hello3worldn3

[hello3worldn3]

I know for a fact that Gaz would try to hide his nicotine addiction from you.

He would only smoke when you aren't around, and every time he does he feels beyond guilty. Every time he's deployed and can theoretically smoke without worry, he just feels bad.

He complains to Soap about it, who gives him lackluster advice. Johnny knows Simon smokes, he could care less what kind of vices the brute could have. Poor lad's traumatized enough, he can smoke if he wants to.

So that leads him on an internet rabbit hole of how to quit smoking. He manages to stop for the rest of his deployment, and when he finds you waiting for him at the airport smiling, you run over and hug him. He looks better, not that he didn't look good before, but his skin is glowing, and his voice is smoother.

"What happened this time? You look like you just came back from vacation instead of deployment." You ask, smiling as you look at him

"Hm? What'd'ye mean?"

"You look.. I dunno, just a bit different.. Like you just injected with an extra bit of life" You clarify, smiling

"hm... guess I'm just relieved to finally be home." He says, pulling you in again. He won't tell you what really happened, you never even knew in the first place. But now that he has quit? He feels a million times better.

~~~

not sure how I feel about this, I didn't really have a direction for this to go but I think its sweet

[hello3worldn3]

“I asked chatgpt-” yeah well I asked special agent aaron hotchner and he said the unsub is a straight white male in his 30s

[hello3worldn3]

rock… paper… fix it.

Mr. Terrific (Michael Holt) x fem!engineer!reader

During a late night working session, you want Michael’s help, but he’s busy. You find a creative solution to your dilemma.

1.5k+ words, minor/vague Superman (2025) spoiler, fluff, banter, brief angst, mild injury, comfort

Masterlist | DC Masterlist | Request Info

Raising your hand slightly, you adjust the solder between your fingers as you blow on the circuit board on your overused metal soldering tray. You’d come into the office this morning to find two destroyed T-spheres on your desk. Mr. Terrific was hunched over his keyboard, working on coding a program, so you’d gotten to work without a word.

Ten hours later, you’re still working. You’ve gotten up a few times, Mr. Terrific has made noise behind you, but neither of you has spoken. You haven’t eaten, haven’t been outside, but you’re nearly finished. With the first one, you remember sullenly.

Distracted by the realization that you’ll probably be here overnight, you overlook the side of your palm drifting toward the small blade resting beside your keyboard mat. The moment your skin scrapes against the sharp edge, you hiss in pain and drop the solder. Luckily, you’re conscious enough to keep the soldering iron upright in your other hand. As you shake out your injured hand, you turn off the iron and set it aside to cool.

“Fatal?” Mr. Terrific asks without looking up.

“Doubtful,” you reply softly, turning your palm upward to see the scrape. “Now that we’re talking-“

“We’re not,” he interrupts flatly.

“Okay,” you drawl. You nod to yourself, looking up at the crowded shelf above you. “Could we?”

“About what?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you try to remain polite and professional. “About what happened to the T-spheres,” you answer.

“Superman’s dog,” he says. “And I need them fixed, so if you’re not bleeding out on my carpet, get back to work.”

“Yes, sir,” you grumble.

Getting an internship with the Justice Gang – “Stupid name,” you’d told your professor – was a blessing that resulted in a scholarship. Then, Mr. Terrific hired you as soon as you graduated, and you’ve never looked back... except when you’ve needed a reminder that he used to be nice to you.

“What’d you do?” he inquires after a moment, the clicks of his keyboard slowing.

“What?” you ask.

“Before you hissed.”

“Oh, yeah, just scraped my hand.”

Mr. Terrific looks over his shoulder, unsurprised to see you’re already watching him. “Need anything?”

“No, thanks,” you answer with a smile. “I think I’ll live this time.”

You return to your desk, frowning when you realize that your hand isn’t the only evidence of your unfortunately timed movement.

“Uh, Mr. Terrific?” you begin carefully.

He sighs heavily, then pushes his chair away from his desk.

“What are the odds we could just replace the T-spheres?” you ask when he turns toward you.

“You’ve been working on them all day,” he points out. “Why are you deciding now that they’re hopeless?”

“Because I accidentally soldered the entire circuit board,” you admit. Immediately, you inhale, press your lips together, and hold your breath as you wait.

“Replace the circuit board and keep going,” he instructs.

“Well, the-“

Mr. Terrific stands, walks to your desk, and pushes your chair out of the way before he leans toward your project. He taps the metal, then lifts it toward the light.

“I’m not fixing this,” he says. “But it can be fixed. No need to start over.”

“You’re not fixing it,” you repeat disbelievingly. “It’s your T-sphere!”

“And you’re my employee,” he argues, setting the sphere’s internal processors down carefully. “So, get back to work.”

You watch him for a moment, locked in a surprisingly comfortable staring contest.

“Alternatively,” you propose, “we do something to decide who has to fix your tech.”

“We already did. I assigned it to you, so it’s your problem now.”

“Rock, paper, scissors,” you explain, completely ignoring his last statement. “Winner gets to find dinner and the loser has to work on the spheres.”

Mr. Terrific clenches his jaw and tips his head quickly. He gestures to the dark office and asks, “Do you know why I got this place?”

“To store all your nerd stuff?” you guess sarcastically.

“To get away from the- from GL and Hawkgirl. So I don’t want to hear another ridiculous idea that could have easily come from them.”

You think about agreeing and getting back to work. Mr. Terrific is grumpy – grumpier than usual, you amend mentally – but you’re in the mood to press him a little.

“I didn’t know you thought I was a better logician than you,” you muse, gripping the edge of your desk to pull your chair back onto its mat.

He extends his foot forward, blocking your path. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I’ve been around you long enough to subconsciously analyze your behaviour. I know what you’d pick, so I’d beat you in the game and then you’d have to work, settling for my favourite restaurant instead of whatever weird circle-shaped food you’d get.”

“Circle-shaped-“ Mr. Terrific interrupts himself with a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Whatever you need to hear,” you agree.

“Fine,” he snaps, turning to pull his chair closer to yours.

He places his right fist on his left hand, raising one brow beneath his modified domino mask. You hide your smile and match his positioning, nodding before you speak again.

“Rock,” you begin, “paper-“

“Wait,” Mr. Terrific murmurs, reaching forward.

You freeze when his fingers wrap around your wrists. He tugs your hands closer, unintentionally bringing your chair closer so that your legs slot between his. You watch, feeling your mouth go dry as he looks at your hands.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

You see his mouth move but don’t register what he’s saying, so he drops your hands and removes his mask.

“Does it hurt?” he repeats.

“Huh? Oh, no,” you mumble, holding your hands exactly where he’d dropped them. “Thanks.”

“The knife was hot,” he realizes. “That’s why it’s swelling.”

You look down, finally noticing the redness spreading as your skin becomes inflamed. “It’s fine,” you force out. “And I’ll get back to work.”

“Don’t.”

Glancing up, you meet Mr. Terrific’s eyes. His gaze is steady on you, and you no longer feel like you’re at work.

“Sir?” you whisper.

“Let’s go get dinner,” he decides, pushing away from you suddenly. “We’ll look at the spheres again in the morning, and then we can decide if they’re worth salvaging.”

“Sure,” you say slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Let’s get your favourite.”

“We don’t have to do that,” you insist.

Mr. Terrific doesn’t reply as he brushes past you to exit the office. You watch the doorway with furrowed brows until he returns with a first aid kit.

“Sit,” he demands.

You perch on the edge of your desk, watching him. His face is still painted in a few places, but his jaw is tight and his eyes focused as he places a bandage, a tube of burn cream, and some tape on the desk by your hip. When he offers his hand, you lay your palm in his so he can move your hand however he needs it. He works quietly, your mingled breaths and the steady hum of a fan keeping you from a tense silence.

“Michael,” you whisper when he hesitates to wipe your skin.

His swallow is visible, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple preceding his eyes dragging up to yours.

“It’s okay,” you promise. “It’ll sting, but I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re supposed to be safe,” he begins, pausing when he drags the wipe across your palm. You grimace, and he remains quiet as he reaches for the prepared bandage. “When I asked you to help, when I hired you, I thought you’d always be far from the dangers we face. You getting hurt… it isn’t supposed to happen.”

“Michael, it’s a scratch and a tiny burn,” you remind him. “I do worse than this trying to cook. You didn’t fail to keep me safe – which, by the way, isn’t a burden you have to bear.”

Michael’s tongue peeks out of his mouth as he licks his bottom lip. “What… what if I want to?” he whispers.

Your lips part as he finishes, your breath leaving slowly. “I’d never ask you to do that,” you whisper.

“But would you let me?”

Turning your hand, you push your fingers between Michael’s. “Only if you beat me at rock, paper, scissors,” you answer, smiling up at him.

Michael shakes his head, but you see his lips quirk up slightly. He places his fist on his palm again, and you begin the game normally, then raise your hand in a half-heart shape.

“What is that?” Michael demands, holding his scissors up.

“It’s love,” you answer, as if it’s obvious. “It defeats all.”

Michael takes your shoulders, shakes you gently, then offers his hand to help you off the desk. He turns you toward your messy desk and points over your shoulder.

“First thing tomorrow,” he says, “fix that.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you agree with a firm nod.

“You’re so annoying,” he grumbles, moving toward the door.

“You flatter all your dates like this?” you taunt, catching up with him and taking his hand. He squeezes your fingers in reply, which you take as meaning no, but you’re special.

[hello3worldn3]

Hello lm hamdi ,I humbly ask for your support by reblogging this post on your account to help me and my family. As newcomers to Tumblr and GoFundMe, we are in desperate need of your kindness and support. 🙏🇵🇸🍉😔Please donate 🙏🏼Let's reach the goal as soon as possible .

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[hello3worldn3]

# — calling mark grayson "small."

got fried as fuck and this shit came to me like a prophecy. a dream. i know i have my to-do list, but it’s hard for me to write stuff i’m no longer in the exact headspace for. like, i need to wait until i can get into it enough to feel it the way i did when i first thought of it. anyways, this is set in a universe that’s pretty canon-compliant: mark and amber broke up, but he hasn’t dropped out of college (yet) or ended up with eve. you also have no clue he’s invincible, just that he’s had a glow up and your cute, dorky friend from high school is now fine as shit. i also listened to “party favors” by leon thomas and big sean the entire time i worked on this.

lastly, i'd like to give a humongous shoutout to @omniphilic for beta-reading this monster for me! much love, sunshine, and godspeed, my children. enjoy! | wc: 7.9k words.

cw: nsfw mdni (18+), afab!reader, a lot of porn with a lot of plot, light angst, confessions, banter, friends-to-lovers, mentions of amber (i love you girl but it’s so easy to use you as a plot device </3), oral sex (f!recieving), explicit sex (p in v), missionary, squirting, dirty talk, praise, soft!dom mark, consider this my apology for the hurt/very little comfort v!card mark x reader fic <3

thinking about you joking around with mark grayson and calling him… small. you know where.

it sounds like such a silly scenario, but walk w/ me: you and mark have an… odd friendship. looking back on it, you two were an unlikelier pair than winning the lottery. you’re from completely different worlds– you were more on the straight and narrow: the academic side of things. all you did was bust your ass, and you had plenty to show for it– friends, awards, this air of recognition that followed you from classroom to classroom.

and mark? well, he fell more into the category of incredibly average. average grades, average social life, even an average reputation amongst the student body– the kind that makes you easy to remember and always gets you labeled as a “pretty cool guy,” but keeps you out of any real trouble. maybe that’s part of his charm– the fact that everything about him is initially so unassuming, so run of the mill that you don’t even think twice. not until you start to get to know him.

there’s plenty that sticks out once you get to know him.

then, somehow, at the start of your senior year, you two ended up partnered together for a project in the same upper-level english class. y’know, the college freshman one everyone takes because it’s a cheap credit, regardless of if they’re going to harvard to study law, or to the local community college to save a bit of money. neither of you had many expectations, but you and mark became fast friends. mark’s awkward charm grew on you, and he already had a decent opinion of you from seeing you around, but finally being in a situation where he could talk to you and not feel like a nuisance only made him think of you more highly than before. you were cool as shit; he has no idea how you two hadn’t spoken sooner.

but it’s no surprise that you two absolutely nailed the project. with your smarts and mark’s willingness to learn, the grade on it ended up being so good that it made you jump into mark’s arms out of pure excitement. mark caught you effortlessly, spinning you around and giggling alongside you without a second thought. the intimacy of such a reaction didn’t dawn on you two until long after he set you down, you grinning giddily in his face, while he could do nothing but grin back.

that’s how you ended up here– lying in mark’s bed, long after graduation, and visiting home from campus on a long weekend. you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and reading one of his copies of seance dog as he works on a paper. when you found out you two would be attending the same university, you were more than stoked. mark was stoked too, but he was so sure you could’ve gotten into one of chicago’s finest, or, better yet, move away from illinois entirely, rather than attend upstate university. he gave you a hesitant look when you said you were more than content with your choice, saying that a degree is a degree no matter where you went and that as long as you could be with mark, it would be worth it. deep down, though, mark swore something bloomed in his chest that day. he doesn’t really know what that feeling was– is, to be more accurate, because he still feels it sometimes– but that’s the least of his worries. 

his main worry is getting this paper in by 11:59 pm tonight. 

and just like that, the rhythmic clacking of mark’s fingers against the keyboard fills the silence and leaves you to bask in this comforting sensation of warmth. you’re so relaxed that you can’t bring yourself to move. not that you would have wanted to, anyway.

it’s peaceful. so, of course, you have to ruin it. 

“you ever want to fuck a cartoon character?” you suddenly say, the copy of seance dog in your hand and your foot crossed over your knee. you hear the way mark’s typing pauses for a moment, and imagining his reaction forces you to bite back a snicker. a pregnant silence fills the room before the typing begins again, just as rhythmic and hypnotic as before.

“i know you’re not saying that about seance dog,” mark finally quips back, his voice dripping with an absurd amount of mirth. you can hear his smile in his voice– you always can, because mark rarely doesn’t smile. it’s one of your favorite things about him.

you can’t help but take the bait.

“you think i could be?” you ask, tone scandalized and brows raised. neither of you move to face each other just yet– you don’t need to. you can tell exactly what face mark’s making from the sound of his voice, and mark can do the same for you. it’s how he knows that you’ve stopped biting back that smug smile of yours– the one that creeps across your face when you’re clearly up to something, but he doesn’t know what. you’re a troublemaker; it’s one of his favorite things about you.

“yeah,” he replies without missing a beat, “i clearly know nothing about you. i was once dumb enough to think you were intimidating.”

“i’m still intimidating!”

“yeah, maybe on occasion,” mark teases, his typing ceasing completely so that he can spin around in his chair. he leans against it with his head tossed back and his arms on the armrests, eying you gleefully as you put the comic face down on the bed. “most of the time i forget because you’re too busy saying shit that’s uncomfortably close to ‘i wanna fuck seance dog.’”

“eat shit and die, mark.”

“i don’t wanna.”

“then shut the fuck up and answer the question!”

“fine, fine!” mark laughs and lifts his hands up lazily off the chair in mock-surrender. “‘course i’ve wanted to fuck a cartoon character. who hasn’t? i’m not a nun.”

something flashes in your eyes, and you shift to lean forward towards where mark’s sitting, propping up on your elbows on the bed. you grin mischievously; it’s clear you’re up to nothing remotely good. 

“who?” you ask.

mark replies immediately. “koriand’r.”

“wha– from the titans?”

“no, from the avengers. yes, from the titans. who else would i be talking about?”

“alright, down, boy,” you say amusedly, making mark roll his eyes. “i was just checking. but you obviously can’t handle that.”

mark raises an eyebrow. “says who?”

“uhh, says me?"

the two of you are still for a moment, and you start to fear you said something wrong until you see mark’s eyes darken in that telltale way they do when he starts to feel challenged. then, as if that wasn’t enough to give you goosebumps, he does that stupid, mindless thing he does with his tongue, where he runs it along the inside of his cheek. your breath stills in your chest when mark pushes up off the back of his chair and leans forward towards where you lie on the bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped between his thighs. 

it’s hard to keep your gaze from dropping to the veins in his hands.

“oh yeah?” mark asks incredulously, tilting his head. you were joking about being the intimidating one earlier, but the real intimidator is mark. when he gets serious, you swear you can feel something in the air shift. maybe that’s why it feels like the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up right now.

“why not?”

the question, in its simple nature, catches you off guard, and in a brief moment of confusion, you tilt your head. “why not what?” “why couldn’t i handle her?”

you stare at mark as if he’s joking, but instead of him laughing and waving you off, mark stares back at you expectantly, brow arched and lips quirked up at the corners. it’s like he wants to smile, but he can’t. won’t. 

this dickhead must have a death wish.

“what do you mean ‘why couldn’t you handle her?’” you say casually– like what you’re saying is most obvious thing in the world. “it’s koriand’r, mark. she’d chew you up and spit you out before you even had time to undo your belt.”

you swipe up your copy of seance dog and busy yourself with trying to find where on the page you last left off. honestly, it doesn’t matter where you start reading. you’re willing to do anything to help get your mind off the weight of mark’s eyes boring into you.

“besides,” you huff, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “koriand’r has standards, and you probably have a small dick, anyway.”

the second those words leave your mouth, the room falls deathly silent, and you swear it’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room. you fall still where you’re at, hoping that somehow, someway, you not moving will make mark want to kill you less. you really don’t know what possessed you to say that– it was a poor attempt at deflection, considering the growing amount of tension you began feeling in that room– but you don’t mean it. didn’t mean it. not one bit. 

you’re doing mental gymnastics to figure out how you can take it back without sounding like a total loser before mark starts laughing, and the joyous and boisterous sound gives you pause.

he couldn’t have found that funny… could he? 

okay, yeah, after a little bit of consideration, he very well could have. this is mark grayson, you’re talking about– not one of the insecure guys you were used to dealing with, who were more likely to blow a blood vessel than a load at the idea of being perceived as “unmanly.” mark’s the type of guy to wear one of your crop tops because he knows you’ll whine about him stretching them out, or wear a maid dress as a punishment for losing a bet, masking his embarrassment with quips about how good his legs look. you also know mark enough to know he’s not a virgin, nor is he a prude, but not well enough to know intimate details about his sex life. sure, jokes are fine, but a play-by-play on how he screwed his ex feels… invasive. beyond the scope of your shared comfort. it was just something you never thought of asking.

well, more like something you could never bring yourself to ask.

you set the comic back down on the bed just in time to watch mark wipe some tears from his eyes, twisting around to face his laptop with a smile on his face. he resumes typing like nothing happened, like you didn’t just obliterate his manhood and leave it in pieces for him to pick up off the floor. it’s hard not to gawk at him in disbelief, blinking rapidly for a few moments before speaking.

“that– didn’t upset you?” you say tentatively, voice a lot meeker than initially intended. mark huffs out a laugh and spins around, hands back to resting on the armrests.

“why would it have?” he says bemusedly, still smiling from before. “we joke like that all the time. honestly, i’m surprised you hadn’t said something like that sooner.”

you can only stare at him blankly, brows knitting in confusion as mark continues to regard you patiently. then, you sit up, pushing up off your elbows to swing around and upright, one leg dangling off the bed while the other stays bent in front of you. 

“why didn’t you get mad?”

mark pauses, eyes narrowing as he tilts his head. “...is this a trick question? why would i? you were joking around.”

“most guys would’ve gotten mad about me saying something like that.”

“yeah, well, most guys aren’t exactly confident about what they’re packing downstairs.”

“and you are?”

mark’s lips part for a second, but no words come out. he quickly shuts his mouth and stares at you, but you stare back, ignoring the way your cheeks start to burn with red-hot embarrassment. 

“well, yeah,” mark finally says, eyes flickering nervously to the side. he looks everywhere– the alarm clock on the dresser, his posters on the wall, everywhere but where you are, sitting prettily on his bed– but his eyes have no choice but to finally lock back onto yours, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “‘course i’m confident about it.”

“...‘cause it’s not small.”

he pauses. “yeah. ‘cause it’s not small.”

your brain short-circuits right then and there.

you aren’t sure why you’re so surprised by this. it wouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to arrive to this conclusion. you were around when mark started dating his ex-girlfriend, amber– around long enough to have seen the exact point in their relationship where they shed the last of their inhibitions and began interacting with each other much more comfortably. you were also around long enough to watch mark come into himself– to lose that dweebish, unsure aura around him and become more confident. muscled. tall. even if he was still pretty dorky most of the time.

perhaps that’s when the thoughts started: when you started to think of mark less as a boy, and more as a man. when you began wondering things about him that you desperately wanted to know, but were much too scared to ask.

at least you have an answer to one of them now.

“hey,” mark says suddenly, voice sharp enough to cut through all your overthinking and analyses. mark’s closer to you now– right next to you, actually, the scent of his cologne filling your nose– and he has your hand in his, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back. “you okay? should i not have said that–?”

you frantically shake your head. “no–! i mean, yes– god, fuck, no, mark, it’s okay.” you take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut. “i’m the one who asked. you just answered.”

you take in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter open to find mark watching you adeptly, his eyes trained on your face. the expression he’s wearing is one of worry, those dark brows of his pinched in the middle to form a wrinkle you so desperately want to smooth out with your thumb. his plush, pink lips are parted, and in an attempt not to stare at them, your eyes fall to the floor, but not before momentarily catching on how his biceps strain against his sleeves.

for fuck’s sake, this is not the time to be focusing on how attractive you find your best friend.

“i wanted to know,” you finally say, voice soft and a little frayed around the edges. your eyes flutter shut again– something to give you a bit of extra courage to say what you need to say, and not cave under the pressure of your nerves. “i wanted the answer to that question. it sounds weird as fuck, and i totally understand if you want me to leave and never show my face around here again, but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to know.”

you open your eyes again to find mark still staring at you, eyes jumping all over your face, while sporting an unreadable expression. you find yourself swallowing hard as you steel yourself for what you want to say next, adjusting to sit and face mark completely. “i wanna know a lot of things about you, actually. and none of them are all that appropriate for two people who are supposed to be ‘best friends.’”

it’s mark’s turn to short-circuit.

“w–what?” mark stutters out, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression as his eyebrows shoot up in suprise. his mouth falls agape, opening and closing fruitlessly as he tries to figure out what to say. “i– jesus christ, i don’t think you understand what you’re saying–”

“i know exactly what i’m saying.” your interjection is quick and firm, your expression void of your previous nervousness and now completely serious. “and you know it. don’t insult me like that again.”

mark’s protests die in his throat.

“i want to know you,” you start. “honestly. intimately. fuck, to be honest, i want to see you– naked, in my bed– but i didn’t wanna make things weird, and then you had that whole thing with amber, and then i thought you were gonna date eve, so i kinda just kept it to myself, but–”

“you can know me.” 

you freeze. “what–?”

“you can know me,” mark says again, his hand squeezing the one that he has wrapped in his. “you can know me. and see me. and i’ll answer every other question you’ve had about me, ‘cause i wanna know you too.”

you can’t help but stare at mark , absolutely and completely dumbfounded. if he notices, he doesn’t judge. doesn’t acknowledge it at all, actually. he just continues to steamroll ahead.

“god, fuck, i really wanna know you like that, too,” he sighs. “always have– like, all the way back in high school. i’d see you in the halls with your friends and think, ‘man, they’re hot,’ then move on with my life because i thought there was no way i’d ever have a chance with you. then, we got partnered up for that project, and i learned that you were so much cooler and more approachable than i had ever imagined, and i wanted to make a move on you so bad, but i still thought there was no way you could ever like me. william can testify to this– i was talking his ear off about you 24/7. still do. he is seriously getting sick of it.” 

the way mark talks is fast– so much so that all his words bleed together, voice full of excitement and sincerity. it make your eyes sting. after he finishes, his quick way of talking tapers off into a hefty bout of silence, his beautiful brown eyes flickering down to your joint hands. 

“and then came amber.”

the quiet that follows drapes over the two of you like a blanket, heavy with the weight of everything you two are thinking, but ultimately remains unsaid. the fact of the matter is that it doesn’t need to be said. you and mark just… know– understand– that amber was the first person, aside from you, to treat mark as less of an expendable, and more like somebody worth knowing. she took the opportunities you were too afraid to– penciled her name in where yours was meant to be and slipped right on into that “partner” position, wearing it as if it was custom-fitted. it may as well have been, because it sure looked good on her. 

he looked good on her. that’s why you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad.

“i never would’ve gone out with her if i knew you wanted me even half as much as i wanted you,” mark says quietly, reaching up to rub a tear from your cheek that you didn’t even know you shed. “but i didn’t. and we dated, and i slept with her, and i loved her, but i feel all of that for you too, y’know.” he cradles your face delicately as he climbs up onto his knees, his movements slow, as if moving too quickly would scare you off. moving too quickly would remind you that this is real; remind you that you probably shouldn’t be doing this, causing you to hop off the bed and run down the hall, flying down the stairs, past debbie, and out the front door.

but you don’t have to worry. never have, actually, because the way mark treats you is careful. cautious. he’s kneeling on the bed and easing you onto your back with such rapt attention that it makes your cheeks warm, head turning to the side to shield it from him before he turns your head right back to where it was.

“i want you to ask your questions,” mark says slowly, large hands pushing your knees apart to make room for him between your legs. you can’t help but stare at him helplessly, any and all words dying in your throat, but mark moves with a confidence that makes it clear you don’t need to speak. not when he’s hovering over you like this. 

“i want to answer your questions, and i want you to do the same for mine. ‘cause i’ve thought about you. a lot. and not all of it was decent. actually, most of it probably wasn’t.”

mark lets himself laugh softly at the admission, but you can only look up at him in awe, the muscles of your brows twitching from the urge to knit in confusion. mark’s eyes catch this, and he reaches down to smooth his thumb over the spot right between your eyebrows– the same way you wanted to do for him earlier.

“so tell me that this is okay.”

mark trails his fingers across your skin, skimming over your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, and all the way down your arm until reaching your hand. he tangles your fingers together and brings your wrist to his lips, a soft kiss being pressed to your pulse, which makes your heart stutter in your chest. mark doesn’t tease you for how vulnerably you stare at him, or for how red his actions make your face. he only looks down at you with a soft smile, peppering kisses to your palm.

“holy shit, mark, this is more than okay.”

mark’s grin is blinding when you surge forward to kiss him.

the thing that surprises you most about it isn’t how good of a kisser mark is, or how nice it feels for his big hands to come up and cradle your jaw. it’s how easy all of this is– how uncomplicated it is to be making out with mark, how your lips slot together as if it’s always meant to be this way, how raw his groan is when you tangle your fingers into his hair and tug. he has you pressed against the bed in seconds, one hand slowly slipping beneath your t-shirt as the other squeezes at your outer thigh. you feel dizzy when your lips part and he ducks his head down into your neck, sucking bruises into the skin with a fervor that makes you squirm.

“i– fuck, mark, not where people can see–!”

“does it matter if it’s visible? ‘s not like you’re fucking anyone else right now besides me.”

you hit mark hard against his back, but it only makes him chuckle, sitting up to look at you with messy hair and blown pupils. “what? you haven’t slept with anybody in a while, and you’re about to sleep with me. i didn’t say anything wrong.”

“how do you even know that, asshole?”

mark grins, sitting back on his haunches as he hooks the hem of your shirt on his index finger. he tugs it up enough to reveal your stomach. “‘cause you’re lying here in my bed, wearing my shirt, with me sitting between your legs. if i was the person you’ve been fucking, i’d definitely feel some type of way about that.”

you scoff, moving one of your legs to try and kick at mark’s chest. like the little shit he is, he catches it easily and presses a kiss to your ankle, setting it on one of his shoulders. “that doesn’t mean anything. i could have casual sex if i wanted to.”

“yeah,” mark agrees, both hands coming to smooth his shirt up the expanse of your body, “you could. if you wanted to. but you don’t, ‘cause you’re not like that.”

“bullshit.”

“is not. here, open your mouth for me.”

“wh–?”

“shut up and open it for a second, would you?”

you shoot mark a withering glare, but he just grins back, pushing your shirt up under your chin and offering the hem for you to bite down on.

“thank you,” he says gleefully, his words a little too airy and sing-songy for you to let slide. you try and kick him again, but he blocks your leg without much of a second thought, eyes laser focused on the sight of your tits in front of him.

“wow, you are so fucking pretty.”

the way he says it is so full of awe– so genuine– that it makes your mouth fall open. the t-shirt in your mouth gets stuck on your bottom lip in the process, and the sight makes mark chuckle, a boyish grin settling on his face. he reaches up to adjust it and pulls it back up so you can bite down on it again.

“i didn’t even say anything crazy yet,” he teases, laughing as you do your best to swear at him from around the fabric. mark ignores it to focus on the sight in front of him instead, though, fingers tracing up your rib cage before cupping the underside of each of your breasts.

your mind goes blank when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“oh, fuck,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed and into his mouth. the t-shirt slips from between your teeth again, and you can feel mark grin around where his tongue swirls around your skin, popping off to look at you and chastise you softly.

“jeez, you really suck at following instructions,” mark playfully says. “and did you forget that my mom is downstairs? i’ve had her knock on the door during sex before, and trust me, it does not help to sustain the mood.”

“god, you sound like such a dork. ‘it does not help to sustain–’”

mark cuts you off with a groan, fingers curling into the waistband of your shorts and panties. “shut up and lift your hips already.”

you giggle. “fine, fine.”

you plant your feet and lift your hips off the bed enough for mark to tug your clothes off, separating your shorts from your underwear so he can tuck the garment into his pocket. You look at him with a flustered expression, mouth dropping open in bewilderment, but mark simply sticks his tongue out at you and flings your shorts to the floor, panties nowhere in sight. you hardly have enough time to process him keeping them for himself before he’s wrapping his hands around your thighs and tugging them onto his shoulders, putting him face to face with your cunt and lifting your lower back completely off the bed.

you knew mark was strong, but you never thought of him using his strength like this.

mark holds you firmly as he busies himself with eating you out like a man starved. those big, brown doe eyes of his look down at you, sometimes lingering on the rise and fall of your chest, and sometimes taking in the sight of your knitted brows and parted lips, both your hands tangled in the pillow behind your head. his eyes do fall shut every once in a while as if he’s savoring the taste of you on his tongue, and he probably is, knowing mark, but you don’t have the wherewithal to tease him. not now, at least. not when he’s got his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in these sporadic little bursts that make your stomach burn with molten need.

“oh, f-uck,” you gasp, voice cracking on the expletive. in your defense, it’s the only word you currently feel like you know how to say, but mark doesn’t laugh or tease you for it. he just presses a messy kiss to your clit, then slides his tongue down through your folds to circle your hole, slowly and messily pressing inside of you. he pumps it in and out for a few moments, as if he’s trying to fuck you with his tongue, then flattens the muscle and drags it back up to your clit to press into it firmly. you untangle your fingers from the sheets and reach up to swat at mark’s thigh, twisting and turning frantically in his hold.

“oh my fucking god, mark, let go!” your whines are urgent, thighs beginning to quiver on either side of mark’s head. his eyes flutter open enough to look at you through his long, thick lashes, but his firm grip on your waist doesn’t let up in the slightest. his arms tighten around you, keeping your pussy to his lips and your body off the bed as he continues to ravage you like it’s the one thing he was born to do. “mark! ‘m fuckin’ serious– i’m gonna squirt if you don’t let go of m– oh, fuck!”

you realize your warning is a bit late as you feel that knot tighten and snap in your belly, but it would’ve fallen on deaf ears regardless of whether you said it earlier or not. your cunt gushes all over mark’s nose, lips, and chin, soaking the top of his t-shirt and dribbling a bit down onto the bed below. you’d think he’d have a concern of drowning, but mark’s tongue keeps moving as you cum, legs squeezing against his ears so tight that you’re sure he can hear absolutely nothing but his own heartbeat. you know you sure can’t– all you can hear is the distant sound of your own voice, and the way your breathing stutters in your chest, a series of tremors wracking your body so brutally that you’d liken them to an earthquake. 

“shit,” you gasp softly, limbs tingling once they regain sensation. you wriggle in mark’s grasp and he pulls back from your pussy with a pop!, lowering your hips down to the bed as he runs his tongue along his lower lip.

“you said you were about to squirt as if that was going to deter me,” mark says breathlessly, a soft laugh punctuating his sentence. his face is covered with your slick all over his lips and chin, the sun from the window catching on it in a way that makes it glisten. you’re embarrassed by his nonchalance, but it’s hard to be mad when mark looks this good. you did this to him– made his perfectly slicked-back hair disheveled, and soaked his lower face and chest in your cum. normally, you would reply to his quip right away, but right now, you don’t. you’re much too focused on watching how mark leans down to reach behind his head and grab at his shirt, shucking it off in one smooth motion to join your discarded shorts on the floor.

“it was supposed to,” you finally say, voice sounding just as breathless as mark’s. his lips quirk up at the corners, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. instead, he leans over you to open his bedside drawer, and you take that as an opportunity to continue. “didn’t realize i was sleeping with superfreak, over here.”

mark snorts. “i’m just a guy who prioritizes my partner’s pleasure over mine.”

“that’s a roundabout way to say you like to eat pussy. and ass. oh god, mark, you don’t eat ass, do you?”

mark wiggles his eyebrows in response, and you look at him with such a horrified expression that a giggle can’t help but escape from his chest. he shuts the bedside table with a soft thud and leans back over you with a strip of two condoms hanging from his mouth. your brows shoot up at the sight, but mark doesn’t see it. he’s much too focused on pushing his sweatpants and boxers down to his thighs, cock slapping lightly against his abs.

oh. you always knew mark looked good, but this? this is something else entirely.

“you’re staring,” mark says wryly, tearing one of the condoms from the strip, then opening up the wrapper with his teeth. you watch as he pinches the tip and rolls the condom onto himself with a level of precision that screams of practice. if you hadn’t just cum your brains out, you might’ve found yourself feeling a little bit jealous.

“‘course i am.” your reply is shameless, and it makes mark bark out a startled laugh. “you said it was big, not that you were carrying a weapon. now here you are, looking like asian adonis with my jizz on your face, rolling a condom on with the ease of a common whore. not to mention that you grabbed two of them.”

a giddy smile spreads across mark’s face in reply, but it’s not one of his usual ones: it’s bashful. it’s the kind of smile where he bites his lip to force it down, but it doesn’t work, so his bottom lip slowly unfurls from between his teeth. your ears burn bright red at the sight, but mark doesn’t comment on it. mark’s never been good at multitasking, and he’s much too focused on tossing the unopened condom to the side, then tugging you against him by your thighs.

“we don’t have to use them both,” mark says softly, the sweetness of his smile bleeding into his voice. it’s a bit jarring for him to be acting so adorably, like he’s not running his cock along the seam of your folds. the tip catches on your clit every so often, making your breath catch in the back of your throat.

“i like how that’s what you chose to comment on.” 

he shrugs. “didn’t have much else to say.”

“you’re a dog, you know that, mark?”

mark grins at you wickedly, leaning down to lick a stripe up your cheek.

“mm, yeah. ‘m guilty as charged.”

and just like that, he sinks into you, bottoming out in one smooth thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. your eyes screw shut, but you latch onto him immediately, hand shooting out in search of his. he takes it wordlessly, bringing your hand up so he can kiss your knuckles.

“you okay?” he asks tenderly, lips pressed to the back of your hand. you open your eyes, tears pricking at the corners, then nod slowly as a deep breath leaves your nose.

“yeah,” you say shakily. “just been a while. warn me next time.”

mark nods, doing his best not to get caught up on the fact that you want there to be a next time. “sure,” he answers. “sorry. here– put your legs on my shoulder.”

you lift your legs for mark to take, and he settles both of your feet on one of his shoulders like they belong there. then, he shifts forward, shuffling up so that his thighs bracket your hips, which slots him deeper into you than he has any business being.

it makes you feel crazy. you fucking love it.

once mark feels stable in his position, and any remnants of discomfort bleed from your expression, he starts rocking his hips in and out of you at a pace too quick to be languid, but too slow to be considered harsh. whatever rhythm he’s fallen into, it feels good. you’re clawing at the sheets at your sides and behind your head like a madman, that copy of seance dog he lent you long forgotten on the floor, along with everything else you two have taken off. 

“does this answer one of your questions?” mark asks lowly, eyes half-lidded and jaw tight. he’s got your legs pressed to his chest with one hand, the other splayed across your stomach to hold you in place. you can tell it’s not that simple, though; the firmness with which he presses down against your stomach is as if he’s feeling for something, and the realization makes you clench, cunt squelching lewdly around his cock inside you. “did you wonder how i fuck? if i liked it fast? or did it slow?”

in your day-to-day conversations, mark doesn’t swear all that often– at least, not compared to you– but the mouth he’s got on him in bed is a surprise that makes you flush down to your chest. you look up to see mark gazing at you with eyes that are almost black, a bright blush fanning across his freckled cheeks and nose. when he sees you struggle to answer, the gears clearly turning, but no words coming out, he grips your legs tighter and quickens the snap of his hips. mark’s lips fall open with a breathy moan as he watches the way your eyes roll back, and his abdomen clenches with the need to keep his own pleasure at bay. “c’mon, baby. tell me. tell me how you want it, ‘n’ i promise i’ll do whatever you say.”

“i– god, fuck, mark, yes, i wondered how you fucked!” your reply comes out breathy, whiny, and and rushed– a result of you making an actual effort to focus so it didn’t come out as a jumbled, inaudible mess. “i w-wondered if you’d treat me like glass, or fuck me like i had no self-respect. i don’t care what you do right now– swear t’god i don’t– ‘cause i just wanna cum. don’t fucking stop.”

mark huffs out a laugh at how desperate you sound, lips quirking up in a lopsided smile that shows off the cute little fangs he has in the corners of his mouth. he turns his head to kiss one of your ankles, then takes one to put it on the opposite side, making it so you have one leg on each of his shoulders. large, calloused hands slide down your legs and smooth over your thighs before taking your hands into each of his. you’re about to ask what he’s doing, but there’s no time for the words to come out. he’s already gripping both your wrists and tugging you forward, forcing your ass to smack against his thighs with every brutal snap of his hips.

your brain is about to melt out of your fucking ears.

“did you touch yourself?” mark’s asks breathlessly, dark eyes focused on your face. you try desperately to free your hands from his grasp, but your attempts are pathetically uncoordinated. the way his cock is rearranging your guts makes it impossibly difficult to focus. but despite your lack of success, your writhing makes mark tut at you disapprovingly, and he leans forward to keep you in place by resting a fraction of his body weight on your chest. “quit trying to run ‘n’ tell me. did you touch yourself thinking about me fucking you? imagining how it would be?”

mark leans down to lick a stripe up the side of your neck, voice dropping to a filthy, sultry whisper. “‘cause i did. thought about this all the time, what you’d feel like around me. it’s so much fuckin’ better than i imagined.”

you nod your head frantically, hands clenched into fists, and your nails dig so roughly into your palms that it’s a miracle it hasn’t drawn blood. mark isn’t completely satisfied with your response, but he takes it for what it is and releases both of your wrists in favor of grabbing onto your hips.

“if you touched yourself while thinking of me, then show me. play with it for me, hm?”

you don’t need much more coaxing than that.

your fingers fly to your clit at lightening speed, middle and ring finger rubbing in quick, tight circles that mark finds absolutely hypnotizing. your other hand comes up to palm at your breasts, pinching and tweaking at your nipples in a way that makes you whine. mark damn near growls at the sight, a string of expletives you’ve never heard from him before being let out into the ether as he doubles his efforts to fuck you into the mattress.

“open your eyes,” mark demands, his words oozing with a tone you’re very much not used to being addressed with. his voice is low, gravely, and deeply affected by the way your walls squeeze around him, and you find that you quite like having him like this: wrapped around your finger, barely hanging on, lost in everything pertaining to you. the sentiment is definitely shared, because as you force your eyes open, you feel your features pinch the way they do when you’re trying not to cry. it’s nothing bad– far from it, actually. it’s just that mark is fucking you so good that you feel like you’re losing your mind, and the pleasure is so mindboggling that it makes you wanna sob. 

“there y’go, baby,” mark sighs, “just keep lookin’ at me. i wanna see your face when you cum.”

his honest admission shoots straight through you and right to your core, pussy clenching around him tightly, your clit throbbing beneath your fingers. mark moans low and long at the feeling, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows hard.

“fuck, i like when y’do that– when you like what i say and you get all tight around me. just– keep touching yourself, pretty. look at me and let it happen.”

all you can do is nod helplessly. mark ducks down to press a kiss to your cheek, fingers pressing what will definitely be bruises tomorrow morning into the skin of your hips. his cock splits you open in a mindbending way, your fingers flicking at your clit so frantically that your hand has become nothing but a blur. 

then, the bubble bursts. your orgasm hits you like a truck, your head flying back, and the muscles in your jaw and neck pulling taut. the same goes for your legs– your knees lock up and your thighs pull tight, shaking with violent tremors as you gush again, this time, around mark’s cock. you do your best to keep your eyes open as you cum, but it’s hard. from what you can see, though, mark’s mouth drops open and his eyes flash with something bright– yellow, even– as he takes in the sight of you falling apart. whatever it is, you don’t give it much thought. your brain is much too fried to be trusting everything you see right now.

“you’re a fucking dream like this,” mark mutters, his tone oozing with awe and disbelief. dutifully, he fucks you through your second orgasm– all the squirming, pulsing, and wetness that’s stained his sheets twice in one night– and holds your unfocused gaze all throughout it before he feels you coming down and abruptly pulls out. your twitching legs drop unceremoniously to the bed, and mark swings his thighs over you to settle over your chest, fingers peeling off the condom and tossing it lamely to the side. all you can see past your wet lashes and teary eyes is mark’s fist moving in an urgent blur before he cums all over your chest, the orgasm hitting him so hard that he has to grip the headboard to stabilize himself. his super strength causes it to splinter just slightly as his legs shake, so much so that he can hardly hold himself up.

his cum paints your tits in hot, thick, pearly white strands, and mark clambers up from over you to lay down on the other side of the bed. you find it unfair, the way that he’s panting and shaking much less than you, but you don’t comment. you just stare up at the ceiling, the sound of your breathing filling the air.

“i hope that was good,” mark says earnestly, rolling lazily onto his side to look at you. you take another deep, grounding breath, then turn your head to look at him. your arm comes out too weakly to swat at his chest.

“there’s no way you just asked me that when your cum is drying on my chest.”

mark stares at you for a moment, then busts out into a fit of laughter, reaching behind his head to take the pillow so he can drop it casually onto your face. you can’t help but laugh too, arms coming up to shield yourself from the pillow, and you toss it back to mark where he catches it, then tucks it back under his head. “fuck me for trying to make sure you’re okay, i guess,” he says dramatically, rolling his eyes.

you flip over onto your stomach and bunch the pillow up under your chin, careful to ignore the wet parts of your chest as you widely grin and quip back. “i just did.”

“more like the other way around. this was me fucking you. into the mattress, might i add.” mark grins mischievously and reaches out to place his hand on your lower back, smoothing over your ass before dipping between your legs to find your folds. he trails his fingers up and down your wet and puffy slit, tongue darting out to wet his lips when he feels you shiver in reply. “but we can go again with you on top if you wanna fuck me. not like i’d ever say no to that. plus, it’d answer one of my questions.”

you’re part your lips to reply, but the sound of feet padding up the stairs, partnered with a soft call of mark’s name, makes you both freeze exactly where you’re at. you look at each other in panic, then scramble to get rid of the proof of what you two just did. mark leaps off the bed and onto his feet with impressive athleticism, tossing you your discarded copy of seance dog that you catch effortlessly with one hand. you tug your t-shirt down over your chest, ignoring the fact that there’s still cum on it you’ve hardly wiped off, and he busies himself with pulling his pants back up and slipping his t-shirt on. the fact that it’s still damp around the collar doesn’t matter– not when there’s much more incriminating evidence like his used condom on the bed, alongside the wrapper and the new one he was about to use on you again ten seconds ago.

you barely manage to get under the covers to hide your lower half by the time debbie opens the door, your shorts haphazardly kicked under the bed, and your panties in mark’s pocket. you double-check to make sure your comic isn’t upside down and open it to a random page, holding it as inconspicuously as possible, right in front of your face. mark’s hands are stuffed into his pants, the condoms and the wrapper fisted tightly in his hands.

“hey, you two,” debbie says sweetly, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you. you swear, even if you two didn’t look suspicious as hell, debbie would still be looking at you two like she knows you did something wrong. “just came to let you know that dinner is ready. and that you two shouldn’t stay up too late tonight. i’m driving you two back to campus early, so i can get to work on time.”

mark smiles tightly. “okay, mom, thanks,” he says, pulling a hand out of his pocket to wave at her goodbye. debbie eyes him amusedly, taking in both of your disheveled appearances one more time before nodding and moving to close the door.

“oh, and mark? it’s been a long time coming, so i don’t mind if you two are having sex, as long as it’s safe and i don’t have to worry about becoming a grandma.”

the color drains from both of your faces, but debbie only laughs, a smile as sweet as her son’s spreading across her face. “but next time, if you’re gonna try and hide it, make sure the panties are tucked all the way into your pocket. i’m not judging what you’re into, but it’s kind of a dead giveaway when blue lace is halfway hanging out of your sweatpants.”

# — navigation

[hello3worldn3]

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #622 )✅️

My name is Adham, I'm 20 years old, and I'm from Gaza City. I dreamed of a happy life, completing my studies, and getting a job, but the war turned this dream into something impossible 💔😭. We lived through this massacre in all its painful details, and we're still in pain 😔. We were very happy when the ceasefire was announced, and we returned to our homes in northern Gaza after being displaced for a year and a half in a tent in the southern Gaza Strip. After we fixed a small room in our destroyed house to live in and start over, unfortunately the war returned stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter and no source of income. We exhausted all our savings during the war. I know that I started my campaign very late, but that's because there is no other way to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and optimistic that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these difficult circumstances 😔.

I know that the feeling of starting from scratch is painful and frustrating, but I hope to receive any amount for my family 🥺🙏.

Even a small donation would have a great impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️.

[hello3worldn3]

[hello3worldn3]

[hello3worldn3]

i need him so bad its concerning at this point

[hello3worldn3]

i know you like some good old Morgan x reader fics

so hear me out, in the early seasons we see Morgan do a lot of stunts and stuff, like s1e12 where he and Hotch stop that fist fight?

imagine, reader and Morgan are pretty early on in their relationship, but reader is staying over at morgan’s or something

reader uses the bathroom during the night and derek wakes up, not quite that sharp yet and he thinks there’s an intruder or something so we end up with derek tackling reader or something when they come back, leading to somewhat of a ridiculous situation, because reader is half asleep, literally just had to use the loo and suddenly they’re on the ground with their boyfriend having not quite realised who he’s pinning down and in the end it’s like, well, that was kind of hot, but please don’t do that again

Gotcha, Punk!

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Gn! Reader

Word count: 1.1k+

DNI: All are welcome!

Author's note: This is such a good idea, i hate you, why didn't i think of this?? This is definitely one of my shorter fics soo i apologize for that.. ( ˇ෴ˇ )

Still, as always, all feedback is appreciated!! Hope you enjoy ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Creak.

Derek’s eyes snapped open.

Creak. Again—slower this time, like someone was trying not to be heard.

At first, there was only the dark.

Not cozy, blanket-dark. No. This was the thick, swampy kind. Heavy across his chest, clinging to the walls, warping the shape of every coat hook and bookshelf into something not-quite-right. The curtains stirred slightly—no wind—and shadows from the tree outside jittered across the ceiling like restless fingers.

He held his breath.

Silence.

Too much of it.

The fridge wasn’t humming. The heater hadn’t kicked in. No faint upstairs pipes clanking in protest. It was the kind of silence that doesn’t soothe—it listens. That primal kind of quiet that precedes something awful.

Then— Creak.

The precise one outside the bathroom—that floorboard. The one that always squeaked unless you stepped on it just right.

Morgan hadn’t stepped on it.

You were still in bed. You’d dozed off curled into his chest, snoring like a kitten with allergies. If you were up, he would've felt it. And that step hadn’t been yours. Too heavy. Too slow.

That wasn’t the fridge. That wasn’t the neighbor’s cat. That wasn’t anything normal. That was a “get your ass stabbed” kind of sound.

He sat up fast, sheets hissing against the mattress, breath locked tight in his chest. Years of habit sent his hand flying toward the nightstand—

Gun? Gone. Badge? Not even close. All he found was a glass of water and the sad realization that this was the one night he’d let himself go off duty completely.

Hydrate or die-drate, you’d said with a grin. And now here he was—hydrated and about to square up with a ghost, barefoot and half-naked in his own damn house.

Another sound—a soft, almost polite shuffle. Then the quiet click of the bathroom door.

Derek froze.

Nah. Nope. You don’t just pick my house to rob. Not this house. Not with me in it. You think you’re gonna sneak in here, steal my TV, maybe grab a chocolate bar on the way out and leave like it’s DoorDash? Not happening.

He moved like instinct. Muscle memory. Silent, precise, deadly. His feet glided over hardwood. His breathing slowed. Even his heartbeat seemed to hold its rhythm.

I’ve tackled unsubs through barbed wire fences, strip malls, and once—once—during a bouncy castle birthday party. You think I won’t throw hands in my own damn hallway? In my socks?

As he moved, the fridge whined—a sudden mechanical sigh—and Derek nearly elbowed it on reflex.

He hissed under his breath.

God, I need to sleep more. Or maybe less.

A flash of a memory hit him—Chicago. An unsub had broken into a family’s home at 3 a.m., left the husband unconscious, and tied the mother up in her own bathroom. Morgan had shown up too late to stop the bruises from forming. That woman’s terrified eyes had been burned into his memory for years.

He wasn’t going to be late tonight.

The bathroom door creaked open.

A silhouette stepped out. Backlit. Slow. Unaware.

Gotcha, punk.

He surged forward in one flawless motion—tackle clean, grip tight, momentum precise. Years of FBI training kicked in as he brought the figure down, pinning them to the floor with a practiced hand and a sharp growl—

“Gotcha, punk—”

“THE HELL—?!”

There was a pause.

A beat of silence.

A very familiar groggy voice.

Your voice.

Derek blinked down, and sure enough—

There you were.

Hair sticking out in all directions, t-shirt bunched awkwardly around your waist, blinking slowly at him like a confused owl. You squinted up at him, one arm pinned, the other flopped dramatically beside you.

“…Babe?” you asked, voice hoarse from sleep, face squished against the tile. “Can we, I dunno… cuddle in bed and not on the bathroom floor?”

Derek froze.

Like a statue. Like a dumbass. Like a dumbass statue.

“…Oh my God,” he breathed, eyes wide, pupils dilating in horror. “Baby. Baby, I’m so sorry. I thought—I thought you were—Jesus, are you hurt? Are you okay?!”

You blinked up at him again, unimpressed.

“I woke up to pee, Derek.”

“I tackled you.”

“You tackled me.”

“I tackled my partner.”

“To the floor.”

“Yeah.”

A long pause.

“…Y’know what’s fun?” you said, eyes still mostly closed. “This tile is cold, and my spine hurts.”

That did it. Derek immediately scrambled to gather you into his arms like he’d just drop-kicked a newborn puppy.

“Nononono, come here—God, I’m such an idiot. I didn’t see—I wasn’t awake—fuck, I tackled you. Oh my God. You’re never sleeping over again.”

You let him scoop you up bridal-style, but your face was already pressed against his shoulder, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I can’t wait to tell Garcia.”

That made him pause mid-carry. “You wouldn’t.”

You yawned. “Oh, I would. I’ll tell her you yelled ‘Gotcha, punk’ like a Saturday morning cartoon villain while I was barefoot and half-blind.”

Derek groaned. “You’re evil.”

“And you love it.”

He deposited you onto the bed like you were made of glass and his own unrelenting shame. He fussed over you—pulling the blanket up, tucking it beneath your chin, running his hands over your arms like he expected to find bruises.

“You sure you’re okay? Your back? Your neck? Baby, I could’ve—God, I didn’t mean to—”

You silenced him with a kiss. Lazy, warm, still sleep-drenched but affectionate.

“I’m fine,” you murmured. “Though…” You tugged him down beside you, a teasing glint in your eyes. “That was kinda hot.”

He blinked. “Hot?”

You grinned. “I mean, you did tackle me to the floor with surgical precision. Bit much for a midnight cuddle, but the form? Chef’s kiss. Nine outta ten.”

“...Nine?”

“Lost a point for trying to arrest me.”

Derek buried his face in your hair with a groan. “I hate how much you’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, come on, babe. We’ve had like two fights and neither involved a full-body takedown before tonight. Milestone achieved.”

“You’re never letting me live this down.”

“Top three most dramatic Morgan moments. Number one: tackling your half-naked partner. Number two: yelling ‘Gotcha, punk’ like you’re on an old cop show. No, I'm not letting you live this down.”

A long beat. You were drifting now, warm and safe in his arms, your breathing slowing.

Then, quietly, casually:

“…If you do wanna pin me down again though…”

Derek pulled the blanket over your head. “Go to sleep.”

Your muffled voice replied from beneath it:

“Love you, too.”

.

.

.

“I still need to pee by the way.”

[hello3worldn3]

fuck israel, fuck donald trump, fuck elon musk, fuck ICE and everyone who supports it.

[hello3worldn3]

Things smoke&stack would say to you

***Smoke***

• “just tell me what you need pretty”

• “you’re my dream girl”

• “ only got eyes for my girl”

• “you need to be patient baby”

• “let me hold you in my arms”

• “anything for you”

• “you and money my only priorities”

**Stack**

• “talk to me mama”

• “I just want the soft life for you”

• “what’s mine is yours”

• “ so many people around me and I’m only thinking of you”

• “you’ll always be my baby”

• “ haven’t seen you all day, I might pass out”

• “everything reminds me of you”

————————————————————————

(Y’all go easy on me idk if this is good or not 😭)

[hello3worldn3]

Just a heartbreaking reminder that Smoke follows through on his promises too.

When Annie makes Smoke promise to free her before she turns, he looks down at the thrown bones—unsure of what they mean—and asks, “What you mean, free you?”—flinching when Annie takes the stake from him and presses it to her chest, right over her heart.

Although her fate is already sealed—and she’s made peace with the thought of joining their daughter on the other side—Smoke, ever the protector, still assures her: “I’m going to make sure you get home safe.”

And Smoke does. He stakes her after she’s bitten by Stack—keeping his word by not letting her turn, and making sure she gets home safe. Not to the home they once shared, but home to the ancestors—home to their daughter.

Let’s not forget that when Annie reminds Smoke of their promise—he doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t question her, he doesn’t ask if she’s sure. He just tells her that he loves her. She doesn’t have to pull those words out of him this time—he gives them freely. And in doing so, he frees them both.

It’s admirable that even though it breaks his heart, Smoke loves, trusts, and respects Annie so deeply that he chooses to honor her final wish.

I pray that we’re all blessed enough to find a love unselfish enough to follow through—even when the asks are hard.

[hello3worldn3]

Ooh how about vibrator play w frank castle? Maybe sitting w your back to his chest as he just gets you off over n over bc you got all needy/bratty?

Absolutly love the way you write btw 🫶🫶

frank castle x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, vibrator use, overstimulation, age gap (20s/40s) a/n: thank you so much! i think i saw heaven when i read this request <3

"hold still, baby," his deep voice rumbled against your jaw, "gotta hold still for me. can't make you feel good if you're running away."

your entire body shuddered in his lap. you almost missed the words. they ran together when your mind felt soft and hazy with pleasure like this. they also sounded distant when the buzz of the toy whirred down below. that strong, consistent vibration made everything else fade away.

it wouldn't have really mattered if you spaced what he said anyways. the words were empty. meant to tease you more than anything else. you couldn't get away right now if you wanted to. not with the way he had your thighs pinned open. one of his thick arms wrapped around your waist while his free hand held the small, thrumming cylinder between your legs.

he kept it still for the most part, letting the toy do its job. every so often he would move it. he'd draw small circles on your bundle of nerves or slide it downward like he planned on stuffing it inside your dripping hole.

the sensation caused your hips to buck. your heels dug into his thighs, sliding on the denim covering them as you fruitlessly tried to squirm to nowhere. your back pressed against his chest while raucous whines erupted from you.

but despite the signs of you getting overwhelmed, he didn't take the toy off. he kept your little vibrator buzzing right up against you and planted a few kisses along your jawline.

"you gettin' close? that why you're all squirmy? cause you're gonna cum again?" he murmured.

your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you nodded wildly.

he smirked, though your eyes were too droopy to see that.

"so needy. you weren't lying about how bad you wanted me, huh?" he crooned.

your head shook back and forth now.

"well let it happen, honey. stop trying to run from it. let yourself feel good. that's what you were after," he said, subtly taunting towards the end.

his mocking tone did nothing to deter you. your release crashed into you with enough force to black out your vision. every muscle in your body quivered, contracting and relaxing as you hit the high for the third time in a row.

a moan seeped from your lips so loud that his hand flew up from your waist to clamp over your mouth.

"shh, shh, shh, sweet girl. can't have you waking up the whole floor, yeah?" he mumbled in your ear.

you didn't respond. your body continued to roll into the bliss before settling. there was a brief moment of reprieve following that - probably because your nerves were approaching numbness down there - but before you could catch your breath, that small toy was back on the most delicate part of your cunt. your eyes rolled back, your mind blanking in response to yet another round of white hot bliss starting up.

"no- mmph- no more, frank," you whined as his hand fell from your mouth to grope at one of your breasts.

"no, you're not done yet. i know you. i turn this thing off now, and in fifteen minutes you'll be pawing at my shorts," he teased.

"i won't," you begged, lip wobbling, "i won't. promise. it's too much."

"too much? you gettin' tired? that cute little pussy ready to tap out for me?" he cooed.

"uh huh," you moaned.

"yeah? s'funny cause when i came home and told you i was tired, you didn't wanna stop, did you?" he said.

you groaned already knowing where this was going. "frankie-" you started to plead, but he cut your cry short.

"yeah. told you my muscles were aching, my back's all stiff-"

"thought you were just being an old man," you pouted, cutting him off right back.

as soon as the words exited your mouth, his thumb on the vibe tapped the button to crank up the speed. the buzzing grew louder and the tiny rod shook in his grasp with more force. you yelped, your body jerking and then melting on top of him.

"don't be a smartass or we'll be here for a while," he muttered, kissing your cheekbone, "you knew what you were doing, begging like that even when i told you to quit it. this is exactly what you wanted."

you turned your head, nuzzling your face against his throat as if the crook of his neck could provide you some form of escape. your body trembled on his lap, though it was totally motionless otherwise. your limbs felt like jelly, and your mind didn't fare much better. whimpers oozed from your lips without restraint.

"that's better," he praised, "just cum again for me, baby. one more time. give me a good one and it might be the last."

ragged breaths puffed from your lips. your chest heaved with the exertion. you knew your next release was coming whether you wanted it or not. it bordered on painful, but the all-consuming sensation overtook you just the same.

this time you reacted with less intensity. you weren't as loud, most of your noises remaining breathy and drawn out. your body didn't jerk. instead you spasmed with the euphoria flooding your senses.

he worked you through it, swiveling the point of the vibrator over your clit with precision. his hand guided it through your slick. it stayed on you until the last of your tremors melted into bursts in the aftershock.

finally then, when you were wriggling and whining, grabbing at his wrist without any semblance of a coherent word coming from you, he pulled it away. that same button he used to up the speed, he hit again and turned it off.

he dropped it to the side. it could be cleaned up later. right now, his attention stayed on you. his strong arms squeezed you before shifting your body around to sit more comfortably against his chest.

a couple kisses landed on your forehead. his fingers massaged the nape of your neck, coaxing your mind out from the slush of post-release and back to lucidity with him. you blinked slowly while gazing up at him with your glazed eyes.

"you gonna be able to walk to bed, or do i gotta help you?" he mocked.

you pouted with annoyance this time, lightly jabbing him with your elbow. "i got it," you whimpered before slowly rising and taking a few uncertain steps.

he huffed out a laugh at the display, patting your ass as he stood up to follow your lead.

[hello3worldn3]

Should I start writing y’all ? ..mm idk that sounds intimidating

[hello3worldn3]

Stack x introvert! reader moodboard(modern)

[hello3worldn3]