#Red Hair and Silver Tape

[phantasmanatic]

okay so they finally put the mentalist on a streaming service and i can watch it without shitty website quality and having to hook my old broken laptop into the tv which is fantastic

what’s also fantastic is seeing Jane interact with Red John in the second episode

SO fucking funny when Jane challenges him to rock paper scissors and he keeps losing. you can see the man wants to kill Jane right then and there soooo fcknndnksksks i love this show

[renegadesstuff]

The way they look at each other. 🥹🤏

Lisbon is so gorgeous 😍

[janes-cup-of-tea]

What, are you clairvoyant or some gizmo? You got psychic powers?

—Sheriff Thomas McAllister, The Mentalist, “Red Hair and Silver Tape”

[noceurous]

lights, camera, action

your boyfriend gets his hands on a handycam, later on you

warnings: mentions of divorce, mentions infidelity, Dave’s family is also mentioned, some self-doubt and angst, looots of feelings (sorry idk what took over me ehehe), swearing, smut: fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), p-in-v sex, slapping, daddy kink, usage of various nicknames (baby, darling, etc) minors dni (18+) reader is able bodied + has some length of hair + afab.

a/n: my birthday is officially on 10th of september, but this fic turned out to be longer than i expected, so i said post it with a fic you feel good.

a/n2: this fic takes place in the same universe with [take the heat away, make the girl stay] but they can be read separately.

Carol was a really nice woman after the divorce.

It was nice of her to call you a homewrecker, among many other names.

It was nice of her to fill Molly and Alice’s heads with wrong ideas about you.

It was nice of her to call Dave in the middle of your date and tell him that he’ll come back crawling back to her after he’s done with you. just like the girls before and made sure you heard it.

Lastly, it was nice for Carol to send all of his belongings to your tiny apartment. You didn’t even know how she got your address. Just after a simple ring of the doorbell, you were standing between piles of light brown boxes.

“Shit, did she really do that too?” Dave asked over the phone as you stood inside the labyrinth made of boxes.

“Yep, what’s left of your relationship is now inside my living room.” You said as you eyed over the boxes. Trying to find out if your relationship was enough to fill one box.

“They’re mostly clothes, family photos and Father’s Day gifts. There is nothing left of the relationship.” You were familiar with the last sentence. Dave used that to reassure you during the beginning of your relationship. 

He also used that sentence to girls, and Carol. When any one of them accused you of breaking them up.

“Yeah, probably. I’m gonna take a shower. When will you be back?”

“Fifteen minutes tops. Do you want anything?”

“No, just you.” His chest hurt when he heard how your voice cracked before you ended the phone call.

He hated Carol when she did that. Blaming you for everything went wrong in the marriage. Taking her anger out on you, when in truth you came into him long after he decided on a divorce.

—

“Darling? I’m home.” He didn’t hear your reply, but the water sound came from the bathroom.

He took off his long coat, his keys still in his hand when he walked towards the living room. Greeted with a pile of boxes. He couldn’t imagine how you felt when a box after a box came into your place. He would call Carol again, but he knew pretty well whatever he said to stop her, just would fuel Carol’s anger.

He raised his key, slashing and opening one right through the tape with it.

Fake plastic trophy of being the Best Dad Ever, broken hand painted coffee mugs, a photograph in a frame from Alice’s first soccer game. 

He went through some of the boxes more. As he assumed they were mostly clothes and stuff related to girls. Mainly photo albums which were half empty since Carol only sent him photos he was included. Nothing more.

When he was going over his last box, something silver at the corner of the box caught his eye. When he took it out, he was greeted with an old handycam.

“No way.” He smiled as he took it out. Shocked when he found out it was still charged.

He heard your footsteps when you came towards him, wrapped a towel around your body and another one around your head.

“What is that?” You walked towards him, the scent of your shower gel filling his nostrils.

Orchids.

“That’s my old handy-cam. Got stuck between stuff, still works.”

He explained as he checked if there were any pre saved videos. He remembered using it for Alice’s school plays and Molly’s soccer practice. Half remembering that he already saved them to Carol’s computer.

He pressed on the record button, when he saw the red blinking light he raised the camera to you.

“What are you doing!” You chuckled, covering your face.

“Recording my lovely girlfriend.”

“I’m in a towel.” He shrugged, still keeping the camera on you.

“That’s better.” He said as he zoomed on your legs, slowly lifting the camera to your body. “Don’t be shy. Camera loves you.”

“Is it the camera? Or is it my horny boyfriend?”

“Both. Give me something baby, come on.” You rolled your eyes, blew a kiss and winked at the camera.

“That’s better.” He said as he placed his hand on your towel, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could understand his next move, he tugged the towel down, watching it pool around your ankles.

“Dave!” You protested, hands covering your breasts.

“Don’t be shy honey. This is just for me. Show it to me.” You huffed, placing your hands at your waist. Sticking out your chest more as he pointed the camera at your breasts, recording every inch for you.

He licked his lips at your sight. “I’m a lucky bastard aren’t I?”

“Try the luckiest.”

He chuckled, motioning you to the couch. “Take a seat.” You rolled your eyes, swinging your ass as you walked towards the couch. You knew he was zooming in there.

He whistled, “That’s my girl” as he followed you. Sitting further from you on the coffee table. “Open your legs for me, come on.” The sight of your glistening pussy was on camera, Dave’s hand was slightly shook, blurring the view for a second. He tried to play it like he was affected less from the sight of you than he actually was. 

“Hmm, you’re wet baby.” You smirked at the camera, slowly nodding. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did.” You pressed your fingers on your lips, spreading them to show him your swollen clit covered in your silk. “See? It’s all for you.”

He felt his pants tighten, he didn’t even find the time to take off his tie since he got back. Now you were standing all naked for him, showing off your perfect body. And he had too much clothes on to feel you on his skin.

“Be a good girl, play with yourself for me. But don’t cum.” He said as he slowly placed the camera on the coffee table. Angling it to the perfect angle.

Your eyes were looking into his eyes, as he clicked his tongue pointing at the camera. “Eyes on the camera baby.” You swallowed down your whimper. Thumb pressed onto your clit, feeling your walls clench around nothing.

You pushed a finger inside you, moaning at your wetness. You closed your eyes, for a second, your other hand was on the cushion, grasping it tightly.

You started moving your finger, in and out, playing with your clit then back in. “Open your eyes.” You opened them, seeing Dave in front of you, behind the camera.

He was naked, his cock in his hand, slowly pumping himself. You could tell he was rock hard, it was painful for him not to touch you. “See what you’re doing to me?” You gulped, nodding quickly.

“Add another finger.” You did as he said, your toes curled, walls clenching around your fingers. You didn’t have to look down to know your juices were dripping down on your couch, making a mess.

You continued to finger yourself slowly, eyes locked on the red light on the camera. You could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, trying to hold it as long as possible.

Your whimpers filled his ears, his eyes locked at the way your naked chest came up and down. Each second it became harder for him to not feel you on his skin. You were a sight for his sore eyes, all he carved for his life.

“Show me.” He said as he knelt between your legs. You took your fingers out of your pussy, the wet sound of it crying made both of you moan.

Your fingers were glistening with your juices, you took them inside your mouth, sucking off your juices.

His warm breath fanning your weeping pussy. He quickly hooked your legs on his shoulders. Diving into your pussy, drinking your juices right from your core. 

Your body trembled as his warm tongue touched you. Drawing long strokes with the tip of his tongue. “Oh Fuck!” You said as your hand went back to cushion. Supporting yourself as Dave continued to lick over your folds aggressively. 

He raised his face, his lips and chin covered with your juices. The corner of his lips raised into a smirk. “You taste so good.” He said before he dove back in. Sucking down your clit.

You smirked at the camera, hand going to your breast. “Fuck! Dave! You are so good!” You pinched down your swollen nipple. Pulling him closer to your core by pressing your ankles on his back.

He pushed a finger inside you, eyes pointed up to your blissed face. You were looking right at the camera just like he told you. His pretty girl always followed his orders without making him give them twice.

“Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” You were chanting out as he was brutally fucking you with his finger. His lips on your thigh, kissing along the soft flesh, pressing his teeth on your inner thigh.

He pushed another finger inside. “Are you going to cum?” You looked down at him, eagerly nodding.

“May I? Please daddy, I’ve been so close.” He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Earning a loud moan from you. “Please.”

Who was he to deny you from pleasure?

“Cum for me.” He said as he sucked your clit once more, fingers still moving inside you. Your body shook when he brushed along your sweet spot. Pads of his fingers pressing on it just right. “Fu—“ Your body jolted backwards, your mind went blank as the white pleasure surrounded your body.

You were panting heavily, as he got up between your legs slowly, his hand wrapped around his cock. Fingers shining with your juices. Your mouth watered with the sight. You wanted him. You wanted more.

With the dark look in his eyes, you knew he wanted the same. “Get on the floor. On your hands and knees.”

You got in the position like he asked, shaking your ass a little when you got on your knees. He slapped you harshly causing you to fall on your hands. Your lips parted, showing him one of his favorite views; your ass in the air, your hole greedily waiting for him.

He pressed his tip on your entrance, “Look at the camera, don’t close your eyes, or I’ll stop.” You knew this was more of a statement than a threat. Before you could say something he gradually pushed himself inside of you, letting go of his breath when he reached your limit. His cock twitched inside you when your walls welcomed him inside.

“Oh.” You moaned at feeling full, still sore from his fingers. Your pussy greedily accepting him, already addict to the sweet pain.

He could see your glossy, lustful gaze thanks to the camera. Cursing himself for not thinking this sooner. Not thinking of saving these moments of you. Not starting saving anything he could save from you.

He placed his hands on your waist. Getting his momentum as his hips started slapping against your ass, not wasting any time with being gentle. Today was not one of his gentle, love making days. He needed you. He needed to take what was his.

He was not having a great time at work. Now he also had to handle Carol and stop her from attacking you.

He had to protect you and he had no objection to that. If it was allowed, he would tear up the limbs of anyone who dared to hurt you. It does not have to be physical abusive, just a simple word was enough to get him violent. There was nothing in this world that would stop him to protect you.

You were his purpose in life, his guiding light.

“Please.”

Your crying voice turned him back to reality, his eyes snapped back to the camera from your shaking ass. Your eyes teared from pleasure, thin layer of sweat covering your cheeks.

“Yes?”

“Please cum inside me. I missed feeling your cum inside. I’ve been empty for days.”

He had some stuff to take care of in Denmark. Unfortunately his little business trip took longer than he expected. So all you were able to do were some quick calls and exchanging text messages. Whispers of “I miss you” were exchanged as you bit your tongue not to say “I love you” too soon.

“Baby…” He said, getting faster than before, chasing his pleasure. You moaned, when he pushed in a bit too hard. Your hand stopped you from falling forward. Forehead almost hit the coffee table.

He cursed his ignorance, wrapping his arm around your neck, leaning over figure. He pressed his lips on your sweet spot behind your ear, feeling your body tremble between his arms. He nudged your temple with the tip of his nose, taking in your smell.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, eyes locked with yours on the screen.

“You look so good, baby. I feel how you tighten around me, you want to cum again don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

“You want me to make you?”

“Ye—yes...” His hand went to your clit from your waist, flicking it rapidly. “F—fuck! D—dave!”

“Go on, come all over my cock baby! Fuck you’re milking me so good.” He slapped your ass, grabbing a handful of the soft flesh before whispering to the shell of your ear. “You want me to cum inside don’t you? Fill you right to the brim?”

He groaned at how your walls tighten around him with your question. “Yes! Fuck yes! Please fill me up. I’ll do anything, please.” He sucked a bruise your neck, his hot breath from his nose fanning on your throat.

“If you really want to…” He said as he spurted out his cum inside you, pressing down on your swollen clit. Holding your body with his arm still wrapped around your neck as it trembled with your orgasm.

“Dave!” Your voice shook as you tried to keep yourself up. Feeling his hot cum spill inside you. He turned your head to the side, smashing his lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss, opening your mouth for his tongue to enter. Your salty taste on his tongue as he sucked yours.

Taking everything you offered to him.

He slowly took himself out, some of his cum spilled out from your hole. He tsked, gathering them with his fingers and pushing them back in. You hissed with the contact, looking over your shoulder to him.

“I’ll send someone tomorrow, to take care of the boxes. I don’t want you to worry about them.” You nodded, as he lied down next to you. Pulling your naked body to lie on his naked chest. You buried your head on his chest, kissing right above where his heart his.

You took the camera from the table, stopping the recording. You smiled at the video, thinking how better you looked than you guessed.

“Like a true temptress.” Dave said, as he buried his nose in your hair, his fingers drawing circles on your upper arm.

“Can I keep a copy as well?”

“Anything you want darling.” He said as he kissed you, slowly moving you to his lap between kisses. “Anything for you.”

—

The next morning Dave’s men came to collect the boxes. And Carol had an anonymous email in her inbox with no subject.

It was a small photo where Dave was eating you out. When she scrolled down, she saw your text added underneath.

Mine, back off.

Needless to say, the email disappeared a few minutes later it was read, without leaving any trace.

—

please provide comments/reblogs if you liked this fic. they always mean a lot 💙

[absfawn]

ㅤ❝ 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 ❞

designer!abby spends all her time, or as much time as she possibly can in her shop, making sure everything is perfect, nothing out of place, or untidy that will annoy her and send her into a spiral of stress. her blue bright eyes always doing double glances at the mannequins in the window and around the room, displayed with old and new designs. some that took her hours, meanwhile some that she spent months perfecting. the small details that had her hands hurting and fingers cramping with the amount of patience and time she spent crafting what was once a rough sketch in her many books, to real life. 

the lights make it more beautiful as she just leans her body on the counter, and takes everything in. this was her life. something that started out as a hobby one day in her childhood, and has become her job. small diamonds embroidered around the waistband of the new design she came up with, a slim silk dress, that sparkles when the light catches perfectly, her lips curve up into a smile and she can’t help but giggle. she did that. 

designer!abby completely spaces out during measurements. her fingers work delicately against the fabric, her glasses slip down to the bridge of her nose, flyaway hairs sticking to her forehead, skin glistening with sweat, and a sweet hum of something she hears on the radio fills the subtle silence. too into making something new that she didn’t even register the ding of the bell above the door ringing when someone walked in. didn’t even feel the cold rush of air as her brows furrowed and tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth, deep in thought. 

well, that was until the soft sound of someone clearing their throat behind her made her turn around.

turning around … more like dropping her scissors and holding her chest in panic. not aware anyone was in here. the glasses on her nose slip more as she pants like she just ran a fucking marathon.

“sorry, sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you. you just looked really focused, didn’t want to ruin it” they apologized quickly, holding a hand over their mouth to stop the giggles that came out when abby slumped against the counter with a small nod. “m’sorry”

a crimson blush coats the apples of her cheeks before she can stop it, the warmth in her skin is so hot that she feels like she’s going to burst into flames any second. “s’okay” the blonde giggled nervously, pulled her glasses off and slipped them into the pocket of her jacket before clearing her throat. “can i help you with anything?”

“i’ve always been too scared to come in here”

she knows, she sees you looking through the window everyday, or mostly everyday. she doesn’t have to ask to know who you are. you’re all over the tv, the internet, with your gorgeous dresses and different pieces of jewelry at each event you attend. but she doesn’t say anything, she just politely smiles and tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “you’re always welcome to come in, you know?”

“everything in here is just so pretty, and you are precise with everything. quite perfect” you whispered, too scared to say it louder in case you scared her.

“it’s not, m’not that good” abby stammered, cheeks flushing a darker red at the praise.

“bullshit, i’ve seen what you do. read every article about the new designs you’ve come up with. everything you make is perfect. m’too scared to buy anything because your designs are so detailed, so creative and beautiful. i admire them. i admire you”

turning around to hide her blush, the blonde cleared her throat again and carefully placed her scissors and measuring tape back in her small sewing kit. your words had her feeling like a teenager, too scared to say or do anything that might make her make a fool of herself. so she stuck with simple, “is there anything you want to try on?”

“i noticed your jewellery. i really like the silver diamond necklace you made” 

“oh?” her voice cracked slightly, suddenly too nervous. her body turned around slowly to find you a lot closer than before. “do you want you try it on?”

“yes, please”

you studied abby as she made her way behind the counter, huffing and grumbling under her breath about something along the lines of i really need to tidy up around here before looking up, a silent okay for you to come over. thankfully you haven’t noticed the deep blush she’s been sporting since you opened your mouth and watched you place your purse on the glass and looked at all the jewellery with wide, yet sparkly eyes.

“people tend to go for the clothes, the necklaces? not so much” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders lightly as she carefully placed the necklace on the counter beside your purse. eyeing you up subtly.

before you could pick it up, abby was already sighing and shaking her head. “what’s wrong?” your voice soft and sultry like honey. 

“sorry, i just don’t think silver would work”

“why?”

“i think gold would suit you better. it brings out the brightness of your eyes, and it would look really pretty on you” abby really? she scolded herself while you looked away with a shy smile. “m’sorry, i don’t usually tell people what they should and shouldn’t wear” 

“do you think so? the gold?”

“of course” 

the next few minutes slowed down for you both, one minute she was admiring you from behind the counter and the next she was standing right behind you, placing the necklace around your neck and clasping it together. her blush returns quite quickly at the sound of your breath hitching in your throat once her fingers graze your skin, soft and gentle to the touch.

“how does it look?” you asked, breaking the utter silence that surrounded you both. her eyes were glued to the necklace around your neck when you spun around to get her opinion. this time you spotted the blush on her face and giggled at her. “does it look okay?”

“s’really pretty” abby nodded quickly, unaware of the way you were smiling at her. “it suits you much better than the silver. it goes really well with your eyes, like i said, gold brings out the brightness of them” she smiled, fumbling with the fabric of her jacket sleeve. 

“thank you. how much is it?”

“oh, no. consider it my gift to you” the blonde choked out, were you really doing this, abby? pushing your purse away when you went to grab it. “please, take it”

looking at her for a few seconds, you nodded reluctantly with another shy smile. “okay, thank you. really. i promise to keep it safe”

“you’re welcome, and i hope you do” abby smiled, palms suddenly sweaty as she watched you slip your bag over your shoulder and brush your hands down your dress. “i hope you have a really good day” really?

“thank you,” you laughed and held your hand over your mouth. “i hope you do too, abigail”

designer!abby who can’t help but blush and giggle like a goddamn teenager, finally, when that same night you post a picture of the same necklace she gave you, with her account tagged on your social media. orders upon orders coming through her emails quicker than she could keep up with.

[saintbleeding]

[ID: Digital art of Jon Sims from TMA, in childhood, season one, and season five. First, he is shown as a young boy with glasses and dark, curly hair, around which tendrils of spider silk from the background are wrapped. He is looking up towards the viewer with an apprehensive expression. Text above his head, woven into a spiderweb, says “thesis”. Next, Jon is shown in season one, with slightly greying and receding hair, and different glasses. He is looking into the middle distance, one eyebrow raised. Text written into the magnetic tape that swirls around him says “antithesis”. Lastly, Jon is shown at some point in season five: his curly hair is now long and silver, floating supernaturally around him as his eyes glow vivid red. His mouth hangs open slightly, and one lens of his glasses is shattered in a way that resembles a spiderweb. Written into his hair, which fades into the magnetic tape and spider silk that curls around all three iterations, is the word “synthesis”. End ID.]

thought too hard about jon again incident

[holidayinhell]

Whumpay: Attack!

Panic or heart attack implied. You be the judge.

Characters: actual psychopath/ serial killer Whumper, simp Whumpee CWs: restraints, electrocution, male whump, eyeballs (?), murder, it's pretty dark, you have been warned!!

“Push your ankles against the legs of the chair.” He unrolled a length of duct tape. 

Whumpee’s smile dropped. He wrinkled his eyebrows, puzzled, and stared open-eyed at the larger man skeptically. “More?”

“It’s for the thrashing.” He reasoned. “Like I said, you need to be completely still if you’re gonna get high.”

“This is really weird.” Whumpee dismissed. But if this is what it took, fine. He’d go along with it.

Whumper wrapped the tape around his legs and ankles, securing them to the legs of the narrow wooden chair.

Now that his ankles were tethered down in addition to his wrists, Whumpee couldn’t move anything but his head.

“Good, good. You’re a trooper. Getting excited yet?”

“Not really.” Whumpee said flatly. In truth, being tied to a chair had excited him, but certainly not in the way Whumper was inquiring about.

“C’mon. It’ll feel really good once it gets going.” Whumper cracked a smile “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

The scholar crossed the room to the couch that was heavy with clutter; books, equipment, and garbage it looked to be. The entire basement had a stinking, foul odor, Whumpee wondered if it was coming from the junk piled high on the sofa.

Whumpee tried rolling his wrists and ankles to loosen the tape securing him to the chair, but they were wrapped snugly in their duct tape cocoons.

“God damn this is uncomfortable. Argghhh! My nose itches and I can’t scratch it.” 

Whumper disregarded Whumpee’s objections. The man grabbed a silver and black case resting on the cluttered couch, popped the latches open and removed a camcorder box. He unfurled a roll of canvas containing a tripod. 

Apprehension settled over Whumpee as he watched from his chair, his anxiety mounting with every passing second. A rancid smell in the air made him recoil. “Can you smell that? It kinda stinks down here.”

I should really stop complaining, Whumpee thought to himself. He didn’t want to annoy Whumper, much less offend him. He considered himself lucky that Whumper had even chosen him, of all people, to assist with his thesis project. 

Thankfully, it seemed Whumper didn’t hear him. He was entirely focused on assembling his recording gear.

Whumpee felt a pit in his stomach. Whether he was being annoying or not, he reminded himself that he had to make his boundaries clear before they did this thing.

“Hey. Hey. Whumper!” he yelled to get Whumper’s attention for the first time. “Remember what I told you, I’m gonna to tap out after twenty minutes. Hard stop then, okay?” Whumpee said emphatically. “Got it?”

“Yeah, sure. Got it.”

Whumper silently loaded a roll of film into the camera, snapping the plastic compartment closed with a click. He pressed the power button and framed Whumpee in the center of the video screen.

“...and now,” Whumper hit the red recording button. “We are officially ready to begin.”

Whumpee’s breathing increased. He had anxiously awaited this moment since he agreed to it days ago. Whumper had been so happy he volunteered to help with his project, he reminded himself that this was a small sacrifice for the greater good, this was the first step towards forging a real friendship. And if he played his cards right, maybe something even more.

He steeled himself and summoned every last ounce of courage from the depths of his being.

“Oh shit, I forgot. Safety first.” Whumper retrieved the object he’d been fingering in his pocket. A short leather strap. “I have to put this in your mouth--”

“What is th--!” Whumpee tried to interject.

“--so you don’t bite your tongue.” 

Whumper already grabbed a handful of Whumpee’s hair and tilted his head back before he could protest. The bound man jerked his head back and instinctively pursed his lips closed. Whumper attempted to push the strap past his lips but they were closed tight.

“Wha — STOP! Stop it!” gasped Whumpee, breath ragged and nerves shaken by the sudden assault. “Fuck. What the hell was that??!”

Shit. Too heavy handed. Impatience always got the best of Whumper.

“Heh, sorry, sorry. ‘M sorry.”

“Sorry?! That was fucked!!”

“I’ll be nice this time. Promise. Here. Now bite.”

Whumpee looked at the man incredulously and sighed, but bit down on the gag obediently. He had to stay in Whumper’s good graces, he’d come all this way. Plus he really didn’t want to bite his fucking tongue off.

“Comfy?”

Whumpee firmly shook his head no.

“Well you look like a million bucks. Ya ready?”

Whumpee’s sigh was muffled by the strap of leather trapped between his teeth. He was completely immoble and incredibly uncomfortable, with absolutely no control of his body beyond his mouth and head. To add to his discomfort, a looming putrid odor hung in the stale basement air and the anticipation of being electrocuted made him nauseous.

His cheeks burned and he prayed Whumper didn’t notice him blushing. Whumpee reminded himself: he was going to be fine, Whumper wouldn’t hurt him, and he was lucky to even be there.

“I’ll start with the calf.” Whumper commented, touching the cattle prod to Whumpee’s leg. His breath audibly quickened.

“Easy. Shh. Relax.”

ZAP

It felt like all of the air, light, and sound had been sucked from the room and replaced with searing pain.

“Mmmmmmph!” His leg jerked upwards involuntarily, if he wasn’t tied to the chair he’d have kneed himself in the jaw. A biting soreness ran from his toes to his hip even after Whumper pulled the cattle prod away.

It was intense, the most blinding agony Whumpee had ever experienced. But now that it was over, Whumpee felt strangely... good?

Whumpee spat the strap from his mouth, and the saliva-coated leather fell on Whumper’s shoulder. The slimy gag slid down the taller man’s shirt like a snail leaving a path of slime, and plopped to the ground unceremoniously.

“Oh shit!!” Whumpee cackled as Whumper rose to stand. “My bad, my bad.” He felt delirious, but amid the chaos of his mind there was a course of energy that left him invigorated. He giggled at the trail of saliva that glistened against the larger man’s black sweater.

Whumper glared at the discarded leather gag on the floor. His eyes shot back to the human filth sitting in front of him. He exhaled slowly. A tempest of rage brewed beneath his calm.

“There is some kind of weird pleasure, I guess.” Whumpee offered, “I see what you mean. But it hurts like frikin’ hell.” Whumpee started laughing again and turned to Whumper. “I wonder what pervs actually use this to get off. Maybe we should think of a safe word.” He giggled.

What, like this was supposed to be some fucking sexual exercise? 

The very concept made Whumper want to gag.

Playtime was over. 

His vision went red. It was time to end this fucker.

Whumper retrieved the roll of tape and wrapped it around Whumpee’s mouth, circling his head once, twice, three times.

The man under him struggled to fight against his motions, bobbing his head and trying to bite at him as he layered his face in duct tape. But the ambush happened quickly, and Whumpee was powerless to stop him.

Whumper felt like all the duct tape in the world couldn’t silence the miserable brat.

The large man rolled the dial on the cattle prod to maximum voltage out of curiosity. Holding the device against Whumpee’s skin, he administered white-hot pain directly into his forearm. The small man heaved in his narrow wooden chair and nearly fell backwards.

Whumpee screamed. He screamed so much that his yells bled into one another. If his mouth were free it would have been the loudest he’d ever shrieked, but under his adhesive gag he could never eke out more than a muffled MMMmph!

Whumper pushed the device deep into the flesh of his arm, stabbing the prongs into him with so much force it nearly drew blood. Whumpee thrashed wildly, the excruciating electric shock traveled up his arm all the way into the deep veins of his neck.

“Mmm. Mmm-mmph!!” Whumpee hummed into the tape that sealed his lips. He awkwardly blinked to get the moisture out of his eyelashes, which were heavy with tears. It was all he could do at this point: blink.This was the only thing he could control in the entire world right now.

“What was that? Use your words, Whumpee.” He grinned wickedly. “You’re crying now? We’ve barely warmed up!”

Whumper took his captive’s chin in his cold hand and tilted it back to get a good look at his face. Tears rolled down Whumpee’s cheeks rapidly and his breathing was rugged and quick. He averted his eyes from the larger man’s intense, hungry stare.   

“Time to come clean, Whumpee. I know you’ve been stalking me all years. The way you’ve injected yourself in the background of my life--” A remorseful tear ran down Whumpee’s cheek.

 “--what, you didn’t think I noticed? It’s not like you were subtle about it. You’re like a fly and shit, your presence is a constant annoying buzz in my ear. So I thought, what’s the best way to kill an insect?”

“Do you know, Whumpee?”

Whumpee groaned.

“Zap ‘em.”

Whumper retrieved a box cutter from his pocket. “Don’t get too excited.” He warned, pressing the blade from its plastic sheath. The knife found the neckline of Whumpee’s shirt where it traveled down his torso, digging into his flesh in places. Whumpee sliced the shirt into jagged strips and let them fall to the ground, one by one. 

Whumper took a moment to admire the pearls of blood that seeped from the shallow gashes he made on Whumpee’s bare torso. He stepped back to ensure everything was in frame of the camera’s viewfinder.

“You only have yourself to blame for this one, Whumpee. I mean who the hell volunteers to get electrocuted?” The scholar grinned wickedly.

He thought they were supposed to be friends, he thought he was helping him with his project…

“I’ve never even been to college. Didn’t even graduate high school, not that I needed to. Did you know that, Whumpee?” Whumper rounded the corner so he was out of Whumpee’s sight, not that he could see much through his watery vision. “I was pretty convincing though, wasn’t I? You didn’t make it easy on me, with you stalking me for so long.” Whumper came back, holding a heavy metal object and thick rubbery wires. “I appreciated the challenge at first.”

He sat the car battery on the floor at Whumpee’s feet.

“But now it’s annoying. So I came up with this solution.” Whumper retrieved a box of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one between his teeth.

“I had to do a little practice with Big Bertha over here.” He said with the unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. Whumper tapped the car battery with his foot. 

“Winston was fucking old as hell-- you remember old man Winston right? The fucker up the street with the dog that bit me that one time?”

Whumper raised his eyebrows at his captive, silently demanding a response. Whumpee didn’t realize. He nodded his head, sniffling.

“One little zap and boom, he was gone. You wouldn’t believe it.” He shook his head. “Must’ve been like two, maybe three minutes? I don’t know. It was disappointing.” Whumper lit his cigarette.

“But his eyes did shoot out of his face, which was pretty funny.”

Whumpee squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. His muffled cries intensified, he shook his head violently. Snot ran down his tape-covered chin and he was screaming bloody murder into the sticky adhesive that silenced him.

Whumper’s fingers grazed his hot wet cheek.

“I kept one of his eyes. And you know what I did with the other?” A sinister grin crept across his face.

“Fed it to his dog.”

Whumpee was reduced to a puddle of wailing mucus.

“All that to say that the old man actually did teach me a little something about electricity. So I went to the library-- like a real goddamn scholar-- and I did a little research on how to control this shit. Check it out: this is an alternator and this one is a voltage regulator.” He presented the two small devices. 

“You want to know why I went to all this trouble?” He took a drag and exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Because, Whumpee, I don’t wanna just zap you like a mosquito. I want a real show.”

“And you’re going to give me one hell of a show, too, because this gear was fuckin’ expensive.” He glanced at the bifold doors to the closet. “At least Winston picked up the tab.” 

Whumper crouched down to assemble the parts of his machine, leaving Whumpee helplessly taped to the chair, awaiting his impending doom. Tears welled in his eyes and he was silently thankful that they blurred his vision almost entirely, at least he wouldn’t have to watch as his life was literally fried out of him. All he could see through the haze in his eyes was the steady, rhythmic pulsing of the camera’s red recording light.

Whumper rose to his feet, his full focus fixed on Whumpee, who shivered in place.

“Now then,” he declared, ashing his cigarette. “Let’s get started for real this time.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Self Defense: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

A Loaded Gun - Terry begins to struggle after John Kreese turns up on your doorstep.

Letting Go - It takes you leaving for Terry to realise he needs to make a change.

Stranglehold - Terry begs an unlikely duo for help.

Three Men & A Baby - You discover you're pregnant at an unforunate time.

Terry isn’t home the night that John Kreese tries to kill you. He’s trapped in an LAPD police station with his driver and his lawyer, trying to explain why they found a couple of baggies of coke in his car.

Terry, he hasn’t touched the stuff since the eighties and his driver is as sober as a judge.

“What about your wife?” He’s asked as he sits in an interrogation room, his hands clasped together. “She uses the car too.”

He fixs the officer that’s interviewing him with a hard look.

“My wife has never used coke, she wouldn’t put it anywhere near her body, especially in her current condition.”

He spends hours with his lawyer trying to straighten the whole thing out. When he finally gets home it’s to blue and red flashing lights and his house being cordoned off with crime scene tape. It’s in that moment that he realises that his incarceration tonight, it was entirely by design.

It’s when you’re led out of the house covered in blood, that his heart just dies in this chest. It’s smeared across your face, matted in your hair, the pearl, silk pyjama short set you’re wearing is soaked in it.

There’s fingertip marks already blemishing your delicate throat. Your arms are wrapped protectively around your stomach. It’s the expression on your face that terrifies him, there’s no life in your eyes, no spark, there’s nothing.

He thinks about the sonogram stuck to the fridge, the one of his son at twelve weeks. You were four months along at this point, a small baby bump beginning to show. He wonders if Kreese has taken that from the two of you, if he’s stolen away your baby.

“Georgia.” He says as he ducks under the tape and hurtles towards you. A cop puts his hand on his arm trying to stop him but Terry shakes him off. There is nothing in this world that will prevent him from being with his wife right now.

He rides with you to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, his hand clasping yours and he listens to the litany of injuries. You squeeze his fingers tightly as they reel them off. Concussion, damaged larynx, bruised ribs, laceration to your right hand.

“What about the baby?” You ask, your voice barely more than a rasp.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, they should be able to tell you at the hospital.” The paramedic says apologetically.

It’s a few hours later after you’ve given your statement to the police that you tell Terry what happened, about how you killed John Kreese in self defence. The two of you are in a private room, the lights turned down low. Terry’s sitting on the hospital bed with you, your entire body curled up against him as his fingertips comb soothingly through your hair. You feel so small in his arms, so fragile.

“I woke up with his hands around my throat.” You tell him, your voice devoid of emotion. “He was surprised when I broke free, that I fought back. Danny and Johnny, they taught me what to do if…”

You trail off, your grip on his shirt tightening just a little. Terry has never felt as grateful as he does in this moment for those two men.

“I broke a glass in the scuffle, we ended up on the floor. He got his hands back on my throat, slammed my head against the hardwood. I was starting to blackout when my hand found the glass and I just… I stabbed him in the neck and I kept stabbing him until he stopped, I just wanted him to stop.”

Your voice breaks then and Terry can’t stand it. He gathers you up even closer, his lips brushing over your hairline. Your hand comes to rest on the small baby bump, smoothing over the space where your son resides.

“I kept thinking about Sebastian, how he wouldn’t get to meet you.”  

Terry’s hand covers yours and he thinks of the tiny life nestled inside of you, the one that survived despite all odds.

He’s a fighter, his son, just like his mother, like his father.

“You’re going to stay here with me tonight?” You ask him as his fingertips caress your stomach. “With us?”

“Yes my love.” He whispers as he tips your chin up to meet his gaze. “I’m never leaving you alone again.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[beansprean]

The first step was realizing "de la Cruz" would fit as a knuckle tat. The second step was realizing that a competent slayer is never without weapons, so why not tattoo them on yourself permanently? Along with symbols of protection from various religions and cultures just in case?

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Various drawings of a tattoo covered slayer Guillermo. 1. Guillermo sitting down in nothing but blue boxer briefs and a silver crucifix, one arm raised chest-high to inspect a wound on his forearm. There is a fresh bandage half taped-on and a bloody one in his other hand, a band aid hanging from his mouth. There are more blood scrapes on his cheek, chest, and elbows as well as various scars, including a gnarled knot on his lower belly, a long thin line on his right tit, and one bisecting his right eyebrow. His hair is longer and more unruly than in canon, overgrown down his neck and flopping over his forehead. He is covered in tattoos: a tall saguaro cactus on his right upper arm, a stylized Nahua gila monster on his right forearm, a bright blue evil eye on his right inner forearm, crucifixes across both knuckles, a yellow and red Calli house symbol on his right abdomen, a string of red crosses around his neck, a star of David on his collarbone, crossed arrows over the center of his chest, a teal thunderbird stretching from his sternum to his navel, a Celtic knot on his left side, a flaming sacred heart on his left shoulder, and an ankh stylized with knots on his left forearm. 2. Guillermo standing, staring at the viewer challengingly, dressed in dark green army pants, a lighter green button up with short sleeves rolled above his biceps, and a brown vest. All are scraped, sewed, or discolored in some way to show a lot of use. He has a tactical belt and a thigh strap with empty stake holsters, a cross-body strap with two stakes remaining, a silver cuff on his left ear with what looks like a vampire fang pierced through the lobe, and a flask of holy water at his hip. His left hand is wrapped in a rosary and holds a bloody stake at his side; his right hand is raised up, holding a bloody silver short sword with a sharp wooden pommel. At this angle we can now see part of a circular maze tattoo on the inside of his left forearm, gnarled slashing scars on his left cheek and jaw, and the arrows tattooed at angles along the back of his hands. 3. Guillermo faced away from the viewer, shirtless. We can now see the large tattoo stretched over his back: a tall dark orange oval fades to yellow at the bottom; in the center, a tree of life stretches it's branches above the ovals borders, roots anchored to the border below. In front of the tree is the figure of the Lady Guadalupe, hands clasped and head bowed in prayer, orange ribbons like flame resembling her usual surroundings ringing the bottom of the oval where the roots of the tree disappear. 4. Close up on Guillermo starting at the viewer, mouth open and tongue out to show off a silver crucifix pierced into the tip. 5. Close up on Guillermo's hands, scarred, scraped red at the knuckles, and splattered with blood. We can see the crosses on the backs of his fingers in detail; they work similarly to crucifix knuckle dusters and only form a cross when his fingers are pressed together in a fist. On his lower knuckles in stylized font, one letter per finger, it says "De La Cruz". /end ID

[xrag-dollx]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐇𝐒 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫

✧˖°𝙏𝙖𝙩𝙚:

• the snake ring on his thumb he (probably) once stole in a thrift store

• a silver ring you once gave him, so he'd always remember you

• a self-made grungy bracelet of yours with pearls of your initials in it (his absolute fav)

✧˖°𝙆𝙞𝙩:

• his biggest possession, his wedding ring ♡

• to cherish the moment he proposed to you, he wears his proposal ring as well ♥️

• occasionally a few cute self-made bracelets of his children (they basically spoil him with these)

✧˖°𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙆𝙮𝙡𝙚:

• a decent golden necklace with the letter of your first name

• probably would get a small stud earring in gold bc you convinced him so (you'd gift him one for his birthday) and he actually likes it :)

✧˖°𝙅𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙮:

•Jimmy isn't one who likes to wear any jewellery at all (and sadly can't wear rings because of his morphed hands :/)

• but would wear a cute bracelet with a clown pendant on it you once gave him at one of your secret dates (because he'd always make you laugh ♡)

✧˖°𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨:

• would wear only two (but dearly loved) rings

• one would be his wedding ring (wears it until his death so even as a ghost he's bond to you)

• the other one is a silver ring with a red jade stone you gave him as a sign of unconditional love

✧˖°𝙍𝙤𝙧𝙮:

• has a golden wedding ring, decorated with a small green emerald gemstone

• would wear a small black stud earring on each side

✧˖°𝙆𝙖𝙞:

• would proudly wear a necklace of the devil (he thinks it gives him strength)

• is wearing coloured tape on his fingers; each symbolises a deceased cult member: white=RJ, red=Meadow, green=Harrison, in association to their clown outfits

✧˖°𝙈𝙧.𝙂𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙩:

• totally loves rings with big gemstones

• would wear a hella expensive golden watch which he got from his nana as a birthday gift

•wears a silver stud earring in the shape of a cute little scissor on his right ear (bc he's a hair stylist ♡︎) and a small golden earring on the left

• wears a leather bracelet around his left wrist

✧˖°𝘼𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣:

• this man would be nothing without his jewellery

• a silver necklace with a silver pendant in the shape of a feather (probably symbolises that he's a writer)

• short silver necklace with a small silver pendant

• a simple black necklace

• a silver ring that captures a red topaz

• a golden ring with a black onyx

• all bought in paris (except for the golden ring, he stole that one while he was 'out for dinner' in some random ass house

Tags: @fear-is-truth @trueangel420 @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @evanpeterspeter @lacucarachapisser @evanpeterswifeyyy

[xanticore]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Genre: fluff

Note: this is my first metallica fic so pleaseee keep that in mind. I hope whoever reads this enjoys.

Setting: late 90s ~ early 2000s..ish

Summary: Kirk is on tour and he decides to stop by the local guitar store. He ends up staying longer than expected when he overhears a riff that sounded impressive. Assuming it was a guy, but was taken aback when it was a girl...a girl who doesn't seem to know who he is.

It was the weekend and I was starting my weekend off, our next show being on Thursday and Friday of next week. This gave me time to myself to find local comic stores and guitar shops. I was honestly in my own little world as time passed by quickly; I didn't mind at all because I was going to do the whole process again on Sunday. I left the comic book store with a new manga and some new released volumes. All Junji Ito works, no surprise there.

The next stop of the day was the guitar shop. The air was cool and the store was just so fucking huge, It was heaven to me. The store had a variety of items. Vinlys, cassettes, cds, and even some band posters...but my main focus was the guitar wall. All different types of styles and colors, different collaborations of pop culture, anything you could think of-this store probably had it.

A guitar that has been newly stock was the black and red Les Paul. It looked so gothic and vampiric. Younger me was just screaming at me to get it...which It was my plan. I asked a worker to take it off the shelf so I could practice some riffs on it. Just as I imagine; it was a smooth and crisp sound. A sound I was looking feel and I probably would make this guitar debut when I head to Japan.

It was already 5 pm and James was just blowing up my phone. I forgot all about our band dinner. I sighed packing up my things and unhooked the guitar from the amp. On my way towards the front to ring up my guitar, I overheard a riff coming from a room that was being occupied. It looked like it was a guitar lesson in session.

I continued to listen and soon heard a solo. It was definitely in the metal genre. Whoever that dude was; shredding that guitar like it was the last thing on earth. It intimidated me how good it sounded. Almost making me jealous of how I didn't think to use this type of style in a song.

I heard them stop and minor shuffling going on in the room. I quickly walked away and acted like I was looking at the vinyls. I glanced over at the door and saw a tall beautiful girl. She nearly took my breath away. The way she played really matched her style of clothing. She was a goth but it was familiar style I've seen in Japan. Her hair was dyed a dark red and her make up was flawless.

I needed to compliment her and asked her about that solo of hers. I was stupidly stuck in my place but managed to get to her with a sudden boost of confidence. "H-Hey, nice guitar. I heard you playing in that room. You sounded amazing." I complimented her with a smile in admiration.

She smiled back and looked somewhat excited. Did she recognize me? Did she not expect a guitarist from the most known metal band of all time-

"Thank you so much! Are you also a fan of Malice Mizer? I was playing one of their songs."

"Malice Mizer? never heard of them.."

The girl frowned but soon lit up when she started to explain the band to me. "It's a rock band from Japan. Visual Kei style of music over there. I'm really into bands like X Japan and Dir En Grey."

I've never heard any X Japan songs but I definitely seen posters of them in Shibuya. I know they are well loved and idolized in the era of rock music over there.

"There's actually a Malice Mizer cassette next to you of their new album. You should buy it and give them a listen? They won't disappoint." She giggled. I eyed her movements when she moved closer to me, only to pick up the packaged cassette tape. The cover had a silver cross and the band's name in black in the middle. But enough about them, her little giggle was just so cute. If only I could hear that from her more often.

"I'm Kirk."

"(name)"

A beautiful name as well. I didn't want to add anymore details of my name because I knew it wouldn't matter and honestly...i'm really enjoying that. It felt more natural to speak with a non fan. Nothing was forced and she genuinely seemed to enjoy just talking about her favorite music; unlike some girls i'd meet at clubs.

"Well Kirk, I hope to see you around?"

I didn't say a word but I just nodded. I tried to stay positive but it was a pain I wasn't gonna see her again. I bought my guitar and cassette watching the cashier put it in a case. I left the store happy and somewhat sad, but, seeing that girl smile just brighten up my mood...

I hope to see her again.

a/n: so what we thinking?? yay or nay?

gif from: @ba11ltongue

dividers: cr to owners

[ghostiiess]

“you’re the best gift i have ever received”

synopsis: while you’re trying to wrap your christmas gifts, your boyfriend jake knocks on your door and surprises you with a gift

warnings: none, petnames (princess, babe, and baby), mention of kisses (not makeout), i think that’s all? let me know if there’s more!

type: fluff

wc: around 850 (i think)

member: jake from enhypen x female reader

author’s note: i am in love with jake’s and hoon’s collab with tiffany & co…. so i added it into the imagine, i hope you guys will like it!!

reblogs and likes are really appreciated!

english's not my main tongue.. sorry if i made any mistakes!

Wrap, wrap, wrap. You were late... again.

Like every year, you procrastinated to put the wrapping paper on the gifts you bought for your family and loved ones. You loved buying the gifts, picking out the tags, choosing the wrapping paper, seeing the smiles on the faces of your family and friends when they opened the gifts, but you hated the time when you had to wrap everything and put the gifts in order. You found it long and boring, especially since your gift-wrapping skills were not the best and most beautiful.

If your boyfriend Jake saw you doing what you are doing now, he would probably laugh and tell you how adorable you are, trying to handle the tape and the wrapping paper at the same time. Unlike you, he wrapped gifts beautifully.

- Why is wrapping presents so hard?!

You sighed for the umpteenth time under the air of the festive songs you had put in the background, then looked at the gift you had just wrapped. How could a book be so difficult to wrap?

- Well... it's not too bad. After all… it's the gift that counts, not the wrapping.

You looked at the pile of gifts you had left. Just seeing the other gifts discouraged you. Again, you took the gift, that was meant for a family member, placed it on the paper, and took a deep breath.

- You only have six left, you can make it Y/N! you said to encourage yourself.

At the same time, there was a knock at your door. You weren't expecting a visit today, but you guessed that it was probably your boyfriend, who liked to make surprise visits from time to time. You opened the front door and let the cold wind and snow enter your house.

- Hii! said your boyfriend Jake with a big smile on his face, as he walked into your house and kissed you on the cheek. I have a special delivery for you!

- A special delivery? you asked as you closed the door behind him.

Your boyfriend nodded and handed you a bag, running his ringed hand through his dark brown hair.

- Coming straight from the North Pole! It's not your Christmas present, but I really couldn't wait! he smiled. I really wanted you to wear it before Christmas Eve at my family's house.

- How many non-Christmas presents will I get? you laughed. I thought we had to go easy on the presents this year... and this is the third one! I really appreciate it, but... I don't want you to spend all your money on me, baby.

He laughed.

- Yeah, but... Don't I have the right to spoil my girl during this festive season? Besides, it's so fun and cute to see you all happy afterwards.

He kissed your forehead, then said:

- Open it, I want to see your reaction.

You nodded your head, then gently removed the red tissue paper that decorated the white bag. You took the small wrapped gift and removed the red wrapping paper from the box, revealing a small turquoise box inside. You could recognize the brand just by the color, due to the promotion Jake and his best friend had recently done with Tiffany & Co.

- Jake... Is this really what I think it is?

- Open it and you'll see! He replied with a grin.

You opened the small turquoise box and saw a silver necklace, with a small heart-shaped pendant, that opened to reveal your and Jake's anniversary date of dating. You couldn't help but smile.

- Jake... It's so beautiful, I love the detail of our birthday in the little heart...thank you so much! I love it so much, you said, kissing him gently on this lips. Can you put it on me, please?

- It's nothing princess, you deserve it! he replied, putting the necklace around your neck.

- How is it? you said, turning back to face him

Jake put his right hand over his mouth to hide his smile and couldn't help but giggle a little. His hand slipped to his heart, you could almost see sparks in his brown eyes.

- Baby, you are sooo beautiful. It suits you so well, omg… Come here.

He placed his lips against yours, then gave you another smile.

- I knew I had made the right choice with this necklace. To be honest, I ordered one too and I thought we could both have matching necklaces. I think we could look really cute and beautiful wearing them together. What do you think? before you could answer, he continued. Wait! We could even have matching rings! I think I saw some that went with the necklace. Omg, we'be so cute!

You took him in your arms, laughed softly, and then nodded to confirm his idea of matching necklaces. You pulled away from the hug, then went on with what you wanted to say:

- Thank you so much baby. I also wanted to give you a gift today, but all of your gifts are in transit. They were supposed to arrive today, but there was a delay in shipping and delivery, and I won't get them for another two days but…

Not letting you finish your sentence, Jake placed his lips on yours, then pulled away from the kiss while placing his left hand on your right cheek.

- Baby, you're the best gift I've ever been given. As long as I have you, I'm happy. And if I’m being completely honest, I don't want anything, except for us to grow old together.

Still a smile on his lips, your boyfriend looked at the messy pile of presents on your kitchen table. He knew you hated wrapping gifts.

- Need a hand?

- Please.

not so sure about the end, but i still hope you guys liked it!

permanent taglist (open): @nsb-rkive @kentisbaby @firebenderwolf @hyuneee0 @yawnzzznnn @ghostyycat7

bold can’t be tagged.

[saintmurd0ck]

cherry red

masterlist

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

summary: you and frank break into a vintage car dealership to scope something out for agent madani, and it turns out that you have a little time to spare before the drop happens

warnings: mentions of cocaine (no drug use), breaking and entering, the FBI lmao, shameless flirting, calling frank big boy, pain kink if you squint, (very little) spit because how else do you up frank's pleasure *gunshot*, unprotected p in v, creampie, goodbye i'm going to bed

a/n: for everyone who agrees that frank should be called 'big boy', this is for you!!! also this is my first full length frank fic lets fucking go

There’s not a sound but the rustle of your clothes as you case the dealership, Frank following closely behind you. He looks over his shoulders—a cautionary measure, despite the fact that the owners are on the other side of the world—before thumbing at the light switch on the wall.

Fluorescent lights flicker on in stages, a steady, low hum of electricity filling the space. Your eyes squint as you adjust to the brightness.

Frank looses a bated breath. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” you affirm, casting your gaze across the almost-cavernous, windowless room. Rows and rows of vintage cars stare back, their timeless, luxurious finishes glinting in the white light.

“That’s gotta be worth more than…” you trail off, looking down at your hands.

“Twenty-two million dollars. This room alone,” Frank finishes.

You swear, stepping forwards to skim your fingers along a chromed side mirror, then bending down to check your reflection. “So what are we looking for again?”

Frank sets his duffel bag down onto the reception desk, careful not to disturb the fanned business cards adorning the surface. “Guns, coke, contraband,” he lists. “Whatever we can find.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” Frank asks, bewildered. His attention snaps to you.

“Is there a car in particular we’re looking for?”

“Honestly sweetheart, I dunno. If we gotta sweep every single one, that’s what we gotta do.”

You push up off your knees, weaving in and out of the cars. “Before the auction, yeah?”

“S’right,” he grunts, pulling out a silver crowbar. “Smart girl.”

Ignoring the heat now searing your face, you focus on trying to name the cars, although you really only recognise a few of them.

Your eyes warily glaze over a black 1962 Chevrolet Corvette, its headlights polished to perfection. Next to it there are a number of vintage Ferraris, one Aston Martin, and a newer model Rolls Royce in the corner.

But one car in particular snags your eye, knocking the breath from you.

Frank whistles. “She’s pretty.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare, slightly offended he’d say that about the car and not you.

He’s not wrong, though.

It’s an old Mercedes. A 1961 Roadster, you think, marvelling at the almost pearlescent ivory paint restoration, the perfectly polished hubcaps, and the smooth leather interior of the deepest cherry red. You’re transfixed as you hear the engine in your mind, the revving beneath your feet, feeling the phantom breeze ruffling your hair as you speed down the highway with no destination in mind.

“You know what I think?” Frank says, clearing his throat, but you’re caught in your fever dream, music blaring from a shut-off radio that’s only active in your head. “I think…” he trails off, voice dropping to a bare whisper.

You whirl around as a loud clang drags you back to the present, one of the gleaming Mercedes-Benz hubcaps laying flat on the ground.

“What the hell, Frank?” you glower, eyes widening.

He responds with a grunt as he moves to the driver’s side, leaning his bodyweight into the crowbar as the next hubcap pops off.

Your hands fly to your face as he continues to move around the car, vandalising it beyond—

Oh.

The corners of Frank’s mouth curl into a wry smirk. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

He motions for you to come over, using his crowbar to pry out several small, duct-tape-wrapped packages from inside the wheel. “Dumbest fuckin’ hiding place I’ve ever seen.”

He pats the passenger door. “Gotta give it to ‘em, though. Moving drugs through cars at an auction? It’s a Ponzi scheme, but a goddamn good one.”

“This what I think it is?” you ask, crouching down next to him, irresolutely turning one of the bricks over.

He nods, pulling a knife tucked into his boot before sticking it into one of the packages. He dips his hand into the opening, rubbing what looks to be a white powder in between his fingers.

“Time to call Madani,” he grits, placing the brick back on the ground. “Could you do that f’me, sweetheart?”

Biting your lip, you pull out your phone to dial Madani’s number, wincing as Frank digs out the rest of the cocaine from your beloved Roadster. In eager anticipation, she picks up after the first ring, and the drop is arranged for 2.30 AM.

That leaves you thirty minutes to spare.

“So, Frank,” you remark, tucking your phone back in your pocket, “do we need to check any of the other cars?”

He sets the crowbar on the ground, getting up to lean against the front passenger side door. “Nah,” he replies, folding his arms across his chest, “FBI’s problem now.”

The growing smile on your face turns suggestive. “Guess we have time to kill before they show up, hm?”

Frank cocks his head. “And what’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

You stride towards him, reaching out your hands to uncross his arms so they lay straight at his sides. Trailing the tip of your index finger up his chest, you circle the outline of his mouth. It catches on his bottom lip as you drag it back down, and he shudders at the lightness of your touch.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, big boy?” you grin.

He moves off the car, rolling his eyes as you saunter to the driver’s side, brows furrowing as you go to unlatch the door. The red leather is cool beneath you as you slide in, hands instinctively going to grip the wheel. Imagining the engine roaring to life, you press your foot down on the accelerator, as far as it’ll go.

“You’re playing with me, aren’t you?” Frank chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe,” you muse, aware of the mischievous glint in your eyes. “If that’s something you want.”

“You haven’t had any of the white stuff, have ‘ya? ‘Cause you’re sure acting like it.”

“Dick,” you swear. “We’re surrounded by nice cars, Frank. How do you expect me to behave?” Taking your hands off the wheel, you twist in your seat to face him. “Surely they’d have the keys here somewhere, right?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, like they’d keep the keys to a four hundred thousand dollar car here.”

“Awww,” you pout, “but I wanna go for a ride.”

Frank’s ears perk up. “S’that so?”

You lean back against the seat, running your tongue over your lips. “In this car.”

“What, and you think I can help with that?”

You bat your eyes at him. “Don’t get too flattered, but I think you’re the only person in the world who can help with that right now.”

“Right now?” he shoots back. “Just right now, huh?”

“Shut up and get over here before I rescind my request, Castle.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move that fast, because he climbs into the passenger side, scrambling to get you on his lap.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hands finding your waist, guiding you back and forth over his hardening cock. His breath fans your neck as he nips at your pulse, spreading his legs apart on the seat.

You tip your chin downwards, your lips messily crashing into his, his mouth—his body—warm and supple against yours. He shifts his hips, slotting himself between your thighs and into the one place you need him most. At this rate, the friction of your clothing is almost too much to bear, but you’ve always been one to toe the line between pain and pleasure.

Especially when Frank’s involved.

Your body clenches as he palms your clit, groaning your name into your skin, etching kisses along the curve of your jaw. He skirts the hem of your top, slipping his tongue into your mouth before lifting it over your head, leaving it in a scandalous pile on the driver’s side.

“Naughty girl,” he laughs dryly, adding your bra to the pile along with his own shirt. “Tell me this isn’t what you thought of first when you saw the car.” He stiffens as you catch his bottom lip with your teeth.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t enjoying it,” you croon, the jovial note of your amusement diffusing itself into the vast space of the dealership. Your fingers roam along the plane of his stomach, feeling his abs contort underneath your touch. “Pretty boy.”

Resting his hands on either side of your spine, Frank swipes his thumbs over your nipples, intently staring as you throw your head back, rolling your hips into his. You squeeze your thighs into his sides as he seals his mouth over one of your breasts, flicking his tongue over the pebbled flesh.

“Bruise—“ he groans, his voice caught in a hoarse whisper. Oh, right, you remember, looking down at the purple splotch stretching across the ribs on his right side.

But you don’t let up, not when he’s driving you mad and touching you like this. You dig your knee into the bruise lightly, waiting for his body to seize, for his panting to echo before putting it back down on the seat.

“You’re a fuckin’— animal—“

Something compels you to do it again, but he slaps your leg away, retaliating by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You cry out his name, the echo of it thundering in your ears.

“Dick,” you gasp, slamming your palms into his chest. You gripe at the fact that he loses himself in a quiet sort of laughter, and that he’s all chiseled muscle and not putty in your hands.

“You insulting me or s’that what you want?”

The mirthful gleam in his eyes flicker as he looks you up and down, waiting for your next move.

“Fine,” you say, a little too scornful considering the situation you’ve found yourself in, moving to undo his belt. Pausing once to take your own pants off, your fingers move deftly to unbutton his jeans before you tug them down and off his legs. Not taking your gaze off of him, you brace one hand on his shoulder while the other slowly creeps up his thigh.

Frank squirms beneath you, his lips pressing into a thin line as you cup his balls. Your breathing turns shallow as you wrap your hand around his shaft, running your thumb over the precum glistening on the head of his cock.

“Fuckin’— shit—,“ he hisses as you squeeze him. You hinge forward to nip his earlobe, to whisper filthy nothings in his ear, but he bucks his hips upwards, almost reflexively.

And that is something too good to pass up.

“Feel good, Frankie?” you ask, moving to stroke him up and down, ensuring your pace is just shy of what he likes on himself.

“Mm—“

“I think this’ll feel better,” you interject, pausing to spit on his cock.

Frank’s mouth parts in a wide groan at the added lubrication, and the way you’ve so brazenly spat on him, narrowly missing the priceless cherry red leather. Not that having sex in this car isn’t already brazen to begin with.

Clambering back onto his lap, you nudge his cock into your opening, coating him in the slick of your arousal. You press your face against his cheek as he pushes himself inside you, moaning into his mouth at the sensation of his thick head stretching you out. It burns, but it burns so fucking good.

He grits his teeth as he eases you down on him, guiding you inch-by-inch until you're so full you can barely breathe, your core tightening to the point where you wonder if he can feel pleasure at all.

He reminds you that yes, in fact he can, because he's cursing under his breath, gripping the dashboard so goddamn hard you think he might leave half-moon marks in the shape of his nails. He jerks his hips into yours, driving himself so deep you see stars for a second, whispering into the trance of your intimacy that you're his girl and that you feel so fuckin' tight he might burst at any given moment.

Now accommodated to his size, you fling your arms around his neck as you begin to move, resting your forehead against his. You roll your hips in languid, circular motions, fingers curling in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"God fucking damn, Frank," you whimper, switching to bounce on his lap, holding onto the top of the seat for extra support. He sends you into a catatonic state of delirium as his thick cock hits deeper in this position, and soon you're squeezing around him, crying his name and falling over the edge of satisfaction.

Frank buries his face in your tits as you collapse onto his chest, your body still moving to the rhythm pounding inside your head.

"Hey, hey sweetheart," he says gently, moving to caress your jaw. "You okay?"

You flash him a weak smile, holding out a thumbs-up. "Keep going, Frank. M'not done yet."

"You sure?"

Raising your hips only to slam them back down on his seems to give him the reassurance he's seeking. Thrill shoots up your spine as he pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

His tone is nothing short of wicked. "I do as I'm told, yeah?"

He drills himself into you, setting a ruthless pace, mouth roving over every accessible inch of bare skin. You thank every god you can think of for making this place soundproof, because the two of you would be so incredibly dead if anyone could hear the sounds coming from your mouth.

You fall apart on his cock more times than you can count, burying your face in his neck as Frank's thrusts become more erratic and sloppy, his strokes faltering with every passing second.

"M'gonna cum for you," he groans, throwing his head back against the seat and lurching his arm towards the top of the windscreen. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone as his hips stutter, spilling every last drop inside you.

"Fuck," he whispers, his cock twitching as you finally muster the energy to get off of him. He looks down at himself, horrified, and you follow his eye line to the mess on the seat between his thighs.

You choke, caught between a laugh and a gasp, equally panicking at how you're going to clean it up and possibly more importantly, how Madani isn't going to figure out what you've just done.

"Guess we can call this hard evidence for the FBI?" you sputter, trying your best to swallow your growing smirk.

Frank's cheeks turn red as he blows out a breath. "S'alright. This belonged to an asshole and it was gonna be bought by an even bigger one." He shrugs. "If I can't put 'em down, this is the least they owe me."

"You know Frankie, sometimes your logic is flawed, but I think you're right on this one."

He goes to smack your ass, but as you pull your panties on, your phone lights up in the footwell of the car, its shrill ringtone deafening to your ears.

MADANI

You glance at Frank, a humorous expression dancing across your face. "Good timing, huh?"

"Ain't that right."

tags {x} for all my frank girlies!!! <3 (I'M SORRY IF I FORGOT SOMEONE I'M SO NOT OK RIGHT NOW)

@marvelswh0re @murdock-and-the-sea @itwasthereaminuteago @munsonownsmyass @reborn-rekall @castlesnchurches @chellestrash @darlingshane @chvoswxtch @stress--relief @pedrito-friskito

[yandere-class-1a]

I wanna see your head canons on what their fins would look like! (I can imagine everytime they feel happy and warm their tail glows)

Authors note: These are my personal headcannons for the mermaid AU. I might change them in latter stories but I feel pretty comfy with where they are right now. They where all just sorta ideas I have floating around but I hope you like them! Also I actually had the idea of their eyes glowing when they get happy but decided not to add it, so your not that far off with the tail ♡

Shoji has eight silver colored tentacles with a dark blue under belly. His suction cups are a slightly lighter blue and his beak is the same color as the top. I can imagine him being a bit self conscious about it and usually keeping it covered up by the tentacles, kinda like his mask in the anime.

Koda has motly white tail with red details. His tail actually resembles a seahorse but much bigger to support all of his weight above water

Sato's tail is a a soft brown color with black and white stripes. I imagine his tail with a sorta puffy feel to, not supper puffy though, kinda like puffy stickers. It resembles a sort of clownfish look with brown instead of orange.

Ida has a dark blue tail with one of his bottom fins being made out of metal parts, think like toothless from HTTYD. I imagine he would have made it either himself or with Momo's help.

Sero has a long black tail with white puffy streak all around it. The streaks look a lot like tape, to match his original universes quirk.

Shoto has a half red half white tail that colors switch places with his hair. I imagine that he might have a few darker spots on his tail from his past.

Momo has a red tail with beutifull yellow fins at the bottom. It's a pretty basic mermaid tail but it has a little of a rough texture than the original sleek mermaid scales.

Bakugo has a ash blonde tail with large swirls of orange and black. His tail kinda resembles a catfish in all ways except color.

Kirishima has a red tail with specks of black that resembles a shark. I would imagine that Kirishima would sorta be the protection of the pack so his tail would have scars and possibly a healed bite mark out of one of the fins.

Ojiro has a thick skin colored tail with a small tuff of fins at the end. It kinda looks like his tail from the original universe but is more smooth.

Aoyama has a shiny white and yellow tail that has a sort of sequins look to it. He has the ability to change the colors to fit in with the environment but he says that these colors make him ✨️sparkle✨️ more.

Denki had a bright electric yellow tail with little black marking that happen to look like lightning bolts. His tail takes resemblance to a electric eel.

Izuku's tail is a beutifull emerald green with freckles of red and white. The fins are a bit longer than the average mer-man, it is a pretty yellow and looks slightly tattered and torn (Probably from how reckless he is).

Mina, as stated before, has a glimmering pink and yellow tail. Her tail is very strong and has some visible muscles, but not a ton.

Tokoyami had a dark black tail with a white under belly, like a orca.

Uraraka has a pretty white tail with large splotches of pink and brown, it kinda looks like boba.

Jiro had a shorter but strong looking purple tail with flowy fins that resemble earphone jacks hanging from her side.

Hagakure has a long almost clear tail that resembled that of a jelly fish.

Tsu has a beutifull green tail with black swirly stripes all along it. It resembles that of a tadpole. Her type of mermaid is supposed to grow legs but hers somehow stayed like a tadpoles.

[rottenpumpkin13]

now, we know about the first class idiots and their toxic relationship with queen’s blood…but what about fort condor?

Why Fort Condor Is Banned From The SOLDIER Floor

• The game pieces are tiny and easy to lose, which becomes annoying when people want to play but the board game is incomplete. Irresponsibility on its own would've been fine, but this peeves Angeal immensely, who began disciplining the Seconds and Thirds with cruel and unusual punishment.

Zack lost half the pieces one time, which is how Lazard walked in on Angeal using Zack as a mop to clean the floor. • The Fort Condor board itself can be used as a weapon. People have been known to grab the board mid-game and slam it into their opponent's face. This is how Sephiroth got a concussion and the reason Genesis was shoved down the trash shoot immediately after. • Genesis has no patience. He has been known to take his sword and smash the board when he's losing, usually when provoked by Sephiroth who finds it funny how the red in his face matches his coat. • The Fort Condor pieces can be used for bullying. Since the pieces go missing frequently, people have to replace them so they get them custom made to look like their coworkers. Zack got the condor to look like Cloud one time. Cloud thought it was a chocobo. This angered Cloud greatly. It took three hours to remove the chocobo piece from Zack's nasal cavity. • The SOLDIERs (+Cloud) started playing against each other and forming teams, which reaped animosity in the workplace. Kunsel put out a hit on Roche's head (or a shave on his head). Zack locked Angeal in a broom closet out of spite and made him miss a whole mission. Sephiroth and Cloud couldn't walk past each other without trash talk. And the entire Third Class revolted against Genesis and spray painted his office door metallic silver with the words "WE LOVE SEPHIROTH" • The threats Lazard heard when he walked by the lounge were getting ridiculous, and most of them were said by Sephiroth. The most unsettling ones he's heard from him are Sephiroth: "I will use your femur as a back scratcher." Sephiroth: "I will superglue your nostrils." Sephiroth: "I will make a beaded necklace with your teeth." Sephiroth: "I will electrocute your kneecaps." Sephiroth: "I will salt your eyeballs and lick them repeatedly." Sephiroth: "I will stalk and pursue you for the rest of your life, becoming so ingrained in your subconscious that you see me whenever you go and obey me like a puppet." • He barged into the room after that last one and found Sephiroth already knocked out with a fire extinguisher and Cloud standing over him going "I panicked" • This coincides with the reason watermelons are banned. Angeal brought one back on a mission one day and put it in the break room. Sephiroth and Genesis were playing a round of fort condor, Sephiroth realized Genesis was cheating, went to the break room, grabbed the watermelon, then proceeded to shove Genesis' head inside of it. • Sephiroth is stupidly good at Fort Condor and it angers people. Lazard himself played a round against Sephiroth once and felt indescribable rage. He had to sit there with Zack fanning him with a magazine until the desire to staple Sephiroth's hair to the floor subsided. • Two games ended in crime scene tape and one of them had Zack's chalk outline in it. • Lazard wouldn't bat an eye if he saw someone on their break playing Fort Condor Online, but the last time he saw that it was Zack trash talking a ten-year-old child online who was winning. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Rio: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

Terry’s warned you about the car. It’s a fire engine red 1967 Alfa Romero Spider, one that’s seen much better days. Cars like this in good condition cost ten grand, yours is not in good condition.

He understands the emotional connection to the car, your parents had picked it up for you after college as a graduation present. It’s the only tie you have to the both of them now that they’re gone.

When you’d got back to LA and brought it out of storage, Terry had known it was going to be trouble. It was in the stutter of the engine, the dilapidated roar. There’s a Duran Duran tape that’s been stuck in the stereo for over a decade and the passenger side intermittently unlocks. Everytime you climb inside the thing he gets heart palpitations.

When he gets the call in the middle of the night, it scares the hell out of him. You’re crying on the phone, there’s been an accident, you think the car is totalled.

“But are you ok?” He asks you, gripping the phone so tightly the plastic creaks.

“Yea,” You say shakily and he can tell you trying not to cry. “But the car…”

“Alright baby.” He says softly as he snatches up his keys. “I’m on the way.”

There’s already a tow truck on scene, along with the police when he arrives. He sees the red and blue lights flashing and his heart tightens in his chest.

The accident had taken place on a dirt road in El Sereno. You were driving home after dropping off one of the kids from the gallery when a drunk driver had hit your car, almost sending it careening over the edge of the hill. You were lucky it hadn’t been going any faster because that car, it has a soft top, he’s certain you wouldn’t have made it if it had rolled.

You put your thumb out to flag him down and he pulls up as close as he can. You’re a mess. There’s mascara streaked down your cheeks, blood running from your hairline down your features.

“Did you hit your head?” he asks worriedly, his fingers seeking out the source of the bleeding.

“No.” You say as he removes a handkerchief from his coat pocket and presses it to the wound. “It’s from the glass.”

When you glance over your shoulder the Romero is being loaded onto a flatbed. The passenger side where the other car hit you is obliterated, the metal contorted beyond repair. You take one look at it and burst into tears.

That night you’re inconsolable.

The loss of that car…

It’s like you’ve lost your parents all over again.

You cry yourself to asleep, your face buried in Terry’s chest as he holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your hair.

The next day you’re exhausted, banged up and emotionally wrung out. He tries to get you to take a sick day but you refuse because you need to be busy. He makes you take a couple of painkillers before he drops you off at the art gallery where you work.

When he gets to the lot where your car is being held, the damage is worse than he realised.

“You may as well sell it for scrap.” His mechanic tells him as he studies the vehicle. “The repairs will cost more than the car is worth.”

“Money isn’t a problem.” He sighs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you think it can be fixed?”

“It’ll take some time. The crash did a number on it.” The mechanic says as he smooths his hand over the twisted metal. “I can get it done though.”

It’s almost a month later that you wake up and find a silver box with a red ribbon perched upon your nightstand. It’s resting upon the book you’re reading about your namesake Georgia O’Keefe.

When you open it you find a car key inside, one that you recognise. It’s kind of Terry to give you a keepsake, he knows how much that car means to you, the memories that were attached to it.

“Thank you.” You say softly as you linger in the doorway of the kitchen in your robe and hold up the key. “It means a lot that you could give me something to remember the car by.”

“Let’s step outside.” He says quietly, his palm coming to rest on your lower back as he guides you towards the driveway.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing. Sitting there is your car, not ruined or torn apart, but brand new in pristine condition. Your fingertips trail over the bonnet and your throat constricts because you remember the nights you spent with your dad working on the engine, your mother singing along to ‘Rio’ as she revved it at his request.

“He left the tape deck untouched.” Terry tells you, his lips brushing over your temple. “You can sing ‘Hungry Like The Wolf’ to your heart’s content.”

It’s that attention to detail that makes you realise just how much this man cares for you. You feel a surge of something inside of you, a rush of love, of gratitude. Terry has no idea of the gift he’d given you, not really.

“Why don’t you go get dressed?” He suggests, tilting his head back towards the house. “Then you can come back out and take her for a spin.”

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