Coach And Mari Hobbling Together💀 I Know It Took Them 3 Business Days To Get To That Tree Cave

Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986) dir. John Hughes

punching bags

can u write smut for elliot where its like rough but sweet and then like hes super affectionate n aftercare

forever and ever

elliot x fem!reader

warnings: smut, nothing much just smut then aftercare at the end

elliot attacked your neck hungrily with his teeth, leaving marks all over your throat along with wet, sloppy kisses. he pinned you to his bed and his lips messily found yours as he began to rip off your shirt with ease, removing your bra just a little bit after. "so fucking hot." he praised, then kneading your breasts, allowing a few moans to escape from your mouth.

elliot kissed down your stomach and pulled off your skirt, throwing it on the ground. he teased at your clit from through your panties, causing you to whine. “please..” you begged, just wanting him to fuck you already.

“please what?” he smirked at you and you sighed, not being able to go without having him in you much longer.

“please fuck me, elliot.”

that was all he needed. he tore off your panties and wiped his finger across your slit, feeling how soaked you were. “wet already?” he teased, causing you to whine.

he quickly ripped off his own shirt, revealing his chiseled abs, causing your mouth to water. fuck, he was so hot, you thought. and soon, he would be giving you the time of your life.

he unbuckled his belt and threw his pants to the side, then ripping off his boxers to reveal his hard length, also making you salivate.

elliot lined up with your pussy and thrusted into you without warning, starting fast and getting faster in a matter of seconds. the room echoed with sounds of your moans. “fuck, you’re so tight.” he grunted. the pain slowly began to turn into pleasure and you screamed his name so much you were sure the next day you wouldn’t be able to talk.

“gonna fuck you so hard. you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” he held onto your hips as he continued to thrust in you repeatedly.

he began to make out with you again, tongues battling for dominance, his winning, of course. he nipped at your neck again, on the same spots he previously bit, to make sure there would be a trace come tomorrow.

“love you and your pussy.” elliot admired again, speeding up at the same time.

your eyes rolled back to your head while you moaned. you could barely speak, afraid it would come out as babbles only.

“hm? cat got your tongue?” he began to get increasingly more rough and you were loving every second of it.

“fuck.. elliot. i love you so fucking much.” you mumbled while also panting, sounding like you just ran ten miles. “oh my fucking god.. i’m almost gonna.. fucking... oh my god.”

elliot’s pumps began to slow down and were a little more sloppy than before. nonetheless, you were still in heaven at the moment.

elliot helped you ride off your high and he slowly pulled out of you, collapsing on top of you. both of you were sweaty, panting messes.

after a little while of resting, he turned on the lamp light and got up, returning with a glass of water, handing it to you. “you okay?”

you nodded, smiling at him. your hair was messy and your makeup was all ruined but elliot still looked at you like you were the cutest person ever. “what about you?”

he sighed and chucked a little. “just tired.”

elliot got in bed with you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling you onto his lap to hold you in his arms. your throat was a little sore from literally moaning his name the entire night, but you managed to croak out, “i love you.”

he smiled and rubbed your cheek. “i love you, too, sweetheart.” he played with your hair, soothing you after your high. elliot grabbed the tv remote and turned on the tv, playing you two’s favorite movie at a super low volume to keep you relaxed and hopefully let you sleep. “you know i’ll always be here for you to hold you, right?” he nuzzled his face in your hair and smiled while doing so.

“rest well, love.” elliot continued to run his hands through your hair while humming and still smiling like an idiot.

you smiled, too, and thought to yourself. this was how you wanted it to be forever and ever. in the arms of the one who you loved, the one who loved you.

YALL IM BEGGING SOMEONE TO MAKE AN EDDIE MUNSON SMUT I AM LITERALLY ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BEGGING SOMEONE TO MAKE A GOOD X READER SMUT WITH HIM

Can you please write an angst with Loki where he and his wife fight because he won’t bring Thor back to Asgard after he is king.

yessssss comment below if you’d like to be tagged !

As It Was - Harry Styles

When you've read nearly all the hobie fanfics and now In need of desperate new content

(fr guys I need more hobie fanfics)

crackships of florence pugh and ryan destiny!

requested by anonymous.

Can you do reader who’s the opposite of Carl? (Good grades, good house, kinda good family situation but scared of failure?)

yessss i kind of have a story like this in my drafts, ill tweak it for you, if u can comment on this post so i can tag u !

the red means i love you — frank castle

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: violence! like a lot of violence.. and detailed accounts of said violence, reader goes insane, mentions of murder, trauma, reader is a past widow for the red room, Y/N usage, kidnapping, established relationship, fluff, standard the punisher warnings.

authors note: hii theree! so this one is kind of insane, i may have went just a tad bit overboard, but y’know. thank you anon for this request that this fic is based on! this story is heavily based on the song, ‘the red means i love you’ by madds buckley, so give it a listen if you’d like. much love to you all, i hope you all enjoy this !

masterlist

You panted, your hand pulling the machete out of the last man’s chest. Your vision was still hazy, and you didn’t exactly feel like you were in your body.

But, that’s how you always felt when you killed.

As you gathered your bearings, your eyes began to dart around the room— and you realized how many men you had just taken out.

“Motherfucker,” You groaned as the pain began to set in due to the knife that was currently in your thigh. One of them must of done it when you were distracted, and your adrenaline was far too high for you to register it.

You no longer had that problem, it hurt like a bitch. But, you’ve had worse— a lot worse, and you could handle it. So you did was you were trained to do: push the emotions and pain away get the damn job done.

You had to. For Frank.

You see, he was taken by God knows who. You and Frank had no shortage of enemies, so you weren’t exactly sure who you were even invading, but you didn’t care. You knew they had Frank.

You were getting him back. You didn't care how many lives you had to take, you would do it all without second thought.

One of them had his sawed-off shotgun, they tried to shoot you with it. So you knew he was here. You just didn’t know exactly where.

And you’d go through hell and back to get to him.

So with a sharp inhale, you began to walk over to one of your victims, snatching the shotgun from his cold grip. A new sense of rage washed over you when you held the cold metal in your hands— they tried to take Frank from you.

You couldn’t let that stand.

Anger flooded your bloodstream as you began to stalk over to the hallway in front of you, cocking the shotgun along the way. You looked damn insane—you were covered in blood, a knife sticking out your thigh, your machete in one hand and Frank’s shotgun in the other.

One thing was for sure: you were out for fuckin’ blood.

You kicked open the first door you saw with your good leg, and inside were 3 men. Before they could even get a chance to react, you let the first round of bullets fly at one of them, the man dead instantly.

You narrowed your eyes at the two remaining men, putting the machete in your belt, you cocked the shotgun and aimed directly towards them. “Where the fuck is Frank.”

“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” One of the men stuttered out.

You scoffed, shooting that same man in the shin. “You think I’m fuckin’ playin’ around? I said, where the fuck is he?! What did you do with Frank?!” You shouted angrily, cocking the gun once more.

The man cried out, falling to his knees as his partner put his hands up in surrender. “He’s in the building..” He murmured, but you could see the man you shot reaching for the gun that the other had so obviously in the back of his pants.

Rolling your eyes, you shot the man who was still unharmed in the head. “Fuckin’ useless. I’ll find him myself.” You muttered to mainly yourself before grabbing your machete once more and stomping over to the last one.

“No, no, no!” He begged, backing away as far as he could from you. “Killing me won’t do anything. You’ll never get through all of us. You and Castle are as good as dead,” He spat and you only gave a sinister smile in return before you dove the machete into his chest.

After he was dead, you took your machete and wiped it clean of the blood before storing it back in your belt. You walked out the room without another thought as you continued your walk down the hallway, Frank’s shotgun tight in your grasp as you pointed it for precaution.

The next room you walked into contained 5 men, and then 3 after you let your itchy trigger finger take over.

3 guns were pointed at you in a instant, and you smirked in delight. "Drop them now!" He nodded towards your weapons. With a smirk still on your face, you let your machete clattered to the ground, but still kept Frank's shotgun in your hand. If you were going to die, you wanted it to happen with at least something that tied to Frank.

Staring them all down, you tried to wait for one of them to make the first strike— but eventually you got bored.

You hit one of the men over the head with the shotgun as you kicked one of the other one’s knee in. Without thinking, you grabbed the knife that was still painfully lodged in your thigh and pulled it out-- causing a sharp roar of pain to leave your lips. And with a menacing stare, you used that very same knife to slash the third man's throat.

In a flash of motions you turned to the next man and shoved the knife into his throat, causing him to stumble back with fearful eyes before dropping dead.

That left the last one that you practically bitch-slapped with the gun. He stared at you with wide, rage filled eyes before he grabbed you by your neck, throwing you into the table next to you. Your now open wound on your thigh got caught on a nail on the way, only tearing it open further. A cry of pure pain left your lips at the act, but you recovered quickly, turning to the man with a evil glare.

You let out a yell as you tackled him to the floor, letting all of your anger out as you brutally laid punch after punch to his face until he was unrecognizable. You let out another broken cry as you left one last hit to his bloodied face.

Ragged breaths left your lips as came back down to reality, shakily standing up. Your knuckles were bruised and cracked, and you knew it would hurt like a bitch later, but as of now, you really didn't care. It would all be worth it in the end. So, without another thought you grabbed your machete and the shotgun and headed out the room.

There was only one room left. It was at the very end of the hallway, and you silently prayed Frank was in there. At this point, after all the people you had just killed and fought— you were fucking tired, and quite frankly; fed the fuck up.

You cocked the gun with nothing in your brain other than bloodlust and kicked open the door harshly. “Where the fuck is he?!” You bellowed as you stormed in, gun raised. You had tunnel vision, seeing nothing over than the targets before you.

8 or 9 men were scattered around the room, and before you knew it bullets were flying everywhere. With wide eyes you dove down for cover behind a fallen table, and on the way down you were grazed by several bullets. Your hand flew up to the blood you felt trickling down your ribs, a low groan leaving your lips. You fought tears of pain as you pulled yourself together, reminding yourself of the goal: Get to Frank.

“Come out, now!” One of them yelled, and it only fueled your anger further.

“Fine.” You growled, standing up and shooting the first two men in front of you. Standing up, you ran to the side of the wall where their bullets couldn’t hit you. You let out a small laugh to yourself— you had to admit, you kind of missed this.

The chaos of it all.

You were raised in the chaos of this— you were brought up in the Red Room, killing people all around the globe. Yelena Belova, one of your fellow past widows, had broken you out some time ago and you tried to give the life up, but it seemed it was in your DNA.

Who were you to fight that?

You shook the thought away just as quickly as it arrived— you had more pressing issues right now.

You pulled the pistol out of your boot, peaking around the corner and picking off 3 men, leaving now 4.

“You fuckin’ crazy bitch!” One of them roared, running at you with a dagger.

“Fuck off!” You screamed back, blocking his attempted strike by grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm, the man now yelling out in pain. He dropped the dagger that was clutched in his hand, while you caught with your free hand, not hesitating to plunge it into his heart.

“Y/N?!” You heard that familiar voice yell, causing you freeze. His call made a soft smile spread across your features, but at the same time ignited that dedication to get to him now.

You grabbed Frank’s shotgun, cocking it and getting your pistol in your other hand. And with a devilish glare, you turned the corner and proceeded to pick off the rest of the men that remained.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you realized they were all dead. Turning on your heel, you ran to room in the back that was connected to the room you had been in, throwing open the door urgently.

“Frank,” You practically whispered. He was bound a chair by chains, his face bruised and bloodied.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, taking in your current state. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you were sure it was nothing short of horrific. You were covered head to toe in a mixture of your own blood and your victim's, wounds and bruises littering your entire body. "Christ, woman, what the fuck happened out there?" He asked with a worried tone.

You aimed your pistol at his chains. “Don’t move.” You spoke gently, yet firm. He nodded, giving you the okay to take the shot. Once you did, he was up and bringing you into his arms almost immediately.

The weapons in your hands clattered to the ground in an instant as you let yourself melt in his arms. You were exhausted. Due to your search for Frank and also just your pure anxiety in being away from him, you had barely slept in the past couple days. That definitely came back to bite you in the ass, and on top of it all, you were in a lot of pain. The kisses Frank was leaving to the side of your head made you feel a lot better, though.

You pulled back just a bit to cup his jaw, your eyes scanning his injuries. “Are you okay?”

He let out a dry chuckle before turning his hand slightly to leave a kiss to your palm. “Baby, you are in no position to be askin’ me that right now.” His hands came up to cradle to your face, and you nestled your face into his palm. "Are you okay?"

You managed to give him a smile. “I'm better now.” You let out a shaky breath. Now that you had found Frank, the pain really began to set in. You wouldn’t let yourself feel all of the pain until you knew you were safe— and you now knew that Frank had you. “They’re all dead.” You told him. "I killed them all."

“Damn,” He licked his lips, staring down at you. “And here I was thinkin’ no one was comin’ for me.”

“You should know by now I’ll always come for you.” You expressed, leaning up to connect your lips. You didn’t care if you were covered in blood, or that Frank had been tied to a chair for 2 days— you missed him.

You loved him. And you would set the world on fire for him.

Once you two pulled apart, he stared into your eyes. “I fuckin’ love you.”

You giggled softly, gazing up at him lovingly. “I love you, Frank.”