college!pervy!patrick stealing your underwear 18+
it's pure fucking luck when it happens.
art wouldn't stop complaining about having to take his dirty laundry to the communal room on his dorm floor that housed all the washers and dryers. patrick doesn't know why the fuck he offered to take it up for him in the first place, to shut art up? to make him happy?
who gives a shit anyways cause while he's taking arts stupidly full hamper to the laundry room and following the half-assed directions given to him, he bumps right into someone as soon as he steps foot through the already open door. when he cranes his head around the edge of art's hamper he nearly jumps with fucking joy at what, or more-so who, greets him.
he knew who you were already. art wouldn't stop blowing up his phone with texts about "the hot new chick with an out of this world backhand and a killer fucking rack!". so as soon as he got off the bus in cali and stepped foot in art's cushy dorm room he obviously demanded he take him to one of your matches, and holy fucking shit.
you absolutely obliterate the poor girl on the opposite side of the net. running her up and down the court like a chicken with its head cut off while you stay calm and collected.
he could come just watching your perfect form as you hammer another excellent serve at your opponent, but something has to be said for the fucking outfit you're wearing. the tight tank of your dress does show off your, now proven, killer fucking rack but goddamn that skirt should be illegal. even the flowy pleated fabric can't hide the thick curve of your ass underneath, bouncing as you take off to chase after the ball.
he's white knuckling the edges of his seat the entire match, using every ounce of willpower in his body to not pop a boner in the middle of the fucking stands and even more willpower to not look over at the smug fucking grin plastered on art's face as he watches him. safe to say, you've been on his mind ever since.
now, you stand in front of him holding your own hamper with an apologetic smile on your face.
"shit, i'm so sorry. i didn't even see you." you say, way too chipper for 9 a.m on a sunday.
patrick is the epitome of a cocky, arrogant asshole. he has girls in nearly every state practically begging to choke on his dick without him so much as raising a finger in their direction. he's beyond smooth. he has every sleazy line known to man on the tip of his tongue at all times, yet when he goes to speak he can't manage anything besides a weak mutter of, "s'alright." he mentally punches himself in the balls for letting your bambi eyes and dick sucking lips get the better of him.
you give him a nod and one last friendly smile before stepping around him and making your way down the hallway. patrick watches in damn near agony as you go, ponytail swinging behind you in time with the sway of your hips.
patrick lets out an all suffering groan, dropping his head to his chest in defeat. "fucking dumbass.' he admonishes himself quietly, letting himself wallow in misery before making to take a step forward when suddenly he spots something out of the corner of his eye.
it takes him a few seconds to register just what he's staring at, but when it clicks he nearly has a fucking heart attack. there on the floor lays a pair of lacy white panties, your lacy white panties. it takes him all of a millisecond to drop art's hamper on the floor carelessly and practically dive to snatch them up. as soon as his fingers touch the fabric he can feel himself chubbing up in his sweats. he runs his fingertips over the hem, feeling the familiar rough texture that was snug against your body so recently makes sparks go off near the base of his spine.
when patrick hears lively conversation and footsteps heading his way he shoves the panties in his pocket and snatches art's hamper off the floor to start haphazardly shoving his clothes in the washer.
when he finally re-enters art's dorm room he's met with his best friends face staring at him suspiciously. "what the fuck took you so long?" art questions, brow raised as he watches patrick stumble over to his bed and plop down a little too roughly. patrick's reply is simple.
“got lost."
it's only later, when he's back on the train heading for his latest stop and digging into his pocket in search of his lighter that he feels it. the lacy fabric of your panties still stuffed deep into his pocket. his breath hitches in his throat and before he knows what he's doing he's up like a shot and speed walking to the back of the cart.
he's in the bathroom a mere five seconds before he's ripping his fly down and furiously stroking his hard as steel cock in a cramped train bathroom he can barely stand up fully in. it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before he's busting in the fucking sink with your dainty white panties balled up in his fist and held against his nose as he inhales so heavily he might fucking pass out.
patrick has already found, and requested you, on facebook by the time he makes it back to his seat.
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taglist!
@yuenity @callsign-artemis @ebodebo (who each put up with me ranting about this so wonderfully love you guys mwah)
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Bakugou who says that the chick flicks or romantic dramas you watch are stupid but then sits down with you to watch it and gets into it too.
He just casually passes by you, poking at your cheek and his eyes glancing to the screen of your movie with flowery words used and a rising, romantic orchestra as the soundtrack. He only came by to fix himself some lunch, was gonna eat at the table and then go back to his rec room. Bakugou makes his bowl of food and decides to eat beside you on the couch.
“Katsuki, don’t leave-“ you start to chastise him.
“No crumbs and no mess, I won’t alright? Fuck, my sandwich fell apart one time on me and you freak out about messes every time.” Bakugou sighs but knows to follow rules. “What’s this movie?”
You explain that the summary is apparently about an accused crime that effects the lives of two lovers. It’s only first fifteen minutes of the movie so you’ve barely just started. He sits quietly beside you, not really pulled into these kinds of films you like, but raises his eyebrows at one scene. “Did he just write that he wants to kiss her cunt?”
Now he’s intrigued.
Bakugou is intrigued when the filthy letter is accidentally sent instead of the proper, flowery apology. He’s intrigued at the library scene of the two lovers confessing to each other. His bowl is sent down during the scene of the arrest. He’s leaned back into the couch with his lips pressed into a thin line of the panning scene of a war zone.
And at the reveal of who the actual perpetrator was, Bakugou throws his hands up in frustration, “So the fucker just gets to get away with it! And now after all that shit happened, there’s no goddamn justice!”
“Shhh!! It’s not over yet!”
When the movie ends and the credits roll, Bakugou groans at the ending. Not so much from the drama he thought he’d be bored with but from how tragic it ended up being. “I thought your movies had happy endings, what the fuck was that?”
You laugh a little and blow your nose into a tissue, having cried a little over the reveal of what happened to the lovers. “I know, that was so sad huh? Really makes you think how much they could have had.”
“Fuck that! How the hell did she decide that, what, almost ten years later that she got the wrong fucker’s face? When that cabin boy or garden boy or whatever the fuck he was had known her for so many years? And all because of a letter she shouldn’t have opened too!” Bakugou huffs over the movie ending, “But I guess the only good thing that bitch did was write the ending they should have had… I guess.”
You smile at your boyfriend, happy that he actually managed to give one of your dumb dramas a chance.
-@blaquejaguar ♡(。- ω -)
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I try try try try TRY (unless I'm intentionally being self indulgent) to not give Reader too many similarities or hobbies as myself
But oh my god an Author Reader, whether an actual author or a self published small time fanfic writer such as myself, really does have so much potential for Hazbin pairings and ideas
Like for example if you think of my poly radiostatic idea from before, then you would have Vox representing video, Alastor representing audio, and Reader representing the written medium/scripts symbolically, rounding out a perfect trio, with your skills inherently tying into both of their mediums while also being uniquely different
There's the obvious and juicy potential of porn author Reader catching Valentino's eye and him liking your work or seeking you out after reading something of yours online, OR you already being a cute lil employee of his and he's snooping on your laptop one day and finds loads and loads of kinky goodness he didn't know you had in you
I've even thought of Reader writing horror novels and other "normal books" and Alastor is absolutely thrilled by this, loves reading your works regardless of how skilled you are in terms of like the more technical things like prose or symbolism or whatever, and THEN he finds out you also write smut and he's just :) immediately wanting to put a stop to that. Oh honey you mean you... waste your time putting your name on such... filthy content to be read by complete strangers? Especially men? Oh no no no, he can't have that at all. Doesn't want you writing it, doesn't want you READING IT, unless it's "tasteful" enough, which, by his standards probably means the most vanilla, barely described missionary sex between two married individuals--
Maybe your skills and descriptors and visualization can directly translate into certain illusionary powers, either creating visions or temporary manifestations of things. You could sit and talk with Lucifer about all the different sights you've seen on Earth, going to parks with your dad as a kid, feeding the geese and their fluffy yellow goslings, allow him to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, feel a lovely lakeside breeze...
You could tell all your Hotel buddies or new Hell pals about where you grew up, or places you've been, things you've seen, stuff you've done, and SHOW it to them. It'll make those who have died miss being alive and seek out your company for the nostalgia, and those who have never seen Earth all the more eager to talk to you and learn even more...
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apparently one of main guys directing the god damn zelda movie "aims for it to be a live-action miyazaki"
and i just-
you idiot, you fool, you absolut buffoon
first of all, there is a REASON why all his films are ANIMATED, animation can do things live action will never be able to no matter how much shitty CGI effects you pump into it
secondly, given how any possible ghibli influence in totk is so clearly purely a superficial attempt of copying aesthetics and NOTHING more is making me more convinced that movie will be shit
miyazakis works have been reduced to whimsical childrens fantasy with a specific kind of aesthetic in the mindset of many and i HATE it, its so much more than that and seeing how much totk has been compared to it, again, purely bc of some aesthetics reminiscent of his movies is still driving me nuts
the zelda series, especially the most recent entry, is very clearly lacking in everything that miyazaki excels at and i am not confident that anyone in higher positions whos working on that darn movie understands any of it and will just go for the usual copying of surface level aesthetics tm
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