#double clutch is the two handed punch

[ladyacadementia]

I have the manual

i love that stupid double fisted overhead punch they always do on star trek

[solxamber]

Could you do adeuce & the overblot gang (separately) trying one of those period cramp simulators like in those videos?

Overblot Gang + Adeuce + Rollo trying period simulators!

part 2 with vice housewardens + Kalim

I found the idea funny and added Rollo for funsies, I hope you don't mind <3

Adeuce

Ace, being the daredevil he is, straps on the period cramp simulator first with a cocky grin. “How bad can it be?” he says, glancing at you like this is no big deal.

The moment you turn it on, though, his face transforms. “W-What the—” he gasps, doubling over like someone just punched him in the gut. “Okay, okay, this is—AHHH, NOPE, TURN IT OFF!” He’s flailing now, hands waving in panic as he tries to yank the device off, hopping around like a fish out of water.

Deuce, meanwhile, watches with wide eyes, realizing it’s his turn next. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Nah, nah, Deuce, you gotta try it,” Ace wheezes between pained groans. “It’s character building!”

Deuce, ever the trooper, reluctantly puts it on. At first, he’s stoic. “I can handle this. It’s just a simulation—OH MY SEVENS!” He crumples into a chair, gripping his stomach as though his life depends on it, tears actually forming in his eyes. “HOW DO PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS?!”

Ace, still recovering on the floor, gives him a thumbs up. “We’re never… talking back to anyone going through this… ever again.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle approaches the simulator with the same seriousness he applies to everything else. “This is for educational purposes,” he declares, strapping it on confidently. “I’ll endure it to better understand—”

The moment it starts, his face turns a deep crimson—not from anger, but from sheer pain. His knees buckle, and he grips the nearest chair for dear life, a strained gasp escaping his lips. “T-This can’t be real,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “This is…an injustice to all rules of nature!”

By level three, he’s gasping for air, holding onto the table as if it’s his only lifeline. “TURN IT OFF! THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!”

You switch it off, and Riddle stands there, disheveled and panting, brushing his hair back. “We shall… never speak of this again,” he declares, with his pride barely intact.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona sits back with a smug grin as you offer him the simulator. “Tch, weaklings. I’ve dealt with worse.” he says, lounging lazily as he straps it on. His confidence is off the charts—until you turn it on.

His ears immediately flatten, his eyes go wide, and his whole body tenses up. “The hell is this?!” he growls, clutching his stomach with one hand while the other grips the couch.

By level two, he’s sweating and lowkey whimpering. “Turn it off, turn it off right now.” His tail is thrashing, and there’s no trace of his former bravado. “Whoever made this… is a sadist.”

When you finally switch it off, he glares at you, still slumped on the couch, breathing heavily. “If you tell anyone about this, herbivore, I swear…”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul, ever the schemer, thinks he’s prepared for anything. “This is merely an experiment,” he says, carefully adjusting his glasses as he straps the simulator on. “I’ll be able to handle it with ease.”

As soon as it starts, though, his confident smirk falters. His back stiffens, and he clutches the arms of his chair, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Th-This is...more than I anticipated,” he gasps, his face pale as he tries to remain composed.

By the time you hit level three, Azul’s glasses are askew, and he’s gripping the edge of his desk like his life depends on it. “MAKE IT STOP! I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! HALF-PRICE AT MONSTRO LOUNGE, JUST TURN IT OFF!”

Jamil Viper

Jamil raises an eyebrow at the challenge but doesn’t say no. “This is nothing,” he mumbles, strapping the device on like it’s a task on his daily to-do list. You turn it on, and for a few seconds, he seems unfazed. His poker face is strong.

But as the intensity increases, you see his eye twitch. Then, he’s hunched over, muttering a stream of complaints under his breath, his face contorted in a rare expression of suffering. “This… this is inhuman,” he grits out, shaking his head. “I could’ve been cooking, cleaning, or literally anything else.”

At level four, he’s pressing a hand against his stomach, sweating bullets. “How do people get anything done like this? Who’s responsible for this?!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil, in true Vil fashion, approaches the whole thing with poise. “I can handle this,” he says, strapping the simulator on like it’s a designer belt. “How painful could it really—”

The second the simulator starts, his perfect posture falters, and he sits down immediately, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh. My. Sevens. This is—”

By level three, he’s doubled over, one hand gripping his stomach and the other clutching his chest dramatically. “This is unbearable! This pain would ruin anyone’s complexion!”

His voice is full of horror as he waves a trembling hand. “Turn it off before it does permanent damage!”

Idia Shroud

Idia’s hair is already flickering with anxiety the moment you suggest he try the simulator. “Y-You’re joking, right? No way!” But you convince him, and he reluctantly straps it on “I’m going to die, I just know it.”

When you turn it on, his reaction is immediate. His hair flares bright neon pink, and he lets out the most dramatic yelp you’ve ever heard. “OH NO, THIS IS IT! THIS IS HOW I GO!” He’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach like he’s in the final boss battle of his life.

By level four, he’s practically pleading. “I surrender! I’m done! Game over! JUST TURN IT OFF!” His hair is flashing so brightly it could power a small city.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus approaches the simulator with a curious expression. “A device that mimics pain? Fascinating.” He straps it on with a regal air, as if this is just another strange mortal custom he’s willing to experience.

The moment it starts, though, he pauses. His eyes widen slightly, and he places a hand over his stomach. “This… is quite intense,” he admits, his voice calm but strained.

As the levels increase, his stoic expression falters, and he’s soon gripping the edge of the nearest surface. “Is this…what humans endure regularly?” he asks in disbelief. By the time it reaches full strength, he’s staring at you in awe. “You must be incredibly strong to endure this.”

The storm outside, coincidentally, seems to match his inner turmoil.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo looks at the period cramp simulator with his usual air of disdain. "I fail to see the point of this exercise," he says, folding his arms. But with a raised eyebrow from you, he sighs and reluctantly agrees. “Fine. If only to demonstrate that I can endure whatever nonsense you find amusing.”

He straps it on, looking every bit like he’s about to endure a great trial of fortitude. "Proceed," he says, as if commanding an army.

At level one, Rollo barely flinches. He keeps his usual stoic expression. "Is that all?" he asks, voice flat. But as you increase the intensity, his composure begins to crack. By level three, he’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His jaw tightens, but he's still maintaining his dignity—barely.

"Interesting... sensation," he mutters between clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice steady.

By level four, the calm façade is gone. Rollo’s knuckles are white from gripping the arms of the chair, and his expression is a mix of panic and fury. "This... device is an affront to decency!" he hisses, his face reddening. "Surely no one can focus through such—"

You take it up one more notch.

"TURN IT OFF THIS INSTANT!" Rollo practically yells, his voice cracking as he doubles over, utterly betrayed by his own pride. His normally regal posture is completely gone, replaced by a man clinging to survival.

When you finally switch off the simulator, he’s left panting and disheveled, glaring at you like you’ve committed a personal offense. "That... was barbaric," he wheezes, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll never question your complaints again. That was… inhumane.” He straightens his robes and avoids eye contact, the flush in his cheeks refusing to fade.

"Honestly," he mutters, still flustered, "what vile invention is this world coming to?"

Masterlist

[theprongspotter]

Update - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 28 - 480 words

“So…” Barty drawls out, smirking from where he’s lounging in between Evan’s legs on the dormitory floor, his back resting comfortably against Evan’s chest.

Regulus, who had just sat cross-legged on his bed, quirks a brow. “So?”

Barty sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes as if he’s been burdened with the most tedious task. “Merlin, do I have to force this information out of you? I swear I will.”

Regulus narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What information?”

Barty’s smirk widens, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Is his dick as big as we thought it was?” he asks, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Regulus flushes a deep crimson, nearly choking on air. “Barty, I’m not telling you that! I’m not telling any of you that!”

“You’re our friend, you’re supposed to tell us this stuff,” Barty insists, feigning hurt. “You said you’d update us!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think that you’d be asking for inches!” Regulus retorts, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Besides, who even said we fucked?”

Evan, who’s been silently enjoying the exchange, grins wickedly from behind Barty. “Mate, you look thoroughly dicked down.”

Regulus scowls, his embarrassment boiling over into frustration, and he hurls a pillow at Evan’s face. Evan catches it with a laugh, the force barely making him flinch, clearly unfazed by Regulus’ flustered reaction. Barty leans forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity and amusement.

“Well?” Barty presses, inching closer as if Regulus is about to reveal the world’s biggest secret.

Regulus groans, burying his face in his hands as if he could will himself to disappear. His voice comes out muffled but audible enough for his eager friends to catch every word. “Even bigger.”

For a moment, there's stunned silence as the words sink in. Then, as if on cue, Barty and Evan burst into loud, raucous laughter, whooping and hollering like they've just won the lottery. Barty practically doubles over, clutching his sides, while Evan punches the air in triumph.

“Go, Reggie!” Evan cheers, his grin practically splitting his face, the teasing laced with genuine pride. “Knew you had it in you!”

Regulus groans again, this time louder, and falls back onto his bed, wishing the mattress would just swallow him whole. Barty, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, crawls onto the bed beside him and slings an arm over Regulus’ chest, still chuckling.

“You’ve made us proud, mate,” Barty says, voice dripping with mock solemnity. “Really, you’ve exceeded all expectations.”

Regulus can’t help the small laugh that escapes him, despite his mortification. “You two are the worst,” he mutters, but the warmth in his voice betrays his fondness for their ridiculousness.

“And you love us for it,” Evan quips, flopping down next to Regulus on the other side, effectively trapping him between the two.

“Unfortunately,” Regulus sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips as Barty and Evan grin at him.

[bandgie]

hiiii is ok if i request a stoner smut😭 ( with either han,chan or felix) like y/n and him are smoke buddies and in one of the sessions things get a little hot and heavy 🥲

it’s ok if ur uncomfortable but if you’re not i’d love to see it

-anon 🍃

a/n: yes?!? oh my god?? why give me 3 options when I can do them all?? at the same time??

synopsis: You warned your smoking buddies that you get a little...different when you're really high. They don't believe you though, and smoke you out anyway. Neither of you can decide if it was worst mistake or best decision of your lives.

warnings: MDNI 18+, heavily under the influence, 4some, brief pussy play, no protection, cumming inside, pussy eating, mxm themes!!!, squirting, double penetration, blow job (m!&f!), multiple orgasms (f!), I went crazy with this one I ain't gonna lie

2.6k words

"Oh dude she's gone."

"You shouldn't have smoked her out man."

"She wanted me to!"

You can distantly hear the three of them arguing. Han is, once again, thrown under the bus as Felix and Chris blame him. To be fair, everyone's high out of their mind. Whatever Felix bought back from California hits.

Han is warm as you snuggle against him, his heartbeat irregular as he keeps defending himself. When you told them you get a little excited when you're super high, they thought you'd be bouncing off the walls. Instead, they had to keep you from clawing Han's cock out to bounce on that.

"I'm not even that high," you speak up for yourself. "I just want a little fun, that's all."

Chan scoffs, bloodshot eyes looking at your droopy ones. "You are that high, actually. The sober you that I know would punch Han before he even thought about touching you."

The image of slapping the man you're sitting on makes you laugh hysterically. You're gasping for air, clutching at your chest as you cackle. Your exaggerated laughter makes Felix chuckle, and it doesn't take long until all four of you are on the verge of throwing up from giggling. 

"But I like the way he feels," you manage to speak after your chest heaves. "Hannie's so soft and warm, it feels so good." It's not smart of you to talk like that when Han's cock is underneath your ass. You can feel like twitching in response. 

You softly grind your ass against it, humming. "You like it too, huh Hannie? Do you want to touch me?"

"Hey. That's enough," Chan's voice is stern, but you don't miss how his eyes drop to your bare thighs. Han freezes under you, scared that moving might make his cock hard. 

You roll your eyes and grind against Han again, hearing him hiss. "For fucks' sake Chan, I'm high, not drunk." There's not a care for the aftermath in your head. It feels as though there'll be no repercussions, that time has frozen still for you. For this moment. 

Still, Chan shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, you're not in the right mind."

"If you don't wanna fuck me Chan, Hannie will." You turn your attention back to Han, who's struggling under you. He's hard now, but his hands stay placed on the cushions. "You'll play with me, right Han?"

His eyes dart from yours to Chan's, unsure. "I dunno. What if you get mad at me in the morning?" You coo at his uncertainty. Reaching for his hands, you place them on your hips. His fingers dig into your soft flesh, pulling you closer to him. 

"I would never be mad at you," you promise. "Just touch me."

That’s enough permission for Han. He parts your thighs while Felix and Chris are front-row viewers. Getting high was just an excuse, you've always wanted him to touch you. For all of them to touch you. It's why you didn't wear any shorts under your skirt. A black thong barely covers your cunt, and Han is quick to play with it. 

His fingers slip behind the material, finding your clit easily. He gently rubs you in circles, moaning in your ear. Han slips his hand out and places it over your underwear, rubbing that instead. 

It makes you whine, bucking your hips in protest. You're about to complain when you catch the other two boys staring. Felix is on the edge of his seat, staring at where Han touches you. Chan is the opposite, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his seat. He looks irritated but there's dark arousal in his eyes. 

You let Han make a show of you, getting you to drip down your ass. 

"Fuck," you hear Felix swear. His voice sounds deeper if that was even possible. His lips are wet from how constantly he's licking them, but he makes no move towards you.

Han pinches your clit. The sudden grasp makes you whine, hips lifting in the air before he forces you back on his lap.

"I don't have a condom," he whispers in your ear. You shake your head aggressively, "I don't care. Put it in."

Chan opens his mouth to say something but snaps it shut. His jaw clenches as he watches Han slips his hand between the two of you, releasing his throbbing cock. He doesn't want to hear you complain in the morning about this, it's your fault. 

Han pulls your panties to the side and slides his cock against your folds. You arch your back into him, moaning. You look down to watch his dick collect your juices, lewdly making noise. Then he angles his cock down, catching your entrance.

You have to slightly lift your hips when his tip goes in. The stretch is far from painful, and it feels like you're on cloud nine. You slam your hips down on Han impatiently. He whines behind you, body shaking and his arms wrap around your waist.

It's a struggle to keep your legs open for the other men to see, but you hook them over Han's legs for support. Han starts slow, unused to the feel of your cunt. He groans in your neck, biting your skin. "Fuck, that's good pussy."

You only hum in response as you feel Han fuck into you harder. It sends overwhelming shocks of pleasure throughout your body. Your mind grows hazy, vision blurring. You've touched yourself while high, and that alone was a trip. To have someone bury themselves deep inside you, to feel their hot dick slip in and out of you, it feels like you're at a constant high. 

Felix is the first to break. He stands to his feet quickly and takes long strides toward you. Han slows his thrusts, unsure if Felix wants a turn with you already. He grips you a little tighter, possessively. 

Both of you are shocked to see him fall to his knees in front of your pussy. He pushes the thong further out of the way with his thumb, looking up at you. 

"Can I?"

You're nodding before he even finishes, "Fuck yes." 

You cum at the feel of Felix's plush lips. Your walls clench and grip Han's cock tightly, making him thrust into you deep. Felix has to keep his hands on your thighs to keep you still. It's obvious you came with the high-pitched moans and convulsing body, but neither of them made a move to stop. 

"Shit, I can feel her creaming on my cock. Fuck, Felix lick me too," Han rasps out. 

Felix is quick to comply. You feel his tongue dip past your pussy presumably only onto the few inches of Han's cock that isn't in your pussy. Han trembles behind you, hips stuttering into yours. Felix reaches back up to your clit, running his lips over your nub before he lightly sucks. 

You don't have much energy to grind on his pretty face, so you lay there pliant as Han fucks into you earnestly and as Felix gently eats you out. You bury your hands into Felix's green hair, desperate to grip onto something.

The hot sensation builds in your stomach again, this time much more intensely. Han can feel the clenching of your walls, the added wetness your pussy drools out. The pressure in your tummy feels different, hotter, and unstable.

"Felix!" You cry out. "I'm gonna cum again! Fuck, I think I'm gonna squirt!"

You think he might back away, but he buries his face deeper, sucks a little harder. "Give it to me baby, I want it all over my face."

The force of your second orgasm makes Han's cock slip out. Felix's face and Han's thighs are victims of your release. You coat them sheer with your orgasm, watching how Felix keeps his mouth open to drink your release. 

He gulps down the remaining spurts of your pussy, a smile on his face. "Yeah, Han. That's good pussy alright." Felix stands, looking down at your wrecked state. He bends down and kisses you roughly, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips. Then he moves behind you to kiss Han who already has his tongue out. Both of them moan in the kiss, making your pussy throb even more. 

Felix unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants just down enough to reach for his cock. You drool at the sight, moaning softly. He pumps himself a few times, then taps his tip on your swollen clit. 

"Think you can handle two at a time baby?"

Before you can even think to answer, Han butts in. "You should be asking me that. I don't think I'll last much longer." The two of them laugh, and then Felix looks back at you. "Can you?"

Biting your bottom lip, you nod. "Yeah, just go slow." Han and Felix nod in unison, "Of course baby." 

The two of them angle their cocks into your slightly gaping entrance. Han pushes the tip of his cock in first. Felix follows quickly after, pressing his tip against Han's. You let your head fall back between Han's neck and shoulder, relaxing your body. It's quite easy since you are already elated, but there's still a painful stretch as they slide in.

You hiss when they stretch you out, their cocks halfway in. Han tightens his grip on your waist and pecks your forehead. Felix soothingly runs his hands against your thighs and kisses your exposed neck. "Doing so good, you're almost there."

Their comforting touches encourage you to try harder. They sink further in and you gasp. 

"Chan," Han calls his hyung who's been overly silent throughout the whole thing. You almost forgot he was there. 

"What?"

"Think our baby needs a bit of help. Come on."

Chan shouldn't help. He told you many times this was a bad idea, but no one listened. Still, watching your teary eyes get to him. The way your face contorts from discomfort. You looked so pretty cumming over Han's cock, he can't imagine what'd it be like to cream over both. 

He finds himself standing and walking over to you three, standing beside Felix. 

"Mate, you need to Han bottom out first. Here." Chan hands one hand on Felix's waist while the other guides your stomach downwards. Han moves his hips up, slowly filling your walls. You squeal and tremble, but it's bearable. 

"There you go," Chris coos. "Make sure you go deep Han. Felix needs as much room as he can get."

Han obeys his friend, making sure to bury himself to the hilt. You feel him push past what you thought was possible. Your legs threaten to snap shut, but Felix's iron grip keeps them open. Han can feel how tight your pussy is, how good it feels to rub against Felix's cock.

Chan taps the green-haired on the waist, "You're good to go."

"Oh," your eyes roll back to your head. Your lips spread deliciously when Felix pushes the remaining inches in. You can feel how your clit slightly rubs against his girth, making extra warmth flow out of you.

Your reactions make Chan chuckle, smiling for the first time in what seems like hours. "Feels good huh? Taught him well." He playfully slaps Felix on the ass. 

The two of them feel heavenly in your walls. All three of you are a moaning mess, content with staying still. It's not until Chris clears his throat that Han begins to move. Shallow thrusts into your pussy that make the trio whimper.

Felix moves with longer strokes. They don't match each other's thrusts, but the speed is the same. One goes in while the other goes out, then sometimes it's at the same time, then it's everything in between. Your walls loosen after a few testing strokes, and they're fucking into you roughly in no time.

Chan tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, getting a good view of your face. It's then that you notice his hard-on, how painful it must be in his jeans. Wordlessly, you open your mouth, tongue lolling out. Chan laughs at your directness, "You sure?"

You respond by using your weak fingers to unzip him, "Yesssss."

He laughs again and helps you undress him. His cock is the biggest of the three, in girth and length. You're thankful he isn't in you, there's no way you could've handled it. Chan taps the head of his cock on your lips, smearing his pre-cum. 

Then he pushes in gently, not to disrupt the boys using you. He's hot and heavy on your tongue, slightly salty. Truthfully, getting as high as you did always leaves you with a dry mouth. You find it difficult to provide enough spit for Chan's cock.

He doesn't complain though, and never pushes you past your limit. Chan uses his hands to jerk what you can't fit in your mouth. You want to protest and say you can do it yourself, but with how good Felix and Han are fucking you, it seems impossible. 

Han's cock twitches inside you, a warning for his orgasm. "I'm gonna cum. Fuck baby I'm gonna cum in you." 

You hum around Chris's cock in response, and soon enough you're filled with Han's cum. It's warm in your stomach and you feel it pool onto the sofa. Felix moans at the extra lubrication, finding it hot to see him fuck the cum out of you. 

Han's cock stays inside of you. He likes to think Felix and you help ride out his high. He turns his head to watch you suck off Chan, groaning. Han opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, looking up at Chan expectedly. 

The eagerness in Han's eyes has the older man raising an eyebrow, but he indulges nonetheless. Chan slips his cock from your mouth and places it on Han's tongue. 

Han is in a better condition to suck. He even does the honor of spitting on Chan's dick. He licks and takes his cock almost to the hilt before gagging. The sight makes Chan moan, and he puts his dick back in your mouth. Your lips are much softer and your mouth is hotter. Han's is wetter though, and much more usable. Chan settles for using both of your throats.

You're thankful for Han helping, it's hard to focus with Felix still pounding away. His fingers are for sure going to leave a bruise, and your pussy may not be the same after this. With your warm pussy and Han's cock, Felix can feel his balls tighten and how his hips lose their momentum.

He doesn't warm you when he cums. There's just his deep, consecutive moans as Felix fills you to the brim. Your legs tremble, and you're cumming before you're aware of it. Chan has to use Han's mouth more often as you moan and whimper through your orgasm. 

Felix rides his high out when Chan forces your head to face his cock. He jerks himself quickly, tapping his tip on both your and Han's tongues. Chan cums on both of your faces, hot spurts landing on your cheek and lips. 

Your tongue pokes out to get a taste, moaning. 

Felix finally pulls out, making you whine. Han follows suit, letting his soft cock leave you empty. Chan lets you give his cock extra kisses while Han unwraps an arm from you to wipe his face. 

Chan has to pry you away from his dick, chuckling when you protest. He tucks himself away despite your complaining. 

The four of you untangle from each other. Though the couch is small, all of you manage to snuggle against one another with you and Han in the middle. All of you are shining in afterglow and cum, with complete disregard for how you might react in the morning. 

Han picks his head up to overlook all of you, a playful scowl on his face. "And you were mad at me for smoking her out."

a/n: man i...I dunno what to say. this is totally self-indulgent. the way I need this to happen. thank you anon 🍃, I truly needed this

[chaosandmarigolds]

(Did the poll say happiness and rainbows? Yeah but I’m having fun with my angst so here’s more! :) )

“No I want to see him.”

The officer looked at the man, who looked like he had just rolled out of bed, and she narrows her eyes, “As I had told you, sir, Mister Taylor asked for no visitors unless family. And are you related to Missus Taylor or Oliver?” The question was a mock because she knew the answer.

So, with a bite of a tongue Price relented, “Who’s your supervisor?”

“He’s out of office.”

“Fuckin- course he is. Where’s Riley?”

“Mister Riley is currently in questioning.”

Price frowned, “But you already questioned him.”

The officer shrugged, “Our lead detective thought it best to do a second round.”

“Then I want to speak to your lead detective.”

“You and everyone else, take a ticket.”

-

To say your hands were shaking would be an understatement, you had been sitting in Johnny’s car for a close to an hour and so far you probably lost half your body weight in tears. It seemed unreal, there was no way it was actually reality, after all you had been through. It was just….

You jolt when someone knocks on the glass window, only to see Eliza by the door and you let out breath, quickly getting out of the car and into her arms.

“T-they still have Simon in questioning and-and he’s not answering my calls-“

“I know, John’s taking care of it. Oh honey,” her voice was a bit rasped and she looks you over, “You look like a mess.”

Your chest heaves for air as you ramble to her, telling her about how they took you all to the station at four in the morning and how everything was working against your favor. You both sat on the curb outside, as Johnny’s car was an incubator, her arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders and hands holding the coffee she had gotten you.

“Johnny went-Johnny went to be with Ollie, they…they wouldn’t let me see him.”

Eliza scoffs at that, “Bastards. Keeping a child from his mother.”

—

In hindsight it wasn’t best idea.

However, it did do its job. What job was that? Who knew.

“Uh oh,” Ollie whispered from the other side of the conference table, looking to his biological father (who was currently doubled over while clutching his nose), “You made uncle soap maaad.”

“You fucking bitch!” Caleb practically screamed, “I’ll have your job!”

Johnny stood perfectly still for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure if he had just imagined he punched him or if it was reality and he then snapped into the situation, “Ah please, as i’ you go’ a job tha’s all high n mighty.”

It took about a minute before an officer came back in to check on everything, and thanks to a somewhat threatening stare Caleb had just said he got a bloody nose and everything was alright.

“Oliver, come on. We’re leaving.”

“But I don wanna go.”

With a tug and hoist Oliver was being carried on Caleb’s side, “Didn’t ask we have a flight to catch.”

-

“For the fucking millionth time she had Oliver when I met her.”

“According to these files Oliver was with his father.”

“Bullshit!!!” Simon snipped back, his anger growing with each second. Every file, data bank, Facebook post made it seem like Oliver lived with Caleb until he went ‘missing’ two weeks ago. “Look at the bank statements why would she pay insurance for a child she doesn’t even have?”

The detective sighed, “We did, Mister Riley, she’s not paying for any child’s health insurance.”

This was insane.

“Mister Riley, I am going to ask one final time: did you help Missus Taylor take her son?”

With a glare Simon leaned forward on the table, “Didn’t fucking take him, because he’s ’een here wit us for ‘is entire life.”

-

“Caleb?” You slowly move to stand up as you watch your ex husband carry your son out of the station, and within a millisecond your blood was cold, “Oliver?”

“Mommy!” The boy practically screeched at the sight of you, trying to pry himself away from the man’s grasp, “Mommy I don’t wanna go!”

Before you had the chance to get to the car Caleb was currently putting Oliver into, you were held back.

“Lassie, lassie easy-“

“Johnny let-let me go.”

Johnny, with close to zero effort, turns you to face him, “Leave it. It’s gonna be okay, go’ a plan yeah? Ollie’s gonna be in his bed tonight, promise.”

(Teehee, that’s all for now)

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (Bonus)

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Find ALL the Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend Fics HERE

This bonus material is brought to you by @darkangel4121 (who wanted to see the toxic boyfriends get what they deserve)

I took some liberties with the prompt since I wanted to keep them short. There are two drabbles (100 words each) and two double drabbles (200 words each). The commonality is that the toxic boyfriend always receives a punch to the face. :)

Content Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, minor violence, brief blood

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Best step back, mate.” Kyle extends his arm, blocking more of your view.

Your now ex-boyfriend glowers, lips turned downward in a frown. “She’s mine.”

“I broke it off,” you snap over Kyle’s shoulder.

“I’ll handle this,” whispers Kyle, shaking his head.

Your ex guffaws. “You cheated. Shacked up with this wanker.”

The muscle in Kyle’s jaw twitches.

Your ex sneers at Kyle before turning his best smile on you. “I’ve been so good to you. And we both made mistakes.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Won’t happen again.”

“You’re a liar,” you hurl, voice quavering. “You’ll do it again.” And then, more softly. “I didn’t cheat. I left you.”

Your ex takes a step closer, and Kyle matches his movements.

“Back off,” hisses Kyle, shoulders tensing.

“Or what? What will you do?” He keeps moving toward Kyle, nostrils flared, face becoming red with anger. “What will you—”

Kyle swings. He’s so fast you don’t even see his arm move. All you see is the spray of blood and the sudden drop of your ex’s body to the ground.

Your hands cover your mouth. There is silence. Stillness. Then your ex groans, waking, pushing off the ground.

“Piss off,” murmurs Kyle.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is gonna lose his head if this wanker doesn’t leave.

“She told you fuck off.”

Your ex remains still, not glancing at Johnny. He steps to the side intending to walk around him. Johnny growls. Following.

“Just want to talk. Give me a chance. I’m good for it.”

“You have no right to speak to her,” snaps Johnny.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

The crunch is loud as Johnny’s fist makes contact. Gratification rolls through Johnny as the man collapses to the ground.

The fucker groans, clutching his face. Johnny grabs your hand, stepping over the guy, leading you away.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The words don’t make it out of your ex’s mouth.

Simon swings. It is brutal. Raw.

You see red seconds after the crunch. Something is broken. Your ex hits the ground. Simon is already on him, hauling him up by the collar.

“Fuck off with your apologies and sweet talk,” growls Simon. “She’s not taking you back.”

Your ex’s gaze is lucid from Simon’s punch. “If you try to speak to her—fuck, even look at her, I’ll break more than your nose.” Simon shakes him. Your ex groans. “Got it?”

He nods and Simon shoves him to the ground.

John Price

John and your ex are in a standoff.

“Leave,” says Price. “I won’t ask again.”

Your ex rolls his eyes and turns to address you. He always returns with sweet words and kind gestures to lure you back. But not this time.

You’re done.

John grabs him by the throat and shoves him up against the wall. “I told you to leave.”

“You with him now?” your ex says to you, accusation in his tone. “While we’re still together?”

“We’re not together. You abandoned me.”

His lip curls and you know the word he wants to say. It’s sitting on his tongue. He’s used it before.

“She’s not yours,” growls Price.

“Fuck you.”

John drops him, and before his feet hit the ground, John swings, sending your ex’s body spinning into the wall. He hits plaster. Collapses.

“Oh my god.”

John grabs him by the back of his shirt and drags him to the front door. He starts to stir. Kicks out. John kicks him right back, sending him sprawling out onto the front stoop. Your ex sways on his feet, one finger pointed in accusation.

“You—”

“—Are done here,” finishes Price, slamming the door in his face.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[cass1dyyy]

bloody and bruised

contains: angst (not between the reader and mattheo), mostly fluff

summary: your boyfriend mattheo ends up in a fight, and you help him clean up afterwards.

warnings: injury, injury detail, swearing, reader playfully hits mattheo, mentions of blood, a nose breaking, fighting, beating up mattheo

you rush around the corner, and you scan the scene infront of you. mattheo is on the floor, on top of a hufflepuff boy who’s face is bruised badly. a crowd gathers round the violent scene, blocking your view.

suddenly, you hear a sickening crunch. the students crowded around gasp, backing away and exclaiming in disgust. some even shudder. you gasp, running forward and see the hufflepuff huddling back against the wall, his nose clearly broken and blood pouring from it, trickling down his face and off his chin, onto the marble floor.

just as you’re about go grab mattheo’s arm and pull him away, you’re launched back with the crowd, and flung onto your ass on the cold, hard floor. a large, transparent, blue circle enveloped your boyfriend and the unlucky hufflepuff’s three other friends.

the injured boy had been hustled off to madam pomfrey, leaving mattheo in the hands of these furious-looking guys. mattheo’s grave expression didnt falter though, as one threw a punch to his stomach, as he doubled over, clutching the place he’d been hit, as you watched helplessly.

then, a few punches to his face, mostly the nose, and some more to his stomach and eye. you scream out for the guys to stop, but they just smirk at you, and deliver the punches harder, as mattheo winces and groans in pain.

you start racking your brains for a complicated spell, which would break the force-field. you knew it, but couldnt think of it off of the top of your head. you were smart, but panic was set like cement in you, and your mind went blank. two boys appeared next to you, draco malfoy and theodore nott, mattheo’s closest friends. their expressions turned cold and angry.

suddenly, the spell clicked in your brain like assembling a puzzle. you figured it was because of the distraction where you noticed draco and theo, but there wasn’t time to focus on that now. you thanked them in your head and raised your wand, screaming the incantation.

A/N: i wanted to put a proper spell here, and i researched, and thought i found one but turns out it wasnt quite the right one so just imagine the spell or make one of your own!

the force field shattered, large shards of the forcefield floating down and fading once they hit the floor. theo and draco immediately pull out their wands, shouting

“petrificus totalus!”

the hufflepuffs froze like statues, as mattheo slumped against the wall, his face bloody and bruised. you rush over to him, helping him up and dragging him to the nearest empty classroom, which wasnt too far. you sit him on the teacher’s desk, while he pants and groans heavily.

“i’ll be right back, okay? stay here.” you say, rushing out of the door and into the caretaker’ filch’s cleaning closet. there were multiple of these around the school, due to the vast size of hogwarts.

you stepped in, quickly shutting the door behind you and rummaging through the shelves in the small space. the top shelf usually has the medkits and bandages and stuff, and sure enough, you found multiple medkits, bandages, plasters, anything you could ever need!

you grab plasters, disinfectant, wound spray, rubbing alcohol, and a medkit. you probably didnt need all of it, but it was just incase. you hurried out of the supply closet, paranoid that filch would turn up out of the blue, like he usually does.

you walk back to the classroom. mattheo was still in the same spot, beads of sweat dripping off his forehead. his nose was blue and bruised, blood trailing down from his nostrils.

you sigh, sitting down next to him, as you wipe the blood off of his nose and chin. then you rub disinfectant to the nose wounds.

then, you wipe away the dried blood from around his right eye, and also disinfect that.

“unbutton your shirt.” you say.

he smirks, looking at you and wiggling his eyebrows.

“not in that way you perv!” you exclaim, hitting him on his arm and giggling.

he chuckles, unbuttoning his white school shirt, as you examine the brown and blue bruises on his stomach. you frown, kissing mattheo on the cheek comfortingly. you show him a soft, but sad smile.

“there’s no blood or anything i need to tend to, but you’re definitely going to need ice.” you state, looking at him.

“okay.”

“why’d you even beat him up anyway? this could’ve been avoided.” you sigh.

“he was chatting shit about you, and my family. he’s the biggest dick known to mankind.” he murmurs, his tone laced with anger.

you place a hand on his arm, rubbing up and down soothingly.

“thanks for breaking his nose.” you say, breaking into a grin as he chuckles.

he kisses you, for longer this time, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. you break apart and he hugs you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, as he exhales.

“cmon, let’s go get ice from madam pomfrey.” you say, kissing his forehead and grasping his hand.

A/N: yes i know that the hufflepuff would be with madam pomfrey and definitely snitched on mattheo, but i feel like mattheo doesnt care and also doesn’t care about getting in trouble.. im trying to be more active and frequently posting 😊

next im going to post my masterlist and introduction x

[sparklingcid3r]

I promised a rumble rundown, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Let’s go🙏 also here's the yt vid i used lol

0:14-0:17

Paul says, “Hello, Darrel. Long time, no see” and then immediately starts checking him out with that upside down smile, ik what u think abt 👁️👁️

0:24-0:27

“I’ll take you” yeah Paul I’m sure u will 🙄 Darry’s cold af w the staredown tho, it’s unfortunate that Pony and Soda have do a full head turn to look at each other like “IKKK he ain’t j said that”

0:27-0:31

DALLAS MY GLORIOUS KING ARRIVES,, shirtless??? And the crowd goes mild‼️ Pony also gets popped in the face and down he goes, it was so good that he was here for just a little bit, everyone say bye now bc the next time he shows up in the fight u won’t even know it’s him I’m deadass

0:48-0:55

Soda is ripping into this guy right, my baby’s a champion!! And then gets up and kinda… walks past Steve getting his ass beat lmao. He even puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder to steady himself as he goes by😭

He just misses the mean double gut punch Steve tanks like the unit he is, because Steve GRABS THIS MAN’S PUNCH and RIPS one across his face, it was beautiful. Masterclass in the ring I’m afraid

0:56-0:58

Okay. I need to give yall the play by play for this single two-second sequence because it was genuinely the greatest clip of cinema I’ve ever seen in my life.

Paul’s got Darry out of frame and he’s confident, dare I say cocky. He’s doing the universal hand signals for “Cmon, hit me bro.”

And I’m gonna say this next part softly. Lean in and listen to me:

When I tell u that Darry clocks Paul in the face, I don’t mean he just clocks Paul in the face. Darry rises like a phoenix from the ashes and swings so hard that everyone around him can feel the aftershocks. Paul has just experienced the equivalent of a steel boxing glove to the dome. Teeth are flying. Paul will have no recollection of this moment for the rest of his life. Take a look at this.

Alr now we back up because YOU CAN SEEEE THE MOMENT OF REALIZATION. This man starts BAILING. The minute Darry spins back, Paul’s got bug eyes, all “Hold up. Wait a minute. He really ‘bout to clock my shit.” He did not want that smoke NEARLY as much as he thought he did, and ykw? I don’t blame him 🤷‍♀️ 

Letting yall know that I had to go back and slow down the playback speed so that I could bask in the glory that is Darrel Curtis’s behemoth of a punch. Geologists are losing their minds wondering how volcanoes are erupting and mountains are shifting, unaware of what just happened in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

1:00-1:03

Dally bitch slapping a dude is a great way to kick off the one-minute mark, and a good kick to the ribs just for funsies ig. U go girl🫶

1:04-1:07

Hottest Two-Bit has ever looked sorry

1:19-1:21

Alr Dally is literally picking people up and WWE rocking their shit as he slams them to the ground. That kid was dropped neck first. How did Pony not have to write a sequel.

1:22-1:24

Just an entire sequence dedicated to Soda mewing even as he gets bitched in the face. It’s alr tho, he got his get back

1:47-1:49

Istg I’m not tripping, u listen and u can hear Pony screaming for Darry yall I thought this was supposed to be a good time, I’m actually sobbing

1:55-2:01

STEVE CLUTCHES UP??? DEADASSSS that was the CLEANEST three-shot KO I’ve ever seen, then he body flips the guy behind him??? I WASN’T FAMILIAR W UR GAME, RANDLE 🙏

2:09-2:15

The Socs are kind of getting ready to retreat at this point but rq we gotta check in on the exes, Paul’s getting clowned on again lmfao.

This man tried to kick Darry, then when Darry’s got his foot and is getting ready to spin him like that pigskin, he’s PULLING on Darry’s HAIR??? Man, just leave 😭 ur cooked. And the last time we see him, he’s CRAWLING AWAY😭😭 at least STAND UP

2:24-2:27

Pony’s getting washed in a 6v1 it ain’t his fault this time, bless up. Luckily my goat Darrel Shaynne Curtis Jr. pulls up and literally starts throwing bodies. Absolutely spectacular that I get to live in the same lifetime as this movie.

2:30-2:32

Darry’s asking, “Ponyboy, you okay?” and some NOBODY tries to grab Darry’s shoulders. Who do u think u are???

3:35-3:45

Greasers get the W👏

So in conclusion I think we can all agree that if u are locked in an iso with Darry, just offer up ur cheek and get it over w. Ur not getting the dub. Roll down ur sleeves and go home, ur benched.

Sorry this is messy af, I'm just having fun rn LMFAO

[blu3n]

Hiii can you write a Jason Todd x reader where the reader asks Jason to teach her self defense and Jason has a hard time with it because he imagines her getting hurt

omelet.

Blue : Thank you very much for asking, I hope I did what you asked and in a coherent way, if you didn't like it please leave an ask or comment in a respectful and kind way.

Sinopse : Jason x reader, he teaches you how to fight but it all ends up going wrong.

At first, Jason is a little hesitant, knowing the dangers that come with getting involved in such scenarios. Jason wouldn't want to see you get hurt, but he'd be willing to help you anyway..

Jason Todd would be careful, just making gestures so you could pick it up and practice..

From how to punch someone, kick a man in the right places or escape from a robbery.

Already placing the mat on the floor, he went over the techniques with Hoce a few times to remember how and when to use them in combat..

"Okay, you know how to defend yourself now here I go" he says in a firm tone for you to prepare yourself. When he goes for you, everything happened so fast you didn't know how to run, fight or anything like that but in desperation or maybe just out of pure adrenaline you kick him right in the middle of the balls in defense.

Jason's eyes widened comically as his foot connected with his most sensitive area. He let out a gasp of pain and doubled over, his hand flying down to clutch his groin. "Holy shit!" he choked out through clenched teeth. "That—wasn't—for—kicking—me—in—the—balls," he breathed, his voice tight with pain. "Jesus—"

You covered your mouth with your hand, your eyes wide. "I'm sorry," you said, worried about his situation. "When you told me to prepare myself, I went in desperation."

Jason was still crouched down, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to deal with the initial pain. He lifted his head and looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You're doing great, babe, just try not to use your feet next time?" he murmured, his voice cracking with pain..

Holding back your laughter, you grab an ice pack and place it on the sore spot, still worried about your situation..

Jason watched you walk away, still holding back a laugh. He leaned against the wall, still looking uncomfortable due to the pain in the area in question.

When you came back, you handed him an ice pack, and he frowned as he put the pack away. "That was a little brutal, you know? I bet any guy who messes with you will think twice," he complained, but again with a playful tone in his voice.

"You're the one who taught me this technique," you say in a playful tone, soon seeing him sigh in relief at the cold sensation between the injured area.

Jason looked up at you with a serious expression, although his body relaxed a little with the relief caused by the cold.

"Yes, I did," he admitted, "but when I said 'use all the tools at hand,' I forgot to specify that it didn't include my testicles."

"Oops" You tried not to laugh, you didn't want to give the impression that you were having fun but the situation so far made you laugh so much that you ended up falling backwards on the mat. "Sorry babe-" You tried to hold back your laughter but without success the sound echoed in the place.

Jason looked at you, still with a slightly irritated expression, as you tried to contain your laughter. But when you fell backwards onto the mat and the sound of your laughter echoed through the room, he couldn't keep his seriousness. A small, mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

Before the two burst out laughing.

Jason bent down to where you lay on the mat, still laughing. “You’re a pest, you know that?” he said, but there was a note of affection in his voice. He sat down next to you, the laugh still trembling on his lips.

They both laughed all afternoon that day, and after he recovered he engraved in his mind to never let you be scared when they went to train hand to hand.

[wileys-russo]

Can please write about Leah sledging (inspired by KCC photo dump) where she gets a super minor injury and gets all dramatic about it. Just needs some care and affection from her girl lol

bubble wrap II l.williamson

"lee i really don't think you should." you warned with a sigh, knowing too well that your words would fall on deaf ears with your stubborn blonde. "i'll be fine! you're so dramatic babe." leah groaned, tapping her foot impatiently as she awaited jacob to take his turn.

"snow is nice and soft. see!" you stumbled a little as a cold lump smashed you in the side of the head. "leah!" you gasped, shivering as ice cold droplets trickled down the back of your neck and your girlfriend doubled over laughing.

"if i wasn't half toward hypothermia i'd take out your good knee." you huffed snatching her beanie and tugging it over your head. "hey! too soon." leah pouted as you rolled your eyes and tucked your hands into your pockets.

"i know a way we can warm you up?" the defender grinned taking a few steps closer and wiggling her eyebrows. "or, you could chill out a little!" you lunged toward her and pushed at her shoulders before she had time to react sending her tumbling into the snow.

"oi!" the blonde gasped as now it was your turn to double over laughing. "oh sorry love, i slipped." you grinned, offering her a hand up which in fairness was a grave mistake, one leah was about to take full advantage of.

grabbing your hand she yanked and sent you flying into the snow beside her. "oh sorry angel, slipped." leah beamed happily as you punched her in the shoulder. "oh no, i'm slipping again." leah tutted, hovering over you before ducking down and pressing her lips to yours.

"you are such a child." you mumbled against her lips, though unable to stop the smile curling into them after as she hummed and squeezed your hips, teeth teasingly tugging at your bottom lip.

"oi lovebirds!" you both pulled apart as a spray of snow showered down onto you, jacob sitting with a satisfied smirk on the sled where he'd just come flying down the hill.

you watched with a chuckle and a roll of your eyes as leah scrambled to her feet and raced at her brother, ignoring your warning yells of being careful as she tackled him to the ground, the two of them rolling around.

you were grateful for the multitude of layers amanda had made you all bundle up in as you got to your own feet, though the cold was still doing a top job of nipping at your skin.

"if you're doing this babe can you hurry up please! i'm freezing my tits off here." you yelled at the squabbling siblings as they broke apart and jacob handed the sled to leah.

"please be careful leah!" you yelled after her as she waved you off and continued on her way. "she'll be right we've been doing this for years." jacob chuckled as you shoved him playfully, anxiety building as you waited leah to come flying down.

jacob picking up on your nerves busied your attention telling you all about australia where he was living now, admittedly doing quite a good job of keeping you distracted.

the sound of cheering however snapped you right back into it, leah hollering as she raced down the hill, getting a lot more speed than jacob seemed to as your eyes widened.

"babe slow down!" you yelled, you and jacob jumping back out of the way as she came hurtling toward you, hitting a small bump of snow and flying off, skidding face first through the snow.

in typical sibling fashion jacob fell down in laughter as you hurried over to make sure she was okay. "you idiot!" you huffed as leah clutched at her stomach in laughter, pulling herself to sit up and shaking the snow out of her hair.

"you're supposed to ride the sled leah not your face!" jacob managed to get out, the blonde tossing a handful of snow in his direction as you grabbed the sled before leah could.

"nah uh, you're done." you warned, palming it off to jacob who set off up the hill again to continue, leahs cousin ben running after him as he returned from a toilet break, groaning that he missed leahs big stack as she flipped him off.

"babe come on!" leah laughed as you took off, clearly annoyed with her as she followed after you back toward the cabin you were staying in with most of leahs family for the week.

"no! i told you to be careful, you've got one and a half knees leah you've not got many to spare with a stupid sledding accident right before your return." you shot back at her over your shoulder as she hurried to catch up with you.

"baby it wasn't-" you heard her hiss in pain and spun around, raising an eyebrow. "what was that?" you questioned her as she caught up. "might have sprained my wrist?" she smiled guiltily as you sighed, gently taking it off her and rotating it.

"you can rotate it, thats a good sign." you sighed with a shake of your head. "think i need a personal nurse to make sure i'm okay. would you know where i could find one?" leah grinned as you withheld the urge to smile.

"i can see those little dimples my girl, can't hide that from me."

~

"how is it one to ten babe?" you asked, having just tucked your girlfriend into bed after washing her hair for her. "about a six?" leah sighed, wincing a little as she rolled it in a circle.

"i warned you." you tutted but placing a gentle kiss to her wrist. "hey hey my lips are a bit sore too, and they're a ten." leah pouted tapping her lips as you smiled knowingly.

"mm well we can't have that can we?" you sat down on the edge of the bed as leah shook her head. "you'd be a pretty shit nurse if you ignored my obvious agony." leah groaned in mock pain as you rolled your eyes pecking her lips sweetly a few times. "movie?"

"hot chocolate and a movie?" leah asked hopefully, pouting again. "extra marshmallows right?" you sighed as your girlfriend nodded with a beaming grin. "i love you, very very much." the blonde leaned up to kiss you a few more times.

"ice it please." you pulled away, tapping the ice pack on her lap and standing up, heading downstairs as leah clicked on the tv and started to browse movies with her good hand.

"hows your patient then? heard she took a tumble." amanda smiled, making herself a tea as you started to get out what you needed. "she'll live but we might need to amputate." you grinned teasingly, falling into conversation with her, having been with leah for almost three years you'd felt welcomed into the family right from the first time you'd met them.

"baby hurry!" you sighed hearing leah call out from your shared room, amanda giving you a look. "duty calls." you grabbed the mugs and turned to leave but amanda stopped you before you could.

"you know she isn't actually injured right love? leah does this when she wants attention and feels shes getting the wrong end of the stick. used to work wonders on her poor father when she was younger and he was hopelessly gullible!" the woman chuckled with a shake of her head.

"i don't know it was a decent fall she had, slid a good three metres on her face." you hesitated as the woman only laughed again.

"her face love, not her wrist. leahs been doing every sort of sport she could from the moment she could walk, she knows how to take a fall without landing on her wrist i promise you." the woman squeezed your shoulder and headed back toward the living room as you frowned.

"baby!"

with a roll of your eyes now you moved upstairs, very careful not to spill the hot chocolates as leahs face lit up and you placed them carefully on the side table.

you ignored her grabby hands and stared her down firmly. "what! what you lookin at me like that for?" leah frowned as you continued, staying silent and waiting for her to crack. "baby, stop it." leah huffed as you quirked an eyebrow.

"think fast!" you grabbed a decorative fake pinecone off the table and tossed it at her, and right as you assumed her dominant hand moved to catch it with ease, which was also her sprained wrist.

"oh well would you look at that! all recovered then?" you crossed your arms as a guilty smile crept onto the girls face. "you're such a good nurse its a miracle?" leah tried as you shook your head.

"you are such a sop! you just want attention as if i don't give you it whenever you want anyway." you collapsed on top of her with a roll of your eyes. "you were upset with me after the fall and i thought it might have been a night of stony silence." leah admitted, hands falling to tangle in your hair.

"because i told you to be careful!" you tried to sit up with a huff. "hey." she gently held you down. "i know you worry, but we're through the worst of it all now. if i spend the rest of my life holding back and stressing out there's a higher risk of injury then if i just go back and live my life. you can't wrap me in bubble wrap forever baby girl!" leah smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"no but the day you're back on that pitch i'll be there with one hand over my eyes and a strong alcoholic beverage in the other." you teased as she affectionately flicked your ear.

"so long as you're there baby you could wear a blindfold and i'd be a happy happy woman."

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟺𝚔 || 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Inspired by this.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Google translated French.

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Regulus Black x fem!reader, platonic!Barty Crouch Jr x reader, platonic!Evan Rosier x reader

You were seething. Absolutely fuming as you paced back and forth in Regulus Black's dorm, your arms crossed tight over your chest, words bubbling to the surface, but none of them quite appropriate for company.

Unfortunately, you weren't exactly in private. Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier were sprawled across the two armchairs by the fire, popcorn in hand, looking like they were watching the most entertaining live performance they’d ever seen.

Regulus crossed his arms and scowled at you. His sharp jawline tensed as he fired back, “You’re not even listening to what I’m saying! Why is everything always my fault?”

“Because, Regulus, you never stop to consider how I feel,” you snapped back, your frustration growing by the second.

“And you think you do any better?” Regulus shot back, his grey eyes darkening. “You just assume—”

“Oh, don’t start with the assuming thing! I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t keep everything so bottled up!”

Barty leaned over to Evan, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “This is better than watching Potter and Black fight in the common room.”

Evan snickered. “Yeah, except with less punching and more, y’know, unresolved sexual tension.”

Your glare snapped to them. “Do you mind?”

They both threw their hands up in mock surrender, grinning like the cheeky troublemakers they were. But the distraction had cost you your train of thought, and Regulus seized the opportunity.

He stepped closer, his voice lowering to that dangerously smooth, velvety tone that always got under your skin. “You’re the one who’s being unreasonable. I don’t know why you’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s ridiculous.”

You narrowed your eyes, your temper flaring again. “Ridiculous? You’re calling me ridiculous? I—”

You opened your mouth, a slew of insults ready to fly, but before you could say anything, Regulus cut you off with a sudden string of French. "Tu sais, tu es vraiment impossible parfois. C'est comme si tu cherches des raisons de te mettre en colère."

Barty and Evan both froze, mid-popcorn chew, eyes bouncing between the two of you. You blinked. Oh, no. He did not just pull out the French card to try and shut you up. The audacity!

"Pardon my French," you began, voice dripping with sarcasm, “but you’re being a douchebaguette.”

Silence.

Evan squinted at you like he wasn’t sure he heard right. Barty looked at Regulus, confused, popcorn halfway to his mouth. Regulus raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching as he processed your words.

“A… what?” he asked, sounding both bemused and baffled.

“You know, a douchebaguette,” you repeated with a wave of your hand, as if the term was universally understood. “Like a douchebag. But French. You get it.”

Regulus, however, raised a brow, his tone icy and patronizing. “Love, baguette is French for bread. And douche means… well, it means shower. So, what you’ve just called me is—”

“A shower wand,” Barty gasped between laughter, his face red. “You just called Regulus a bloody shower wand!”

Your hand, still mid-wave, froze in the air. “A what now?”

Barty and Evan suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter. Evan was doubled over in his chair, clutching his stomach, while Barty fell sideways, practically choking on his popcorn as he howled.

“You—oh Merlin—you called Reg a bloody shower wand!” Barty wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.

Evan slapped his knee. “Oh, this is priceless. A shower wand—I’m never going to let you live this down, mate.”

Regulus, ever the picture of composure, rolled his eyes at his friends. You, meanwhile, were standing there, blinking, as the realization dawned on you.

“A shower wand?” you repeated, deadpan.

Regulus sighed. “Yes, darling. A shower wand.”

You groaned. “Well, that’s not nearly as insulting as I intended.”

Regulus sighed, stepping forward and taking your hand in his, his calm demeanor only making you feel more ridiculous. “You know, if you’re going to insult me in another language, it helps to know what the words mean first.”

You glared at him, though your heart wasn’t really in it. “You could have just gone along with it.”

He smirked. “I could have, but where’s the fun in that?”

Barty and Evan were still cackling like a pair of lunatics, and you and Regulus exchanged an unimpressed glance. Without saying a word, you both seemed to reach the same conclusion.

Regulus turned toward them and said something rapid in French, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. You caught the gist of it—something along the lines of calling them idiots and suggesting they find a new hobby.

You nodded approvingly, adding your own string of insults in French, which Regulus had taught you.

Barty and Evan blinked at you, completely clueless.

“What did she say?” Barty asked.

“I dunno,” Evan replied, still giggling. “But it sounded bloody rude.”

“Come on,” you said, tugging Regulus toward the door. “Let’s leave these shower wands to their laughter.”

As you and Regulus left the dorm, you could still hear them laughing behind you, but you didn’t care. Regulus squeezed your hand, smirking in that infuriatingly smug way he did when he knew he had the upper hand.

“I can’t believe you called me a shower wand,” he muttered, amusement evident in his voice.

“I can’t believe you didn’t just let me insult you in peace,” you shot back, though your heart wasn’t in it. You were already starting to find the whole thing funny now that the embarrassment had passed.

“I’m going to make sure Barty and Evan never forget it,” he teased.

You groaned. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p.’ “But I’ll forgive you.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled despite yourself. “Gee, thanks.”

A few days later, Barty and Evan found themselves lurking near the Gryffindor common room, of all places, waiting for a particular Black brother. It was a low point for them, truly.

“Do we really have to do this?” Barty grumbled.

“Yes,” Evan snapped. “I’m tired of not knowing what they said. Regulus was smirking the entire time, which means it wasn’t good.”

When Sirius finally appeared, they both straightened up, walking over with feigned confidence.

“Sirius,” Evan started, attempting to sound casual, “Can we… talk to you? Alone.”

Sirius raised a brow, looking between them skeptically. “I’m not helping you prank anyone, if that’s what this is.”

“No, no,” Barty waved his hands, “Nothing like that. We just… need a translation.”

Sirius crossed his arms, intrigued. “A translation?”

They nodded in unison, looking awkward. “Yeah, from French,” Evan muttered.

A slow grin spread across Sirius’s face. “And who, may I ask, was speaking French to you?”

Evan hesitated. “Regulus and Y/N.”

That did it. Sirius burst into laughter, clutching his sides as he leaned against the wall for support. “Oh, I have to hear this.”

Barty sighed, rolling his eyes. “They said… a lot. But what we need to know is, um…” He exchanged a glance with Evan, who shrugged. “They called us imbéciles patentés and—oh, and sacrés idiots—”

“Yeah,” Evan added, “and she called Regulus something about a… douchebaguette?”

Sirius stopped laughing abruptly. “Wait. Wait—wait.” He held up a hand, clearly trying to suppress his laughter again. “A douchebaguette? Who said that?”

“Y/N,” Barty grumbled, looking thoroughly unamused.

Sirius stared at them, wide-eyed, before collapsing into laughter again, shaking his head. “Oh, this is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

“Just tell us what it means,” Evan demanded, crossing his arms.

Sirius wiped away a tear, still grinning. “Oh, it means you’re both idiots,” he said cheerfully. “But, uh, douchebaguette? That’s… that’s not French. She was trying to call Regulus a douchebag but added some baguette flair.”

Barty’s eyes widened. “So… she didn’t insult us?”

“Oh, no,” Sirius assured, “You were definitely insulted. But douchebaguette? That’s just art.”

Barty and Evan groaned in unison as they stormed off, leaving Sirius still laughing in their wake.

[chelseeebe]

mercy on me

18+. no smut but minors are not welcome on my blog. themes of fighting and violence. eddie munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n!

a/n: hey all!! i don’t think i really like this on reflection but it has been a couple weeks since i last posted so wanted to squeeze something out before my life gets crazy<3 shoutout to the person on tiktok that made an edit of eddie to strangers by ethel cain bc that’s what spurred this entire thing

eddie’s addicted to the pain, the sting of the punches, the utter thrill of it all. but maybe it’s time for him to realise that that wasn’t the only thing worthwhile to him.

eddie tries to live a good, clean cut life, he’s got a nice job that pays pretty well for hawkins, basically has full reign of the trailer now that wayne has a girlfriend, and shit, he’s even got friends. but something, some terrible voice in his head, keeps him coming back to this.

stood circling the burly man, wondering when, not if, he’ll end up on the floor.

it comes quicker than expected, a fist to the stomach knocks the air from his lungs, doubling over in pain.

eddie doesn’t let him knock him down without a fight completely, throwing a jab at his opponents chin.

only to be quickly forgotten by the man’s fists connecting with his jaw and the searing pain rushing through his face.

the floor is cold, the ceiling just as eddie remembers it.

the kids carry him back to the trailer park, holding his weight on their spindly little bodies.

erica pounds her tiny fist on the door, a routine he’s done a thousand times over, waiting for the disgruntled, yet completely gentle face to appear on the other side.

you do, as expected, groan when your eyes lay on the bloody mess that was his face, ushering them inside and rushing to find your abused supplies.

eddie staggers in, heading straight for the sink to spit the metallic liquid that had gathered in his mouth. clutching onto his ribcage as the kids stand watching. he finally collapses onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a guttural groan.

“jesus christ,” you remark, trundling him over to the sofa, “what’s wrong with you?” dabbing the cold fabric on his eye, a stern frown on your face.

“you should see the other guy,” he chuckles, quickly interrupted by a sharp hissing sound, your usually timid fingers brush over his wounds, harshly this time.

you knee his legs apart, sliding in between to get closer to his face. eddie loves it, no one had ever been so tender and careful with him before. using your time to care for him. it was perhaps the most intimate he’d ever been with anyone.

“i don’t wanna see you in here again,” running your thumb over his split lip, “you gotta stop doing this.”

“what? you don’t like me visiting?” looking up at you with your damn chest in his face, smirking only slightly so you wouldn’t see and scold him further.

“i’d rather you came to visit me without any blood on your face.”

your hand trails down to his neck, rubbing the tiny lilac marking on his collarbone that really could be either or.

“who’s the lucky lady?” you remark, full of sarcasm and what eddie hopes is a hint of jealousy.

his hand travels up, resting above your fingers still lingering on the mark, “you, if you want,” brazen in his flirting, ignoring the two kids still stood in your living room.

your eyes roll back, snatching your hand away to continue cleaning his lip. though he thinks he sees a hint of a smile, buried deep somewhere beneath your disgust and annoyance.

“alright,” you sigh, throwing the last bloodied cloth onto the pile on the table, “all done,” stepping from between his legs to tidy the mess he’d inadvertently made.

“thank you,” he says, with all sincerity, “no one else is gonna look after my good looks like you do,” quirking his lips to the side in a brazen smirk.

you scoff, throwing the bloodied cloths into the trash, “you’d be more good looking if you stopped getting your ass beat.”

and maybe one day he will, all this fighting has to pay off somehow. eddie’s just waiting for the day he remembers to also block punches, not just give them.

-

eddie’s just about to venture over when he sees you rushing out of the door, slinging your bag hastily over your shoulder as the door bangs shut.

“where are you going in such a rush?” he calls, sauntering over without a care in the world.

“school, i’m late,” speed walking past him to the bus stop that sat just outside the entrance.

“wait, i can drive!” producing his keys to jangle about in the air.

you stop, turning on your heel before nodding, “yeah, you can actually,” bounding over to his beat up van.

eddie slides into the drivers seat, knowing he’ll probably be late to work for this, but he doesn’t mind.

you drop your bag on the floor, sitting impatiently in the passenger seat, “i’m really late,” looking at the watch on your wrist, “so if you could drive as fast as you can, that’d be great.”

“yes ma’am,” he laughs, not like he didn’t owe you much more in compensation anyway.

you turn his music down which normally eddie would hate, but it’s you and there’s not a chance he’d ever cross the one person still kind enough to look after his dumb ass.

his tires screech, pulling up outside the tiny community college that sat just outside hawkins. once upon a time, eddie had planned to go there, learn something useful for once. but high school hadn’t been easily done, being held back from graduating once or twice had squashed any dreams of ever going to college.

“what time d’you finish?” he asks as you collect your things, not wanting to hold you any longer.

“my last class is at five,” you rush, hopping out of the van.

“i’ll come get you,” reaching over to open the door for you, “five,” echoing your words.

you pause, looking back at him before nodding, “alright.. see you later,” slamming the door shut with your hip before you scurry off into the building.

eddie sits, watching you disappear before the sudden realisation that he was now also really fucking late dawns on him.

-

sure enough, he’s parked outside at five on the dot. talking his way out of staying any later to make sure he was here when you got out.

you look exhausted walking through the crowd, slightly shocked to see him waiting though it quickly extends to a smile. grateful to not have to squeeze onto the rusting bus alongside everyone else.

he reaches over, opening the door before you get the chance, dumping your bag on the floor and releasing the most exhausted sigh he’s ever heard.

“good day?” eddie asks wearily, unsure of whether to even go there or not.

you hum, “not really.”

“wanna talk about it?”

“nope.”

turning to flash him a tight-lipped smile, elaborating no further.

eddie doesn’t dare push it, “alright.. y’hungry?”

your eyes narrow, turning his radio down once again, “only if you’re paying.”

he nods, cackling as he starts the engine.

a free meal was the least of what he owed you.

-

it takes everything in him not to just sit across from you and stare. you usually crossed paths in extenuating circumstances but now he has the chance to actually get to know you. noting the tiny cross necklace that sat on your chest, the pins on your bag and the way your name is scrawled over the front of all your books.

it’s endearing in a way. he’d put you on some kind of pedestal, this holy being that cured all his ails only to find that really you were just like him. with messy handwriting and tattered clothes.

eddie had lived at the park for years before you ever moved in, turning up one day a few years back with nothing but a small suitcase and the clothes on your back.

your grandmother owned the trailer you now lived in, the sweetest old woman that always seemed to have candy to spare, or a cigarette if things were really bad for him.

you’d taken it over when she died, with really nowhere else to go and a blossoming nursing career, you’d had no other choice.

he admired you, from afar at first, too in awe to say anything until you were practically forced into tending to his wounds.

as much as you grumbled, he could tell you didn’t really mind all that much. caring was just in your nature, which couldn’t be said about many people in hawkins.

“where’s wayne nowadays? i don’t see him much anymore,” unashamedly reaching over to steal his fries.

“he’s got this fancy new girlfriend up in loch nora,” pushing his plate towards you, “spends most of his time there,” shrugging it off, eddie preferred the quiet if he was honest.

“oh. well, must be nice on your own.. can do whatever you want,” raising your brows.

he knows what you’re hinting at but he doesn’t really know why. surely it was not only obvious to you but also to everybody else in the room that he’d jump at the opportunity to be with you.

“hm.. i guess,” leaning over to talk directly to you, complete tunnel vision, “there’s this one girl though,” clicking his tongue, “she keeps ignorin’ me and like.. i drive her to school.. take her out for dinner.. still nothin’,” hoping maybe now you’ll have got the hint.

“oh yeah?” quirking your brow, “she sounds nice, you’ll have to introduce us,” sitting back against the booth.

“i think you’d like her, i know i do.”

you don’t honour him with a response, rolling your eyes like you always did when he’d pushed his luck too far.

instead, you take his hand into yours, pulling it closer to inspect his bruised but healing knuckles, “they look better.. you’re not fighting again are you?”

eddie shakes his head, “not this week.”

you drop his hand though your fingers still linger around his, “i know you don’t care but i really hate that you do this..” swallowing harshly as your eyes meet, “you’re so much better than that,” with full sincerity, “if you ever want me to take you seriously, you have to stop that shit.”

he blinks, a harsh truth that perhaps he needed to hear. the club had been something he’d fallen into as a juvenile teen, a way to express his rage at the world without ending up in jail. it had escalated from there to what it is now, a humiliation ritual that occasionally lead to an extra couple hundred dollars in his pocket.

“yeah,” eddie gulps, “yeah. it’s enough, i get it,” shrinking in defeat. he wanted that more than anything, for you to look at him without that dismaying gleam just once.

he was getting older, bruises didn’t heal as fast as they once did, his bones ached and his head pounded for days. on top of all that, he wanted you to see him as something other than the dope that stumbled to your door.

if giving up fighting was all he had to do to get that, then he’d do it.

your lips curl, smiling gently over the empty plates, “plus, you’re so much better looking without a black eye,” dropping his hand to lean back in your chair all smug.

now he doesn’t want to get too cocky, but knowing, hearing, that you were even remotely interested in him was enough to boost his ego higher than any petty fight ever could have.

-

“you comin’ tonight?” tommy laughs, lighting his cigarette. they stand in the courtyard of the garage, sun beaming down on eddie’s tired shoulders, he just wants to get home so that he can contemplate maybe sneaking over to your trailer later.

“ah.. no,” shaking his head, rubbing his oily hands on his jeans instead of the rag in his back pocket. your words echoing in his otherwise empty head, he deserved better, he was better than this.

“thousand dollars on the line tonight man.. be a shame if you missed it,” tommy pushes, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

shit.

a thousand fucking dollars.

he could take you somewhere real nice with that, god knows you deserved it. maybe he could help with your school bills, books or something.

“shit..” eddie inhales, your words suddenly seeming pretty inconsequential now, “against who?” slotting his own cigarette between his lips.

“new guy, billy something,” tommy shrugs, “i think you’ve got a pretty good chance you know?” goading him further, really leaving him no other option but to accept.

eddie puckers his lips, contemplating whether it’d be worth it to piss you off again. at least when he stumbled in, he’d have a thousand dollars to soften the blow.

fuck it.

best case scenario, he’d be grovelling for your forgiveness with a thousand bucks in hand. worst case scenario? well. probably best not think about that.

“alright, shit.. i’ll be there,” already willing to bet that he’ll be eating his words later, too far gone to really care anyway.

-

eddie more than eats his words. damn near swallowing his teeth by the time he’s helped up from the floor.

billy, as he had learned, was not one to be messed with. on reflection, eddie hadn’t ever really stood a chance against him and maybe if he’d thought for a little longer than two seconds, he wouldn’t now be dropping in and out of consciousness.

erica does her usual pounding of fists on your door, though this time her worry is palpable, making even eddie fear for how his face must look.

you open the door, looking exhausted, too tired to deal with his shit after a long day at school.

“what’d you do?” taking his weight from the two kids holding him up, “what the fuck? you told me-,”. cutting yourself off, not allowing yourself to get too angry in front of the petrified looking children.

you sit him down on the couch, moving faster than he’d ever seen you before.

dabbing the cotton on his face with a quiet, disappointed sigh. you look more hurt than anything else, like all your well meaning words had meant nothing to him.

“oh god eddie, this is really.. this is bad,” pressing the cold cloth to his bloodied cheek bone. you look back towards the ragtag kids that had dragged him here for the hundredth time, “you two get going.. it’s late and i don’t want your mom at my door again,” still patting the sore area. they didn’t need to see you patch him up yet again.

lucas and erica nod along in synchronicity, shuffling towards the door with the heads hung back towards eddie, “is he gonna be okay?” wary to leave him in such a state.

you nod, smiling softly at the two, “he’ll be okay.. promise,” shooing them off, “i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

they nod, hesitant to leave though they do eventually trail out of the door, leaving you and him alone.

rather quickly, your smile becomes a scowl, tilting his chin up towards you without so much as a word. you were pissed, eddie could sense that much.

“hey..” squeezing his eyes shut as the sharp sting of the cloth prods his eye, “i’m sorry,” his words small and defunct now. not sure how else he can truly convey his feelings, apologies running on deaf ears.

you don’t reply, purposefully not meeting his eye despite his desperate attempt to just get you to look at him.

“yesterday i told you that i couldn’t take you seriously until you stopped this and now..” exhaling angrily, “were you even listening to me?”

“yes,” eddie nods, “i was,” hissing through his teeth at the sharp sting in his cheekbone, he’d be lucky if nothing was broken. your words had resonated so much so that they rang through his ears as he lay on the cold floor.

you sigh again, the same sigh wayne used to give him when he’d arrive home in the back of a cop car. making clear your thorough disappointment in him.

he doesn’t speak again, allowing you to sort the mess that was his face out before he ruined whatever slim chance he still had. he would t blame you if you turfed him out this instant, never to speak to him again.

silently going about your routine, a pitiful glint in your eye that he hopes he’ll never see again. if it wasn’t obvious before, it was crystal now.

“i’m trying to be good.. i am,” looking at you through hooded eyes. fuck, he hurt. not just his broken skin, but his chest ached. repeating the image of your hurt eyes again and again.

“i know,” you breathe, breath catching in your throat, “you are good, i know you are..” sighing softly, “you’re also stupid,” tracing your careful fingers over his cheek.

eddie wanted to do right by you more than anything, feeling like maybe that was actually possible now.

“i know it probably doesn’t help now..” he groans, gazing into your glassy eyes, “but i wanted to take you out with the winnings.. nice dinner or somethin’.”

you frown only grows further, “eddie.. i don’t want your money,” finally meeting his gaze just to glare angrily back at him.

his pathetic shoulders shrug, skin running cold as your fingers leave his face. the couch dips as you sit next to him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“i won’t do this again,” a serious, unsettling tone, “if you want to fight then you can, but you can’t come crawling back here every time..” reaching over to trace the cut in his lip, “i’m not gonna sit back and watch you almost die every week- not anymore.”

eddie nods, understanding now more than ever that this had to end. if not for his health, then for you. it’s not as if he liked narrowly avoiding death week in week out, it was the adrenaline. the only time in his life that felt worthwhile, drawing a crowd, people that wanted to see him, albeit to see him end up on the floor.

“i’m sorry,” meaning it, genuinely. “i know that you think i’m not serious about this but i am- really, i think you might just be the only person in the world who’s opinion i care about,” you were at least the first person to get through his thick skull.

“then start acting like it,” putting your hand over his bruised and bloodied knuckles, leaning over to touch his cheek again, tender movements that make him shiver.

eddie’s eyes break from yours for the first time this evening, descending to your lips almost on their own, “i really wanna kiss you,” mumbling into the abyss.

your thumb traces over his bottom lip, narrowly avoiding the still throbbing cut, “you can.. if you promise me that you’ll stop ruinin’ your pretty face for me.”

he nods, allowing you no time to back out before he leans in, clutching at your waist as your lips connect, eagerly pulling you closer with every last bit of energy he could muster.

the black wife beater is torn around the collar, exposing the purple tint to his chest, the dried blood that had wept down his neck. it doesn’t mean much now but eddie feels terrible that this is how he looked for your first kiss.

he was really in no position to be doing this, adrenaline pumping through his veins, mostly keeping him upright.

his body wants more, disappointed in himself for not being able to do this properly. after months of off-handed flirting and this was all he had to show for himself?

you’re doing all of the heavy lifting, fingers knotted into his loose, knotted bun, sighing softly as your lips lock. his chest instinctively knocking into yours, as you lean further back on the couch.

any other time and he’d have been clambering atop, doing everything he’d ever dreamed of. an unfortunate lead up of events that had left him too exhausted to treat you as you deserved.

if that weren’t enough incentive to get his shit together, he’s not sure what else ever would be.

you pull back, eyes drawn to the corner of the room, “grandma’s watching us.. i can’t,” falling into a fit of giggles as you nudge him back upright, eyes flitting to the portrait of your grandmother that hung on the wall.

his eyes follow, giving a strained laugh, clutching his ribcage as he does so, “ow fuck.”

“alright,” you stand, nodding down the corridor, “you can have my bed.. i’ll take the couch so i can keep an eye on you tonight,” stern but still confusingly comforting.

eddie stands, not without a chorus of complaints, shuffling after you to grab onto your fingers, “stay with me,” spinning you around gently.

you nod silently, bundling him up the corridor to your room. your trailer was a hell of a lot tidier than his, now that wayne was more of a passing guest than a resident, he’d really let the place go to shit.

he stops in the doorway, turning to face you with your fingers still interlocked, “thank you.. again,” running his thumb over the back of your hand, “i mean it.”

you nod, reluctant but still somewhat sincere, “please don’t prove me wrong about this,” your eyes a glaring warning, one he’d never forget.

there are no words in the english language to truly convey to you how badly he wanted, or needed, to prove you right.

so eddie just grips your fingers a little tighter, as much as his bruised knuckles allowed, leading you back into your room in silence, vowing to treat you as you deserved.

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Slashers accidentally killing their witchcraft s/o but a few minutes later they revived again and they find out that they are actually immortal?

Ty and have a great day <3

Here you go!

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Allusions to amputation

Slashers accidentally killing their s/o only to find out they’re immortal

Jason Voorhees

His machete slipped out of his hand, and time seems to slow down as it heads straight for you. There is nothing he can do, it all happens so fast, and before he even knows what is happening, you’re on the ground, the blade buried in your chest, down to its hilt.

His whole world is anguish. Memories of the night his mother died are flashing through his head. First her, now you. And this time, it was all his fault.

He sinks to his knees next to you without paying any attention to the escaping victim, and cradles you against his chest, hot tears dripping from under his mask onto your face.

You groan. “Hey… Jason? Love? Could you please pull the machete out? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. You return his gaze sheepishly.

“I… I guess I should have told you that I kind of… can’t die.”

Wait what? He tilts his head at you.

“Yeah. You know. Practising witchcraft has its perks. Now please…. the machete?”

Needless to say he is torn between being angry and relieved. Could you not have told him that before he essentially relived his past trauma?

Vincent Sinclair

He mistakes you for a victim. He lost sight of the last survivor of the current group, but he can hear someone right next door.

He strikes before he can see who it is. And it happens to be you, now with his carving knives sticking out of your neck on both sides. When he realizes what happened, he reflexively pulls the knives out, and you are already on the ground, blood pouring out of the wounds.

He drops his weapons in horror and rushes to your side. You are losing too much blood, there is little he can do… But soon the wounds seem to close up again with no issue, and you sit up.

“Vincent, honey. Next time, please look before you slash. Okay? This would have gone horribly wrong if I weren’t immortal.”

You still look a bit ashen, but seem otherwise okay. You assure Vincent that while you may be a bit more tired and lethargic until your body managed to regenerate all that blood you lost, there won’t be any long-term damange.

Freddy Krueger

It’s a prank gone wrong. Freddy assumes that, as his s/o, of course you aren’t afraid of him, so he can feel free to play rough with you in the dreamworld. But love or not, appearantly there is a tiny sliver of you that is at least a little afraid of him and his powers. Which is unfortunately only something the two of you notice when your stomach gets sliced open while Freddy tries to tickle you.

“Ah shit… fuck… bitch… we’ve been together for so long, how the FUCK are you still afraid of me?!” He panicks and tries to stop the bleeding and you… you start laughing.

“Freddy, you can stop. I can’t die. The whole witchcraft thing, remember?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You double over and clutch your stomach, both from laughter and to keep your guts from falling out. It *is* pretty adorable how worried Freddy is for your safety. And in the end, even if he can technically hurt you, your immortality still means that you can play rough with each other.

Brahms Heelshire

Another one of his fits of rage, after which he finds you on the ground, bones broken and with blood pouring. He stares at your remains in horror.

“Hey…”

He kneels down next to you and shakes you.

“Hey, get up. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please. Get up… don’t leave me…” He starts sobbing, uncontrollably switching between his child and adult voices in his distress, until he feels you gently pat his back.

“You’re grounded”, you say dryly. “Just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I’m down to being your punching bag.”

“Yes. Yes of course. I’ll be good now, I promise”, he sobs, relieved that you are okay after all.

Bubba Sawyer

He accidentally touches the button that switches on his chainsaw while the two of you are fixing some malfunction. The saw buries itself in your torso, sawing through bone and soft muscle and organ alike. Your blood sprays through the room, and Bubba howls with terror while desperately fumbling to turn it off again.

He finally manages to, after a few seconds. But the damage is already done. His hands are cupping your face, running through your hair, knowing that after an injury like this, there is nothing he can do. He just whines softly, trying to somehow comfort you, if you can even still hear him.

“Geez”, you sigh, with some difficulty. The saw completely shredded one of your lungs, after all. “Good thing that it missed my spine; regenerating that would have been a pain.” You look up at him and are met with Bubba’s teary gaze.

“Bubsy”, you coo softly. “I’m fine. I don’t die that easily. Give me a week to recover and I’ll be good as new. So no tears, okay?” You raise your hand to wipe away the tears from under his eyes.

When Drayton later learns of this day’s events, he asks if you can also regenerate limbs, like, say, a leg. You will have to firmyl tell him that you are *not* going to end up being the family’s primary meat source.

[celabi]

Scummy Scaramouche and his nurse gf! ☆彡 1.2k — nsfw

Errrr re uploading this bcs someone told me the format glitched out and was doubling paragraphs, sorry! 🙏

Pfft, he’s picking fights with groups of bigger guys that he knows overpower him tremendously— taunting and mocking them with that snarky smile of his until they’ve finally had enough of his cocky little attitude and decide to beat him blue. But even then, as he’s pathetically crouched down to the ground, his slender, bruised arms up and covering his head to avoid injury to the face, does he laugh at their sorry excuse of punches and hits. When his voice is hoarse and shallow as he deems them weak— it was not meant for his ears only, or because he was scared, it was simply because one of those kicks made direct contact with his rib cage and did something to his vocal cords, he likes to believe that he is not the weak one here.

God does he hate how they laugh back at him, for it is he who should be the one with power, but… he just can’t find the strength to stand up. Instead, he can do nothing but curl into his body to try and suppress the growing ache in his chest, and stare with half lidded eyes as they dump everything out of his bag and onto the floor, with all of his belongings rolling across the dirty, campus tiles. ‘… how irritating.’ He thinks, watching one of the ‘bullies’ bring their foot down to harshly stomp the assignment that Scaramouche had asked you to help him with. Huh, whatever, yet another reason to spend time with you.

He’s not sure how long he had sat back against some random locker before his tormentors left and he had finally caught his breath— maybe ten minutes? thirteen if he counts how long it took to muster up his remaining strength and sit up— before he’s back on his two feet and wobbling towards the nurses office, one hand pressed firmly against the growing bruise on his stomach— and the other clutching the wall so he doesn’t topple over. Of course, no one that passed Scaramouche bothered to ask if he’s okay, or if he needed any help, for not even a single glance is spared towards his battered figure that limped down the hallway. He thinks he doesn’t care— but still, he has to admit that it’s pretty humiliating when even his professor doesn’t want to question his wounded state when rounding the hallway.

But does he have to care when his hand finally grips the door handle to his destination? No, he doesn’t— so he wastes not a second longer and pushes through, accidentally with too much excitement it seems— seeing that he sent the door banging against the wall and almost off the hinges. He flinches at his display of eagerness— while you jump up in surprise from the loud thud that bounces around the room. Oh no, he didn’t mean to frighten you! That’s the last thing he wanted, so (even though its limited due to the wounded state he’s in) he slightly leans his body downward in a shallow bow and opens his mouth to apologise for his rudeness— only for his hand to be pulled and his body jerked forward, out of the doorway and into the room, the door closing shut behind him.

Since when did you get so close to him? Maybe his heart rate didn’t fully return to nor— No, it doesn’t matter, you’re close to him. And he knows that’s all that matters. He follows closely behind and allows you to pull him along towards one of the clinic beds with no complaints whatsoever— and even though his eyes start to blur, and his head starts to spin from the strong reek of antiseptic, he sits down on the seat which you had silently gestured him towards. ‘She’s so professional when she’s on the clock… that’s fucking adorable.’

“Again? Kuni… do you get into fights you can’t win because you like the pain, or something? With the trouble you manage to find yourself in lately, you’ll see your ‘fatal demise’ sooner then you think.” Even though your words are what he thinks are to be taken in a joking manner— he’s a bit confused when a disappointed sigh, roll of the eyes, and a slight head shake of disapproval is what he receives in return. He blinks once ‘So strict’ and slightly lowers his eyes from your own and onto your glossy and plump lips— so soft looking that he can’t help but to glide his tongue across his dry ones out of excitement. ‘So stern’ his eyes lower down again to stare at the white coat that wraps snugly around your elegant figure, one that makes you look very high class. ‘So harsh’ they lower once again, just enough until they can subtly lock onto the plush thighs that faintly peak through the thin pantyhose covering your legs. ‘… god, she’s fucking perfect, like my own personal nurse.’

At this point— he’s not even embarrassed that his cock had started to erect in his pants, because he’s sure any sane man with a functioning brain would pop a boner at the sight above him. To be looked down upon with a face so fetching, a stare so proper, and words so sharp— it intoxicated him more then it probably should have. Scaramouche let’s out an unbalanced exhale, and goes to re-adjust his position to try and suppress the growing ache in his cock, only to grunt out in pain when he accidentally puts all of his weight onto one of his recently acquired contusions. “Jesus, fuck!” That’s what he gets for letting his enthusiasm get the better of him I suppose.

Over the sounds of him kissing his teeth and the discomfort he expresses through pained groans— he is just able to make out how you start to teasingly ‘tsk’ at the state of his suffering, before your feet pad across the tiles as you approach. It hurts, but not as much as his cock does when your face nears his own— and god did you smell good, so good that it overpowers the intense lodo foam scent that flows around the air. He is so entranced by your sweet aroma that the thought of trying to hide away his erection never even crosses his mind— you however, just so happened to notice it.

From gazing longingly into your glimmering eyes to, reaching out and grasping his hand around a chunk of the fabric to your coat— he’s brought back into reality when a light weight presses somewhat softly against his clothed boner, and his chest is being pushed backwards against the wall behind him inadvertently. Another groan falls from his mouth— this time however, it’s one of relief— so through lidded eyes and open senses, Scaramouche is met with a teasing grin, and the feeling of you palming away at his cock.

“Aw, poor thing. You’re in pain… I can help with that, it’s what i’m here for, after all.” Yep, you’re are just so generous, he thinks— and does nothing but nod with his little remaining strength, sit anxiously still as the zipper to his pants slowly starts to glide down, and flutter his eyes shut when your hand finally wraps around the base to his cock.

“Hahh… y-yes please. Do whatever you want to me…”

[lokissweater]

babe omg that mlb! megumi sneak peak.. bye im drooling.. WAIT HEAR ME OUT the assailant says some absolute bullshit as the pair are walking off and it sends reader whirling back to throw a punch slap kick WTV. U NAME IT. plenty of options on the table — OF HER OWN. either defending her man or simply her own ground if u get what im putting down 👅👅 just imagining her pick up his violent tendencies would actually send me spiraling down a 50k metre mountain

YEEESSSSUHHHH omg because reader and mlb!megumi are actually two peas in a pod and twin flames and have picked up on each others little sayings and habits, INCLUDING gumi’s fiery side when it’s appropriate 🫦🫦

maybe the player would spit out another insult, but a BAD ONE, something about megumi not deserving a spot on his mlb team and reader literally WHIRLS AROUND and slaps him straight across the face, sending the other player doubling over to the side and clutching his stinging cheek, megumi immediately grabbing her hand and pulling her away to the locker rooms with a satisfied itty bitty smirk on his face, happy that his pretty little thing cares so much about him to defend him like that when it is rightfully due, and softly laughing at the way she’s absolutely fuming and bothered by everything that happened with that player, even when they’re back in the locker rooms and he’s changing— him having to literally squish her cheeks together and peck her lips to distract her mind from the events on the field 🫦🫦

[sixlane]

Laney!!!!!!!! trick or treat ✨

hi kay <33 so i may have gone a bit insane and written you a full jarty microfic so…. here’s that

the alley | jarty microfic | 1.1k | nsfw | fighting, fucking, blood, spit, general grossness

It’s because of the hole at the bottom of Barty’s stomach that he keeps coming back. An insatiable need to consume. A relentless ache. And he’s never been one to deny himself anything, even when saying no would be so much easier.

James Potter sits across the dingy, low-lit bar, pint glass half empty and dripping condensation in front of him. It’s his fifth if Barty’s counting correctly. James glances at him, huffs a laugh and looks back at his beer. He knows what Barty’s planning, and he won’t stop it. He’ll play along like he always does, and they’ll both leave bloody and sore, covered in the indents of each other’s teeth.

Barty nurses his own drink until James drains his glass, then finishes the rest in one gulp. He’s already decided who’s paying for his next.

He’s been making eyes at some guy a few seats over from James the whole night, making sure James has noticed, and it’s time to go in for the kill. He raises his glass, catching the man’s attention, asking him sickly sweet with his eyes, buy me one?

The man moves down the bar next to Barty, asks the bartender to get him another, and Barty runs a hand up his arm.

“Sorry about this,” Barty whispers, leaning in to say the words directly into his ear.

The man pulls back, confused, only for a second before he’s being yanked back by his shirt and thrown to the ground. James is on him in a second with a fist to his jaw.

The man tries to protect his face, buck James off him, but it’s no use. When James gets like this, all you can do is take it. Barty would know.

After a few more strikes and the unmistakable sound of cracking bone, Barty intervenes. He wraps his arm around James’ neck from behind and pulls him off, cutting off his oxygen flow.

“You broke his fucking nose,” Barty says gruffly into James’ ear before pushing him toward the door.

James stumbles back, taking a few gulps of air before responding. “Whose fault is that?”

Barty shrugs, bares his teeth in a crude imitation of a smile. “Aw come on now, Jamie. Let’s not play the blame game.” He punctuates it with a wild punch to James’ cheek. He feels the skin split on impact, registers the trickle of blood down his fist only a second before James returns with a punch of his own straight to Barty’s gut. He doubles over, clutching at his stomach.

It’s grounding, the feeling of having all the air forced out of his lungs. He craves this over and over again. That blissful emptiness before his body forces him to suck the air back in. He can barely manage it before James’ knee connects with his nose, knocking him back and on his ass.

He tastes metallic as he runs his tongue along his teeth, smiles through the pain.

Glancing up, he can see James is being dragged out by two huge guys, but he isn’t fighting. Barty waits his turn, until he, too, is being hauled up and out the door.

The cold air bites into Barty’s skin as soon as he’s thrown outside. He loses his balance with the force of the push, catching himself on the concrete with his hands. He’ll have nasty scratches for days.

“Jesus fucking christ,” James says from above him, yanking him up and pushing him against the nearest brick wall. “You’re sick, you know that?”

Barty’s vision blurs, he can’t tell left from right, but he can tell James is mad mad. The kind of mad only Barty can make him.

“If I'm sick, what does that make you?” he taunts.

James lets out a noise of aggravation, deep and low in his throat, before he smashes their lips together.

It’s hungry and gross and bloody, a combination of want and disgust that equals out to some perverse replica of relief.

James breaks the kiss, dragging Barty behind him to the alley beside the bar. It already smells rotten and wet; they don’t even have to try.

It’s quick and disorienting, the way James shoves his hand down Barty’s pants, palming at his cock a little too harshly.

“Fuck,” Barty grunts, surprised by the sudden pressure. It’s riding that perfect line of too much and not enough.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” James growls. “Get me into a fight and now you want to complain?”

“My only complaint is that you’re not on your knees already,” Barty bites back, raking his teeth down James’ neck, breaking skin when he bites into the soft skin connecting it to his shoulder.

James honest to god whines, busying his hands with unzipping Barty’s pants. “Fuck, B.”

Barty pushes his thumb into the fresh wound, smearing the blood, mixing it with his own before licking a stripe up James’ neck. They always taste so good together like this. He hates how much he likes it.

James doesn’t waste time after that, sinking down and pulling Barty’s cock out. He takes him down to the base quickly, and Barty can feel his throat relaxing around him, struggling to take it all.

“That’s it, Jamie,” Barty coos, condescension dripping from his tongue. “So fucking eager.”

James pulls back, lightly scraping his teeth over Barty’s head in a way that makes him see stars. It’s a warning. This isn’t submission.

Barty grabs roughly at James’ hair, keeping him in place so he can fuck down his throat easily. He watches as James’ eyes stay defiant, never breaking contact. His fingers dig into the meat of Barty’s ass, no doubt leaving nail marks as he pulls Barty deeper with each thrust.

“I hate you so fucking much,” Barty spits with an exceptionally harsh thrust. James gags around him, eyes watering so pretty, tears streaking through smears of blood. Even still, he doesn’t break.

Barty knows James hates him too. It’s why he loves to say it when James can’t respond, can’t argue. He sees it in his eyes, though. That utter fucking disdain. It’s what ultimately has Barty pulling out and coming all over James’ face, painting him in an obscene mural of blood, spend, and tears.

James closes his eyes finally, but keeps his mouth open to catch what he can. Barty uses two fingers to swipe through the mess of fluids, bringing them to his own mouth to taste the sharp tang. He lets it sit on his tongue, mix with his own saliva before spitting it into James’ open mouth.

James swallows, always a little too eager to please, and sits back on his haunches. Barty can see where the dirty alley water has seeped into the knees of his jeans, but James doesn’t seem to care.

He looks up at Barty again, none of his rage extinguished. “When we get home, I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget your name.”

Barty just smiles. “I’d like to see you try.”