#i'm in hell bc i laughed when he killed

[elthebat]

Michael Myers appreciation post <333

I recently watched og Halloween and Halloween II. I LOVE this movies, they were so funny and Micheal is just a silly dude in these. Honestly thought he would be more serious (considering that big part of the fandom potrays him like so) but he really have a good sense of humor.

Love this guy so much :3

Also here is Amanda from Saw bc I wanted to draw her too

[dilf-docs]

This Thing Upon Me, Howls Like A Beast

professor!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: to cover some social hours and as a favor to your recently fallen-ill friend, you become your research methodology professor's TA. but here's the catch: you've got history, and what you really mean is beef; good, pure, unadulterated loath.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, pwp, rivals to ??, hate sex, p. in v. (do i even wrap it atp), degradation kink, daddy kink, lwk exhibition kink bc this happens on his office (rip to the furniture), bit dom!pedro + brat taming (again?? stop it mayor we get itttt omg) sprinkled here and there, fingering, squirting, creampie (everyone got invited to the party), reader is a loud-mouth (who's this divaaa), pedro's kind of an asshole and a perv in this one (ooc sorry), don't expect a second part this is literally just self-fulfilling filth without a storyline

word count: 6,451 words

side note: hello! this won the poll. am i the only one with this fantasy? pls tell me not; i feel insane looking some of my professors like a fucking starved drooling dog. giggling as we speak, bc the movie's got everybody insane between marvel renaissance, gif dump, new content, husband!pedro material and professor wet dreams out there... this piece of work is the last. hope you enjoy it, citizens! ps. jin of bts makes an appearance bc i love my seven men and i'm currently sick so he is sick too lmao (ah pero para escribir cochinadas ahí sí estás sana verdad)

It's your fault, really, for opening it in the middle of the class. It was a link, and you should've saved it for later, but then your thumb clicked into the blue underlined text your friend sent, and the reel popped up on your screen.

Your laugh erupted before you could cover your mouth, your professors' words hanging mid-air.

"Who did that?"

Everyone looks at you. Those sell-out, ass-kissing, boot-licking dicks.

His eyebrows furrow until they seem to melt into one, a big angry scowl on Mr. Pascal's face.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Y/n?"

His voice reverberates on the class' walls, sounding even scarier.

You shake your head, tone quiet as you let out a small, "No"

"No?" he repeats your words, mocking your insecure demeanor, "because with that loud ass laugh, it seemed like something important enough to dissrupt my class. So please, share. You can't leave us wondering in here"

People cough and avoid your gaze while you wish the building would collapse and kill everyone inside, you included. Oh, that would be good. But no, you're stuck on a space that now feels too small and his persistent gaze cuts right through you.

"I-It's not important-" you stumble over your words.

"Can't speak anymore? All that boldness, suddenly gone"

"Mr. Pascal" you plead. God, you had never even begged for anything in your life. But there's always a first.

"I said share" his voice menacing, like he's got not an ounce of sympathy in that sturdy body that could fit plenty. No, wait. Focus!

He grows impatient at your lack of movement, practically growling his next words:

"I won't repeat myself"

"I-I I don't know how to-" you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sound. "It's a video, so-"

"Then cast your phone and project it" he clicks his tongue, clearly enjoying this. What a sadistic motherfucker.

"I-I can't-"

Can Jesus please hurry up and come fast? Even better, immediately take this one to hell, please.

"Aw, you poor thing" he tuts, mockingly. No one dares to speak, and you'll learn later that he's got his own reputation. For a reason.

"Don't worry, I'll help you myself"

Turns out, the fucker made you and your shaky legs stand up and walk the walk of shame. Then, you had to proyect the silly video, which in handsight, wasn't funny anymore. While some of your classmates laughed, that didn't lessen how humilliated you felt.

It had happened during your first year at university, on a subject you really couldn't care less and when you were still (practically) a baby; freshly eighteen. But now you were twenty, almost finishing your career, and the shaky insecure teenager was long gone, replaced by a secure (albeit a bit of a bitch), confident woman.

That had been your first encounter with professor Pascal.

You have to give him some credit: he is kind of the reason why you did a full 180 on your personality.

But life always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"What do you mean you're sick?" you scoff, "we were supposed to go to Dave's party tonight!"

Your friend lets out a cough that sounds borderline animalistic.

"First of all, don't come closer. I'll pass it to you" Jin speaks up, voice rough from the earlier death-threatening cough. "And second, do you think I care about a stupid party? I'm dying here"

"Don't be so dramatic" you roll your eyes.

"Hello? Didn't you hear that cough?!" he sounds offended, reinforcing the feeling by throwing one of his used tissues at you. You dodge his lame throw with a yuck. "I think you're devoid of empathy"

"Well, thank Mr. Pascal for that"

Jin wasn't your friend when that happened, but when you became buddies, he eventually came to know about your beef with the older man. Yes, beef, because after the Reel Deal (as you both have come to call it), he made your life impossible. If it weren't for your skills and intelligence, you'd probably fail his subject. Mr. Pascal gave you the hardest time ever: be it pairing you with the absolute worst students or making your assigments more difficult, for an "unknown" reason.

Eventually, even after such a traumatic experience and subject being way behind, it became a staple in your duo to bring him up everytime something negative happened or was mentioned.

("You're so funny!")

("Thanks, a professor pushing fifty made my life impossible when I was eighteen")

But here's an even funnier thing: for unknown reasons, Jin became his TA last semester. Probably he didn't know that you were friends, and that has to be the reason he's actually a decent human being towards the younger boy. I'm telling you, Jin would insist, the whole mean asshole shtick is propaganda!

"Talking about him..."

"Stop" you raise your hand dramatically, "enough bad news today"

"You can still go to the party, you know?" he giggles, earning another cough that practically leaves him voiceless. "Why do you insist on taking me? I don't know this people!"

Jin was two years older your senior.

"But it's not fun without you!" you insisted on dragging him around everywhere after you met because he tutored you. "Who will I bore with all my failed flirting attempts?"

"Thank God, not me" he ignores your pout. "Besides, wasn't like Marcos insisting you went with him? There's your chance!"

"But Marcos is boring..." you draw out, "and I need a man who makes me laugh"

"You can't really ask for that much in this economy"

Okay, here's the deal: there's another reason you can't let go of the Mr. Pascal subject, and it's not because of the beef. Hell, Jin can't know about this or he'll never let you live.

The answer is quite simple: as infuriating as he is, Mr. Pascal is hot. Like, middle-aged hot, with the greying hair and face marked by lines that tell time. If it wasn't for him you'd probably never discover your preference towards more... aged meat. You should be furious, and you were, but during all your petty arguments over topics or slides that didn't deserve to be reviewed for more than five minutes, the fire that ignited in your lower belly? You've never felt it before, and if that managed to get you more hot and bothered than a fresh boy ready to kiss your lips, neck and below? Well, that's a serious issue.

But it was his voice, that treated you with such vitriol, a deep and rich sound reserved just for you, or be it the way his auburn eyes seem to catch fire whenever you opened your mouth, dark forests burning in flames that threathened to reduce it all to ashes; yo were eager, anticipating the burn.

He saw your defiance, and instead of putting you in your place, he matched that wild rageful spirit of yours that refused to be tamed.

And that you liked, despite the history of hate between you.

"What about him?" you appear nonchalant, while retouching your makeup for the party.

"About him who?" Jin quips, "we just talked about two fine men-"

"The much older man"

A weird smirk forms across his lips. "Sure, of course"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. But it will be fun, nonetheless" he sits up straight from his previous surrendered position on the couch. "So, remember how I'm his TA, right?"

"Yes?" you pause. "Wait, if this is for me to help you check again more homeworks, no. I am not helping you read a hundred papers again for free"

"They weren't a hundred!" he barks. "Besides, it's not that"

"Then?" you press, not admiting how interested you were.

"Do you see my poor state?" you nod, not understaning where he's going. "Then, you're aware I'm not capacitated to do said task as of right now"

"I'm aware" you repeat, "what I'm not, is what does that have to do with me?" you resume your activity, going for your eyeliner. "So much mystery when you could've just said it in a pass"

"I need you to cover up for me"

The liquid eyeliner paints a line across half of your face. "What?!"

He laughs at your reaction, "You heard me"

You leave the mirror, now focusing your attention on him. "It's not April Fools yet, Jin. Heads up, it was a terrible prank"

Even if it made you hot to have such dynamic with your former IM professor, you weren't exactly keen on seeing him again. For you, he had turned into a memory slash fantasy at some point: an asshole that got your panties wet and pussy slick when you touched yourself at night, on behalf of all the dumb uni boys who couldn't reach that sweet spot of yours. What a dirty girl, his velvet voice on your head would say. Why are you touching yourself to your supposed foe, a much older guy? Fucking slut. Yeah, there was no way you'd go back to the real thing for the real him to taint the image you got off almost every night to, so he could say your name in that animosity that leaked with a barely contained rage and poorly disguised distate that left a bitter taste on your mouth, ego and self-steem on the ground. Because the truth is, no matter how much you argued back, he always won. You had just found your voice, but all efforts to bring him down seemed powerless, and he had won every single battle: even if he didn't have the last word, just with a look, he made you feel small, stupid and meaningless.

Nope. Not going back.

"And you have a terrible way of coping" he's quick to counter back. "Listen, it's not so bad. You just have to do meaningless tasks and pretend to be interested. Simple, right? Look, those extra credits could be useful, you know? And you excelled the class, y/n. Easy!"

"You're making it sound trouble-free as if the man doesn't hate me"

"He's definitely forgotten about it!" he waves his hand, dissmisively. "Probably jokes about it, like us!"

"Mr. Pascal doesn't seem the type of guy to have humor"

"Humor me, then" Jin sighs. "Do this for me, yes? When have I ever failed you?"

You wish for some sense to get into his skull. Had he forgotten every single anecdote?

"Think of all those times where I've taken you home, carried you drunk. Or the sad heart breaks I've been through with you, remember? Brought you ice cream and watched your favorite movies. Or when I used to tutor you? Or-"

"Enough of your emotional manipulation, Mr. Kim" you shake your head, dissapointed, all to avoid the quiet rage to settle in. "I thought better of you"

"It's for a week. Days if this pills do a miracle" his big black eyes look at you, pleading.

"Jin, you're not being a very good friend"

"It's just this one favor" he sighs. "Look, I can't loose this thing, okay? I get the credits I need to finally leave this shithole. If I don't show up, they'll hand it to someone else. You may not believe it, but it's very demanded"

People making lines to be emotionally abused by your former IM professor? Sure thing!

"Can't you tell someone, though? I'm sure they'll understand and you can go back once this cold is gone"

"I already did so, and they told me to show up or quit, due to the wait list of people applying for the position" you roll your eyes at your university's antics and their bullshit policies. "I don't trust anyone else to not fuck it up, but you. You'll just have to tell him about this minor inconvenience, and Mr. Pascal will understand. You know, I'm kind of his favorite guy in there..."

Great, just what you needed.

"Sorry to break it to you, but as soon as I walk through that door, all that pretty boy privilege would be gone"

"Please, y/n. Please"

"You'll never ask me any other favor?"

"No" he looks rather desperate; it's funny. "Hell, you can use the lake cabin for your birthday bash if you-"

"Deal"

Were you that easy to buy, huh? What does that say about you? Fucking ass sell-out.

Okay, but a birthday party in that all glass modern cabin with a deck and a jacuzzi does sound tempting. Who could be blamed? Not you, who will have to face her biggest foe in exchange for one wild bash.

You take a deep breath, imagining the lake water splashing and champagne on the deck (ugh, Jin's parents had a waterbike too. They were loaded), before knocking on his office. The door flings open, almost hitting you in the face, and there he is: Mr. Pascal, with his brown hair with white on the sides, loose curl over his face. Your fingers definitely don't itch to touch it, of course.

He's sporting a grumpy look (when doesn't he?), his big hands (you had forgotten how big they were) holding a bunch of papers (great, work!).

"Goddamn it, Jin. I was about to call you for standing me up, you know I hate when people don't tell me-"

He stops on his tracks, and that all too familiar scowl deepens his face.

"You"

Seethed with such venom, it's quite scary. Your legs tremble, yet your pussy clenches.

"Yes, me" you can't help but let out a little laugh at his antics. What did Jin said about him not remembering you? Well, can't be blamed; you weren't easy to forget.

His jaw clenches while looking down at you, but this time, you don't dare to flinch.

"What are you doing here?"

"See, Jin is my friend-"

He interrupts you, body frame resting on the door with a relaxed posture, but his shoulder looks tense.

"Oh, I liked him. Liked, as in past tense" he emphasizes, like a child throwing a tantrum. "How can a kid like him be friends with you?"

"We're best friends, thank you very much. As a matter of fact, I'm here as a favor" you hand him Jin's written apology, that may have one or two sneezes over it. "He's sick, and I'll cover him for a week, just so he doesn't loose the position. Said you would understand"

"I do" he replies on an instant, "you I don't"

"I passed your subject. With honors, even after you made my life impossible" you reply. "I'm the best candidate, face it"

He's rendered speechless for a moment, before he bites back:

"What makes you think I won't do it again?"

Now it's you who doesn't know what to say. It's infuriating how he still keeps winning.

"That's right" a wicked smile adorns his face. "Stay and find out"

Boy, don't you love a challenge?

So you stayed, much to his surprise. The bastard probably thought you were still the same scaredy mouse from first year.

Oh, it was delicious the way his whole face fell at your entrance next morning, how he quickly replaced it and introduced you in a clipped tone.

"Where's Jin?" a girl sitting in the front row had asked, more students joining to ask for his absence. You wonder if your friend's popularity stems from his brain or looks.

"He's sick" you answered. "But don't worry, he'll be back soon"

"Thank God" Mr. Pascal voices out loud.

You shoot him a look. He wasn't joking about not making it easy, was he?

"Oh, I didn't take you as a man of faith, Mr. Pascal, but you're right. It's important to thank our Lord everyday. So, thank Him for this week where I get to offer my suffering. In reward" you turn to face him, all the class silent as they take in your weird exchange, the atmosphere tense, "I'll never see your face again"

This time, you weren't going down without a fight.

"We'll see about that"

There it was: the fire to your gasoline.

So you pushed back, and argued everytime you disagreed, things that weren't part of your work but you still did because well, if he was still hellbent on making you suffer, you weren't going to make it easy for him this time.

If students argued against him, you took their side; even if just one did, you had their back.

You finished grading, but when returning the papers, you'd let them fall with a heavy thud over his desk, not even daring to look back.

At the time he'd talk to you, you wouldn't answer, instead just doing so, but no words to be uttered his way, as if he wasn't worth the effort. Not even a clipped okay.

And you enjoyed this; savored how he'd take every one of your petty actions with his full chest, eyebrows furrowed and face red in anger, but never answering, just silent, like deep in thought, a cold and calculated look overtaking his brown eyes.

Then the veins on his neck would pop as the ones of his tight white-knuckled grip on his mug. He'd speak up, and his voice had your legs shaking for some friction, wet spots now more often on your lingerie.

That he didn't know.

All he did was you were now more than a pebble on his shoe: a huge fucking stone, going down the hill, ready to squash him.

But boy, didn't he love a challenge?

It's Friday, aka last day of Torture Week.

You drop the quizzes for next Monday on his desk with the same harsh movement you had done all week.

"And it's over" you announce, papers plopping next to him, who is writing something. Mr. Pascal's hand moves, his L much longer than it should be. He looks up at you, annoyed, but his eyes flash with a hint of amusement.

"I see you can talk"

"Well, you already know me, Mr. Pascal. So you should be aware of what I can do"

"Love if you'd enlighten me"

He leans back on his chair, arms resting behind his head. It's hard not to take a brief glance to the flexing muscles, or how he's rolled up his sleeves, arms bulking up with the action, the fabric tense. It's hot in here. Wait, or has it gotten hot? Your face feels red, and when he catches your lingering gaze, he smiles devilishly.

"Like what you see, Ms. Y/n?"

No. You refuse to let him win this again, so close to the end.

"The release from prison?" you regain your posture, "very much"

"You may be a loud-mouthed brat, always knowin' what to say. I'll give that to you" he props himself to the front, elbows now resting on the desk as his eyes scan yours with a shade of dark covering them. "But a good liar you ain't"

You try to remain still, face emotionless, but your professor is a man of experience; an expert on his field. He who investigates, who has majored to be able to notice every small detail that can contribute to a hypothesis, has now formulated his.

You want this as much as he wants to.

You, with your wobbly legs and nervous eyes, glancing up at him with a hungry gaze that matches his own, despite your angry posture and irritated tone. You, that picked up petty arguments just to rile him up, because you liked the command for power on his voice. You like this, didn't you? Feeling small and weak, fangs pointy, just barely gracing the skin; the edge what set your skin on fire.

He isn't one to hold grudges (he's just mean all the time), but Pedro is willing to show you he hasn't forgotten about the years, and he'll be more than willing to fuck that bitchy attitude out of you.

"Hello?" you snap your fingers in front of him, "are you there?"

He snaps back to reality, your face covering his vision. In his position, he gets rewarded with a delicious peak at your breasts and the nude lingerine hiding them. He can imagine the perked nipples and the rosy plush skin he'd love to trace his tongue with, because even when you speak in a harsh voice, your eyes speak another thing. Fuck, he thinks he can even smell your arousal.

"I was talking to you" you don't even give him room to reply; snotty ass. "Said I was already leaving"

He thinks of himself as merciful. So he stands up, your bodies barely brushing against each other for a second, before he's opening the door, towering over you. He's so close, you can see the grey hairs mixed with the brown ones on his beard and mustache. God, you can smell him: coffee, cigarrettes, sandalwood and leather.

"You're free, Ms. Y/n" he follows your line of joke from before. "Just, humor me with one last thing"

You glance over at the clock above his desk. It's barely noon.

"Yes?" as dry as possible.

"Why did you accept?"

It's a simple question, really, but it manages to catch you off guard.

His tone is so different, maybe that's why: it's low, impossibly low. For less attentive people, it could even pass as a growl. But you hear, the amusement and dare laced within the velvety tone.

"Because I'm a good friend" you manage to speak, his body caging your smaller frame against the door.

This is ridiculous. You can leave at any time. Hello? Have your legs not gotten the memo?

"I didn't think you were capable of good things"

You huff, annoyed. "Well, I passed your subject, didn't I?"

He clicks his tongue.

"Many before you, and more after you have. Doesn't make you special, y/n"

Your name alone leaves a savory and toxic sweetness on his tongue.

"But how many of those you remember?" Mr. Pascal shots up an eyebrow, confused. "Tell me, how many can you name? That's right. I changed your life, whether you like it or not"

He's quick to reply. "Bullshit"

"Bullshit" you mock his angry tone, "but you recognized me the moment you opened the door. It didn't even take you seconds, hell, you hadn't even fully seen me and you knew who I was. Doesn't take a great investigator to figure it out, does it? So I take you missed me"

He can't believe your fucking mouth.

But then Pedro's remembering the way his pants tightened when you started to stand up to him, getting even worse when he still managed to shut you up. Fuck, the way you had smirked when you approved his subject during your last project delivery. He let you, because well, you had earned it: for the way your image had been the perfect companion for his hand pistoning his cock will full force, thinking of that loud mouth of yours gagged with it. Or when you walked past him in the hallways, wrapped in your own little bubble, your carefree laugh erupting and bouncing off the walls, tickling every hair of his body.

Part of him had accepted Jin to be his TA if that meant having a piece of you, even if a small connection, to you. Did you think he wouldn't know? That he wouldn't see you walking by in those small skirts that rode over when you bent? He noticed you; after all, you were in the same place most of your day.

You had excelled his subject after all, hadn't you?

So of course you'd notice his stare lingering in your back like a hand over your ass. How his eyes would dart to the skirts you wore on purpose, attentive to the moment you'd drop a pen on accident and your panties would be on sight, a wet spot in the middle you hadn't even noticed that smelled. Fuck, and wasn't it sweet?

You really feel like you have won this, don't you?

"Miss you?" Pedro hisses the words out. "I didn't miss you. What I think is happenin', is that me missing you is what you want"

"And I think you're repeating the same words and fumbling thoughts because you're a big egocentric prideful asshole who can't admit he's got the hots for his younger student"

"God. Don't you have such a filthy mouth, baby?"

Before he can register and you've fully let the nickname sink, your hand slaps his face with a potent movement that reverberates across his office's walls.

"You're a fucking piece of work, Mr. Pascal" but instead of being offended (or you don't know, fight back?), he remains silent. "You dirty old spoiled prick. Think I would never fight you back? That you can get away with whatever this is?"

"Whatever this is?" he chuckles, a sound rumbling deep from his chest. "Well, pretty girl, ain't you started this?"

He looms over you, hot breath carressing your face softly.

"Me? Unbelievable" you scoff. "You're one to talk, humiliating a poor freshman"

"Poor? You were distracted, in my class! Did your parents never teach you manners?!" his words leave droplets of spit that land in your face. "I had to put your stupid ass in place; that'll teach you something"

"Like what?" you taunt, recklessly, chest up and down with uneven breaths.

"I see it didn't work" his body language does an immediate switch. You remember a predator ready to strike their prey. "Maybe I should've tried harder"

His eyes do a wild dance over your body as so do yours.

Lip. Eyes. Skin. Cleavage. His tight pants. Biceps. Legs. Hair.

Before you can register, he's got you pinned against his desk, door closed in a loud move. There's a click sound somewhere in between, but you're too busy feeling his big hands grabbing your face roughly, as if he wants to consume your skin and feel your very bones on his calloused tips.

His lips are impossibly wet and eager, hands needily gropping your body. He pushes all his weight over you as he deepens the kiss, his tongue now inside your mouth, making you falter.

You let out a breathy moan when your back hits the desk, the wood digging your skin, but he swallows it whole, making it impossible for you to talk.

"Mmph-"

"Mmph?" he mocks between kisses, not giving you the chance to take a breath, or maybe he was scared you would get the time to think and would push him away. "Just my mouth got you all worked up, baby? Can't even speak"

Your fingers run through his hair for support, curls between your fingers. They felt soft, like they were meant to be combed through over and over again. He dives his head in your neck, hot mouth wet with its trail of kisses, making you squirm.

"I see" his breath ghosts over your reddened skin, "you wanted this just as much, don't you? This boys aren't enough for you?"

Every hair on your body prickles, his mouth claiming every spot he could, bites and hickeys all over your skin. You whine, pouting your lips, missing his already.

"It's okay, baby" he laughs, "just gotta show them who's enough for you" he grunts, "a man"

Mr. Pascal takes off your shirt, well, basically rips the poor thing, his hands relieved to finally touch your breasts. He roughly grabs one of them, and you bite your lip so hard, you almost feel the bitter metallic taste in your mouth. He lowers himself, despite his aching joints, to play with your hardened nipples, lapping them with his warm tongue, sucking and swirling until they turn swollen.

Your hand finds its way to his formal pants, fingers gracing over the fabric, feeling his cock straining against it. Just like you imagined it: big, like his presence. If it could, your pussy would jump in excitement, realistically just throbbing and leaking.

You untie his belt and buttons so you can begin to rub over his boxers. You can feel him trying to meet your touches, grinding onto your palm. He groans, deeply, enjoying your hungry stare, steady beat, parted lips and wet cunt.

He bucks his hips against you, propping himself on the wall behind his desk, which had moved from its original position thanks to the mayhem.

"You clearly don't know what you got yourself into, baby. But don't worry, I ain't letting you go just yet"

He pulls the skirt up, revealing the damp panties and mess between your legs. He licks his lips before rough digits find your wet folds. His fingers carress your impossibly tight walls, coating them with your slick.

"So fucking tight" he groans against your collarbones, "thought of yourself as uptight but I can fucking smell you dripping, you dirty slut. Could tell you loved provoking me becayse that's the only way your snotty ass can get off"

"F-fuck you, Mr. Pascal" you manage to choke out.

"Where are your manners? After how I've rewarded your big mouth, you bitch" he takes off your panties with skilled practice, the piece falling to the floor with a weak sound. Your bare cunt makes you shiver. "You think you're smart, baby? You think you can play these games and face no consequences at all?" he tuts. "No, Ms. Y/n, you know I hate wastin' my time, so be a good girl and don't make this harder for you, get that?"

You whine at his words, but refuse to shut your mouth.

"Oh, I'm smart" you laugh, "smart enough to have you on your knees for me"

An ugly grin spreads across his features.

"I will never bend for a bratty pretentious slut like you" he grips your hair with force, leaving your neck exposed, "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, stupid cock hungry whore. You wanted my attention? It's all yours"

Then, with a low, almost feral growl, he grabs your hips and hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sweeps the papers and books onto the floor with a clatter, setting you down on the edge.

"You better behave, baby" Mr. Pascal bites your lower lip, "don't want people to know what we're doing in here, do you? Or would you want them to know just how much of a slut you are, spread on my desk as your cunt drips for me?"

He steps between your legs, pushing them further apart, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He leans in, his face inches from yours, voice low in a threatening rasp.

"I'll behave, I promise" mind in blank.

"No loud mouth bitchy stuck up attitude?"

You free his cock, hands scouting his shaft, his base, and balls. You fondled them while his fingers lingered closer to your pussy.

"No"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure? Well, get ready, because I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill of this sweet little cunt"

He savors at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Let me-"

He laughs, seeing how you desire to guide his cock towards your entrance.

"Eager, little one?" he teases.

"Yes" you whimper, "I need you so badly, papi"

Your plea mixed with Spanish sends him on edge. His eyes darken with a primal, almost feral hunger at your desperate plea.

His voice is strained, rough with barely restrained lust.

"Fuck, you needy little thing. You want to take my dick until this desk breaks?"

He rubs the swollen head of his dick against your dripping slit, coating it in your arousal. Then, with one powerful thrust, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in your tight, hot cunt.

"So tight" he groans, starting to move and setting a brutal pace from the very beginning. The desk shakes and creaks beneath you with each forceful thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the empty office. He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit. He sets a relentless, punishing rhythm, determined to fuck you into oblivion.

It's a goddamn view in here: him above you, droplets of sweat falling to your face, pristine hair now disheveled.

At this point, you were clenching so hard it hurt, walls fluttering around his massive girth. But he's greedy, and he's pushing himself deeper and deeper.

"Runnin' your mouth but now all quiet as you take all of me, hungry greedy whore" he digs his fingers into your cheeks harshly, but you find pleasure in the sting the pain causes. "Bet this is all you been thinking since you started talking back, huh? Don't worry, daddy's got you"

Surprisingly, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a dominating kiss, tongue invading your mouth. His hand comes up to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly, a silent reminder of who you belong to.

"God. You're wet everywhere, baby"

His sweaty chest presses itself onto your tits as he forced his cock deeper within you, the plaid shirt sticking with sweat to his ablazed body, temperature high.

"T-the desk" you protest numbly; mind-fucked.

And oh, boy, doesn't he enjoy this view? Your fluttering eyelids, hazy eyes and trembling body.

So he keeps fucking you: pounding into you, rolling his hips skillfully, taking up all the space within you.

"I don't give a damn fuck about the desk, Ms. Y/n. I'm gonna fuck that attitude of yours until all you know is my name" he leans down, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. His hands grip your hips with bruising force, pulling you harder against him with each violent thrust. "Gonna break the desk, hell, fuck you on the floor if necessary, but you ain't leaving this office until my cum drips from your legs and everyone knows your tight little cunt is mine"

The desk groans and wobbles beneath you, the legs scraping against the floor as Pedro fucks you with wild abandon. The sound of your moans and the crude, wet slap of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the room.

His pubic bone grinds against your clit with each thrust, the rough friction sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. His cock hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your toes curl and your back arch off the desk.

He feels your walls starting to flutter around him, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches. Mr. Pascal leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Why don't you be a good girl and tell daddy how good he's making you feel? Show me and everyone else what a desperate little slut you are, waiting for me to fill you up nicely with my seed"

He makes out of you a loud mess, a series of sweet sounds falling from your lips. You clench and he twitches, his digits holding your waist, keeping you in place for him.

"Good girl" he praises, "now you're gonna take it all, milk me dry, you greedy cocksleeve"

His thrusts become erratic and sloppier. The older man can feel your walls starting to flutter around him, body tensing as your orgasm approaches. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Will you be a good girl?"

"Yes!" you cry out, "don't stop!"

You hated this humilliation, how easy it is for him to fuck you with his big cock. You fucking hated him. But didn't he make you feel so good.

"Then come on my cock, bitch"

You didn't think it was capable, no, but you did. A first, another first when it came to Mr. Pascal.

You squirt. You fucking squirted.

Pedro lets out a feral roar of triumph when your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, your release gushing out and soaking his dick and the desk, papers and shit beneath you (no, not the quizzes! You had printed them this morning). He savors the way you throw your head back, eyes rolling until they turn white on your fucked-out face.

"Such a sweet cunt, baby" he praises. "Milk me dry, come on"

Your slick walls milking him dry pushes him over the edge, clenching around him, and he knew it was over. He snaps, arching his back as he roughly moans. With one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls-deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come. Thick, scorching ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your womb with his potent seed, still pushing the remnants inside when he grinds against you, his pelvis pressed tight to yours as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm. His grip on your hips tightens, fingermarks surely to be left in the soft flesh as he holds you in place, ensuring you take every last drop of his release.

"That's it, pretty baby. Can't even speak, can you?" he captures your mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. Like he owns you. "As you can see, I'm a man of my word"

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly. His eyes, when they meet yours, are dark and intense, filled with a primal, almost feral satisfaction.

It's humilliating, really, how your lips search for more. You need him, badly, despite how shit he treats you and how wrong all of this is. Is this a win or a loose?

"Good girl" he repeats, his sweaty forehead clashing against yours. The desk creaks yet again. You love when he praises you, and you whine on instintic, making him laugh. "Learned your place just yet? Listen carefully, Ms. Y/n: no matter what you do or say, I'll always win, get it? And you'll be nothing but a needy uptight slut who begs for my attention and cock"

He pulls out of you slowly, his softening dick slipping from your well-used hole with a gush of their combined releases. He tucks himself away, doing up his pants with quick, efficient movements. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, smearing a streak of his cum across it.

"Go on. Taste it, and tell me how it feels"

Your tongue does a lazy movement, making your lips moist thanks to the saliva and his cum, like a fucking gloss. You shouldn't enjoy this, really, but your body shivers when you feel the taste of him going down your throat as you swallow.

"Good" you manage to speak, salt on the tip of your tongue.

"Good" he repeats, voice low and menacing, "because we're just getting started"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[demonic0angel]

Assistant Jazz au!

Someone records a lovesick Red Hood just ranting about how women who can break him in half are stupidly sexy and posts it to social media. #RelatableRedHood is trending within the week.

(It got long bc I got excited 😭)

The first video goes like this: It starts off with a woman clad in tight leather and a black helmet single-handedly fighting against a group of five men. She fought like a beast, with weapons and guns and on the occasion, her legs as she kicked a man so hard that he had puked his guts out. At one point, she had picked up one by the neck and tossed him to the wall.

The phone camera, shaky and quiet, then turned to face the infamous Red Hood's side profile. He didn't seem to notice that he was being recorded. He had his hand on his helmet-covered chin as he then said, "Do you think if I ask, she'll kill me with her thighs?"

That was when the video cut off. It was posted at 1:32 AM in the morning by an anonymous account with only one tag #RelatableRedHood.

It went stupidly viral. After that, there were more and more videos with the same tag, taken in more and more ridiculous ways to avoid the Red Hood noticing. Gothamites, particular ones from Crime Alley, were all having a great time watching their resident crime lord vigilante make a fool of himself in front of his hot assistant, who hadn't shown any reaction to the recent fame she gained as the woman who owned the legs that could make Red Hood beg for death.

The #RelatableRedHood videos always featured the same thing. Wolf would go about her business and do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, or Wolf would complete an impossibly awesome feat with her intelligence or skills in weaponry and fighting, and Red Hood would then absolutely lose his mind afterwards.

Viewers both agreed to his thoughts and laughed themselves silly as they watched the infamous crime lord show just how head over heels in love he was with his assistant. Reaction images and memes went viral as the Red Hood simped over his assistant.

Video after video popped up and they were all clearly taken by goons within the Red Hood's gang due to sheer proximity and brilliant timing. Although videos came out somewhat rarely, probably due to Red Hood's perceptiveness, Gothamites gobbled up each one eagerly.

It all reached to a peak when a livestream link from the Official Robins account was posted at midnight.

In it, the Red Hood could be seen ranting and raving to himself in his office, smacking his helmet-covered forehead. An invisible camera captured it all. "Dammit!! Where are these videos coming from?! Who the fuck keeps making them?!"

He was presumably on call because after a moment, he answered an inaudible voice with a shout, "Like hell I do! Of course take it down! Why the hell would I want Wolf to see them?! She doesn't even know my feelings for her!"

Another pause. And then, "I'm not going to confess!! Why would she even like me anyways?!"

Viewers felt sympathetic for their favorite crime lord, but curiously, the livestream did not end as Red Hood continued to pace and mutter to himself angrily.

Their questions were answered as the door to the room opened and Red Hood hurriedly sat down in his seat, looking up at the door. The camera then captured the sight of Wolf striding into the room. She held papers in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.

Red Hood, silent and tense, clicked on a button, presumably disconnecting the call and then reached for the things she was holding. Wolf avoided his hands, placing the items on the table before she detached part of her helmet and placing it next to the papers.

Both the viewers and Red Hood were confused. More images of Red Hood's bewildered posture on the livestream appeared on the internet with #RelatableRedHood, but people were still focused on Wolf's strange actions.

The camera did not reveal any part of Wolf's face as she left the disconnected piece of metal on the side . She went around Red Hood's desk and sat on his lap confidently as the Red Hood froze like a deer in headlights. She took off his helmet without any resistance, tossed it to the floor, and then grabbed him by the lapels to kiss him senseless.

Cheers and celebrations erupted all over Gotham City as if they had suddenly won the lottery.

Unbeknownst to the Gothamites who were nothing but civilian viewers obsessing over Red Hood and Wolf's romance, Red Robin and Oracle were celebrating in the Watchtower with the rest of the Batfamily, who were all cheering loudly as they closed the livestream and then celebrated for successfully bringing together their brother and his crush.

Mission: Fairytale Ending was a success!

[darlingdaisyfarm]

hi!! just wanna say you are my fav gravity falls author and im so obsessed with your fics for stan 🙏🙏 could i please have a stan x fem!reader smut where stan just REALLY likes tits. like a LOT. you have full creative freedom to go wherever you want with this idea i just wholeheartedly believe stan is a tit man <3 thank u and plz never delete this account youre the coolest 💞

Stan Pines is obsessed with you and your breasts ♡ (headcanons + blurb)

author note: hii, angel!! thank you sm for this sweet message, i'm literally melting and giggling and smiling rn!!! i can't even tell you how much this made my day, you're so kind and your words honestly mean the world to me 🤍 

i had so much fun with this idea, so here’s something for you bc ur wish is my command! i hope it’s what u expected. and thank you for supporting me! ♡

I need this grumpy old man so bad, guys send me more asks bout him also comments and/or reblogs are always appreciated, kisses u💋

nsfw, fem reader

♡ Stan is absolutely shamelessly obsessed with tits. your tits, specifically. big, small, somewhere in between, it doesn’t matter! he’s a hungry fucking man. he fucking loves breasts. worships them. adores them. can’t keep his damn eyes (or hands, or mouth) off them. “you’re gonna kill me with these things, doll, fuckin’ hell, look at ‘em.”

♡ the first time you caught him staring, you were a little shy about it, but he didn’t even try to deny it. “what? they’re right there! whaddya want me to do, not look? it’s like puttin’ a steak in front of a starving man and tellin’ him not to eat!” and you made the mistake of saying, “you could touch them if you wanted to.”

♡ because now his hands are always on you. always. you’re trying to cook? his big hands are sliding up your shirt, squeezing, kneading, thumbs brushing over your nipples, he’s testing just how fast he can make that little gasp slip from your lips. and god, all of that is being done with that smug grin on his face. “what? i’m helpin’.” sure, Stan. sure

♡ I wanna develop idea about cooking more, so: as i said, Stan can’t keep his hands off you when you’re cooking. for him it’s just an excuse to get his hands on your body. expect him to come up behind you, press his broad chest into your back, let his hands rest in your waist as his lips ghost over your neck, muttering “damn, you look so pretty, baby, you sure you don’t wanna skip dinner and come straight to bed?” when he’s rubbing his growing bulge against you while you’re stirring the pot, literally humping you in the middle of the kitchen. It’s hard not to laugh at how desperate he is

♡ the type of man who’ll insist he’s innocent even when he’s shamelessly and obviously staring. you could be fully dressed, wearing the baggiest clothes known to man and this filthy old bastard is still eye-fucking you. “what? can’t help it, doll, you’re beautiful.” no shame. zero!

♡ of course Stan loves to bury his face in your chest. it’s his happy place there. his hands sliding up your sides as he presses his face between your breasts, groaning, “fuckin’ heaven, toots. yer like a damn pillow, but better, so soft, so warm.” while you let your fingers run through his hair. It’s more about being intimate and soft though

♡ “goddamn, look at these beauties. best fuckin’ view in the world, ain’t it?”

♡ he’s a sucker for leaving marks on your breasts. bite marks, hickeys, little bruises from his teeth and fingers

♡ uhh. . . hear me out, him stuffing dollar bills into your bra as a joke (or no). “figure they’re safer here than my wallet anyway.”

♡ Stan loves when you wear anything that lets him see your nipples, especially when they’re hard (from cold or because you’re horny?), he goes crazy when thin shirt or a dress hugs your body. “goddamn, sweetie, could stare at those for hours.”

♡ his guilty pleasure is watching you put lotion on after a shower. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing the cream over your arms, shoulders and chest and that old man is drooling

♡ Stan is so domestic, he loves the way you look in the morning, your breasts barely covered by his tank top that you stole. you stretch, yawning, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric and he’s already pulling you back into bed. “don’t care what we had planned today, baby. yer stayin’ right here with me.”

♡ Stanley gets so distracted when you’re undressing in front of him. doesn’t matter if it’s casual or if you’re trying to tease him, once your top comes off, his eyes are immediately glued to you while his cock already twitching to life in his pants. “jesus christ, woman, yer tryin’ to kill me. c’mere and let me get my hands on ya.”

♡ and when he finally gets you laid out on the bed, his hands worshiping every inch of you, oh, he takes his sweet time. dragging his thumbs over the stiff peaks of your nubs, leaning down to wrap his lips around one, sucking gently before giving it a teasing bite. he’s grinning against your skin when you gasp his name, one hand slipping down to spread your thighs apart while he gets comfortable between them. “love when you make these sounds. what’d i do to deserve this, huh?”

♡ oh, his tongue too. it’s wet and warm, circling slow before he flicks the nub just to watch your back arch. his free hand squeezes your other breast, pinching and tugging lightly on the nipple. he groans from how heavenly you taste. “softest damn tits I’ve ever had my hands on. christ, baby, I love you so much.”

♡ if you let him, he’ll press his cock between your breasts, his hands squishing them together as he ruts into the softness, groaning like a goddamn mess. “fuck, baby— mhmm, your so fuckin’ soft, look at this, huh? takin’ me so good, atta girl.”

♡ more thoughts about breasts fuck. i personally think Stan would love it? because there’s something about the sight of his heavy cock sliding between your breasts, the way you press them together for him, making a perfect, soft little channel for him to fuck into like a needy old man he is. he gasps, praises you, worships you whole as he watches himself disappear between them, his tip slick and glistening with precum every time it peaks out

♡ “fuck, doll, keep squeezin’ ’em like that. jesus, yer gonna make me cum just from lookin’ at ya.” and he does, oh, he does. he spills his seed all over your chest. and when he’s finished, Stan isn’t shy about making a mess, watching his cum drip down your breasts

♡ when he’s drunk, Stan gets even more handsy than usual

♡ you get him worked up sometimes by accident. like, when you’re reaching for something high up on a shelf and your shirt rides up, giving him the perfect view of your waist, those soft curves that drive him absolutely crazy. Stan will mumble something like “god, babe—gimme a second, I gotta go fix somethin’ in the back room. . . you know how it is with my old bones.” but it’s all a damn lie because he just needs to take a breather after staring at your body for the last five minutes

♡ Stan absolutely loves when you’re riding him, leaning over with your tits pressed into his face. he doesn’t care if it’s just for a few seconds or longer, he wants to feel them on his lips. he’ll lift his head slightly to suck on your cute nipples or trail hot kisses down your cleavage, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes his hips up to meet you. “sh-shit, baby, lemme just. . .”

♡ you lean over the counter while talking to him, doesn’t matter if you’re talking about what’s for dinner or how the vending machine ate your dollar, his eyes are locked on your chest only, already undressing you in his mind. he’ll mutter something gruff like, “yeah, uh-huh”

♡ loves to make you squirm. Stan’s a teasing bastard and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he brushes his thumb over your sensitive nipple slowly, watching it pebble under his touch. “sensitive today, huh? what’s the matter, sweetheart? thought ya liked it when i played with these pretty little nubs of yours.” and then he pinches, just to hear you gasp and watch you press your thighs together 

♡ i swear, Stan will make excuses to get you on his lap, just so he can slide his hands under your clothes and play with you while you sit there all flustered, giggling silly. “ain’t no law against touchin’ my girl, is there? c’mon, lemme have my fun, been thinkin’ about these all damn day.”

♡ as I mentioned, he’s a sucker for when you’re on top, bouncing on his cock while his big hands squeeze your waist, holding you so tenderly in his arms despite how hard and rough he bucks his hips into you, his mouth is latched onto your nipples. the way your breasts move drives him insane

♡ during lazy, slow sex, Stan loves lying on his side with you pressed against him, one hand massaging your breast as he thrusts into you slowly from behind. his lips are at your ear, whispering filthy things about how soft and warm you feel

♡ but when it’s rough, he’s gripping your breasts so hard you’ll have finger-shaped bruises the next day, pinching your nipples just to watch you arch your back and tremble under him, “you like that, huh? that’s right, my good fucking girl,” and every word he says he punctuates with a thrust. “can’t get enough of me touchin’ you, can ya?”

♡ reminder: Stan doesn’t just love your breasts because they’re sexy, though, yeah, they are. he loves them because they’re yours. soft, warm, comforting, just like you. and if he can bury his face in them and forget about the rest of the world for a little while? that’s just the cherry on top! a nice bonus!

♡ bonus: little blurb 

sight of you in his suit jacket, oh god. that thing swallows you whole but it’s too big for you so it hangs off your shoulders, exposing your skin, letting him see your thighs as well. Stan’s jacket, smelling like cigars, is over you in a way that makes his throat go dry. and underneath that beautiful little bra you knew would make his head spin, it’s lace and soft cups hugging you in ways he wished his hands were right now. your cleavage drawing his attention like a magnet. no, it’s too goddamn much for Stan to handle

he’s slouched on the armchair, legs spread wide, trying to keep himself from losing control. his eyes latch onto the soft lace of your bra, the way it cups your tits just beautiful enough to tease him. he looks so needy already and you’ve barely touched him

“Jesus christ, doll.” sounds like he’s choking on his own breath. “yer doin’ this on purpose, parading around in my jacket, showin’ off these tits like some goddamn pin-up doll, huh.” his lips curl into a smirk

perfect, just exact reaction you waited. you bite your lip, stepping closer, swaying your hips for him. you play it coy, of course. shifting the jacket like it’s just slipping off, letting one strap of your bra peek out more. “what? this old thing?” you smile like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing

and then he’s got his hands on you in an instant, dragging you into his lap because he can’t stand another second of his pretty girl being out of reach. his palms feels rough as they grip your hips, tugging you down until your thighs straddle his.

“you tryin’ to kill me, toots? walkin’ around like that, wearin’ my jacket.”  

your knees settle on either side of him, and his hands waste no time sliding up your thighs, over your hips, and straight to your waist, holding you close to him because this man is always starved for physical contact. his thumbs dip under the edge of the jacket, brushing the bare skin just above your bra

“Staaanley,” you breathe, your lips hovering just above his. your hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“No, no, no, don’t you ‘stan’ me, pretty,” he mutters, and one of his hands slips behind your back to unclasp your bra with a flick of his fingers, the other cupping your breast like he’s been dying to touch you all day. “you don’t get to tease me like that, wearin’ this fuckin’ outfit, and then say my name like some innocent little thing. you know exactly what you’re doin’, don’tcha?”

his thumb brushes over your nipple and then his lips follow, placing wet and hot kisses along your breast, sucking gently before biting down to make you gasp.  

“That’s it,” he groans against your skin. “wanna hear all those pretty little sounds you make, baby. fuck, you’ve got me harder than a goddamn rock.”  

he’s saying true because you feel the evidence of that pressing against your core, even through your panties. his free hand slides between your thighs, fingers pressing against the damp fabric and you whimper when he rubs slow circles over your needy clit.  

Stan grins as he pushes the lace aside. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. all this from me touchin’ your tits? jesus, doll, yer even dirtier than i thought.”

his fingers tease your wet entrance, rubbing over your folds before dipping inside, and your head falls against his shoulder, moaning as he pumps them slow and deep.  

“C’mon, baby,” Stanley brushes his lips over your ear as he fucks you with his fingers, his other hand still kneading your breast. “tell me who you belong to. say my name, and i’ll give you everything you want. everything. I’ll fuck you so good.”

you moan his name, digging your nails into his shoulders 

“Yes, that’s it,” his hand moves faster. “gonna make you scream for me, sweetheart. make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

[whousestypewriters]

its you and me, baby - j.l x reader

pairing: joey lynch x fem!reader [established relationship]

requested: yes / no

warnings: swearing and sadish/insecure thoughts?

a/n: dw guys im still feeding you even tho im not online (this has been ling over due as well sorry to the two anons who requested this for taking so long!!) also i rlly dont like that i kinda not really sorta made aoife a problem in this bc joeyaoife forever!!!

taglist: @lxvebelle, @ecliphttlunar,

you like to think you're not insecure.

really.

but sometimes those small moments of doubt creep in and you find yourself questioning yourself more.

like right now as you watch your boyfriend talk to a very pretty girl at the bar. the same girl he'd been talking to for the last fifteen minutes. aoife molloy. she went to school with you and joey. you never really talked much to her but always got the vibe that she was a perfect shining star, that everyone loved.

example number one; your boyfriends smile right now.

he's smiling brightly at aoife, chatting away while he gets drinks for the both of you, laughing at whatever things she says. the feeling starts to build in your gut, one you desperately try to shove down because its the worst feeling ever.

and you see them too. the slight touches from aoife on joey's arm. fucking hell you're going to need several drinks if this is how tonight is going to go.

aoife's loud laugh breaks through your thoughts and draws your attention - not that you weren't already looking at them - back to her. joey's eyes are alight and you feel a ping of sadness and two ugly emotions you definitely don't like; insecurity and jealousy.

why didn't joe's eyes light up that bright when you two were together? why did he laugh as loud? was it you? were you just not funny enough? or was it something else? that one thing deep, deep down you were always afraid of. that you weren't good enough for him. and that he had found someone better.

"stupid shit thoughts," you grumble to yourself. "shut up, shut up, shut up."

pushing away all thoughts, you decide on getting your mopey ass a drink instead cause clearly someone else can't do that. standing up you make your way over to the bar and just to be petty you slip in next to joey and aoife and call out to the bartender ordering your drink.

joey hears your voice and his head instantly snaps around to you. "y/n, hey baby i was just getting us some drinks," he says with a small grin.

"yeah it seems so," you roll your eyes picking up your drink and heading back to your table. joey seemingly knowing that you're pissed says a quick goodbye to aoife and follows you over with two more drinks.

he sits down across from you and tries to make eye contact. "are you okay?"

you answer with a short nod and a sharp, "yes."

jealousy isn't a good emotion. its such an awful feeling, and you do not like it. so when joe asks, "you sure, baby?"

you kinda snap. "i said yes. i'm fine okay?"

he lets it go for now but you feel his eyes on you through out the rest of the - admittedly short - time you spent out together. you know he knows something is bothering you.

yeah, somthing was bothering you, someone called aoife molloy who's the prettiest person ever and who had joey lynch laughing his ass off for at least twenty minutes before you interrupted.

now you liked aoife, she was a sweet girl, but seeing the way she was with joey tonight really made you wanna bitch slap her. that was your boyfriend not hers.

the ride home you were quiet and you tried to bury the jealousy and insecurity bubbling beneath the surface you really did. but those dumb little thoughts kept weaselling their way into your head creating more doubt.

after you had both gone inside - still not talking - joey had had a shower and started to relax getting ready for bed while you had your own.

the hot - ok more like burning - water did nothing to ease the awful feeling in your gut. it was aoife molloy most guys your age would kill to go out with her. and she had chosen to talk to your boyfriend - who you aren't kidding yourself he's absolutely gorgeous. you've heard girls whispering about him more that a few times - you're not-single-very-taken-boyfriend.

ugh.

so when you come out of the shower and still didn't talk to joey thats when he snapped.

"alright thats it." he shoots his arms out wrapping them around your waist and throwing you on your back on the bed. he leans over you one arm on each side of your head caging you in. "what is wrong, and don't you dare say nothing because i swear to god i will kill you-in-a-non-threatening-way-because-i-love-you," he rushes the last part out.

"nothi-"

"y/n."

"fine," you sigh. "it... bothered me tonight, when you were talking with aoife."

"and..." joey eggs you on.

we're you really about to say this? "and i got jealous and insecure and i wasn't happy about it."

"why were you jealous?"

"because of her!" you cry. "its aoife fucking molloy, she's gorgeous, she's every guys dream girl and she was flirting with my boyfriend! and my boyfriend was smiling right back at her and yes it made me jealous because my boyfriend never smiles at me like that. he never laughs as loud when he's with me so yes. i. was. jealous."

joey's face stays still for a moment before he breaks into the biggest laugh. "oh, my god, y/n!" he chuckles loudly. "you have absolutely nothing to be worried about there. you wanna know what we were talking about the entire time? you." he leans down and presses a kiss on your forehead. "we were talking about you." he presses another kiss to your cheek, "aoife had brought up how grumpy you looked and we got caught up talking about you." he presses a kiss to the other cheek.

"me?"

"yes you, my grumpy little bug." he presses a soft kiss on your lips.

"there is no-one else, you got that? i adore you. i cannot stand the thought i being with anyone else. it physically pains me. i love you more than i'm actually sure is possible." he presses another kiss to your lips.

"its you and me baby. you and me."

a smile overcomes your lips and you pull joeys face down to kiss him yourself. "i love you," you whisper. "so much."

you both pull yourselves up under the bedcovers and fall asleep to the soft kisses and squeezes you exchange.

ok so maybe you are a little insecure but none of it matters as long as the boy who has his arms wrapped around you was with you.

a/n pt2: ok so i dont really know what happened with the ending so i lowkey js gave up on it. i hope you enjoy!!

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

sorry if this is like uncomfortable or off limits but uhhh

really sweet and loving smut with dave- him and his gf have been dating for a few years now but shes still a virgin and whenever Dave made advances on her she would go until they got their pants off bc she was too embarressed- but one day, Dave makes sure they have the most perfect day together, going out and getting fav foods, doing fav actvoties all the good stuff and hopes the night will end w them in bed. she hesitates a lot but agrees none the less and they get the the bedroom and kissing and stuff and when he has her laid out on the bed he reaches to take off her skirt/pants but she gets really nervous and scared again bc she thinks that hell think shes a monster or ugly or messed up but she just has SH scars on her thighs and dave reassures her and comforts her that nothing vcould make him think that and he takes them off and feels a bit sad that she once did that but kisses them and praises her and is just very sweet and then its gentle loving smut

sorry this is so so so so so so so so so long and confusing but yah love ur fics btw

A/n: Something about Dave just gives me the vibes of “hurt her and I’ll kill you” but in a “I’ll give anything for her” kind of way, y’know?

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), angst, talk about self harm, brief description of scars, drugs (just at the beginning), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

"She's just gonna stop you again." Junior said, chuckling as he held the joint between his fingers out for Dave to take.

The ginger scoffed as he took the joint, bringing to his lips. "She won't, she said she was ready." He insisted, holding the air in as he spoke before letting smoke flood out his nose.

Junior made a face and Dave pushed him, knocking him off the box he was sitting on. They just laughed, so hard Dave fell off his own box and they laughed harder.

"Fuck, we are so high." Junior mused, reaching for the joint back.

Dave had planned out the perfect day for you, a walk down through the park, down by a creek and taking a straight from there to a new café he knew you'd been wanting to go check out. Then it was back to your place and he'd finally get to have you to himself.

Everything had been going great, just the way he planned, although he hadn't expected the food to be so pricey, but it didn't matter so long as he got to see you smile.

As you walked with him up the street, getting closer to your house, you could tell something was on his mind but he wouldn't say.

"Come on! Just give me a hint." You pleaded, tugging on his arm thrown over your shoulder.

"No, it'll ruin the surprise!" He said, laughing at your insistence.

You chewed your cheek, thinking for a moment as you turned the corner, your house coming into view. "Tell me or no you're sleeping outside." Dave stopped completely at that.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, eyes wide in fear that you weren't joking.

You bit your lip as you thought it over, eventually shaking your head. "No, I want my cuddles tonight." Dave let out the breath he'd been holding in and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Don't scare me like that." You chuckled as he lifted you up, letting you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear. "I'm serious, I'm not a dog, I'm your boyfriend."

"That you are, Davie, that you are." You purred, kissing along his jaw as he walked the rest of the way to your house.

He pulled the keys from the back pocket of your jeans and opened the door, letting you hold onto him until he set you down on your bed. He hovered over top of you between your legs, arms on either side of your head, caging you in while his soft hair fell around his face, framing it.

Not that you could see it, his lips barely left yours for longer than a second to mumbled something into your mouth. However, you felt his hand sliding lower on your body, groping your chest which he'd done countless times before, moving down your sides and squeezing your hips and waist, mapping out your curves.

His hands didn't stop and he unbuttoned your jeans before you could stop him. "Davie-Davie, wait." You said, pushing on his shoulders until he pulled away.

"Why, what-what happened?" He asked, looking over you for anything that could be wrong, searching for what was making you uncomfortable.

"I- we-we have to stop." You said, squirming under him.

"Why?" He asked, brows furrowing slightly. He didn't mean to get upset but it was hard not to, he loved you, he didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to show you how much he loved you. "Tell me why, I'll get off if you just tell me why."

You nervously bit your lip, holding yourself up on your elbows. It's not that you didn't want to go further, you tried to convince yourself every single time that it would be fine but you had to stop before he saw what you'd done to yourself when you were younger.

"I- my legs are... I have scars." You muttered, looking down to the sheets instead of him.

"Scars?" He repeated, looking for confirmation. "Like, stretchmarks?" He asked. "You're scared I won't like your fucking stretchmarks? Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me-"

"They're not fucking stretchmarks, Dave." You bit, cutting him off.

He stared at you for a moment, not having expected you to use such a harsh tone with him. "Then what is it?" He asked, his voice significantly lighter.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the upcoming conversation. "They're from me..." You mumbled, still not looking at him.

The pieces slowly connected in his mind and his expression softened. "Sweetheart, you made them?" He asked, reaching up to cup your face in his hand. "Why? Why would you do that?"

You chewed your cheek, not really having an answer, not one that would be good enough for him, anyway. "When I was younger... Highschool was hard, Dave." You mumbled, hoping even though it was vague it would satisfy him.

Dave looked over your eyes for a good long moment before inhaling deeply. "Well, highschools over, you have me now." He kissed your lips and moved down to your jaw and neck. "And I love" then he kissed your collarbone and pushed up your shirt to reveal your stomach, "every." he kissed just under your bra. "Single." Your abdomen. "Part." Finally he tugged your jeans down and you lifted your lips to let him.

He took in the scars embedded in your otherwise pristine skin, some deeper than others, all over your thighs. His gaze met yours as he continued to pull your jeans off. "I love this part of you, too." He said, making sure you heard him. "I don't love that you felt like you had to do this, but I love you no matter what."

Dave adjusted himself so he was laying between your legs, his arms hooked under your thighs as he held the plush flesh of them in handfuls.

He planted tender kisses over your scarred tissue, looking up at you periodically to make sure you were watching and enjoying yourself.

Soon his kisses moved to your panties, watching you twitch and bite your lip. Dave smiled and kissed right over your clothed clit. "That feels good, doesn't it?" He asked, waiting for you to nod before he continued. "It's gonna feel a lot better soon." He assured, giving a last kiss to your scars before pulling your panties out of the way and licking up your folds.

He hummed, satisfied with the noise it drew from you. His tongue swirled around your clit, listening to the whines you let slip passed your lips as he did. "God, you sound so pretty." He mused, licking up you again before his tongue delved into you.

Your hand slammed down onto the mattress, clutching onto the sheets as he fucked you on his muscle, his eyes staring up at you the entire time as his nose repeatedly bumped your clit. Your hands clenched and flexed, mind going blurry at the sensations he was bringing between your twitching legs and trembling thighs.

He watched you come undone, watched your hands finally let go of the sheets to grab onto his hair so you could pull him right to you, holding his face to your cut as you rode out your high on his face. "Hah-! Oh-oh, fuck, Dave!" You moaned, back arching off the bed and your head fell back.

Your foot pushed down on Dave's back gently, moving down his torso as you slowly came down from your high, breathing as heavy as your eyelids.

Dave moved back up the bed, wiping his mouth and chin of your juices. "How was that?" He asked as he hovered over you, hands planted on either side of your head. "Feeling loved yet?" He teased, pecking your cheek.

You chuckled, hands going to his shoulders. "Mm... I could use some more love." You said, pulling him down to kiss you. "You know, to really feel it." He smirked at the implications of your words, grinding against you, his jeans snagging your clit and making you whimper into the kiss.

"I can do that, I can definitely do that." He muttered against your lips. He reached down to undo his own jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off the bed before he pulled away and tore his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the ground with the rest of the clothes.

He looked down at you, still with your shirt bunched up by your tits. You sat up, pulling it off and wrapping your arms around his neck, lips crashing into his once more.

Neither of you broke the kiss, only taking quick gasps for short breaths. Dave unclipped your bra and slid it off your arms before trying to get your panties off, only to eventually give up and just snap the flimsy strings on the sides.

Dave quickly got his own boxers off and pulled you into his lap, easily slipping into you in a swift thrust and holding you down as you moaned. "Ngh- just sit-sit still for a minute, it'll- fuck, it'll feel good in a second." He stammered, trying to hide his own sounds, his muscular arms tightening around you.

Needing more friction you reached down to rub your clit, Dave took it as a sign to start moving so he rolled his hips up, bucking into you. You choked out a moan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Dave snapped his hips into you, tip of his dick angled just right for you. When he heard the moan that left you, felt your muscles relax in against him, he knew he found your sweet spot and hit it repeatedly, setting a steady rhythm.

"That's it, let me do all the work, let me show you how much I love you." He said, mouth not far from your ear so you could hear every word of his praise. "You sound so pretty, and, fuck, let me show you how much you deserve to be loved."

Part of you wanted to stay hidden in his neck, but the other part won, the part that wanted to pull away and bounce on him, to hold onto his shoulders and watch him fuck you.

Even sitting in his lap you were only barely eyelevel with him. His bruised lips parted slightly, just enough for soft grunts and grown to leave him, along with whatever affection he decided to spill to you. His eyelids were heavy, lust and adoration swirling in his pupils.

The knot in your gut was tightening again, Dave was close and pulsing in your gummy walls. "Don't-don't ever do that again." He blurted, struggling to keep the same rhythm. You tried to ask what he was talking about but it just came out as moans. "If-if you ever, ever feel like that again you-you come to me and I-I'll- fuck, I cah-can't-!" With a few final thrusts he finished inside you, cum painting your insides.

You followed shortly after, fingers still on your clit, the warm, gooey feeling he spilt in you was nice too.

Dave lowered you down onto the bed, pulling out and curling up beside you. His arms stayed nicely wrapped around you as you laid your head on his chest.

"So," you started once you got your breathing right again, "do you want to finish what you were saying?"

Dave snorted and shook his head. "No fucking way." He brought a hand up to play with your hair. "You're tired, go to sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up." You didn't have to be told twice, smiling softly and letting the sound of his heartbeat and breathing lull you to sleep.

Dave lay there awake, tired but not enough to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about what might've driven you to do such a thing to yourself. He didn't see you as a monster, some messed up psychiatric patient, you were still his love, his girlfriend. You were still you, just with a little more hurt that he needed to help heal.

"If..." He started, voice low to avoid waking you up. "If you ever feel the need to hurt yourself... you come to me first, sweetheart, I'll help." He knew you couldn't hear him so he continued. "You can hurt me all you want, can't break plastic... but you, love... you are the stained glass in a century old chapel."

[clouji]

Fortnite

+ hamzah x reader twitch streamer, fortnite, fluff

💟

You haven't streamed in a long time, so you're excited to play Fortnite and talk to all of your viewers. You have been queuing up for duos, but they're all bunz so far.

"Alright, chat," you shout, moving toward your microphone. "Let me see what random I get. Pray we get someone hot and cracked this time. Or someone whose microphone does not sound like it's been microwaved."

> imsogoated: manifesting a soulmate

> enhatt: im so happy ur streaming again y/n

> bananasummer: girl if he’s hot u better flirt!!!!

The loading screen fades. The lobby pops up. A name, Superspreader77, with a voice that breaks through, nonchalant and a bit raspy.

“Hello, Do you got a mic?”

You turned to the camera, covering your mouth. “Oh shit chat.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hi!!”

He laughs quietly and proudly. "Why, do I sound sexy?"

You choke on your drink. “No you sound like a loser.”

“Ouch.”

“Also you sound cocky and weird.”

“And you sound like a tryhard.”

You pause. "Okay, yeah so what.”

You marked Seaport City and dropped with your duo together. Both of you are still teasing each other.

He steals your holo twist gun. You hit him with a bat in revenge. He saves you from a third party and wants you to say Thank you. Instead, you say

"Fuck yourself."

He chuckles as if it's the funniest thing he heard all day.

"You're kinda mean," he says.

"You're kinda enjoying it."

"Maybe."

In middle of stream, the chat loses its mind.

> bananasummer: CAN U ASK IF HES HAMZAH PLS

> jj771: no bc that’s actually his voice omg

> 1234pop: THAT’S HAMZAH FROM SLUSHYNOOBZ WTF

> destiny: HAMZAH??

You took out your phone for a second to check what the chat was about, and then you searched for the name they were mentioning. You have mutuals, you saw what he looks like, and you nodded as you think he is.... cute.

You squint your eyes. "Hey… superspreader"

"Yeah?"

"My chat thinks you sound familiar."

"Oh?"

"They're saying you sound like Hamzah? from Slushynoobz."

Silence.

“Never heard of them. Is he cute?”

“Stop fucking around.”

“You think I’m Hamzah? Wow I'm so flattered.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Do you think I’m him?” He repeated the question.

"I think you're a liar with surprisingly good aim."

He sighed. "Damn. You got me. You're scary."

"Woah so you're Hamzah... I've been roasting you for twenty minutes. Your fans might attack me."

He laughs. "Don't worry I'll protect you."

You cringed. “Ew. You like me don't you.”

“Hell nah, I'm interested in someone else already sorry,” he says smoothly. “And she keeps stealing my loot like look–right now.”

You won the match. Because of him. Both of you are stressing and laughing.

Then—he adds you.

No hesitation.

“Nice game,” he says. “Let's play again tomorrow?”

When a friend request shows up. You mute your microphone for a second just to scream then you click accept.

“Yeah. But next time, I’m stealing all of your loots and kills.”

He laughs. “Deal. As long as I get to play with you.”

You check chat.

> imsogoated: I’M CLIPPING THIS

> jj771: my two worlds colliding

> bananasummer: He's your dsstiny

You lean into your mic. “Chat. CHILL. It’s just one game.”

Hamzah’s voice cuts in: “ Well, you're never getting rid of me now.”

“I don't mind that actually.”

💟

[lynnaredfield3383]

Part 2. Not my characters. Aged up to 21, fem reader, mentions of party, swearing & sharing a bed with MHA boy & alcohol. *Bakugo dumped reader because he wanted to focus on getting back in top 10. Brought random girl to party to get readers attention bc he wants reader back.* Denki & Sero spent night at Kiri & Bakugo's apartment.

Morning After. (Other end of the phone call)

Shoto groaned as the buzzing of your phone continued. Rolling over, he grabbed it and answered.

"Hello."

There was nothing at first, then a clatter sound, before someone finally spoke.

"Why the hell do you have Y/N's phone, you icyhot bastard?" Bakugo growled.

"She left it on the nightstand," Shoto explained.

"Why the fuck would she leave her phone?"

"Because she's in the shower."

"WHAT???" Bakugo nearly screamed.

Shoto smiled when you came out of the bathroom wearing your cute dress from the night before.

"Who are you talking to?" You asked before realizing he had your phone.

"It's Bakugo."

Shoto held the phone out to you. As far away as you were, you could hear the string of curses coming from Bakugo. Sighing, you accepted the phone from Shoto.

"Bakugo, calm down," you said as you sat on the edge of the bed.

You felt Shoto move up behind you before he situated himself. Now he sat up, his chest against your back, his legs on either side of you and his cheek against your back, his arms holding you around the waist.

"I am fucking calm. Why the fuck did you leave with icyhot and why are you using his fucking shower?"

Your guard immediately went up at his accusatory tone. Who the hell was he to question anything you did. Your blood turned cold as you responded.

"YOU broke up with me. So you don't get to ask me a damn thing about who I'm with or why I'm with them."

"The fuck I don't. You..."

"You wanna play this game, fine. Who was the pretty blonde with you last night?"

The line went silent for a full minute before Bakugo sighed.

"Nobody. Got rid of her the moment she tried to kiss me."

"And what? You want a damn medal or something? We're done, you said so."

"Yeah, well, maybe I changed my mind," Bakugo mumbled the words, but you heard them.

"A year later? Screw you, Bakugo."

You hung up and shut your phone off, not wanting to deal with him anymore. Shoto hugged you tightly, his chin resting on your shoulder now.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I need to get going. Evening patrol with Denki tonight."

"Stay for breakfast. I'll make whatever you want," Shoto offered.

"Shoto, did we...What exactly happened last night?"

Kiri and Sero were trying to calm Bakugo down after you hung up. Denki started laughing, all three of them turning to him.

"Dude, now is not the time..." Kiri warned.

"Why the fuck are you laughing, spark plug?" Bakugo growled.

"I just realized where my last shot went. I asked Y/N to hold it for me when Jiro called me to the kitchen. It was a moonshine shot. You know the stuff Sato brought back from his overseas trip."

Bakugo glared at Denki as he spoke and then growled as he lunged for the blond.

Kiri caught Bakugo, Sero attempted to tape Bakugo to slow him down, while glaring over at Denki.

"Really? Now? Now is the time you remember that, you moron!!" Sero yelled.

"Seriously, dude!" Kiri shouted.

"I will fucking kill you! You know she can't handle alcohol. She's worse than you!!! Get the fuck off me," Bakugo snapped nearly tossing Sero into the wall.

"I'm sorry! I didn't down it because it puts me on my ass as soon as I do. So, I was gonna hit the couch before drinking it. It wasn't planned or anything!" Denki rambled.

You held Shoto's stare as he explained the events of the night before.

"You saw Bakugo and his date, and before I could stop you...I brought you home because you asked me to. You said you felt safe with me."

You smiled at Shoto, his gentle nature sneaking past your defenses.

"I'm betting you put me to bed and tried to leave."

Shoto smiled, a faint blush covering his cheeks.

"You were too cute to leave. You grabbed my sleeve and asked me to cuddle. As soon as I had you in my arms, you passed out."

Shoto set down the plate of pancakes in front of you.

"Thanks for this. I'm sorry you're the one that got stuck with drunk me."

"I'm not."

You froze meeting his gaze.

"Well, uh, thanks."

"Are you going to take Bakugo back?"

Why was he acting like this? Almost, like he had a crush on you? No. That was for high school kids.

"No. I mean. I don't want to, but you know how he is."

"Determined."

"Annoying, but yeah, determined."

Shoto came around the island counter where you were eating. You turned to face him, your heart picking up speed. Shoto leaned in far too close.

"I will treat you better."

Shoto had changed a lot, but you hadn't noticed until now. As he tipped your chin up with his index finger, all you could hear was your own heartbeat.

Bonus: Shoto's agency office

Shoto was going over briefings when his office door swung open.

"Bakugo. Do you need something?"

"Stay the hell away from my girl!"

Shoto's expression remained neutral.

"No."

"No?" Bakugo repeated.

"That's what I said."

Bakugo moved up to Shoto's desk, slamming his hands down. Shoto didn't react.

"You want me to blast you to hell or something?"

"It is Y/N's choice."

Bakugo stood straight, not breaking eye contact.

"You're right. And she'll choose me," Bakugo snapped before leaving the office.

[daylighted]

GOT 'EM CUFFED !

beau arlen &. kari.

like clockwork, kari ended up texting beau something every day that, with anyone else, probably would have had an investigative unit on her trail. luckily for her, the dutiful sheriff was capable of taking bribes only in the form of his girlfriend's love and adoration.

work was idle that day, which was incredible, so to speak, because a busy day at the station was never something that anyone wanted, especially the ones working it. beau was working through the stack of paperwork on his desk, taking his due diligence time what with nothing else to occupy his attention.

ding.

a glance over at the phone perched on his desk, the heart emoji next to her name giving way to who it was.

kari ♡ 12:13pm im gonna run this guy over if he keeps poking across the crossway

beau breaks into a laugh, having to cover his mouth to stifle the echoing sound in the small office. no good morning, no i love you, no how has your day been?

just a hint of ominous premeditation while, assumedly, she was stuck behind a stoplight. he picks up the phone to reply when another message comes in.

kari ♡ 12:14pm love you!

he spoke too soon, it seemed. despite the concern for whatever stranger had ticked his girlfriend off, he felt warmth flood through his system at the two simple words.

beau ♡ 12:16pm don't do that. love you too.

the typing bubbles appear and disappear in quick succession, and don't return. beau actually feels a genuine sense of worry. was he seriously going to have to put kari in cuffs today? was his day so strenuous because it was building up to the fact his girlfriend would commit a hit-and-run? surely not.

beau ♡ 12:20pm i hope you're not answering because you're driving and not because you're getting someone's insurance information

a light joke, but he meant it. how awful would it be to have to interrogate kari while she was cuffed, and not in the fun foreplay kind of way? he didn't think he had the strength to do that. he'd earn the title of unjust cop if he had to, just to avoid that reality.

beau ♡ 12:25pm i seriously hope you're just having a very relaxing and uneventful drive right now

beau ♡ 12:28pm i'm not bailing you out by the way

beau ♡ 12:32pm yes i will but i'm not going to be happy

he's about to throw caution to the wind and call when, finally, his phone dings again. he'd just set it aside to try and pretend he was not working through his court argument in kari's defense in his head by finishing his paperwork, but what the hell did paperwork matter in comparison to her?

kari ♡ 12:39pm i got ice cream

the relief is palpable. beau had never, not even once, not even for a split second, thought that he'd really have to take his girlfriend to the station today. no ma'am, no sir.

another text comes in.

kari ♡ 12:39pm you really thought i'd kill that guy ??? 😭

beau grins. kari says it like it's a surprise that he'd jump to that conclusion when his sweet little girlfriend was a bit of a hellion like that.

beau ♡ 12:41pm yes

and then, just to make himself laugh, he sends another one to mimic her earlier texts, the one that'd sparked this spiral of worry at all.

beau ♡ 12:41pm love you!

abt to make these for everyone and their mama now bc this was too fun are u KIDDING !!! this one is for twin, @deansbeer & i hope it makes this weird ass morning a lil better pls 😭

& THANK YOU TO @mahi-wayy FOR INSPIRING THIS & FOR MAKING ME ONE :( !!! I HOPE THIS BECOMES A TREND OR SOMETHING BC IT IS TOO CUTE & FUN GETTING TO SPOIL UR MOOTIES <3

[chvoswxtch]

Kind of a romcom/action request - do you think you could rewrite or give us your take on the scene where Frank ties Amy to the bed? It’s just always bothered me so much. She’s a teen girl living on the streets, and franks not a moron. He’d know exactly the implication and why she’s scared shitless and I refuse to think he’d be smug or laughing about it, or as callous as he was

i'm really glad you brought this up bc I always thought it was SO out of character for frank, but I never saw anyone else mention it?? like he literally grabs her and throws her on the bed, comes at her with zip ties and duct tape, and acts like a complete asshole?? this girl was literally just attacked, watched this big scary guy rip through a group of professional hitmen like they were nothing, and now she's alone in a motel with him, of course she's freaked the fuck out. and we all know what was going through her head when he forced her on the bed and brought out the zip ties

a lot of things about season 2 pissed me off but this right here is something I will always get heated about bc frank 'girl dad' castle would fucking never and I will die on that hill

so i'm gonna fix it bc apparently I have to do everything around here

headcannon below the cut

what a girl wants starring frank castle & amy bendix

I had to rewatch this scene to refresh my memory and it pissed me off all over again bc out of context it looks so bad but even in context it looks awful

frank "locked the front door of the pawn shop & grabbed a bat bc the guy said he had an inappropriate video of a girl that was barely 12" castle?? francis david "nearly killed the guy who took inappropriate photos of underage girls literally like a few episodes after this" castiglione??? that frank is tying a young girl up to a bed and duct taping her mouth shut???? y'all got me fucked up try again

first of all, she literally helped him pull a bullet out of his ass cheek like thirty seconds before all this. if that's not trauma bonding, I don't know what is

but even before they got to the motel, when they were in the van, they were already bantering like a grumpy dad on a roadtrip with his angsty teenage daughter, like c'mon. and amy had so many opportunities to run if she wanted to. she could've told the clerk at the motel what had happened, or she literally could've ran for it. frank was bleeding out, he was in no shape to chase her down. but he protected her when he didn't have to so I think she felt somewhat safe with him, enough to get the room with him and help him stitch up his ass

AND HE LITERALLY SAYS IN THE NEXT SCENE THEY CAME AFTER A LITTLE GIRL SO I HAD TO GET INVOLVED. HE CALLS HER A LITTLE GIRL !!! okay i'm done i'm not so let's get into what should've happened

so again, obviously she's freaked the fuck out, a bunch of people just tried to murder her, and this grumpy asshole showed up and saved her, but she doesn't know why, or what he wants. if it were me, i'd be suspicious. like okay, you saved me from them, but what do you want?

all frank had to do was talk to her. yes, amy is a handful, but she's literally a kid (I don't know if we ever get her actual age, I think she says several times she's 16, but when I look it up it says between 16-20, so either way she's a young girl) and she doesn't know frank. she's spent her whole life on her own looking out for herself, and she just witnessed a bunch of her friends getting murdered while she hid under a bed, so of course she's not gonna trust this strange scary dude right off the bat

I think if frank had made his intentions clear, it would've gone differently, bc that entire scene is so out of place compared to the rest of the episode and how they interact with each other. like frank involves himself bc she's a kid, and then beth gets hurt in the process, and frank being the vengeful man he is obviously wants to take every single person out involved from top to bottom (just like he did with the kitchen irish, dogs of hell, and mexican cartel. this man does not leave loose ends. everyone gets punished)

so if he had been like hey, fuck those guys for going after a young girl, but also my girl got hurt in the process, so help me out here. help me find the dickheads responsible so that one, I can keep them from coming after you again, but two and most importantly, I can get my revenge for what they did to my woman. I feel like amy would've been like okay he's doing all this for the woman we dropped off at the hospital that he clearly cares about, which means he isn't secretly plotting against me and isn't just another person trying to kill me or steal what I have

frank clearly sees some of his daughter in amy, or at least he sees a glimpse of what lisa could've been if she would've been able to grow up. like there's a lot of moments during season 2 it's implied he sees amy kind of like a daughter. like yeah she's an annoying kid that grates on his nerves and constantly tests his patience, and there's certain moments I think he loses sight of the fact that she is just a kid and he just acts like a complete asshole (like the trailer scene with curtis when she tries to practice her moves with the gun), but then there's so many times he does treat her like he knows she's just a kid (she's literally just a girl)

the entire time he's teaching her how to handle the gun and use it, how he praises her when she does well, how he comforts her when she does have to shoot the gun, how reluctant he is to go along with her plan with the creepy photographer guy, how gentle he is with her in the showdown scene with pilgrim, like he's such a girl dad PLS

so in my professional opinion, it would be more in character for him to sit her down and be like look, these people aren't gonna stop coming after you, I wanna take them down bc now it's personal for me, and in the morning you and I will come up with a plan to figure out who these people are and how to stop them

I think it would've been more in character for him to be like listen up buttercup, you can take off and take your chances by yourself, but I give it 24 hours before you're dead. or, you can help me out and I can keep your ungrateful ass safe until this gets handled, up to you

we could've even had a scene where she's like I can take care of myself bye, leaves, realizes she's in the literal middle of nowhere, weighs the pros and cons of being alone versus being with the guy who took down like thirteen people by himself (I forget how many there actually were but it was a lot), and then show back up at the motel door with a bratty eye roll like alright fine but i'm gonna complain the whole time

would frank have still been bitchy the entire time? absolutely. he's grumpy as it is, and he took a bullet to the ass for a girl that called him rough road to his face (that will never not be funny to me). but would the frank castle I know and love tie a young girl down to the bed and duct tape her mouth?? absolutely the fuck not

in conclusion whoever wrote that specific scene is a fucking weirdo and it's on sight if I ever catch them on the street

[remember-the-fanfics]

Hai, so um I really like the Gen-Z overlord Reader, bc well they are basically me, if you are able/want to can you make some possible angst headcanons? Like how they miss home or their friends

Just Before the pilot episode

I'm trying so hard to have a timeline, everything is connected! I just have it in no order.

This is shorter than usual.

• You would have so many things to be sad about

• Like how you could never live your life before you died

• Missing all your friends because they'll (hopefully) get to grow old

• Your family grieving over your life being taken to soon.

• Older sibling never got to see you truly become an adult without your parents

• Younger sibling missing you, who just got them in a way where they could annoy you but you would still protect them afterwards.

• Parents/Guardian losing their child way to soon.

• You usually avoid those thoughts, having to do be someone strong daily for the people you protect.

• You already had time to mourn the future you never got and everyone you miss when you weren't an Overlord.

• So pushing your grief all the way down inside to never see the light of day.

"Haha, nope."

• Until you seeing or smell something like home and it hits you, hard.

• Then you're back being a child, who just wants their parents to comfort them from a nightmare.

• You're with Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Charlie. Doing an exercise that Charlie ropped you into.

• When something of the moment of true trust reminds you of home.

• The last place it was completely given so freely.

• Angel Dust nugges you saying it was your turn again.

• Before realizing you had tears that started stream down your face.

• He tried to cheer you up with a joke

"Didn't think the exercise was that bad."

• Didn't work for the most part.

• You were laughing, while crying. Creepied him out and got the others attention.

• You just wanted to go home, back to the people you care about.

• But you could never go back, you were dead.

• Why does it feel so unfair that you died before you actually got to live.

• Getting up while everyone was asking you if you were alright

"Ha ha, no."

• Heading to your room because you didn't want to drag everyone else's mood down with you.

• Only to be stop by Angel Dust, who knows how you feel about missing your family but not understanding that your grief about missing your life.

"I didn't get to live my life, Angel! I died less than two months after I turned 18, I still lived with my parents! My family and friends had to bury me, I have to wait while everyone I know get to live."

• Angel Dust did not know you were that young.

• This is the first time most of them saw you be more than just chaotic.

• Heading to your room to be alone finally

• After you got your emotions back inside because you are still needed by many people.

• Avoided Charlie for awhile because she wanted you to talk about your feelings

• Then Vaggie when Charlie got sad about it.

• You stayed away from the hotel for a week, wanting stayat your territory for the extermination any way.

• Texts Charlie and Vaggie, that you would be back afterwards.

• Charlie texting you about an interview she has the day after.

• Vaggie texts you to stay safe until then.

• Missing your family from life and realizing that you made your own type of family-friendship in hell.

• Not having time to process it when you see an explosion from a far and you know who would be there and rushing there to make sure they'll be okay.

-

And that leads you into the whole being there when Carmilla killed an exorcist.

[lesbianrobin]

we are playing in the “tommy asks buck for an open relationship” sandbox rn. just go with me on this. ok? ok. he is entirely asking for his own purposes (perhaps trying to hook up with eddie perhaps not who’s to say!) but he frames it like well YOU deserve to experiment and be with other guys :) and so buck agrees despite being a diehard monogamist bc he's desperate to be loved and make this relationship work and tommy makes it sound reasonable.

so for a few weeks tommy like casually hooks up with a few people while buck hangs back uncomfortably and eventually buck is like SIGH well i guess i SHOULD get more experience with guys. and he asks eddie to come with him to a gay bar and buck absolutely knocks it out of the park like he's Killing it he and eddie r having fun and he hooks up with someone new every weekend and unlike his buck 1.0 days he's actually just having fun with it bc he isn't looking for emotional intimacy w these people that he'll never find! he's just letting himself explore things and be happy! meanwhile tommy is going for like shitty grindr hookups that don't even show up half the time. he tries asking eddie to Hang Out and eddie leaves him on read. like he is Not doing too hot.

and i think that buck is completely oblivious to the fact that tommy is not having fun like he is. but eddie does know and he's fucking Thrilled. he's just gonna let this shit play out. eddie knows that he loves buck at this point, but he's watching buck actually enjoy himself and kinda revise the terrible relationship he has with sex and find something liberating in it so eddie's okay with sitting back for awhile and letting buck have this while also laughing at tommy. maybe eddie is also finding hookups when they go out maybe not who's to say.

so after a couple months of this buck and eddie are hanging out and buck is like sigh yknow this open relationship thing was fun for a while but i just don't know if i see this thing with tommy going anywhere... like i don't really care when he hooks up with other people and i don't think it's because i'm cool and polyamorous i think it's because i just don't like him that much. and eddie's like well you shouldn't settle for a relationship where you don't really love your partner. yknow he does his sage advice thing. and buck is like yeah you're right...

and later buck goes to tommy and he's like hey man you're really great and i do like you but i think this just isn't really working. i think we both deserve something better. and tommy's like it's eddie isn't it. and buck's like huh? and tommy's like you were with eddie last night. and buck's like oh well yeah he and i were talking and he said- and tommy's like evan stop bullshitting me we're grown-ups you can just say you're dumping me for him. and buck's like sorry Huh. and tommy's like oh come on he was just "wingmanning" all those times you two went out? and buck is like ...yeah?? he's my friend?? and tommy's like sure. whatever fine. this was fun. have a good life evan. and buck's like what da hell...

and then when he tells eddie about the breakup, he mentions it and eddie's like ha 🙄 and buck's like oh haha yeah like that's crazy right! and eddie's like 🙄 as if you'd still be with him if we had been sleeping together. and buck's like . what. and eddie's like i mean. well it's us. we wouldn't... not as some side thing. if it was us, it'd be real.

and buck's like oh. yeah. do you, uh. think about that? if it was... us? and eddie's like ...once or twice. and buck's like ...once or twice? and eddie's like yeah. each time lasts a few years though. and buck laughs and he's tearing up and eddie grins at him and he says so. us? and buck says yeah. yeah, us.

and then they are in love and get married and are happy forever and ever the end 🫶🏻

[freelancelobotomy]

gravity part 2 please!!!

freudian [s.r.]

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 1.6k

summary: After fleeing Vegas and hiding out in a grimy Montana motel with a supposedly "abandoned" kitten—and the weight of your role in a murder—the last person you expect at your door is Spencer Reid, your ex-situationship from the FBI Academy, here to retrieve his friend’s missing cat.

content warnings: fluff, angst, guns, mentions of sex, reader is mean but its okay bc Spencer was meaner, death, almost kiss

a/n: this is pt 2 to gravity which you can find here. It kinda wont make any sense if you don't read it first but it!

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The sound of bare feet slapping against wet pavement might be the least sexy sound on earth. Which is ironic, considering seduction is your entire brand. It’s the reason Saesha recruited you in the first place. You’re hot—long legs, sultry voice, those eyes that never blink first.

You sometimes laugh at how absurdly contradictory your life has become.

Graduated high school at twelve. Wanted to be a profiler. Ended up part of a murderous vigilante cabal. Spencer Reid broke your heart when he left—and saved your life when he killed Saesha and cleaned up the mess you made.

Moonlight dances on your flawless legs—and on the sewage puddle you just stepped in. Perfect. This morning’s pedicure was a waste. Your crimson-polished toes now carry tetanus as a plus-one.

A siren wails in the distance.

You duck behind a trash can.

I'm so fucking scared. My life is over. The thought is sharp and breathless.

Something brushes your arm. Furry.

"AH!" you yelp, imagining the worst—a rat.

“Mrow.”

A tiny black kitten stares up at you with glassy eyes too big for its head. It’s absurdly adorable.

"Hey, little guy," you whisper, scooping him up. He melts into your arms with a rumbling purr.

No collar. No home. Well—he has one now.

The motel is the kind of place you don’t even want to touch with socks on. Threadbare sheets. Mold in the shower. The wallpaper's been peeled back like it was trying to escape.

You’ve been holed up here for a week. Montana feels far enough from Vegas—for now. Next week, you’re catching a train to North Dakota. Then out of the country. You're spacing your movements so they don’t raise suspicion. Also, you’re bringing the kitten—who you've named Jiji, after the one from Kiki’s Delivery Service—and bringing a pet onto a plane requires paperwork.

It’s risky. You’re attached anyway.

You're fresh out of the shower, damp hair wrapped in a towel. Buldak noodles spin slowly in the microwave when there’s a knock at the door. Probably Greg, the motel owner, bringing the clean sheets he promised three days ago.

You open the door—and freeze.

Of course. It’s him.

Spencer Reid.

“Y/N?”

Your body reacts before your brain does. You stumble back, make a beeline for the drawer beside the bed—the one with your gun.

“Relax! It’s just me! I’m—I’m unarmed! Check me!”

You rush him. Weapon drawn. Your hands are fast and clinical, patting him down with muscle memory. You don’t forget the ankles—he always kept a second piece there. You yank up his shirt.

“Hey!” he yelps, eyes wide.

“Turn around,” you snap. He obeys. You lift the back of his shirt, checking for wires. None. Just spine and skin.

No lies—yet.

“What the hell do you want from me, Spencer?”

You get a better look at him now. He’s a mess. Eyes bloodshot, dark circles, lips cracked. He's been crying.

“I was catsitting. For my friend Emily. Well—not because she trusts me, but JJ’s on maternity leave and Garcia’s on vacation. Emily's on sabbatical and no one else was available. So I brought her cat to Vegas during a case. Checked him into one of those ‘cat hotels.’” His voice shakes, spiraling. “And he got out. Because the hotel was incompetent. Emily loves that cat–and–I lost him. And then—Garcia tracked his microchip to this address and—”

“Mrow.”

Jiji hops onto the bed like it’s choreographed.

“You have Sergio?” Spencer gasps.

“Who?”

“The cat! Emily’s cat! Why would you steal her cat?!”

“I found him by a dumpster! No collar. I didn’t steal him. Finders keepers.”

Spencer blinks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time in years.

“It’s… it’s really good to see you again.”

You blink back. What the actual fuck.

“Yeah. You too.”

His eyes lower to the floor.

“I’ve had a rough few days. Made me… reevaluate some things. Can we talk?”

You nod slowly. You need to figure out why he’s pretending last week never happened.

“Come in. Sorry for the mess,” you lie.

“It’s not messy,” he replies automatically, stepping inside.

“Why do you have a gun?” he asks, gently. “Why’d you pat me down?”

You study him. He really doesn’t remember.

You breathe once. Twice. Then you lie the way you were trained to lie—grounded in truth.

“Alexander…my ex. He just got out of prison,” you say. “He used to hit me. Last thing he told me, as they shoved him in the car, was that he’d find me and kill me. Lately I’ve been getting weird messages from burner accounts. Slurs. Insults. I got scared. So I left town.”

The pain is real. But the reason is fake. Neither is the fear. As long as he doesn’t catch you off guard, you’ll be fine.

“Y/N, you should’ve called. The BAU handles cases like that all the time.”

“I deleted your number.”

His gaze softens.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry. For everything.”

You sit through it. Again. Nodding in the right places. Keeping your face a mask.

Then finally: “You said you had a rough few days. What happened?”

Spencer swallows.

“My friend Ethan was killed. Active shooting at a night club. I—I tried to help. I shot a chandelier that crushed the gunman. But it brought down the ceiling. Debris hit my head. I don’t… I don’t remember any of it.”

He smiles bitterly. “First time in my life I’ve ever forgotten something. And it’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt.”

You rub his back, guilt curling hot in your chest. You didn’t mean for Ethan to die. You didn’t mean for any of it.

“All we know is that it was a terrorist cell. The other members all killed themselves before we could interrogate anyone.”

Control your microexpressions. Control your microexpressions. Control your microexpressions.

“Ethan…when did he pass?” you ask, softly.

“He uh…died at the scene.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You thread your fingers through his. “I'm here to listen if you need to talk. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

He hesitates. Then says, “I’m staying in Vegas a while. Visiting my mom. The funeral’s next week. When you come back… you can give me the cat.”

“I was planning on heading back tomorrow, actually. Want to drive back together?”

“I was gonna leave tonight, but… yeah. That sounds good. Flights were crazy expensive anyway. Holiday weekend.”

“You drove?”

He nods. “Didn’t have a choice.”

“You need coffee?”

He shakes his head.

“No. I need sleep. You’re right. I’d be nodding off at the wheel by now.”

“Then stay the night,” you offer. Your hand grazes his thigh lightly. The contact is casual. It lingers anyway.

He clears his throat. “I—I don’t want to intrude.”

“Jiji and I don’t mind,” you smirk. “Right, Jiji?”

“Mrow.”

“Oh. Listen to that. He says you can’t stay.”

Spencer chuckles. “Man of the house has spoken.”

“Got a bag?”

“Yeah. I’ll grab it.”

“And I’m paying for gas.”

“No, you’re not.”

“If I can’t pay for gas, I’m keeping the cat.”

He stares you down.

“…Fine. You can pay for the gas.”

He returns smelling like lavender and wearing the cologne he wore that night at the Savoy.

You turn off the lights and slide under the covers. You should leave things where they are. Clean break. New passport. Fresh start.

But Spencer doesn’t remember. And you can’t help but wonder.

Should you get involved again?

It’s a question for tomorrow.

“Goodnight,” you mumble.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You wake up to silence. You turn.

Spencer’s still awake.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay? It’s, like… three something in the morning.” You ask, concerned.

“Yea…Yea—I’m sorry If I woke you. I get…nightmares. They keep me up some nights..”

You hesitate.

“Want me to lie next to you? That helps me when I can't sleep.”

“I…” He fumbles. “I mean, studies show that sleeping beside someone you trust can reduce cortisol levels and—”

“Spencer.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He slips into the bed beside you. Close. Warm. He still uses that stupid lavender shampoo. You feel his arm flex as he adjusts the covers to make sure you’re both tucked in evenly.

You’re both quiet.

Then—you move first. You always move first.

You drape your arm across his chest and rest your head against him. His breath catches.

“I knew it,” he says.

“Knew what?”

“That you—Nothing.”

“No. Tell me or go back to your bed.”

“You and your either-or fallacies,” he laughs. “Fine I’ll tell you–”

“Ha! I knew it!” you shout, springing off his chest, finger pointed like you’ve just cracked a decades-old cold case.

Spencer blinks, incredulous. “Knew what?”

“That you want to sleep with me!” you grin, then pause—realizing how it sounded. You clamp a hand over your mouth. “I mean—sleep next to me—”

“Freudian slip,” he smirks, victorious. “I knew it. You want to sleep with me.”

“Oh please.” You scoff, crossing your arms like you’re not suddenly way too aware of how close you still are. “And you think I’d just do that with Jiji in the room? How bad of a cat mom do you think I am?”

“Cat mom?” Spencer snorts. “More like cat burglar.”

You roll your eyes, resisting the smile tugging at your mouth. “You think you're soooo funny.”

“You think so too. Your carotid’s pulsing faster than usual. Pupils are dilated. You’re flushed—”

“Oh my God, I hate profilers,” you mutter, spinning away from him and yanking the blanket over your head like a dramatic teenager.

But your heart’s thudding too fast.

His laugh is quiet behind you, warm in the dark. You pretend not to notice how he’s shifted slightly closer. You definitely pretend not to notice how good he smells, or how the back of your neck is tingling from proximity alone.

You force yourself to shut your eyes.

Somehow, against all logic, exhaustion drags you under.

You wake to a strange pressure.

Your first thought is Spencer’s arm. He’s wrapped around your waist—just as you suspected. His hand is splayed across your stomach, his breathing slow and even.

Your second thought is your heart. It’s racing. Not just fluttery, not butterflies—warning bells.

That’s when you feel it. Cold. Metal.

The barrel of a gun.

Pressed against your temple.

“Get up,” a voice growls, low and intimate. “And don’t make a sound.”

Your blood freezes.

It’s Alexander.

And he’s come to make good on his promise.

[b1rds3ye]

hi!!! i LOVE the masked reader content 😭💞 my hyperfixated brain is thanking u deeply

can i request a masked (w LEDs bc i love it sm) reader who's saying "i cant believe you guys didnt notice my new haircut" or something similar, having a :( face on their mask and 141 is so confused like "we cant see your hair" "you have hair? kinda thought u were bald" stuff like that 😭 its a weird idea but im craving stupid platonic fluff like that

ty for the masked reader content love u sm for it

Hehehe as someone who hyperfixates a lot I am flattered I can induce it onto someone else LMAO Just a lil Drabble for this one I couldn’t think up of much 😅

“You pissed ‘em off,” Ghost observes and Soap’s face drops into one of sheer betrayal.

“That was one time 'n' now you a' think it’s me?” Johnny jerks his head to the side in annoyance. “What about when cap’n-”

“I’m sure they can hear you,” Gaz whisper-shouts as he gestures to you. The rest of the task force look over to you sitting on the couch at the far end of the common room. Absentmindedly watching the shared television, your arms are folded with your mask in a perpetual "-_-". You make no indication that you heard them, no, you were fully set on ignoring them all morning.

"Captain what should we do?" Kyle asks.

"This isn't a mission Kyle, we can talk it out," Price sighs.

"Care to do the honours, then?"

Price stills, beady eyes sparing a glance at your unmoving figure. If the rest of the task force didn't know any better, they would think the unwavering captain was scared.

"'m busy," he replies gruffly.

"Busy" being him fishing around in his pocket for a new cigar for an impossibly long amount of time until his subordinates let him off the hook.

"L.T.?" Johnny looks to the next superior officer, to which Simon only responds with a half-hearted grunt. In truth, Simon and John have always been good at figuring out your mood. This is one of the few times they've been left stumped, clear through the silent conversation they shared as they looked at each other.

"Cowards," Johnny mutters to himself before stomping up to you, with a drawn out, sing-song (but horrendously out of tune) "bonnieeeee" announcing his presence to you. You don't even flinch.

Johnny saddles himself beside you, leaning into you. He offers you his sweetest puppy-dogs to try and placate you before he tests the waters.

"So... what's up?"

The rest of the task force was slowly joining Johnny, you could tell as Price's cigar smoke became more pungent. An explosive move by you has these grown men flinching as you pull out a strip of paper and slam it on the coffee table in front of you, mask flitting to an angry face all the while before returning to "-_-".

Simon reaches the paper first. Delicately opening the thin parchment as Kyle and John peer over his shoulder. Johnny looks up at them but stays by your side.

Simon looks at you.

"A hairdresser?"

"Got it done yesterday," you seethe. "And no one bloody noticed. They're not cheap, you know!"

Johnny tries putting a hand on your shoulder but you jerk it away. There's a heavy moment of silence as you keep laser focused on whatever the hell the television is playing. Your hands grip your biceps as you ensure they stay crossed.

Kyle eventually submits. He kneels before you, not daring to take up all the view of the screen, but just enough for him to be sure you were aware of him.

"Love, I'm gonna ask you a question. Please don't take this the wrong way."

"What?" you grumble.

Kyle takes an audible inhale. He receives an encouraging nod from Price and he needs to take a swallow to prepare. Even you have to admit the anticipation is killing you now, you offer him the relief that he indeed has your attention, mask now set with "?" over the eyes.

"... you have hair?"

You groan and swat him away as Johnny bursts out laughing. Leaning forward with your head in your hands you try to make it seem like your shaking shoulders were from devastation and not because you were laughing too.

"No, Kyle, I just thought I'd go to a hair dresser and admire everyone else's hairdos," you retort once you've recollected yourself.

"Thought you were bald," Simon muses.

"Right back at you, Skull Face."

"I'm sure it looks good, sergeant," Price encourages as he takes the receipt from Simon, inspecting the details.

"At least someone appreciates my efforts unlike the rest of you."

"How about we appreciate it more then, bonnie?" Johnny leans in mischievously. "Take that mask off. Show us how good it looks."

"Actually, I- uh... I got my hair treated. Need to keep this mask on, let it set, you know?"

Kyle tilts his head.

"That's not how it works-?"

"I've been waiting for this bit!" You exclaim as you point at the television screen. Kyle shakes his head with a smile before joining you on the couch, opposite to Johnny. Simon and John also situate themselves around the room, far enough for personal distance but close enough to still take part in conversations, and it's now a typical off-day for the 141. They may not be able to see your face - nor your improved hair - for now, but perhaps one day they'll be graced with the sight. For now, these antics around base will suffice.

Call of Duty Navigation Masked Reader Masterlist

[tojisun]

Riffing off of 141 coming home without Johnny.

I feel like it’d also be heartbreaking if instead of fully breaking down at first you have a moment of, oh my god are the others okay? Kyle are you okay?. Then it hits. Do they have his body? Where is he? Can you go see your Johnny? Are you even allowed to? Bonus points if the last time you properly talked to them before they all left you had a small argument with soap as he was leaving out the door.

HELLO

oh my god the questions. asking if you are allowed to see your spouse; ready to beg if they say you aren't. and the—

"your johnny." just how he always playfully calls himself, yeah?

he says things like, "won't you kiss yer johnny?", "won't you hug yer johnny goodbye?"

promises things like, "yer johnny's gon' come back, bonnie. swear on m'life."

you always did tell him not to bet it all on his life, grumbling as you tell him to take that back because you are superstitious and you've long since learned to avoid the insinuation, lest your words unfurl into realities.

then here, right now...

god YEA YEA I GET YOU!! i added these tags in my prev post—

but holy shit thinking about how the shock is put on halt because you want to take care of kyle first. how the devastation did not even settle in yet as you grapple with the intensity of your worry.

you paw at the others, trying to pull them close — trying to feel them because that is the only way you will ever know that they're alive too — and when they press in, when you feel the brush of kyle's breath on your cheek and price's callused palm rubbing your back and simon's warmth on your side, the ache sinks in.

it spreads all over your chest, chilling the pathways of your nerves until you feel like you are suspended; like the rest of the world has frozen over.

"kyle, i'm— i wanna see— i wanna see jo—"

god, you can't even say his name.

also? are you tryna kill me with that last one? "bonus points" ON WHAT? THE WHUMP SCALE? THE ANGST EXAM?? BC UR PASSING IT W FLYING COLOURS

im gutted so hard oh my godddd

i just know you (reader) won't be able to forgive yourself; won't be able to sleep at night. hell, you can't even stay in the same house anymore because it's so full of johnny and his smell and even the phantom sounds of his laugh. and his room was still unmade and you are so afraid to walk in and see it the same way that he left it — with his clothes on the floor, his extra pair of boots flung around, and there on his bed post was the scarf from a random girl he met at the bar.

you know he wouldn't cheat so why did you keep on insisting? why were you lashing out?

why did you—

"sometimes, i don't think you even truly love me."

why did you say that to him?

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

hmm vaggie name origin idea (au?) with twist of chaggie

where she (as per Adam later) was always in the front of the Exorcist charge, specifically always volunteering for Advance Guard duty (vanguard)

which no one else wanted bc (in this au) it meant being first out of the portal sure- but also having to check the area and secure it (in case any powerful overlord or such got an idea to try anything with an open portal to HEAVEN) and then it meant STAYING PUT until all the other Exorcists were out (the 'guard' part) when the portal could be shut until return time

(PAUSE.... can u imagine, if Sera wanted to wash her hands of the exorcists after the truth about them came out, her sending them and lute on one last extermination mission... and then just... not giving them a way to come back?)

(where was i)

NO WAIT RIGHT so vaggie (currently unnamed exorcist number whatever) she likes things neat, tidy, things done Right, and when other exorcists get pressed into vanguard duty they are LAX AS FUCK ABOUT IT and vaggie can't STAND THAT

Sooooo she ends up volunteering to be the vanguard every time- (to the point that she answers to the title even outside of training or extermination day)

which her sisters think is great for the rest of them buuuuut maybe a sign she's avoiding fighting, looking for an excuse to be late to the extermination, an excuse for lower numbers of kills, maybe a clue she's too weak stomached to stand being in hell

(reason THEY all hate van duty) (NONE of them want to look like they're avoiding aNYTHING)

(vanguard... first.... one.... wings?)

(maybe in this au, the one stripe on her wings is the vanguard's mark)

so they tease her for that- use the word for her all the time now, "hey vanguard!" shouted casually during breaks- shorten it to "Vag" (while laughing)

until vaggie (still technically unnamed exorcist number whatever) answers by settling into training with her sisters and being Efficient As Fuck with her kills once she follows them down to the city- no waste. No second hits. No time spent gloating or tormenting- One strike, one dead sinner. Over and over and over again

she starts coming back with record bodycounts while STILL volenteering to babysit the portal, and now vanguard isn't a shit role and sign of cowardice, it's a flex

(or that's how her sisters see it anyway)

a way of saying "i can kill more in less time that you can, even when you get a head start" and at THAT point they're laughing WITH her ABOUT her body count,

now it's "Vaggie" bc its a nickname, only to her it's also just her NAME and her sisters are proud of her for it-

so naturally they point her out to Adam. hype her up, show her off- look at this-! the new girl is one of the best we've ever had- and he's stoked at her numbers

(Lute, expressionless, less stoked seeing another exorcist getting so much attention and getting so close to- or beating- her own records- Lute the reason Adam didn't hear about this before, devoted to her role as Adam's second in command and watching with sharp eyes as someone else gets singled out and praised instead-)

Adam, wondering out loud what Vaggie's name is as he looks her over.

Vaggie going to answer "Sir, my name is-" getting casually cut off "Ah-bup-bup! I'm thinking of one, chill for a sec."

bc of course Adam loves leaving his mark on stuff

and she's one of HIS girls after all

she stands at attention while he gives her a new name "VAGINA! After the BEST THING EVER since that's what you are, huh girl? Best sinner slayer we've EVER had, WOOO!" (Lute, not joining in the woo-hoos) and Vaggie's sisters cheer and shove her, grinning,

only they stop calling her "Vaggie" except on extermination day-

but to herself, Vagina isn't her name.

It's just a stamp of approval from her commanding officers. Inside, she never stops being Vaggie. The Vanguard. First one out the gate, keeping an eye on things, making sure it goes smoothly for her sisters

(the mixed feelings of feeling the most like herself on extermination day, finally getting to hear her name again- and the frustration of watching her sisters treat their duty like some game)

(but they taught her and trained with her and cheered for her, and so she'll finish off the sinners they maim and if her mask feels suffocating sometimes and never grins the way her sisters' do as they cull the sinful hoards of hell, well, she'll just take it off and take a breath and get back to killing, she'll remember how they also smile and salute while flying past her on the way home afterwards- proud of her, proud of her)

Vaggie is the exorcist who made THEM, not Adam, proud

(up until she isn't one of them anymore) (but she was once)

she was and always will HAVE been that, the women who wanted to make sure her sisters and heaven were both safe well guarded from harm-

that's the same woman who couldn't kill a child

and who fell in love with demon with a heart kinder than any angel's

it's Vaggie that Charlie meets, not any girl of Adam's.

maybe also it's Charlie who someday hears, in quiet voice years later, in a rebuilt hotel watching cannibals clean up the last of their dead exorcist meals-

maybe she hears Vaggie whisper how she never let herself hope but still also always stupidly wished, deep down, that she could be the vanguard to her former sisters again-

the first one of them to turn on heaven, the one to clear the way and get things ready so the rest could someday follow...

....and maybe Charlie hugs her, hearing this, as they watch the blood of Vaggie's dead sisters getting dabbed delicately away like golden pasta sauce as the cannibals finish dinner-

maybe Charlie hugs her harder and closer knowing what it's like to still care about people who aren't good... and then to have have your heart ripped out watching them die, on heaven's command, nothing you can do to stop it, them just gone forever right before your eyes-

before you ever got your chance to help them. to save them

(Charlie would promise that they'll try anyway)

(and sure "those angels minds are hard to change", she knows how true that is now.... but....as far as she's concerned....)

(Vaggie being there with her is more than enough hope for anyone)