#let them be assholes let them be violent

[bluegarners]

that tiktok audio of "they look so angry. why does everyone always look at you that way?" being used with jason is hilarious

[theskoomacat]

M*uthwashing was good, the only things i didn't enjoy lie in the area of writing (but so do some things i enjoyed the most!) - but I expected more from it? kinda?

[tasmanianstripes]

Maybe it's the result of my main fandom for the majority of my life being one where canon just genuinely doesn't exist, where there are so many different canons and literally any sort of interpretation of a single character is correct and can range from a moronic maniac with a chainsaw to a depressed old asshole boss, but

Literally who gives a fuck about canon?

Especially when the character is practically a blank slate or if it's an AU

Like, I'm sorry, but if you're butthurt about a mischaracterisation of a fictional character in an Alternative Universe then I don't think you understand what an AU is

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Cecio & his fathers family

Cecios' father is an old noble of Andoran, from a family who made the smart decision of backing the rebellion. Taking in his bastard son was a double edged move, on one hand, he's displaying the ideal that everyone is equal, while also displaying the pedigree & faith of their lineage by having an Aasimar son. 

His father mainly pulled this move because rumors were getting loud about how the family had not fully changed to the nation's new beliefs, and were merely paying lip service to them.

His family is made up of four, his father, the patriarch, a noble turned merchant, who does the bare minimum of lip service towards the current principles of Andoran. He's not particularly corrupt, and by the standards of the previous regime, would have been a gracious lord, but his lack of care towards what used to be the lower classes and particularly his bastard son is a stain on what would be an average merchant lord. 

The eldest son, a man who did his time in the eagle knights, and is now working his way up in the government, hoping to take over his fathers role as the one in council seat, a cold and distant man, one who failed to shed his noble air, and thus only has friends among the nobles, neutral or unpopular among most people.

The youngest son, a shirt chasing fool who is currently a squire for a suffering knight, but one can suppose that the coin makes up for it, he's completely unfit for command and will probably spend the rest of his life wasting his father's coin on cover ups and fine food and clothes

The deceased wife, Cecio's stepmother, a woman who was understandably uncomfortable with the proof of her husbands infidelity under her roof, but who took it out on the neglected child, orchestrating the stealing of his finances, leading to Celia needing to fund his training, all as his father neglected him.

The family enjoyed little change in conditions, as they used their power to gain a large share of the artifact and treasure seeking market, not to mention offering their troops to the eagle knights, meaning they have considerable power for a noble family. It seems the new family tradition is the eldest going into government, and the second eldest going into the eagle knights. 

It seems that Cecio will be the one in the eagle knights, as while all three have gone through knight training, the eldest has firmly gone into government, and the youngest is ill equipped to fight on a serious battlefield, let alone take command and rise to the position expected of him. 

So Cecio works his way up through the Eagle Knights, being sent with the knight he's a squire for to the World Wound, and Mendev. He quickly becomes a full knight, and is granted command over a small group of crusaders thanks to his diligent studying. 

He only enjoys command for a year or two, before he wakes up in Drezden on a stretcher. Only time will tell where he goes from there.

[emulation-0]

jjk 211 my beloved...

[citrus-system]

 I will preface this by saying, autism has me I the most cruel and unforgiving headlock,

But there is nothing worst then someone telling you how they feel about you, and you not feeling even remotely the same

[tallsprout]

Honestly, This. 1000x this. I'm so damn tired of dog owners thinking this is an acceptable way to live life.

We gotta do something about the way dog owners behave. No other pet owner is just bringin the pet wherever the fuck they go all the time but for some reason with dog owners they think its fine if they bring their dog to the gym and taco bell and whatever. And you invite a dog owner to your house where youve got your own pets youve got your dog and your cats and whatever it is you have and this dog owner shows up at your door like "oh i brought my dog i hope thats okay hes so sweet youll love him" and it is always the most untrained poorly behaved agressive animal that has ever lived. And we all have to pretend like its acceptable behaviour well im sick of it

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

main take aways from Halloween (1978) rewatch:

michael myers is canonically 21??? this bitch should be at the club

*sees tiddies* ***MURDEROUS RAMPAGE NOISES***

that's it that's the movie

outside of the fact that everyone who has sex is murdered by the narrative, this is a surprisingly chill portrayal of female sexuality? these teen girls are horny and actively enjoying Getting It On with their boytoys. no pushy boyfriends sneaking in through their bedroom windows--these ladies are taking the initiative to sneak out and GET SOME. one of them gets laid and then immediately orders her boyfriend to get her a beer. (yes she gets Slashered soon afterward, but so does the boyfriend so honestly, gender equality.) yes the Final Girl is the only one not having sex, but she's not bullied for that, nor are her friends slut shamed except possibly by being murdered by the narrative

actually the only character who is shown being morally condemned on-screen is michael myers. specifically FOR his violent overreaction to other people's sex lives. (people he is spying on). metaphorically, the villain is American Puritanism sticking its judgy nose into other people's business.

aka Michael Myers Is A Republican

but actually the real villain is the doctor. guy's a judgemental, shaming, pathologizing asshole. and he's been in charge of michael's care since he was SIX YEARS OLD? kid never had a chance. i'd go on a killing spree too

also the parents. where are the parents? it's halloween night and all the teenage girls are home babysitting their younger siblings? come to think of it, michael's first victim was his own older sister, whom he killed while she was babysitting him. teen girls are really shouldering a labour burden here. maybe parentification is the true villain

side note: mike commits his first murder wearing a clown costume...which is never referenced again? his 'iconic' costume is a generic mask and wig and jumpsuit, when we coulda had a Killer Clown Michael Myers??? travesty

i like how the Final Girl and her friend casually smoke weed in her car. yeah she's an honor student and her friend is the sheriff's daughter. yeah they smoke weed. so what it's 1978

(to reiterate, mike is 21 and should be at the club. im not saying he shouldn't be rampaging, im saying it's sad that he broke out, tasted freedom for the first time in his life, and immediately snuck back into his childhood home to go rampaging. let's have a remake where he goes to a nightclub and has a few beers. maybe some slutty dancing. then rampage)

oh no he's hot

[mythvoiced]

@theimpalpable | 👀🦊🐲

"It's like a little fantasy of sorts, maybe, I guess," relationships should be about communication, right? And Hyun has never met a more communicative person than chief of her heart, owner of her being, key to just about any lock of hers, Yeong Boram. If there's anyone who would welcome her, no, if there's anyone who'd want her to be open about... mundane and deep things alike... it'd be him, right?

Then why does it feel so terribly... flustering, still?

She makes a point out of keeping her leaning into the counter behind her with complete and utter nonchalance, so much nonchalance, in fact, that it looks forced.

"You know, I thought... it'd be nice? I could show up at the office and... 'oh, who's that, is that your girlfriend? Wow! How'd you guys meet' and everyone would tell you how pretty I am - because I am, but that's besides the point, I don't want the compliments-"

She's peeling an apple she's lost interest in eating ten minutes ago, which is probably why she's taking so long with it. Or maybe she's taking so long because if she had this conversation without anything to keep her hands busy, she'd actually feel more than a little flush of embarrassment.

Seriously, is it getting hot in here, or-

"Maybe... It sounds silly, I don't need reassurance, I promise, but... I don't know. Could be... fun?"

[queenlokibeth]

.

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mossylittlepupinthesun]

thinking about forced exhibitionism and public humiliation.....

like, being drugged on some aphrodisiac and taken to a sex club where I'm tied up, totally on display. a gag is shoved in my mouth. I'm completely helpless as people come up to admire my pretty parts, and soon they all start taking turns with me, fucking my holes with their fingers, cocks, dildos. I'm crying from overstimulation and trying to plead for them all to stop, but they can't hear me, of course, I'm gagged after all. and besides, I don't really want them to stop...

after awhile someone blindfolds me, too, so I'm just left with the feeling of dozens and dozens of eyes on me. I'm fucked until I'm made to squirt and cum so violently, my cunt and asshole are leaking cum and cum-lube, my cock is swollen and twitching. I hear them laughing at how sloppy I look. how much of a whore I am, for letting them tie me up and use me however they please. I hear people taking pictures and video and talking about how they're going to send them to their friends.

I keep acting like I hate it, like I want them to stop, but I'm so cockdrunk I soon start begging them to just keep using me all night and day - but all that comes out through the gag are pathetic moans and whimpers. everyone comments on how much I clearly love this treatment and how I was obviously made to be an object for others' pleasure.

[remember-the-fanfics]

Gen-Z!Overlord!Reader

• Died at 18, been in hell for a few years.

• Came in after Alastor disappeared, just before Vaggie showed up.

• You were never one to follow what everyone else did. Killing, drugs, theft, or porn.

• Kept to yourself for a few months, getting use to being dead and in hell.

• Accidentally became an Overlord after you killed one in self defense.

"In my defense, she was like super creepy and an asshole. A big one."

• The souls were free but you kept your new territory nice so they didn't leave.

• You made jobs and kept the housing in better shape, only made deals to help souls.

• Gave them a job, house, and protection. You give them a limit of a few years of the deal and if they don't mind it, they can renew it.

"Well I don't want to force them to do something, its rude."

• In return, they keep your territory nice, clean, and less violent than most. Work the jobs you made and protect your little town.

• There's been occasions were you trade souls to other overlords, either the soul did something against them or just an asshole.

• The time on the contract would restart

• To every other overlord, you are a child with a knife and to much power.

• You demolished another overlord because they thought you were weak and tried to destroy you territory.

"You ass eatting bitch-"

• You let others fight for new open territory because you're fine with what you have.

• Panicked when you got invited to an Overlord meeting.

• Apparently you had enough power to be one, then you realized you actually were one.

• It was awkward to meet the most of the overlords. Not knowing who you were to begin with.

"This is for overlords only."

"Oh, I'm (Y/n). I got invited."

• Chatted with Rosie before and after it.

• Camilla likes how you run your territory but you seem so young.

• Did apologized afterwards, introducing you to her daughters, apparently you were around the same age.

• Zestial wanted to know how you took over you territory, interested on how you did it.

• You've only meet Velvette because you need some clothes. She recognized you as the up and coming overlord.

• Throwing the clothes you had in your hands away, saying you need to be in the best lastest trend of clothes.

• You were now stuck having a fashion show as she decided what look good on you.

• While not enjoying all the clothes she had you try on, you kept being nice having conversation when she wasn't yelling at everyone else.

• Velvette learned that you were around the same age so she decided that you were acquainted enough to have her number.

• Apparently it wasn't optional for you.

• You brought back way to much clothes for one person, atleast now you have style.

• Chaotic neutral energy

• Charlie meet you after she heard that you improved a part of hell, wasn't expecting someone so young looking.

"Dying just after I turned 18 just means I look young forever."

• Laughing at your own dark humor.

"Ha...ha.

• Charlie did not find it as funny.

• Told you about the hotel idea and you were right on board.

• Thought it was a good way to stick it to the man and help people.

• Vaggie was surprised when Charlie brought back a child.

• More surprised that you're the Overlord that Charlie wanted to meet with.

• Definitely said Vaggie's name wrong for the first time reading it.

• Meeting Angel Dust after he decided to crash at the hotel.

• Not knowing what he was known for but definitely heard his name from someone.

"You're a kind of actor?"

"Of the sorts."

• After you heard what he was famous for.

"Well, he'll do him and I'll do me but never do each other."

• There was an awkward silence of confusion from everyone.

• Having to explain every reference you make.

• Vaggie made jar for everytime you make a dark joke.

• Charlie has asked you why you were in hell. You shrugged, never living a truly bad life but probably just too chaotic for heaven to handle.

• You leave every few days to check back in your little town to make sure everything was running smoothly.

• You know when something happens, feeling the souls you own in a panic.

• Having to let everyone remember why you were in charge a couple of times.

• Either with your words or actions.

• Luckily Rosie just adores your mannerisms and how you don't completely turn away from her with what or who she eats.

"You could say the food was to die for!"

• She finds your dark humor funny.

• So she keeps an eye out for you, sending letters to you every few days.

• You vist her every other week to just chat, she tells you about easy territories that you could get. You say you would rather show up some punks than have more responsibility with more souls.

• Offers food everytime, you say no thanks everytime.

• Rosie would tell you all the tea about the other overlords or her own town.

• Yay! You have an allie with an another overlord by being friends.

• Also with offering truly worse souls sometimes. On a rare occasion.

• Rosie knowing when you offer a soul to her, she would take her time with it. Enjoying every bite.

• Anyway- Sinners would come up to asking for deal when they are completely down on their luck.

• But whats following a couple of rules for free house and job.

• You give them enough warning before you would shake hands then saying you would know if they even thought of fucking your shit up.

• Putting an add for Charlie's hotel in your territory.

• Charlie almost hugged you to death after seeing it.

• When Alastor showed up, the two of you would have a intense staring contest.

• He wasn't expecting another overlord here, oh wait, you're new.

• Alastor not actually taking the hotel serious, pissed you off but he was more powerful.

• Charlie having to keep you and Vaggie from trying to fight him.

"I didn't know there was a new overlord! Charmed to meet you. Whose territory was up for grab?"

"She was a bitch-."

"I know who exactly you speak of, that's good. She never had any manners."

• Watching him summon Husk and Niffty and was shocked.

• Tried it and summoned one of your workers.

• Excited that it worked! Apologetic for interrupting their day.

"Ah ha! It worked! Oh shit it worked! Sorry!"

• You and Niffty vibe on a similar level. Charmingly violent.

• Vaggie has to make sure either of you give the other one a bad idea to do.

• Husk question your age when you went to the bar. Making you do the math.

"Well I died at 18, it's been a few years so old enough."

• Gave you a hard drink which you spit out after tasting.

• You decide hard alcohol wasn't for you.

• Knowing how technology was when you died making you the most technical advance Sinners in the hotel.

-

That's enough for now, just a thought I had when working.

[timmydraker]

CW: animal death, very graphic

Damian was having a panic attack and literally everyone was off planet or unavailable except for Tim.

Tim, who just the night before considered pushing Damian off a building because he called his boat house idea stupid.

Damian, who was seemingly not as unshakable as he thought and broke down into panicking breathes at the sight of-…

Oh.

The slight light enhancing his domino granted showed Tim a bundled of small, probably premature puppies that didn’t even have any fur on them. There was no mum in sight, just six dead little pups left on the dirty concrete of an ally way.

Tim might be an asshole, but even he was hurt by dead animals, but Damian?

Ignoring the obvious distress at seeing his bratty younger brother clutching at his chest like he was having a heart attack, Tim moved to be in front of him and block his view of the small pink forms.

He put steady hands on the you gets shoulders slowly, telegraphing his moves as best he could, and gently spoke to the Robin.

“Robin, I need you to try focus on my voice, okay? You’re going to be okay, I promise, just breathe with me.”

Training and experience of helping survivors of assault and Rouges quickly took over and luckily Damian seemed to be able to attempt to do as he was instructed. His breaths were shaky and interrupted by hiccups and gasps for air, but they weren’t as sporadic as before.

Tim watched tears slip out from under his mask, messing up the adhesive, and promptly cupped his face gently, “It’s alright, Damian. I know it’s scary, it’s hard to see, but there’s nothing we can do now, okay? You know how this goes.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to say, but it was all he could think of.

Damian shook his head, as if trying to change the reality of the situation, “I-I don’t- please don’t, I can’t-“

Tim’s heart felt like it was shattering as he heard Damian beg. Actually, really beg.

It was the first time he’d ever tried to hug Damian and luckily the boy didn’t fight it, falling into Tim’s embrace and clutching at his cap like a life line.

The detective in Tim had a suspicion though, because why was Damian begging? He was raised by death, he knew how it work, so was the loss of animal life enough for him to defy those teachings?

It didn’t seem right, even for Damian.

“Dami? Talk to me, what’s going on in that head of yours? Let me help, please.”

Damian hiccuped and buried his face in Tim’s chest, hiding from the world.

The next words he spoke made Tim feel sick, so much so he actually had to fight the violent urge to gag as the implications and reality of what really caused Damian’s panicking attack set in.

“Please don’t make me eat them.”

Tim knew the League were masters of torture and torment, but…

Picking up his little brother, Tim held him close as he walked him the nine blocks to their respective rides and mutter assurances the entire way. Promising his brother that he would never have to eat an animal again, ignoring that realisation of his vegetarianism, and told him that he would come back later and bury the little pups himself.

Damian didn’t let go of him and the two eventually fell asleep in uniform in Tim’s bed.

Tim took over removing the pink marshmallows before Damian had to do it himself.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Talk to Me, I Talk Back

The Lads Men don't play about you HOWEVER COMMA you also don't play about them. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

You and Zayne were standing in line to order coffee. The line moved slowly and just as you two were up next some lady pushed in front of you, shoving Zayne into you.

MC: She don't see us?

Zayne: I'm sure she has her reasons for cutting

MC: She shoved you Zayne

Zayne: Let's not cause a scene in this cafe

MC: Frankly I don't give a damn

You stepped up bumping the lady with your hip hard. She tumbled off to the side nearly falling face first into the display case.

Stranger: Well excuse me!

MC: You're excused wait in line next time instead of shoving my man out of the way.

Zayne: So much for not causing a scene *pinching the bridge of his nose*

Rafayel

You decided to go on a walk with Rafayel because he wanted to clear his head before he started sketching. He spoke animatedly making big gestures with his hands and ended up accidentally knocking a passerby's phone from their hand.

Stranger: Hey asshole watch yourself!

Rafayel: Sorry ma'am it was an accident

Stranger: What if you broke it!?

MC: *picks up her phone* It landed in the grass without a scratch its fi-

The stranger snatched it from your hand. You draw back in shock and looked at Rafayel to make sure he was seeing this tomfoolery as well.

Rafayel: *whispering* stay calm

Stranger: Tell your boyfriend to be more careful!

MC: *Snatches the phone and slams it on the concrete* Maybe you should be more careful look at that you broke your phone

You grabbed Rafayels' wrist and pulled him along.

Rafayel: That was sexy ... I think I'm hard now

Xavier

You and Xavier stood outside of Jeremiahs flower shop trying to agree on somewhere to eat. Suddenly a stranger waddled up and shoved a stack of papers in Xaviers arms.

Stranger: Hand these out

Xavier: Uhhh

MC: You could ask a bit nicer don't you think?

Stranger: Shut up lady this is a conversation between men

You tucked your phone in your pocket, grabbed the stack of papers from Xavier and dropped them in the nearest trash can.

MC: Now your conversation is done let's go Xav

The stranger sputtered in disbelief as you dragged Xavier away.

Xavier: He probably just needed help

MC: Maybe he'll ask nicer next time and you need to stop letting random strangers make you hand out flyers

Xavier: It's hard to say no

MC: If I had a dollar for every time I found you handing out flyers I'd have two dollars...it's not a lot, but it’s insane that it happened twice.

Sylus

You were standing in line for checkout and Sylus sauntered over to you after you sent him back to grab a pair of jeans that you wanted.

Stranger: Uhm excuse me sir the line starts back there

MC: Oh he's with me

Stranger: I'm not talking to you I'm talking to this rude idiot

You look at Sylus who is giving this Karen a bored stare. You look around dramatically before looking up at Sylus in disbelief.

MC: Who is she talking to?

Sylus: Couldn't be us

You look back to the Karen who's red in the face with anger. You step around Sylus so you're face to face with this lady.

MC: Let's use our big girl brains here … if he's with me why would he stand at the back of the line?

Stranger: He cut the li-

You raised your hand to stop her.

MC: Your mouth is moving a lot like a rat shut it please

You finally get called to the next open register and Sylus leans down to whisper in your ear.

Sylus: You're feisty today ... you don't like seeing people be rude to me?

MC: She's lucky I didn't punch her in her jaw

Sylus: So violent, but I'm the cruel one?

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 03 - public sex

ghost x f!reader | 2.4k words cw: noncon/rape, violent threats, spit, degradation, improvised gag, unnegotiated and vague allusion breeding kink, abduction a/n: if anyone is better acquainted with the vw camper vans, no you’re not (please don’t call me on details, ty) summary: two birds, one stone. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

A knock at the door mid-saxophone solo wrenches you out of the 1980s.

It’s Lost Boys night at the drive-in, one of your favorite films at one of your favorite places. To be interrupted, your knee-jerk reaction is what does this asshole want—

Except, said asshole looms over your door, clearing your car by almost a foot, treating you to a view of a broad torso in a hi-vis vest. Ducking down, your frown gives way to confusion. It’s the security guy who waved you into this very ‘spot’ not ten minutes ago. You had to beg him to let you turn into the drive-in, frantically explaining that work kept you late, causing you to arrive just as the movie started.

“Lot’s full.”

“That can’t be right, I-I have a ticket! Please?”

(If you’d dipped a little low to give him a good view of your cleavage, that was neither here nor there.)

He’d given you a long look, sighed, and then guided your puttering van into a relatively flat space by the dumpsters beyond the final row of cars. When you stuck your head out to thank him, he muttered something about tardiness. 

It appears he still has a bone to pick with you.

You crank the window down, one eye still on the screen.

“Yeah?”

“Just wonderin’, that a ‘75 Volkswagen camper?”

“It’s an ‘82 T3 Westfalia,” You rattle off. “You a collector? ‘Cause The Bluebird’s not for sale. She was my dad’s, so...”

“I’m not. Is it the model with the foldin' table?”

Oh, so he’s just another nosy enthusiast. Good thing you have the rundown memorized from years of strangers walking up to play twenty questions.

“Yeah,” you say with a little sigh, eyes still on the movie. “Everything’s original except for the seat fabric.”

“Mind if I pop in for a look? My dad 'ad one too, before 'e passed.”

Great. Now you have something in common. You unlock the doors and furiously gesture for him to take a peek. 

“Yeah, yeah, climb in. Just keep it quiet, I love this movie.”

“Quiet’s the goal, sweet'eart.”

Cripes.

You listen to him inspect the cupboards and examine the curtains your dad installed years ago. True to his word, the security guard’s silent. When the door shuts, you automatically turn to ask if it is anything like his dad’s model, but nobody’s outside the van. It’s like he vanished into—

Something cold touches your cheek.

“You scream, and I’ll ruin daddy’s ’ard work.”

Your eyes strain in their sockets to glimpse the tip of something black poking into your flesh, and your imagination fills in the rest. Your mouth dries, killing the screaming trapped at the base of your throat. You nod mechanically.

“Good girl. Now, give me the keys then keep your ‘ands where I can see ‘em.”

Sucking in a panicked breath, you slowly reach for the keys and blindly hand them over your shoulder. They disappear with a faint jingle.

“P-Please. You can have her. I’ll–I’ll get out, sit on the ground quietly, and you can drive off. I won’t fight o-or make a scene–“

“You won’t do either of those things, Blue,” he chuckles before stroking your temple with the tip of his gun. “Now. Turn the radio up so you can listen to your movie, then climb back here, carefully.”

You hesitate. Does he mean…?

“Between the seats. C’mon.”

Oh god.

“I’m not a patient man.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You wheeze. You turn up the radio until it drowns out your thundering heartbeat and clumsily scramble into the back. You nearly trip, eyes widening to see that in his explorations, he’s converted the back seat into the sleeping configuration. He’s made the bed. 

He stands hunched in the narrow gap between the bed and the driver’s seat. Crammed into a space meant for a man seemingly half his size. The bed isn’t the only thing he’s changed, you notice. Gone is the medical mask. In its place is a crude, painted balaclava. It makes him look all the more terrifying as if he needs the boost to his image.

He gestures at your chest as you hover awkwardly behind the passenger seat, hands raised, trying not to fall onto the bed in the cramped space.

“Clothes off. Won’t say it twice this time, so get a move on. Sit if ya need to, but not a fuckin’ word.”

Tears spring to your eyes. Your cheeks burn as you comply, a sob catching in your throat when you glimpse him unbuckling his belt. This can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking happening. The fact it is happening at the drive-in, in the van, is a double whammy. The stranger’s going to obliterate two of your safe spots in one go.

He growls when you stand there in your bra and panties, hands clasping awkwardly at your front. 

“You stupid? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Your bra tumbles down your shaking arms, and you kick it next to your clothes. As for your panties—he snatches them out of your hands before you can toss them. He brings them to his face, mashing them into the fabric covering his nose, and jerks his head in a silent but clear order.

He practically purrs when you climb onto the cheap, lumpy makeshift mattress. The upholstery is clean, you see to its maintenance, but it scratches at your palms and knees as you crawl.

“Look at that arse. Give it a wiggle, Blue.”

With the gun and his casual threat of ruining the interior with your interior, you pathetically comply. He belly laughs, louder than the revving of the motorcycles on screen. You try to ignore it, focusing on the interior handle of the van’s rear latch that’s a shuffle away. But as soon as you reach for it, a hand the width of a shovel wraps around your ankle and yanks.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” He growls, easily overpowering your squirming, sobbing self. 

The fight you put up, if you could call it that, feeds the growing shame in your gut. It ends as quick as it began, with your panties jammed behind your teeth and wrists pinned. He hovers, breathing rough through his mask. He releases your hands with a cautionary squeeze.

“Try that again, and you’ll be joinin' your dad tonight. Simple enough?”

You nod so fast you crick your neck, tonguing fabric. 

With a patronizing pat to your cheek, he sits on his knees, head ducked and back curved, touching the roof. “That’s more like it.” His eyes linger on yours, assessing, then drop to your body, a soft, perverse laugh rattling out. Hedged with a smoker’s cough. 

It’s as surreal as the movie. Like you’ve been sucked beyond the silver screen. One minute, simply watching, the next, part of the nightmare.

Ghost, he tells you between sharp nips and bites to your tits, is what you’ll call him when you plead, beg, and whine. And that’s what you do, trading breaths for muffled whimpers as he paws at your belly, hips—whatever he can reach, which is everything. He leaves indentations of his teeth all the way down your body, stinging and raw.

“Nice cunt you’ve got ‘ere,” Ghost grins as if complimenting the upholstery or fixtures. He rolls and tucks his mask, revealing a pale chin and thin lips. You catch a couple of old, gnarly scars in the light filtering through the windshield. A knitted cleft. Helpful detail to identify him later, your hysterical mind notes. His lips twitch as he pries your legs open. “She’s fuckin’ soaked. Playin’ rough do it for you?”

Blunt thumbs rub circles into the soft skin at the crux of your inner thighs, teasing and pulling you open. He spits a large glob directly onto your hole. Either you’re not as soaked as he said, or worse, you think, he’s planting yet another little flag on your body. He plays with you for a moment, unskillfully toying with your clit, and stroking himself, spreading the drool from his leaking cock. He slaps the heft of it once, twice—then without further preamble, begins to shove his way in.

You can’t stop your hands from flying up to claw at his arms, your mouth falling further open in a silent scream, cotton tickling the back of your throat. The stretch is immense, and you feel like a bug the way your legs instinctively try to close, bracketing his broad form and pressing into his sides, from how you feel squashed as he bottoms out with a throaty groan.

Ghost rocks his hips to take whatever room’s left and chuckles at your wide eyes, glassed over with unshed tears. You stare up at the dark pits above, glinting with satisfaction. 

“Go ahead and cry. Been wonderin’ what you’d look like since you got all blubbery at the entry.” He picks up the pace and successfully knocks your tears loose as he fucks you hard into the mattress. The whole van must be rocking on its suspension, giving you a little hope a fellow movie-goer or an employee will investigate and scare him off. But there’s no way he doesn’t notice the sway of the van. He must not care.

“Please,” Ghost mocks. “Please, I ‘ave a ticket! It’s my stupid job and my stupid manager,” he laughs meanly, smacking into you to punctuate his speech. “These stupid ‘ours and stupid customers.” You wince at hearing your near-hysteric ranting and begging parroted back at you. “Ever think about what all those got in common? Ever think it’s you who might be stupid, Blue?”

He slips a hand back to your clit, thumbing it in tight circles broken by occasional flicks, coaxing a reluctant yet responsive heat like a skittish animal. His mask lifts more with a big smirk and a mean laugh as you choke around the gag, sobbing. 

“After all, you did let a strange man into your car.”

Your fingers dig into his arms but do nothing. He drops his weight, snakes his arm under your head, and ruts. His rubbing hurts. He uses way too much pressure than you normally like and pinches, muttering filthy orders into your ear. He kisses your drooling mouth and licks your cheeks. 

“C’mon, give me it, come on my cock. Want you nice and tight f’me, need you to keep it all inside.”

The inevitably of him finishing inside you chases another wail from your mouth. He finally slots his own over it, burrowing his tongue inside to dig around. You can barely breathe as he fucks you through whatever it is he’s doing. Your eyes spin and bounce off the fogged windows. Surely, any minute now, someone will interrupt, someone will save you. They’ll throw away their trash and hear your muted shrieking. 

And, as if summoned by thought alone, the beam of a flashlight bounces off the rear windows. Ghost pauses his mouth before his hips, slowing to a leisurely roll. He lifts his upper half to stare out the window as the light passes over the glass again. You watch, heartbeat borderline painful, and squeak when he raises his hand. His face snaps to you.

“Not a word.” He warns.

Ghost wipes the mist from the glass and his lip curls. 

“Just a kid.” A hand migrates over your mouth and presses, apparently not trusting you even with your underwear half-lodged behind your teeth. His other hand reaches and unlatches the window. You tense so hard in panic that he hisses and squeezes your cheeks with a second pointed look. He cranks the window open enough that surely his masked face is visible outside.

“Didn’t your mum teach you it’s not polite to stare?”

A pitchy, crackling voice of what sounds like a teenager responds. Fuck. You can hear him pretty clearly, even over the radio. He must be only a foot away. 

“I-I-I….W-Whatever it is you’re doing, sir, you can’t–”

“I’m enjoyin’ the show. At least I’m tryin’, but ‘ere’s some whelp stickin’ his nose in my business.” His voice is cruel, mocking. “I suggest you go back to your booth and forget about me. I can leave an impression if you’d like, but you like solid foods, yeah?” 

There’s a choked, scared sound that cuts through the film audio. It makes Ghost huff and drive deeper into your cunt, making you bite through cotton as his cockhead glances sharply into your cervix.

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.” By the sound of his retreating footsteps, the kid’s power-walking away.

Ghost shuts and locks the window, muttering, and returns his attention to you. He gives you a toothy grin, flashing a silver cap on a rear molar. 

“Now, where was I?” 

A heartbeat passes before he’s back to fucking you mercilessly, tongue jamming into your mouth yet again.

He ignores the rake of your nails when you shove your hands up his shirt to find skin to ruin, and merely grunts as he lifts his head. Your underwear slides out of your mouth in his teeth, damp and wrinkled. He spits them out beside your head, then returns, wetting your dry tongue with his own.

Ghost swallows your shrill cry as you come and endures your kicking legs while flames as hot as hellfire sear you to the bone beneath him. The train whistle and screams pumping through the van’s speakers smother the rest of your bawling. You dangle above the abyss, spent.

It doesn’t take long for his orgasm to follow. Panting into your mouth, blown pupils fixed to yours, mouth screwed up in a sneer. He barely makes a sound as he loses his rhythm and floods your cunt. 

He withdraws after a brief eternity and kisses you. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and aching, you slip unconscious. Lost.

When you stir, you find yourself cuffed to the wall of the van, wearing only a hi-vis vest. It chafes your nipples as the van bounces along. Blinking, you groggily moan in pain and try to compute what it is you’re seeing through the lace curtains. Green. Patches of gray and white. Mountains. But the closest range is…

Your eyes whip up front, where Ghost fiddles with the dial. He pauses, registering your movement in the corner of his eye, and meets your gaze in the rearview. 

“Made a collector out of me, Bluebird.”