat cock all to yourself?” You’re clawing at his desk whilst taking his punishing thrusts. Sukuna’s fat veiny cock is hitting too deep. His hips snapping against your ass with loud smacks.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

All Satoru can think about is how he can see your wet, pretty cunt underneath your skirt. There is a tight throbbing in his cock and his balls ache. He can't think straight.

Pinning you to a tree, “I can’t do this anymore you win.” Satoru’s cheeks flush pink, “You fucking win god fucking damn you’re such a fuckin’ tease I love it.” Slipping his hand underneath your skirt, you grab his wrist to stop him.

Looking up at him smiling, “Say that again first!” He unzips his pants and pushes them down letting his pretty cock stick out.

He steps back giving, stroking his cock in front of you whilst smirking, “You win! N’ you’re reward is cumming on my wonderful cock.” Letting his cock go, it sticks out straight, softly bobbing as he slips his clothes off.

He’s beautiful, soft white hair catching the sunlight. Sliding his fingers through his hair. You can't see his eyes but you know he’s staring down at you. “This will have to be quick but tonight you’re coming to mine, I'm tying you up and taking my time with every fuckable hole.”

Reaching for your skirt Satoru protests, “Don’t, I want to fuck you in your skirt.” Pushing you against the tree, unbuttoning your shirt pushing it open and tugging it off you.

“Since I'm the one who won shouldn't I be making the calls.” You’re folding for him so easily despite this. Keeping your skirt on and sliding your hands down his chest. You’ve been wanting to feel him up since he lifted his arms to stretch and his shirt lifted to show his silver happy trail and a strip of skin.

Satoru croons, “This bra and your wet cunt has me thinking I'm the real winner, so really it's debatable.” Snapping the bra’s strap against your shoulder, then raising your arms tugging the bra up t bind your wrist with it.

You lift up one leg wrapping it around Satoru’s waist. He grabs his cock rubbing his warm head between your lips. “I thought you didn't like debating.” Pulling him closer with your leg around his waist, moaning as he cock glides into you.

He smirks, “That’s why I'm not debating I'm telling you, I win.” Pinning your other thigh by your side he groans, “I’m the one getting to fuck you, you’re so wet n tight for me.”

Satoru fucks you harder, loudly groaning, “Fuuuuck! Squeeze my cock with your wet cunt! I definitely win! Look at me, you’re so beautiful when you cum i want to see your face.” Holding your wrist above your head and squeezing your thigh.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Toji lets you get a few gasp of air before he’s squeezing your throat again. “Nah you wanted to ignore me so you get to be quiet n take this fat cock. Stupid slut beggin' me to help you cum after ignoring me for an hour over a dumb ass fight.”

Using his heavy weight to press you into the mattress whilst you’re on your side. One leg bent the other straight between his legs. Toji grunts, “You’re such a fuckin tease putting on lingerie when you’re mad at me. It makes it so hard to argue with you when all the blood is rushing to my fat cock.”

Rutting his hips faster as your sqlueching cunt clenched and quivers around his fat, veiny fat. He smirks and croons, “Awe my stupid brat is about to cum!” Pulling out and smacking your cunt, replacing the tingling pleasure with a sharp pain.

Writhing underneath Toji he sits on your leg partly pinning you making it hard to avoid his punishing smacks. “Poor lil slut does it hurt? Is your poor little cunt throbbing?” Letting your throat go he grabs a toy turns it on its highest setting then presses it to your sensitive clit.

Pleading with Toji, “I’m sorry I won't do it again! Please lemme cum!” Your throat is sore from Toji’s firm grasp yet you can't stop begging. “Wanna cum! I'm sorry! I wanna cum on your cock! It feels so good!”

Swirling the toy on your clit, thrusting his fat cock into your tight, sloppy wet cunt. Toji groans, “That’s bullshit! You’re a brat n ya like gettin’ your attitude fucked outta ya too much.”

Clenching his fat cock, moaning, “Please please please please please! I'm a bratty slut for your cock daddy please! I'll be good after this!” You’re so pent up after several ruined orgasms your getting so close to cumming too quickly.

He grunts, “I know you will be, I'm gonna make sure you’re be too exhuasted to be a brat.” Pulling out taking the toy away at the last second, slapping his heavy cock on your lips. He rubs it in your face, “That was so close, you almost came there!”

Pushing the small vibrator into your sensitive cunt. Clenching the toy pushing it out onto his palm. Toji smacks your ass the shoves the wet toy into your other hole. Leaving the string with its heart shaped button sticking out.

You can feel the strong vibrations in you cunt from your ass. “Keep on begging n’ trying to convince me to let you cum.” He rolls you fully onto your stomach, grabbing your hair, gliding his cock in with a quick thrust.

Toji leans over you, his heavy weight pinning you into the bed as he fucks you prone bone. Groaning in your ear, “If you stop begging I'm pulling out, then we can find out if you’re worked up enough will you cum from a vibraotor in your ass. Or if you still need my cock in your sloppy wet cunt.”

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Suguru is fighting for his life with how your shifting on his lap, rubbing his throbbing cock against your clothed cunt. You’re soaking through your underwear yet your attention remains on stardew valley.

Controller in hand you running towards your farmer’s house before running out of energy and passing out in the yard. “Aw damn I didn't get out the mine fast enough.” Leaning down Suguru kisses along your neck, biting softly when you falter.

He suggests, “You should carry some coffee around.” Slipping his hand underneath your shirt, sliding his large hands up your sides. It’s was already difficult to to focus with his hard cock and now he’s softly rubbing your nipples.

Moaning, “I should, nnn Daddy! You’re such a fuckin’ tease! You haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself all day.” Setting the control down on his bed. “My cunt is still sore from the last round.” After three hours you could still feel his fat cock in you.

He softly gasps, “I’m a tease?” You can hear the cocky smile in his voice. “Lil mama you’re the one making my cock hard squirming in my lap. If I didn't know better I say you’re grinding your cunt on my cock on purpose.” Holding up his fat cock, Suguru is long enough he covers your wet cunt.

You lean back against Suguru, grinding your hips sliding your sloppy wet cunt on his fat, veiny cock. Moaning as his head rub your sensitive clit. Slipping your fingers into his dark hair knocking his messy bun loose.

Rocking your hips faster, rubbing your clit below his cockhead. “It feels too good not to! I've been horny all day and your fat cock is so thick and long it hangs past your balls. N’ you’ve been groping me since before you opened your eyes thus morning.” Dipping his head to bite your neck.

Whining, “It’s all your fault!” Looking up at Suguru’s beautiful face when he sits up. The angle reminds you how much taller Suguru is.“I love how big you are, your cock, your muscules, your height, I get wet just being near you.”

He gloats, “That sounds like a you problem, but I'll help you just daddy what you need lil’ mama.”

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Kissing your forehead then ordering, “Bend over for me so I can see if you’ve touched yourself in the past ten minutes.” Undoing his tie, it's errotic watching his thick fingers tug on the tie’s kno. You want his thick fingers in your wet cunt getting you ready to take his fat cock.

Bending over for Kento “How can you?” Kento wraps his tie around your throat then tugs your wrists behind you back to bind together. If you tug your wrist or hang your head you’re choking yourself.

He pushes the sheer skirt of your babydoll lingerie. Slowly dragging his finger over your clothed cunt. “By inspecting your beautiful cunt, don’t tell me you think I can’t tell what she looks like after you cummed.” You fight the urge to squirm as he pulls your underwear aside spreading your soft lips apart with two fingers.

He kneels behind you putting his handsome face close to your wet cunt. “Stunning.” Kissing your soft lips then slowly thrusting a thick finger in. Watching your small hole stretch to take his thick

Kento slowly thrust a thick finger in eliciting a soft moan from you. Pumping his finger slowly, he’s taking his time feeling your soft cunt and your frustration bubbles over. “I’ve been good all day! Please you’re such a fuckin’ tease with all those pictures of your cock and that video of you cumming in your hand, please daddy I've been trying so hard to be good!”.

Slapping your cunt, biteing your ass and squeezing a handful of your other cheek. When he slaps your cunt again you can his wedding ring hitting your lips. “You were good, but I can't let get away with slipping up just now. I know you’re frustrated but that no reason to give me any attitude.”

Pleading with Kento, “I’m sorry! It won't happen again!”

He warns, “If it does I'll edge you until you cry.” Kissing your sore cunt, nudging his tongue past your lips. The position makes it easy to sit on Kento’s handsome face. His soft tongue feels so good rubbing your sore cunt, easing the stinging.

“Please let me cum! I'm so sorry daddy! I shouldn't have given you any attitude please take care of my cunt!” Pulling his tongue out Kento stands up and you can hear him undo his belt.

He tugs on the taunt tie between your shoulder blades pulling you upright. Kissing the top of your head, he slides his large hand up your side. “I know you’re sorry which is why you’re going to good for me and keep my cock warm and wet whilst I finish a glass of 1792 whiskey.”

all fics

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[goldeunoias]

Favorite Student.

WARNINGS: YES THIS IS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT FUCKING IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT DON'T READ IT. both of yall are adults i think like 22 and 28 or something like that so it's not like the worst of the worst but yes. there are power dynamics blah blah, sunghoon is massive pervert, ITS ALL FICTION YALL

um includes....perverted sunghoon, eating out, teasing, pet names, sex in an office, fingering, it's me so ya know

Synopsis: A class you'd hated, but a professor you'd always admired...

A/N: DAISY BACKKKKK

SUNGHOON STANS ARE THE BESTTTTT at writing and giving me anons and feedback and comments and reblogs which is why I will always spoil them bc they treat me the best <333. next fic is a heeseung one sooo if you want more heeseung content make sure to give that one as much love too when it comes out!

_________________________________________

He was the meanest professor around, bar none.

But in your current predicament, he was the only professor left for the class you needed to take, unless you wanted to wait and thus delay your graduation by a whole semester.

That's how you found yourself standing outside his office, swinging back and forth on your heels, trying to get the courage to go in and ask him for help on the chapter that seemed like no one in your class was getting, you included.

"What are you doing standing outside my office?"

At the sound of his voice you jumped and turned around, heart racing in your ears as you tried to give him some eye contact; ultimately failing miserably.

"U-Um, I needed help with chapter 14 in the textbook and no one in my section really got it either so I figured I'd stop by-"

"Did you look at the lecture notes?"

"Y-yes sir."

"The supplemental videos?"

You nodded again.

Dr. Park sighed and moved past you to unlock his office door, letting the door swing shut past you as you walked in. The vibes of his room was austere to say the least and you couldn't tell if anyone had ever sat in the chair across from him given how spotless and un-creased it was.

Well, first time for everything.

"So what are you needing help with? Do you have any notes or something?"

"U-uh yes sir, give me a sec," you stuttered out as you fidgeted with your bag to pull out your laptop, showing him all that you had done.

He leaned on his side of the thick oak desk so he could get a closer look at what you had done, the closer proximity causing cologne you could only surmise to be expensive filling your nose. You fidgeted in your seat and moved some to lower your skirt as it rode up, trying to think of something to fill the awkward silence as he scrolled through what you had done.

Luckily, he beat you to it.

"Well, it's not the worst thing I've seen." He sighed, taking off his glasses and pointing to your screen. "You still aren't understanding the basic concepts of this chapter yet and it's reflecting in your notes. You see this summary outline you wrote here is-"

Your eyes absentmindedly drifted to his alabaster forearms that were shown from the rolled up sleeves of his button up, thick large hands scrolling on your keyboard. His jaw and nose were sharp too and from the closeness you could make out his dark lashes, usually hidden by the thick framed glasses he wore.....

You were jolted out of your thoughts when he snapped his fingers in front of your face, eyebrows knitted in annoyance at you wasting his time by daydreaming.

"If you're going to come to my office I would think you'd listen to what I have to say," Sunghoon said through a clucked tongue.

You looked down and immediately apologized profusely, feeling tears well in your eyes. You weren't the best with scolding you never had been, but to have someone who was already not in the best of moods have it become worse because of you only made you more sensitive.

He looked at you from across the desk, a grown girl with mannerisms like that of a meek fawn.

A prey.

You swallowed thickly as he stood up and leaned over the desk, strands of mahogany hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you.

"Hey hey, don't cry, we'll work through it together mmkay? You're a smart girl aren't you?"

It was a voice you'd never heard him use on anyone, and it made the hairs on your neck stand up and your legs squirm as he held your chin.

"I'm sorry it's just this is one of my final classes I need to graduate and everything is hard and I don't want to waste your time-"

"Aw, princess don't stress, don't stress," he cooed. The sweet and gentle tone of his voice was causing you to melt into his touch, wondering how someone who usually only spoke in stern curt sentences could produce such sounds.

You couldn't stop bouncing your legs and squirming in your seat as his fingertips stroked the underside of your chin softly, making soft shushes and coos at you to calm your nerves.

Fuck, he wanted to ruin you.

But he had to wait for you to make the move. He was in the precarious position and even though he could see in your gaze that you were begging for it, you were going to have to show him.

A little teasing should do the trick.

"Here, we have some time before the next test don't we? Start coming by my office everyday and we can work through this unit together so you won't have to worry alright" he offered up, sitting back down in his office chair with a soft smile on his face.

You sniffled and nodded at the premise before rushing out a plethora of "thank you"s to him, unable to stop the tingling on your chin from where he had touched you as he left........

_________________________________

"Here sweetheart move your chair over to my side of the desk so you can get a better look at my screen," he offered up, moving his chair over some to make some room.

"O-okay sure," you agreed, the name "sweetheart" ringing throughout your head. Had he always used that nickname for you? Or was he just using it as a coverup for forgetting your name? Whatever the reason, your mind was spinning in circles at the gentle way he said it.

“Cmon, you can come a little closer than that, I don’t bite ya know”, he hummed, pulling your chair closer to his. You nodded because you didn’t trust your voice and your mind couldn’t stop wandering to how large his hands looked as he pointed out errors in the extra assignments he’d given you, talking you softly through each one.

"Does that make sense?" he inquired gently, placing his head on your thigh and squeezing it. The contact made you jolt in your skin and you gulped before profusely nodding, truly able to grasp just how large his hands were as they sat on your plush thigh.

"Good girl, see you had no reason to be so worried, your work is been improving exponentially".

"T-thank you sir. I have to go to my next class now...." you trailed off awkwardly, fidgeting in your seat.

He smiled and stood up, waiting for you to do the same before escorting you to his door.

"Of course. Same time tomorrow?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, scurrying out of his office. You made a b-line to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face, wondering if there was anything that gave away just how flustered you truly were in his proximity.

How can someone be so cute? Sunghoon hummed to himself as he sat at his desk, fiddling with his pen. His own hand still buzzed with excitement at how soft and warm your thigh was, and his mind couldn't help but trail further down a rabbit hole.

For the next month it seemed Sunghoon had only gotten friendlier and friendlier: you found out that he had a dog which he adored and would bring to the office if he was allowed to, that he had a younger sister, used to compete in sports (which you could attribute to his frame), and really liked fashion.

All the while, Sungoon used every opportunity to get you used to his touch; the stroking of your ear during one session, the soft touch of your shoulder the next. Every time you'd jolt before absentmindedly melting into it, and before you knew it you find yourself craving his touch.

You didn't dare your friends or anyone around you of your extra tutoring sessions, or that his hands were somehow find themself on yours. Surely you should be disgusted at yourself instead of electrified by the touches he leaves on you right?

But those thoughts would always disappear every time you walked into his office.

"So sorry I'm late!" you rushed out as you stepped into his office, panting from having sprinted up the stairs to get here.

Sunghoon looked up from the papers at his desk and smiled, flickering his head to come sit down.

"It's okay sweetheart don't worry," he hummed, trying to pull his eyes away from the sheen the shone on your neck.

"I've been so frazzled lately I hope you're not too mad at me being late," you rushed out, practically stumbling over to sit down in your chair.

He hummed and stared at your plush thighs that clung to the leather of the chair and watched as you shifted to prevent them sticking, getting flustered when you saw he was watching you.

"Sorry, I'm a bit sticky it's a bit warm outside, s-should I just stand instead?" you offered up quickly, standing up and fixing your sundress.

"Why don't you sit on my desk instead then? Here let me move these papers out of you way-"

"W-won't I get the desk dirty since I'm all sweaty" you interjected, heart racing as he cleared his desk off for you, making space so you'd have no choice but to sit right in front of his chair.

"Don't worry about it, now be a good girl and come sit," he cooed, giving you eyes that almost dared you to disobey him. Quickly you went over and sat on his desk, swallowing thickly when Sunghoon began massaging your calves as he removed your shoes.

"Poor baby rushed over to our tutoring session, your legs must be exhausted and aching," he soothed, tender hands working into the soft flesh of your skin.

"Only s-slightly, it's fine I"m used to it," you excused, squirming as Sunghoon leaned closer to your skin. "Is this something a professor should be um...doing, I mean I know we've gotten close b-but.." you trailed off, yelping when Sunghoon dragged his lips against your knee.

"Then tell me to stop kitten," he taunted, kissing the inner of your thighs as he slid off your other shoe, looking up at you through framed lenses.

"You're not stupid baby, your test grades prove that well enough. Surely you kept coming to our lessons hoping it'd end up like this," he continued, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he pulled you closer against his face.

"I...I don't know," was all you could muster out, toes curling as he softly kissed your inner thighs. Sunghoon chuckled under his breath and stood up, pushing you down onto his desk as he took of his glasses.

The air was knocked out of you for a second as you lay splayed on the desk, the cool hardwood being a stark contrast to your sticky skin.

“It’s okay baby,” he leaned in, licking the sweat from your neck. “It’s okay to say you like doing perverted things with me. Go on, tell your professor how much you like it”, he cooed, rubbing your puffy clit with his thumb.

You whined as felt something tightening in your tummy, mustering up the courage to speak.

“I-I like it”, you choked out, your toes curling in your tube socks as you started to feel how thick his fingers really were.

“Awww, give me more than that yeah? Tell me exactly what you like.” He couldn’t help himself. He wanted you to profess all types of profanities through hazy eyes and shaky legs, for you to beg to be ruined and defiled by him.

“I like..doing perverted things with you.” You felt your face burn as you stumbled your way through the sentence, rutting your hips into a feeling that only got tighter.

“Aw you do? Well in that case let me teach my princess all the perverted things we can do together..." he trailed off, squeezing the side of your thighs.

"Good girl~, such a good girl~" Sunghoon cooed, lifting up the hem of your sundress. "Cute panties," he drawled as his index finger slid down the slit, pressing against the sticky wet patch. "Mind if I keep them?"

You couldn't help but buck your hips into the feeling as you nodded without a second thought, your nails digging into the gloss furnish of his desk.

"Sweetheart you shouldn't agree to everything I say," he spoke, cupping your heat in his hand and massaging it. You gripped onto his shoulders instead and whimpered into his chest as you felt trickles of wetness soak your cotton underwear, meak "I'm sorry"s leaving you.

"It's okay, it's okay, don't apologize. It's just," he moved the hair covering your ear with his mouth before kissing against it, letting out deep groans as he rutted himself against you.

"there are some bad people out there, waiting to take advantage of pretty young girls like you. Are you going to spread your legs for everyone?"

"No, it's j-just because it's...you," you whimpered against his chest.

Sunghoon sucked air through his teeth as his self control unraveled at the seams.

"Because it's me?" he inquired, kneeling down so he was eye-level with your soaked core, messing with the hem of your panties.

"Wait Ihaven'tshoweredso-" your legs shook around his head as his tongue pressed against the soaked wet patch of your underwear, groaning at the taste that trickled onto his tongue.

"Is that why you taste and smell so sweet princess?" He groaned, pulling your underwear down without a second thought to expose yourself barren to him, his cock twitching in his pants at how sticky you already were.

"Here hold my hand sweetheart, squeeze it as hard as you like," he cooed as he offered up his free hand to you. You obliged immediately and squeezed his digits as his other free hand rubbed softly against your swollen clit, leaving light kisses on the puffy bud.

You let out meek "I'm sorry"s as your nails dug into the alabaster skin of his hand, struggling to keep yourself still as you felt the warmth of his lips wrap around your clit before sucking softly.

"It's okay princess, just sink into the feeling, I'm going to make you feel so so good," he groaned between your legs. You nodded and felt your eyes flutter into the back your head as you felt every ridge of his tongue against your entrance, saliva mixing with arousal as he lapped up everything you gave him.

The pleasure only increased as he wantonly hummed around your bud, Sunghoon drunk off of how sweet and syrupy you tasted on his tongue.

Sunghoon was doing his best to not just pin you to the desk and fuck the daylights of you, not understanding how someone could be so intoxicating. Every thing from your little gasps of air to the whimpers you were trying to hide in your throat were making him dizzy, desperate even.

"Your hole is twitching every time I suck your clit princess," Sunghoon remarked as he came up for air, licking his lips clean. "It must want something in it huh?" he drawled, sliding two thick digits into you. Your back arched off the desk as you felt the tight stretch between your legs, your hands going to squeeze his wrist you whimpered.

"Oh no no baby, don't try to move away from it. Take it like a good girl, like my favorite student would," Sunghoon praised as he scissored his fingers inside of you, chuckling at how droplets of arousal leaked out.

Hearing him say you're his favorite student made your heart thrum in excitement, your thighs tensing up when the pads of his fingers pressed down against the spongy part of your walls.

"Pull your sundress down and play with your chest for me princess," Sunghoon ordered gently as he moved to the skin of your neck, infatuated with how he could feel your heart beating through his kisses. "Do it like how you do it when you're in your bed all alone, fingers between your legs..." he whispered against your ear, unable to hide his grin.

Your body felt unbearably hot as you whimpered and complied, pulling down the straps of your sundress and moving your bra. Your legs inexplicably shook as you tugged the pert buds, biting down on your lip as Sunghoon sped up the pace of his fingers.

Sunghoon made a mental note of your movements so he could replicate them next time, his mouth getting hungry as his mouth encircled a free nipple.

You spasmed slightly at his movements as you felt his coarse tongue suck and lick around the sensitive skin, making a point to hold eye contact with you any time your stare met his. Coupled with the gushing sounds he heard between your legs only got more turned on, leaving deep marks on your chest he was sure would last for days.

He couldn't help it, he was getting impatient, desperate to have you whimpering out his name and begging for him to ruin you in this godforsaken sundress.

"Fuck~ you're gonna get me in so much fucking trouble," Sunghoon groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers. "I'm sorry baby but I can't let you come from just some fingering now can I?" he teased.

The eyes you gave him almost broke him down right there as he pulled out his digits and sucked them clean, unbuckling his belt with the other. On any other occasion he'd love to have you on your knees trying to fit him in your soft mouth, but his patience for that was long gone.

Your eyes enlarged as you watched his member spring free and press against his lower abdomen, Sunghoon hissing through his teeth as he stroked the reddened tip.

"Don't worry princess, we're gonna make it fit okay? Even if you are this tight," he reassured teasingly, kissing your temple as he pinned both your hands in one of his.

"Y-you don't need a condom" you choked out.

Sunghoon raised brows and chuckled at the fact such a statement could come from such a timid mouth of yours, ripping it with his teeth and putting it on regardless.

"Mmm of course I do sweetheart," he cooed, rubbing his length between your folds. Even through the condom you could feel how warm and heavy his member felt between your legs, your mind racing at the fact that you were going to have sex with your professor.

"Besides, if I came inside would you be able to keep my load inside you like a good girl? We can't have a mess in my office now can we?" he drawled in your ear, pushing his thick tip past your walls. You already felt a stretch that was incomparable to his fingers and started struggling against his grip, Sunghoon only laughing at you and tightening his hold even more.

"Shhhh don't run princess, don't run, this is how it feels to be fucked by a real man yeah? No college guy could find my baby's special spot like I could," he soothed, finding it so cute how you sucked on your bottom lip to cope with the stretch.

You raised your head slightly to discover that he was only halfway in, despite how full your lower belly felt. When Sunghoon saw your widened eyes he could only pout at you, finding you absolutely adorable.

And adorable things deserved to be ruined.

"Here princess, kiss me yeah?"

Shakily you reached up some and connected your lips with his, jolting against his mouth as Sunghoon had taken the opportunity to push himself to the hilt.

"P-professor" was all you could whine out as you felt your mind go dazy, Sunghoon using the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me princess, such a good girl," Sunghoon praised softly in between kisses. He knew once he started moving his hips you'd be a goner, already evident by how dazy your eyes looked when he stared into them.

You felt his tip push against the entrance of your cervix and you couldn't help but let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, biting down on Sunghoon's shoulder to cope with the heavy sensation in your tummy.

"Hello? Mr. Park are you in your office?"

Your eyes widened and you went to move to hide, recognizing the voice as your fellow classmate. Sunghoon only laughed at your attempts and pinned your wrists, giving you a "shh" motion as he continued pressing his hips against yours.

"Yeah, I'm here. However if my door is closed that means office hours are also closed correct?" he tsked, sucking a breath between his teeth as you clenched down around him.

Despite his seemingly calm composure you had your mouth squeezed shut feeling a tight knot start to form.

Your legs shook as you tried tapping his wrist with your bound hands, Sunghoon cooing at you softly and kissing your cheek.

"I know you're close baby, I know I know, just hold out for a bit longer mmkay? I'll take care of you, I will."

You could only nod as your face scrunched up from holding back your moans, desperately wondering why this student was so keen on getting into the office of one of the most stubborn people alive.

"I know, but there's this problem I really-"

"Rules are rules" he interjected, taking out his point on you by an extra forceful snap of his hips. Yours nails digged into your own skin as you tried to follow your professors wishes and hold out just a bit longer for him, softly whispering his name to garner his attention.

“Just a bit longer,” he shushed warmly, kissing your temple as he listened to the footsteps outside the door. Sure enough there was a sigh, followed by the sound of sneakers against the tile floor and the student walked away, Sunghoon relinquishing his grip on you and slowly speeding up his hips.

“P-Professor my tummy," was all you could manage out, squirming as you felt the knot get tighter.

"Mmm, you feel the pressure building right here?" Sunghoon couldn't help but tease, firmly pushing down on your lower belly. Your nails left red marks down his back and chest as you gasped at the feeling, mind slowly entering a point of incoherence.

You hazily nodded and felt your toes curl as Sunghoon peppered your neck with open mouth kisses, unable to stop himself from marking you.

"I'm close too princess, hold on just a bit longer for me and we can come together yeah? C'mon, I know you can," Sunghoon purred as his hips only sped up faster, raising your lower back slightly make sure he hit your spot every single time.

You could only hold your breath and scrunch your face as you tried warding off the feeling that was only getting stronger. Sunghoon's own resolve had withered away as he bit down on his bottom lip to suppress the groan that would be heard by the whole hallway, sweat on his entire body as you squeezed down on him like a vice.

"Fuck~ princess, go ahead and let loose for me."

You felt your mind go blank as the knot snapped tighter than you were anticipating, having to suppress your moans by burying yourself into Sunghoon's neck as liquid gushed from between your legs and your walls pulsed around sporadically.

Sunghoon's came shortly thereafter by burying his face in your own neck, his breathing ragged and uneven as he lay shaking on top of you.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you and your mind started swimming at what you'd just done and the mess you'd just made, knowing that if your ancestors were ever to watch you they'd hang their heads in shame.

Yet, that didn't stop you from wanting to do it again.

"Professor," you began, refusing to make eye contact with him after what you'd just done.

"Mmmm yes sweetheart?" Sunghoon cooed as he slowly pulled out, his collarbones and forehead glistening with sweat as he hid the evidence.

"Next time, I-I wanna do it...at your place," you offered up. This was a dangerous and well, a fireable request, you both knew that. However, that didn't stop Sunghoon from bending down to kiss your collarbones and chin, beaming it with happiness.

"I think I'd quite like that arrangement princess."

[hurtspideyparker]

In a timeline where Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lives in the compound:

Steve, walking into the living room: Don't worry Buck I think you'll really fit in around here. Everyone is super nice

Peter: Oh my god you're living here too?! Can I please look at your arm? Please please please please please-

Bucky: *turns around and leaves*

-

Clint: So... wanna test if your spider-sense defeats my perfect aim?

Peter: Oh my god do I ever

Tony & Steve: NO.

-

Peter: Hi. Big fan. Y'know we're like a spider duo. Crime fighting spiders. Arachnid pals

Natasha, staring blankly:

Peter: Web friends? SPY-ders?

Natasha:

Peter: Spinneret associates?

Natasha: Leave.

Peter: Yes okay sorry ma'am

-

During a meal:

Bucky: *glaring at Sam*

Sam: Ay Rogers come get your dog

Steve: Bucky, leave it

Bucky: *glares down at soup instead*

-

Peter: Mr. Rogers could you help me with my homework?

Tony: What the hell kid, I'm right here

Bruce: I have... so many degrees

Steve: Hey I know a thing or two myself. Sure Queens, what do you got?

Peter: Great! I'm just gonna ask some questions for my essay. What would you say the role of war propaganda was in your decision to enroll in the military? Was being poor a factor? Actually, how was the Great Depression for you?

Steve: Less depressing than this conversation.

-

Steve: Take a jacket, it's chilly

Wanda: Okay thanks dad

Steve:

Wanda:

Peter: Ha! That's so embarrassing, it's like calling your teacher dad

Wanda: Shut up Peter, you call Tony dad all the time

Peter: Yeah but I do it on purpose so it's not embarrassing. I'm very open about my daddy issues

-

Tony: I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth

Steve:

Tony: Looking at me with your angelic blue eyes, like a freak

Steve:

Tony: Stupid Dorito ass build. Making me wanna take a bite

Steve: I feel harassed but I'm not sure what kind

-

Natasha: Hey bird brain!

Clint and Sam both turn:

Natasha: Hm, that's a problem. You have thirty seconds to decide who gets bird brain. The other will be feather head

Clint and Sam: *start arguing*

Tony: I can't believe they're fighting to be called an insult

Steve: She has that effect on people

Peter: Aw man, I wish the Black Widow gave me a nickname :(

-

Peter: Hey old man

Bucky:

Peter: I'M SO SORRY SIR MR. WILSON MADE ME DO IT PLEASE DONT KILL ME

Sam: *cackling in the background*

Bucky: *stands up and turns to Sam*

Sam: Oh shit- kid you're not getting the money if you're gonna snitch!

Peter: That's okay, I'd like to think my life is worth more than twenty bucks

-

Bucky: I need your... help

Tony: Sure, what's up?

Bucky: *glances back at Steve who stands in the doorway and nods approvingly*

Bucky: Arm.

Tony: Ok... this conversation is killing you isn't it?

Bucky:

Tony: Say please

Bucky: Nope can't do it-

Steve: Do I need to get out the get-along shirt?

*Bucky and Tony share a look of alarm*

Bucky: Please fix my arm

Tony: Yep of course no problem buddy

Read Part 2 here