#best pro hood

[sykesassist]

Contemporary Kitchen - Enclosed An illustration of a small modern l-shaped kitchen with a limestone floor and stainless steel appliances, an island, flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, and white and glass backsplashes.

[irikon]

Contemporary Kitchen - Kitchen Enclosed kitchen - small contemporary l-shaped limestone floor enclosed kitchen idea with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, white backsplash, glass sheet backsplash, stainless steel appliances and an island

[kindahoping4forever]

The 5SOS Show Tour NYC

📸: Rich Fury for Madison Square Garden

[frownyalfred]

The Batfamily, by proxy of being raised by Bruce (undercover pro, lies every other word) and Alfred (actor in another life and in possession of the world’s blankest poker face), are probably the best at just running with something (a con, a secret identity, an undercover job, etc) and acting it out 100% believably. With zero hesitation.

Someone runs up to Red Hood one night in an alley and says “pretend to be my boyfriend! please, he’s following me!” and suddenly that’s not Jason Todd, Crime Lord. That’s Todd from the upper east side, and what the fuck man? leave her alone, you’re fucking tripping!

Etc etc.

[zyhkoo]

☆ everything i know about love

dick grayson and jason todd x fem!reader (separate)

they drunkenly propose

a/n: i was inspired by this fic my friend showed me, i hope you guys like this one!

Jason todd

Jason never understood the fuss about marriage. Just a piece of jewelry and some vows, and you're suddenly yoked to someone for life. No thanks. He had more important things to worry about than tying the knot. Besides, he enjoyed his freedom far too much to be tied down like that.

Why commit to one person when the world is full of interesting people to meet and adventures to be had? Jason preferred to live life on his own terms, without the constraints of a ring on his finger.

His secret identity as Red Hood only added to the list of reasons why marriage didn't fit into Jason's plans. His life was dangerous and unpredictable, and he couldn't risk the safety of a loved one by involving them in his shadowy world. Plus, balancing a marriage and a secret life as a crime-fighter would be nearly impossible. It was better for everyone involved if Jason continued his nocturnal escapades alone.

Surprisingly enough, Jason found himself softening his stance while dating you. It wasn’t like he suddenly became a relationship enthusiast overnight, but he couldn’t deny the subtle change in his perspective.

Though marriage still seemed like a far-off possibility, Jason realized that a fulfilling relationship didn't necessarily require a ring. He was content with the way things were, cherishing the connection he had with you and the moments they shared. The idea of a wedding might still make him a bit nervous, but he knew what mattered most was the happiness you shared in the present.

As the buzz about your relationship grew, the questions about when you were getting married started to come up more frequently. Your friends would throw subtle hints during conversations, or nosy family members would outright ask, expecting a firm timeline. Jason felt the pressure, too. The constant reminders of marriage were like a nagging voice in the back of his mind, pushing him to make a decision he wasn’t ready for. The pressure was mounting, but Jason stubbornly held onto his reservations.

Then, it hit him. Wedding fever.

The last wedding the two of you attended was your best friend’s. You couldn't believe it when you accidentally caught the bouquet at your best friend's wedding. It was just a silly tradition, nothing more. At least, that's what you thought. Little did you know, the effect of the bouquet would hit someone unexpected: Jason.

Suddenly, the mere touch of that bouquet ignited a strange fervor within him. A fever for the idea of marriage, something he had vehemently opposed in the past. Jason watched as your friends and family playfully teased you about catching the bouquet, but his mind was elsewhere. He stood there, dumbfounded, as if the sight of you with that bouquet had somehow changed everything.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and newfound desire. How could a simple bouquet have such an impact on him? He was the guy who never wanted to get married, and now he was practically salivating at the thought. What was happening to him?

When he had too much to drink, you dragged him back to the hotel room.

You gently pulled Jason into the hotel room, his body leaning heavily against yours as the alcohol dulled his senses. You decided to undress him so he'd be more comfortable, unbuttoning his polo shirt while his breath tickled your neck. But as you reached the last button, Jason suddenly leaned forward and pressed a desperate, hungry kiss against your lips.

You were caught off guard by his sudden move, but you couldn't resist the passion behind the kiss. You returned his kiss, your lips responding tenderly and gently meeting him. As he pulled away, your heart skipped a beat as Jason looked into your eyes, his words slurred but his gaze steady. "Marry me," he said.

Here he was, the man who had once been so skeptical about marriage, proposing to you in the midst of a drunken stupor. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, you were absolutely baffled. You stammered, trying to find the right words to say. “What?” you muttered.

"I said, marry me," he repeated as he gripped your wrist. “M’ serious," he insisted, as if trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you.

You couldn't help but stand there with your mouth open, in disbelief at the words that were coming out of his mouth. This was the same man who had been adamantly against the idea of marriage just a few hours ago, and now he was drunkenly proposing to you! Jason's lips grazed against your fingers, his breath warm and words slurred but still filled with a sweet intensity. "Come on," he muttered, clinging to your hand. "Just say yes."

You could feel the nerves in your voice as you struggled to find the right words. "Wow, uh...I'd love to say yes, but maybe we should call it a day first. Let's talk about it in the morning, okay?"

Jason's eyes softened as he looked at you, his drunken state making it difficult for him to comprehend your words. But he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "In the morning," he repeated, his voice slurring. "But m’ serious, I do want to marry you." You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I know you're serious," you said softly, gently stroking his hair. "We'll talk about it in the morning, when you're sober, okay?"

Dick Grayson

It all began with a simple birthday surprise from Dick– a beautiful white cake that bore an uncanny resemblance to a wedding dress. Unintentionally, it planted the seed of wedding fever in Dick's mind. Slowly, the realization dawned upon him, sparking a subtle yet determined desire to make his love for you official.

Dick found himself wrestling with how to broach the subject. While you had occasionally mentioned a future together, marriage had never explicitly entered the picture in your conversations. He pondered how to bring up the idea without catching you off guard.

Late one night, after an evening of bonding with his siblings over a few drinks, Dick returned to the cozy abode he shared with you. In his grip, he clutched a single daisy, its delicate white petals gently swayed with each movement. As he stepped inside, he revealed a paper ring resting on his palm, its simplicity belying the depth of emotion he wanted to convey.

You looked down at the paper ring in Dick's hand with puzzlement in your eyes. "What is this?" you asked. His heart thumped in his chest as he saw your confused eyes. He took a step closer, the petals of the flower trailing across your skin. A gentle smile played on his lips as he slurred, “It’s a ring, f’ course.”

He held the ring up, offering it to you. “I want to…” he trails his words. “You want to..?” you continued his sentence. He looks into your eyes, the paper ring still offered in his hand. He’s taking in the sight of you, wearing nothing more than a pair of sleep shorts and one of his old t-shirts, with your hair messy on your head.

“I… I want to marry you,” he says quietly.

You replied quickly, “Sure.” you said casually. A hint of surprise flickered in Dick's eyes. He had braced himself for a range of potential reactions, but this one had caught him off guard. Dick's mouth hung open for a moment, and for a split second he was at a loss for words. "Sure?" he repeated, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and a touch of confusion. He looked at you in slight surprise, his mind processing the unexpected simplicity of your response.

“Yeah,” you replied as you held his hand. “Let’s get married.”

His mind raced, trying to process the unexpected simplicity of your response. He’d been expecting a little bit more discussion, maybe even some tears, yet here you were, casually agreeing to his impromptu proposal. He stared down at you, a mix of surprise and elation flooding his expression. He looked at your hand holding his thumb running against the back of your hand.

“Just like that?” he chuckled, a bit breathlessly. You only smiled softly, “Why wouldn’t I marry someone like you?” you told him. “Let’s get you to bed, you’re gonna have a massive hangover tomorrow.”

He looked down at the paper ring on his hand, then back at you. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as he took your hand in his, and placed the ring upon your finger. “Now it’s official,” he chuckled, looking down at the simple paper ring on your finger.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks

Pairing: Jason Todd x Civilian!Reader. No pronouns so can be read as any gender!

Summary: Meet-ugly with the Red Hood due to a gas station robbery gone wrong.

Word count: ~2k

(I'm branching out to other fandoms, apparently. Let me know if you want a sequel. Enjoy!)

You weren't born in Gotham, so it sometimes still surprises you that you had adjusted so well to its particular brand of crazy.

You're from somewhere a little more south of New Jersey, although most places in the U.S. are a little south of Jersey unless you're a lobster farmer from Maine or a tree hugger from Vermont.

Both of those descriptions sound critical, but they weren't meant to be. Right about now you're seriously considering taking up lobster farming.

No one sane ever moves to Gotham. Everyone knows the stories, and even if most of the country didn't believe all of them, most people aren't stupid enough to disregard them. And you certainly weren't stupid. But rent was dirt cheap for a city, and so was tuition for GU's vet school. So you thought to yourself, "How bad could it really be," bought pepper spray and a taser, and accepted the admissions offer.

You'd always liked iced coffee more than green bean casserole and peach cobbler, anyway.

Reading news articles hadn't been enough to prepare you for the utter insanity of Gotham City, unfortunately. But you adapted. You always did. Upgraded your taser, memorized the bus schedule, learned the less sketchy areas of town, did your best not to get caught outside after dark. Kept your head down, ignored the crime lords and genetic experiments gone wrong and lunatics and vigilantes scurrying along the rooftops, and you'd survived for almost two years without many incidents.

But you'd gone to the library because you were critically unable to work in your apartment, gotten distracted by panicking about how little you really knew about next week's test content, and stared at the pages of your textbook for almost an hour as you fought back tears. So now you were running late and it was dark as you walked home because the buses were down. Of course they were. That lunatic that thought he was a crocodile had smashed a bunch last week and they hadn't been replaced yet.

Goosebumps prickle on the back of your neck, but you tell yourself it's nothing. Keep your head down. Criminals target the people that look most obviously paranoid first.

You're just burnt out. Severely. But the end of your sophomore year of veterinary school was looming, which meant you would have a relaxing three-month vacation before the next one started.

And no, you weren't thinking about next year's summer 'vacation' of clinicals. Because if this year was bad after a year of summer vacation, what will it do to you to have no break at all?

That's a future you problem, thankfully.

You're still feeling sorry for yourself when you reach the gas station right next to your apartment building. You walk right by it, remember what's in your fridge or pantry—thanks, grocery store self, thinking you don't need any snacking foods—then backtrack.

Since starting vet school, you've tried to be healthier with your eating habits. Brains lacking in nutrients absorb information less efficiently, after all. But you're still a sucker for Cheez-Its and energy drinks.

You won't drink it tonight, obviously.

Right as you put the items on the counter for the bored-looking cashier to scan the barcodes, something cold presses to your temple.

The cashier freezes, eyes blown wide with panic.

"Easy there," someone says to your left. A man, voice oily in a way that sets your teeth on edge immediately. "Do what I say, or I blow their brains out, then yours."

A gun.

A gun is pressed to your head.

Because of course it is. A shitty way to end a shitty day. You should have kept walking right past the gas station.

Before you moved to Gotham, you might have screamed and panicked, but you know better now. You know to stay calm.

You clench your fists to stop them from shaking so noticeably, but otherwise don't move. You've seen hostage situations before, because this is Gotham, but you've never been the hostage.

The gun feels heavy. And so cold, like it's sapping all the heat from your skin.

"Okay, dude," the cashier said soothingly. "You want the money in the register?"

The robber scoffs. "Obviously."

"All right." The cashier's voice is even and soft, unthreatening. You wonder if training for situations like these are required for cashiers in Gotham. It certainly hadn't been for your old job, although that hadn't been in New Jersey, and it hadn't been at a twenty-four seven gas station, either. "I need to get a key to unlock it, okay? So I'm reaching below the counter."

"Just get the key," the robber demands. The gun shifts against your temple. You fantasize for a half-second about acting like an action hero, disarming him and taking him down all on your own. But you're not a vigilante and you've never been in a real-life fight before. You don't think you're fast enough to get out of the barrel's way before he pulls the trigger. If you managed to shove it away, what if he fired and hit the cashier instead?

Then comes the sound of another gun clicking.

Great, you think half-hysterically. Just what we need. Even more deadly weapons.

"Lower the gun," growls a modulated voice, and everyone freezes.

The Red Hood is standing behind the robber, also pointing a gun to his head like the meme of people lined up in a church with guns aimed at the person in front of them.

The robber lets his gun dip a little bit. Distracted enough that it's not pressed directly to your temple anymore.

Not to brag, but you recover the quickest. It's probably the adrenaline.

Thank God you keep your keychain in hand while out at night. Your fingers shake, but you have your pepper spray up in a second, and the robber's turning to look at your sudden movement when you squeeze down on the nozzle.

The spray hits him directly in the eyes, and his howl of pain is immediate. But you don't stop spraying, even when the cashier starts to splutter and your own eyes water.

The gun goes off, once in the robber's hands, and a second time when it hits the ground because he's dropped it in favor of clutching his burning face.

You stop the stream of pepper spray, because now the air is spicy when you breathe, but can't force yourself to lower your hand. The Red Hood quickly handcuffs the would-be robber, which is only difficult because he's clawing at his eyes in pain, and executes a tricky-looking martial arts move to get him on the ground.

Despite everything, you're impressed.

The Red Hood is bigger than maybe anyone you've ever seen before. He could have punched the robber in half like paper, probably, but you appreciate the finesse a little bit more.

"Hey." A gentle voice, and gentle hands, take the pepper spray out of your grip. "Quick thinking there," you're complimented. By the fucking Red Hood, one of Gotham's most infamous crime lords. The first time you read about him in the papers, he was chopping off people's heads, and every story since has been similarly alarming. But he's not supposed to be here; the Red Hood stays in Park Row, which locals call Crime Alley, apparently, and you've always steered very clear from that part of town.

"Can you look at me?"

You do. Maybe he won't chop off your head if you listen well enough.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. That... does not compute.

The Red Hood doesn't save people. And he doesn't leave Crime Alley. So what's he doing outside of Crime Alley, saving people?

The robber is still screaming, eyes screwed up in pain. He's handcuffed on the ground.

"You should probably let him wash out his eyes, at least," you tell the cashier. "Pepper spray is pretty painful." You'd sprayed yourself once out of curiosity, realized how much it burned, then sprinted to the shower to rinse it off. Which, pro tip: not a good move, especially with warm water. Water reactivates it by opening your pores, or something, and when you're in the shower it just spreads all over your body.

Your eyes are watering. The Red Hood sees that, because he tells you, "Let's get some air," and tugs you out of the gas station.

He's right. The cool night air does feel good. You blink away the stinging in your eyes and he repeats, "Are you okay?" His voice is robotic from the mask, but kind of pleasant at the same time. You'd never guess just from listening to him that he's a killer.

"Yes," you say automatically. "Thanks," you add. You're lightheaded for some reason; you sway on your feet.

"You sure?" he asks critically. "You look... pale." Judging by the pause, 'pale' wasn't the word he really wanted to say. The red helmet tilts. "You weren't shot, were you?"

"I don't think so," you shrug. Then you look down at yourself and realize that there's a large bloodstain on your hip. "Never mind. I think I was."

"Jesus!" he yelps at the sight. It's kind of funny, actually, this grown man built like a brick shithouse yelping at the sight of blood. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug and peel your sticky shirt away from the wound to inspect it. "I thought I just bumped something." Sure enough, it's just a graze. You weren't sure which shot had hit you, but you'd honestly been injured worse. Plus, supervising surgeries at the animal clinic you'd worked at for years has desensitized you to the sight of blood. Maybe it's also altered your perception on what 'serious injuries' count as; the amount of times you've been bitten by startled dogs...

"You need to go to the hospital."

"It's just a scratch," you argue. "I can't go to the hospital. I need to feed my cat."

"Your cat can wait. You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm already late, and if I miss dinner, he'll start pissing all over my apartment."

The Red Hood sighs. "Where do you live?"

Your mouth opens to answer on instinct. You snap it shut just in time and glare. "Why?"

"So I can feed your cat for you while you go to the hospital."

It's nice of him to offer, but... "No."

"No?"

Maybe it's not the best idea to refuse Gotham's most prominent crime lord, but it would also be pretty stupid to tell a strange man where you live. Especially when he happens to be said crime lord.

"Look," you sigh. "I'm a vet student. I have surgical tools at home to treat myself with, and I promise, under the blood, the bullet barely hit me. I've been hurt worse by Chihuahuas that hate the vet."

"There's no way I can convince you to change your mind?"

"It's been a long day," you sigh. "I really, really just want to go home." And he's blocking the path. Your apartment building is directly behind him, just calling your name.

"At least let me walk you to your building." He holds his hands up at your suspicious look and assures you, "I won't ask for the apartment number."

"I'm literally right there." You point.

He turns, sees how close you are to being home, and says, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were some kind of villain."

"I'm reformed," he grumbles.

"Well, good for you."

You make sure you have your keys and your wallet, then step around him and make it all the way to your building's door before he calls, "Wait!" The Red Hood's jogging to catch up to you, holding the box of Cheez-Its and energy drink you'd almost died for. "You forgot these," he says.

"Thanks," you say, taking them. It would have been a shame to waste four dollars.

"You're welcome," he says. There's something odd about his voice, but you attribute it to the mask, scan to be let into the building, and make sure it's fully closed before heading to the elevator.

Your cat is unhappy about dinner being an hour late. He weaves between your feet, making his protests loudly and viscerally known. You wince. He's worse than the dogs that bark in this building sometimes.

Your poor neighbors.

You give him his wet food, then hop in the shower to clean off your hip. It bled a lot, but once the blood washes away, it's actually not as bad as you thought. You've stitched up animals before, but never yourself, and decide against trying tonight. If it heals a little unevenly, who cares? No one will see it, anyway.

You pad the wound with gauze, tape it over, and fall into bed. Staring at the ceiling, you're forced to admit to yourself that you may be looking up more in the future. Just to see if anyone in a red helmet is running on a rooftop nearby.

It was a long day. But, strangely, almost dying wasn't the worst part of it.

Actually... it may have been the best part.

~~

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[ktkat99]

Update to this prompt I posted a little while ago. Scroll to the bottom for a link to the story.

Tim gets injured while not wearing his suit one night.

Bernard, who has never met Tim before, finds him and takes him home. He ends up losing his memory and Bernard decides to let him move in while he heals, unaware that he's really Red Robin.

Bruce and the rest of the family can't find Tim anywhere.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks turn to months.

All without a trace.

Tim and Bernard are getting used to living together, and both the pros and cons of being roommates.

Tim will sometimes have nightmares or flashbacks, but he’s also started to heal.

His family ends up torn, with Jason, Dick, and Steph convinced he’s alive, while Bruce, Cass and Damian have all resigned themselves to believing that he died.

One night, Tim and Bernard take a nighttime walk to a convenience store and witness a robbery.

Tim stops the guy on instinct and has a flashback of fighting with Nightwing. He assumes he was a criminal and runs off before the clerk can thank him.

Something the clerk mentions to Officer Dick Greyson when he arrives to arrest the thief. The clerk hands over the surveillance footage, which ends up being proof that Tim survived.

Dick is overjoyed, but Steph and Jason point out that he isn't being held hostage. He's free and yet never contacted them.

Was he in hiding?

From them?

Or for his own protection from someone?

Or maybe the civilian he was with had done something to him?

Whatever the reason, they decide against telling the rest of the family until they can figure out what's going on.

They begin following Tim, keeping their distances.

Tim, meanwhile, after ‘remembering’ being a criminal, can't stop obsessing over his scars, and who he might have hurt to receive them. He keeps thinking about the convenience store clerk and Bernard, wracked with guilt about all the things he may have done.

Bernard stays by him the whole time, doing his best to calm him down.

Tim doesn't tell him what's on his mind out of fear of being kicked out, and Bernard assumes the event was too stressful for him and doesn't push him to talk.

Eventually, the two of them fall asleep together, and Tim promises to make up for his past crimes by protecting Bernard. Things gradually go back to normal with Bernard going to work and Tim, who has no valid id, staying home and taking care of the apartment.

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Spoiler take turns watching Tim and Bernard.

They still haven't told their family, but know they can't just follow Tim forever.

Before they can decide on their next move, though, Cass bumps into him while grocery shopping. She freezes and he doesn't recognize her, but Dick, Jason, and Steph have to come clean.

Cass is pissed, Bruce wants to bring Tim home immediately, and Damian points out that he might not even want to come home, and that they should leave him be.

They decide that, before they make their decision, they need to talk to Tim. Maybe he really did just decide to quit.

Tim, meanwhile, has been using his free time while Bernard is at work to help people who need it. He becomes somewhat of a neighborhood vigilante, believing that he needs to make up for his past crimes.

Most of the injuries he incurs are minor and easy to hide from Bernard, but one day he takes a knife to the arm.

Bernard freaks out and tries to give him stitches in their kitchen, but then has to convince Tim to let him take him to a hospital.

Tim, not wanting to be arrested for crimes he doesn't remember committing, therefore leaving Bernard alone, argues that he's fine.

It doesn't hurt that bad.

He'll heal.

Bernard gets frustrated and shows off his own scars, which he had worked hard to always keep hidden. He explains what happened to him, and how his family disowned him as a result of ending up in the cult, and that he promises he won't put Tim in a situation where he could be in danger.

He asks to know why Tim is so adamant against going to the hospital and Tim reluctantly admits what he's pieced together from his flashbacks.

Bernard is shocked to find out that he might have been sharing his apartment with a criminal, but reasons that that must be why Tim knows how to fight.

Deciding to focus on the problem at hand, Bernard convinces Tim to at least let him take him to Leslie’s place, as she doesn't ask questions.

Leslie proceeds to ask questions, prompting Bernard to be the one to answer them for Tim.

Leslie comes to the conclusion that Bernard is answering so that Tim doesn't say the wrong thing, and only grows more concerned when she tries to subtly give him openings to slip her a message or some sort of sign that he needs help and he doesn't.

She decides that, since he's acting like he's never met her, she'll play along.

Once Bernard and Tim leave, she calls Bruce and tells him what happened.

Bruce decides it's time to step in because something is clearly wrong with Tim.

Tim and Bernard head back home and have a long talk about everything Tim's been hiding and what he's been up to.

Bernard wonders if Tim might be wrong about his assumption that he was a criminal, but Tim remembers stalking Batman, fighting with Nightwing, Robin trying to kill him and a few other things.

Tim was a criminal, and he's certain of it.

At a loss of what else to do, Bernard convinces Tim to get takeout for dinner, since neither have eaten yet.

Tim agrees and they walk down to Tim's favorite place.

On the way there, Batman and Nightwing show up and order them into the Batmobile.

Tim manages to fight off Nightwing as Batman is driving and Nightwing isn't expecting Tim to fight him and escapes with Bernard.

Their suspicions all appear to be confirmed; the Batfam believe Tim is being controlled by Bernard, while Bernard and Tim believe he's a wanted criminal.

Tim decides he needs to leave, since he's obviously being hunted, but Bernard refuses to let him.

Not alone, at least.

Tim wants Bernard to stay safe, which means away from him, but Bernard is just as worried about Tim's safety. They argue, but ultimately both find an abandoned building to hide in together.

They decide to take turns sleeping and Tim falls asleep wondering what sort of crime he committed to warrant the Bats searching for him. He ends up dreaming of the night he found his father's body and wakes up believing that he killed him.

Bernard has nodded off at this point and Tim needs to clear his head so he heads up to the roof to process what he dreamed about.

The bats decide that, for their safety and his, Tim will need to be taken by force and they can figure out what's wrong with him once they have him back home.

They track them to the abandoned building and break in, but only find Bernard.

Bernard ends up getting captured quickly and taken to the batcave for questioning.

Tim, who witnessed the abduction but hadn't been quick enough in getting down from the roof to do anything, decides it's time to go on the offensive against the bats.

He has had enough flashbacks to piece together that Batman is Bruce.

He's tired.

Angry.

Frustrated.

He's been living for months without knowledge of who he used to be and having to deal with random flashbacks and trying to piece together what his life before looked like.

The bats taking Bernard is his last straw.

He decides to start by breaking into the manor and looking for Bernard there.

Bernard, meanwhile, is desperately trying to convince Bruce and the others that he has no idea where Tim is, that he didn't do anything to Tim, and that Tim has amnesia.

They don't believe him until Tim shows up and goes all-out trying to attack them and escape with Bernard, but Bernard is the one who manages to calm him down and convince him to listen to his family.

It takes a while, and a lot of proof, but Tim finally regains his memory.

He and Bernard officially start dating and move back in together.

They like to joke that Bernard had the craziest introduction to the family, despite being a civilian.

[deadhands69]

Something More [epilogue]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn afab reader

MDNI

Warnings, etc: previously fuckboy!bakugo, now husband!bakugo, oral (f receiving), swearing.

part 1  -  part 2  -  part 3  -  part 4 -  part 5  -  part 6  -  part 7  -  part 8 

Here's an epilogue for Something More, if you're not up for all eight parts before this - it still holds up as a short one-shot.

There are pros and cons to being married to Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite (or Dynamite, as he had been going by since opening his own agency.) The good far outweighing the bad: he has spent the past eight years of being with you, trying to be the absolute best partner you could ever have. He cares so deeply. He's smart, funny, and organized. A thoughtful gift-giver. A great cook. Massively supportive of you. Oh, and he's fucking hot. The list could go on for days.

One issue/ Fairly frequently, the media attacks your relationship with him. It's usually at a time when he's already down, having made a mistake or snapped on a civilian in a viral video. Sometimes they'll question you about his personality at home. More often, they bring in girls he slept with in college and imply he's not relationship-material. It used to catch you off-guard but by now, you can predict it.

Yesterday Katsuki yelled at some reporters to "fucking jump already," when they blocked his car on a bridge. Today you had an interview. Perfect timing.

"How'd it go?" your husband yells towards the entryway as soon as he hears the door softly shut. His blonde hair pokes out from under the hood of his sweatshirt; by the looks of it he hasn't moved from the couch since this morning. After the incident, his PR team forced him to take a mandatory four day break "while the dust settles." It's day two and he's handled it as well as expected.

"You know how it went, it was a fucking disaster," you laugh, dropping onto the cushion next to him.

"Told ya you didn't have to go," he grumbled into your shoulder, engulfing you in his arms. "You could've stayed home with me."

"It's on in a minute," you say, reaching for the remote.

"Ughhhhh, I don't wanna watch this," he complains but makes no move to change the channel.

"It'll be fine, I promise." Reassuringly, you run your fingers through his hair while he lays his head in your lap. He grunts in response.

You watch yourself walk out and take a seat across from the host. The lights and colors looking bright on your massive TV compared to the muted decor of your living room. No matter how loud the volume is, you both prefer watching everything with subtitles.

Interviewer [Hi, and welcome to Echo! The number 8 pro hero!] You [Thanks, happy to be here.] [crowd applauds] Interviewer [We're happy to have you! Now, our friend here is married to the controversial number 2 pro hero - Dynamite.] You [Happily married, yeah. But I'm really not here to talk about my husband. Do you have any questions for me?] Interviewer [Of course, all in good time! First, we have some spicy new information to debut to our studio audience on the explosive hero's previous love life.]

You watch yourself roll your eyes on screen, knowing "previous love life" is a pretty strong term for Katsuki considering that he'd never had an actual relationship prior to you. He stirs nervously on your lap.

"I hate when you have to deal with this shit," he mutters.

"Just watch," you whisper, kissing his forehead before returning your eyes to what you know is about to unfold in front of you. Bakugo tenses as the screen continues flashing quotes from various girls he slept with in mid to late college. They're just trying to get a rise out of you.

Interviewer [So, Echo. What do you make of all this?] You [What do you want me to say, your 'spicy new' news is from nearly a decade ago.] Interviewer [This is the person you married. That can't feel great, can it? To go home to - this?]

The TV host is gesturing wildly towards the quotes still displayed on the projectors above you. Her face is set in a disgusted scowl. This is in stark contrast to you, slouched in your seat looking mildly amused by the reaction. If you're already here, you might as well have some fun with it.

You [Are you trying to sl** -crowd gasps- shame my husband? I know who I go home to and I'm not going to sit here while you reduce him to who he's slept with. He's an amazing hero and he's saved thousands of lives since then, why don't you ever talk about that?]

Katsuki exhales the breath he'd been holding since the interview started. His shoulders slump forward, relaxed. The corner of his mouth turned slightly up in a smile. You're so busy staring at his beautiful face, you miss the interviewer asking you a personal question about your sex life, looking up only to see yourself walking off the stage. A muffled "I'm fucking done," can be heard as you're tearing the clipped microphone from your jacket and push past your manager.

Sitting up, Katsuki turns the TV off and rubs the messy blonde hair from his face.

"That could've been worse," he smirks at you before leaning in to murmur into your ear, "happy I still get to be your slut."

Your breath catches in your throat. He's never said anything like that but still knew the affect it would have on you. Immediately, you're gripping his sweatshirt and shoving your lips into his. He helps take your uncomfortable interview clothes off, his sweatshirt and gym shorts sliding off easily.

Briefly, he pulls you to his mouth in a passionate kiss before pushing you back to lay against the arm of the couch. His spiky hair tickles the insides of your legs as he lowers himself between them. After a few light kisses, he firmly presses his tongue into you. Spreading you with his fingers before licking up and down your slit. Ruby eyes stare up at you as he slides his middle finger in, knowing exactly how you like to be touched. His mouth returns to nip lightly at your clit between flicks of his tongue. Adding another finger, he speeds up his movements.

In what feels like no time at all, you find yourself clenching around him inside of you. Thighs pressed into his ears as you grip a handful of his hair, moaning as much of his name as you can get out. The pressure builds and releases just as intensely.

"F-fuck-k," you sigh over the nearly splashing sound of his fingers thrusting into you. Eventually, he slows and you lighten your grasp on his scalp.

Kissing his way up your body, he comes to rest just under your jaw.

"Have time for more?" he asks, insatiably nipping your neck.

"About that. My PR team also put me on a two day leave after the interview. So, it looks like you'll be stuck with me for a few days."

"Perfect," he smiles at you lovingly before kissing you deeply again.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading!!

m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki @arsonfrogger @dragonscribble @kalulakunundrum

@screaming-dough @rikislove @gold24fish @ita606 @arc6021

@pikachuzhc @jeanbabygirl @nemisimp

[q1ngqve]

ᝰ CAN I KISS THE TIP !

✶ 𓏲ּ ꩜ 𓂅 gepard x fem! reader ⋆ mr landau teaching you how to give him a hand job although you're literally a natural at making him feel good so there’s not much teaching

CW; hand job, licking the cum from your fingers, him kissing you afterwards (these aren't even warnings let's be real here)

he's dreamed of this day ever since he realized his feelings for you, but now that you're actually here, sitting on his bed with your hand wrapped around him, a whirlwind of emotions clouds his mind, leaving him overwhelmed.

you could feel your mouth watering; never had you seen a dick more perfect than his. it’s not necessarily thick, but it's long and curved at just the right angle, its tip pink and clearly aching for attention.

"wrap your hand around it. yeah, just like that. be gentle and play with it, the sensitive spots are different for each person, so you have to explore and watch for their reaction."

you nod, your hand twitching as you reach out to him.

his chest heaves the moment you wrap around him tenderly, his body tensing under your touch. no matter how big or small you thought they were, your hand seem tiny compared to his dick, and he can't help but groan at the obscene sight before him.

gepard's gaze lands on your lips, captivated as they part and release soft pants while you stare. he feels himself growing even more aroused under your soft palm, simply from the intensity of his focus on your lips.

he wanted to wrap his hands around your nape, to guide your head down, and he wanted to fuck himself into your mouth so hard you're gagging and crying by the time he's done. but he doesn't want to scare you, not when you asked so sweetly for him to teach you!

your own heart pounds, the sound so loud you swear he could hear them, while your grip on him tightens. your hands move cautiously, sliding up and down, and twisting experimentally to figure out what makes him feel good, trying your best to recall back to all the porn you've watched in secret.

a soft "hnng" leaves gepard when your thumb brushes against the slit near the tip, causing him to jerk upwards slightly. your gaze immediately darts to his face, etching his expression into your memory. a smile plays on your lips when you notice the blush creeping across his cheeks, his tousled hair and the beads of sweat on his forehead causing a few stray strands to cling, the sight before you not helping the explosive pounding in your chest.

"fuck—"

you shift on the bed, legs in a kneeled position, making it easier for you to rub your thighs together. your own arousal drips between your thighs, while your free hand supports your weight when you lean forward, going close enough that he could feel your shaky breath on him.

"l-lean back a little."

you're so focused on the task you don't hear him nor realize the change in his demeanor, his head falls against his shoulder as he watches you handle him like a pro. despite his efforts to restrain himself, the feel of your touch and your proximity has his legs trembling slightly.

his hand reaches out to your nape, gently tugging you back, redirecting your attention from his dick to his face. "you're doing so good for your first time. are you certain you even require my guidance?" his compliment elicits a soft giggle from you as you tighten your grip once more, the unconscious action elicits a moan from him.

gepard's heart skips a beat as your eyes light up, indicating that an idea has sparked in your mind. he can't help but smile adoringly at your reaction, "what is it?" your free hand leaves the bed to rest on his thigh, your pointer finger tracing small hearts on his pants as you look up at him through your lashes.

"can I kiss the tip?"

your smile widens at his curse, and his head drops forward in response to your request. he swears you're going to be the death of him. "yeah..." his reply comes out breathy as he looks up at you, eyes hooded and ears so flushed they look like they're burning.

your tongue peeks out to lick at your lips unconsciously upon his approval. you pump him a few more times before you lean forward once again, close enough for him to feel your breathing, but with just enough distance to keep your lips from touching him.

your unintentional teasing seems to push him over the edge, and a soft "please—" slips out of him instinctively. embarrassment floods his face when he realizes what he just said, and his head turns to the side, hiding himself from you.

but he glances back immediately, not wanting to miss the sight of you leaning down so seductively, soft pink lips tantalizingly close to his red and throbbing tip. he has to bite on his bottom lip to stifle his moans the moment your lips make contact with his tip, the sensation so heavenly he cums instantly.

a gasp sounds from you as hot, creamy fluid gushes from his dick that seem to never end. the sticky cum cascades, coating your hand as curiosity overtakes you. releasing your grip on him, you bring your hand closer to your face, fingers stretching as you observe the cum drip down to your wrist.

gepard is still trembling from his unexpected high when he notices you bringing your fingers to your lips, your tongue darting out again to lick at them experimentally. he feels himself growing erect again at the sight of you tasting him from your fingers, a satisfied hum emanating from your chest.

he pulls your hand away by your wrist before leaning in, crashing his lips firmly against yours. his hands wrap around your waist, drawing you closer until you're flush against his chest. and he kisses you with fervor, his eyes hooded as he watches your own flutter close.

you push gently against his shoulder and chest, leaning back slightly to catch your breath as your eyes open, meeting his gaze. "did that feel good?" his hand cups your cheek lovingly, his thumb caressing your skin as he breaks into a smile.

"yes. yes, it did. you were amazing, my love."

[wttcsms]

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | ONE

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn't get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn't just a pro soccer player, but also your ex's rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 2.9k chapter synopsis there are certain perks to having a relationship that operates on a "private not secret" basis. for example, you're allowed at least two weeks before the batshit crazy people online figure out that little miss it girl just got her ass dumped. chapter contains partying to cope, social drinking, diet culture, this fic is so chronically online LOL author's notes so normally, i would organize the fic's different arcs or acts by explicitly saying "act 1" or whatever. like i said, we're gonna be chronically online, so the arcs are described as different "eras" and when it's a new arc, we'll get a new era 🤭 each era has special graphics for it: what the media sees vs what's actually going on. think of the era intro as a moodboard for the chapters that'll follow <3

⋆˚࿔ CURRENT ERA: PARTY GIRL 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ from the outside, it's giving irl serena van der woodsen but even better, no one can possibly have the same 24 hours as you, someone needs to convince you to drop the skincare routine STAT, matter of fact - we just need your whole game card

— guest starred on the hottest pop culture podcast where it was basically just a glaze session for you (besides the last 10 minutes where the host started asking about rin), articles that want to help readers live your (unattainable if you're not rich!) lifestyle, and a devoted fanpage that updates your every move... every move.

on the inside, it's actually giving listening and actually relating to sad music, asking an 8 ball if you're the problem, being desperate enough to believe those tiktoks that say if you claim this sound and interact 3x he'll text you back, wondering when you should mail him back his stuff, keeping busy in the public eye so no one suspects how miserable you are right now

— even spotify clocked you and it's auto-generated, customized playlist perfectly depicts what you're going through (talk about the saddest soundtrack to your life), got desperate and consulted quora (this is how you know you're at rockbottom). not shown: your credit card statement (retail therapy works, right? right?!)

“Promise you’ll be on your best behavior?” Yukimiya peers over his sunglasses so he can give you a very pointed look. You tilt your head innocently.

“When am I ever not?” 

Yukimiya lets out a very loud, very drawn out, very exasperated sigh. When have you not been on your best behavior? Well, just last month, you got drunk, stumbled out to your garage, hopped in your custom-wrapped pink Porsche, and somehow ended up falling asleep on top of the hood. (In your defense, at least even in a drunken stupor, you weren’t stupid enough to drive.) Last week, you collected the numbers of about eight different athletes and models, sufficiently led every single one of them on, and are now actively ghosting all of them because they committed the cardinal sin of not sounding like, feeling like, or being anything like Rin. And speaking of the devil, Rin’s the reason why just last night, you ended up blocking not just him from your social media, but his whole entire team, too. You felt vindicated when you did this at 2 AM. Yeah, because that’ll sure show him! He hasn’t looked at your story once since the breakup (not that you’ve been keeping track or anything), but in case he tries to play it cool and gets one of his teammates to view it on his behalf, you’ll have put a stop to that plan. 

(Even when you’re spiraling, you’re still painfully aware of the fact that Rin’s most likely doing okay, if not still performing at his best. He is most certainly not doing something as childish as getting his teammates to relay info on you to him. Meanwhile, you are apparently a social liability for your closest friends. Spectacular.) 

“Don’t answer that.” You tell him. “I don’t want to know what my life looks like through your eyes.” It’s bad enough that every little thing you do gets documented, photographed, and then sensationalized on the Internet, but it’s one thing for strangers to commentate on your behavior when they don’t even have the full story. It’s another thing entirely when it’s your best friend criticizing your current lifestyle. 

“I’m just saying, it’s going to be a very casual lunch with my favorite people. Not a party.” Yukimiya clarifies. 

“Kenyu, you do realize that inviting me to a birthday party, and then saying ‘it’s not a party’ is kind of giving mixed signals right now.” Now it’s your turn to give him a pointed look, but just like his, there’s no true venom behind it. It’s Kenyu’s birthday celebration, anyway. You’re not about to corrupt Mr. Catholic Private School and tell him to throw a fucking rager. 

“If my team gets their way, there probably will be an actual party. If there is, you’ll be the first one I give the details to.” There’s a distant shout in the back; the photographer is done with his lunch, and he’s ready to wrap this shoot up. Kenyu examines his hair in the vanity mirror before getting out of his chair and giving you a quick hug. Your photos have already been taken, and there’s really no point for you to be on set still. 

However, Kenyu’s on set. Your only other viable option is to just go home and hide under your covers, rewatching Someone Great on Netflix and Doordashing Ben & Jerry’s. Juliette is home in France and won’t be coming back until the end of the month, and you’re not really in the mood to see any of your other friends. It’s tiring being around people who can’t separate front-cover-of-Vogue you from the real you. If you’re going to have to fake a smile, it might as well be on set rather than grabbing brunch with people who would kill to be able to leak something as headline-inducing as your breakup. 

“Pinky promise?” You look up at Yukimiya. “You promise to tell me about the party even if I’ll make a fool of myself because apparently I don’t act on my best behavior?” 

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and you know that. Besides, you could never make a fool of yourself. Anything you do is declared iconic, anyway.”

Having a famous movie director as a father and a certified Hollywood starlet as a mother, life wasn’t just set at easy mode for you. You practically were given an unlimited money hack and started off with like, five times the XP compared to any other beginner. At thirteen, you told your parents that for your birthday, you wanted to become a model. Two phone calls and a private jet flight later, and you had signed with the best modeling agency in the country and had your first ever photoshoot booked. 

Fate gave you parents with connections, and you’d be a fool to not use it to your advantage. Fate also gave you the same photoshoot as another young model, and you’d be a fool to not befriend Kenyu Yukimiya immediately. Out of all the friends you’ve ever made, fate only gives you good luck twice: first with Yuki, then with Juliette. You used to think you got lucky three times — meeting Rin for the first time was like experiencing something cosmic. Now you know better. Even rich people can have shit luck, too. 

Today’s unlucky situation is the way Yukimiya’s “favorite people” all happen to be athletes. There’s not a single person here who isn’t his teammate or somehow related to Bastard Munchen, except for you. If you didn’t love Yukimiya so much, you would have hauled ass. It’s normally easy enough for you to avoid soccer players at parties because they don’t normally get invited to the same social events you do, but now you’re the odd one out. 

At least the food is good. You don’t have a photoshoot scheduled until next week, and that’s exactly why you’re comfortable with choking down half a bagel sandwich rather than socialize with the guys seated by you. Yukimiya’s real big on intimacy and the power of friendship or whatever, which is probably easier to achieve when you play a team sport versus the modeling industry, where good jobs are few and far between, and the reason why some models are so skinny is because they can’t afford to eat — literally and figuratively. If they’re not booking jobs, there’s no way they can buy groceries in this economy. 

He has everyone assembled at one long table in the massive backyard of his mansion. It’s honestly kind of Last Supper-core, but it fits him. Little Yuki’s finally old enough to have a seat at the big kid’s table. He’s sitting across from you, and you’re sandwiched between Kunigami and Hiori. Next to Yukimiya is Isagi. Out of everyone at this party, soccer player or not, Isagi is the person you want to avoid the most. So far, you think you’ve managed to skirt under his radar. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be able to leave this lunch with your belly full and not having to interact with anybody. It’s looking like you won’t even have to drink in order to get through this. 

“Hey, out of all of us at this table, who d’ya think would have the best shot at being a model?” Hiori is clearly speaking to you. The blue-haired player is looking directly at you, for God’s sake. You wonder if it’ll be mean to blatantly ignore him, but considering how this little question seems to have captured the attention of the surrounding players, it looks like pretending you’re hard of hearing is out of the question. 

Inside, you’re dying. The last thing you wanted to do was socialize, but it’d be selfish and bratty to request that Yukimiya find more time in his busy schedule to have a one-on-one celebration with you. You’re here to support your friend. You can stomach being friendly with boys who have probably seen Rin more recently than you’ve last seen him. Fuck — why are you thinking about Rin? Do not think about Rin!

You grab one of the premade mimosas from the tray in the center of the table. You down the glass in one swift gulp. On the outside, you flash Hiori a bright smile and give an airy giggle. “Why? You trying to get a foot into the industry?” 

Hiori’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “W-well, no. Just wanted to make conversation.” 

“No worries! I’ve been trying to keep up with whatever you guys are talking about, but even after all this time being friends with Kenyu, I still don’t really get soccer.” Your smile is still intact. You reach for another mimosa. 

“Rin didn’t teach you anything?” 

Ever since you entered the industry, you knew that you had to get comfortable with standing out. No — you needed to thrive on standing out. You needed to crave, to rely on, people’s undying attention in order to survive. In the eyes of the media, you’re the center of attention. You got what every girl your age wants. At this table, everyone’s eyes are focused on you. What you want is to be back in your room, away from their prying gazes and curious stares.

But you’re a trained professional. Your smile never slides off, never turns into a grimace. You give a casual shrug, directing your answer to the person who mentioned Rin in the first place. 

“I make it a rule to not discuss work when we’re together.” You look at Isagi, asking him with your eyes if that’s a good enough explanation for him. He holds your gaze, looking at you like he sees right through you.

You drink another mimosa. 

After loosening up because of the drinks, you find casual conversation with the Munchen players to be easy. The boys honestly never shut up, and you don’t know what they’re talking about half the time, but you’re cracking genuine smiles every so often, and by the time Yukimiya is going around and saying his thanks for everyone showing up, you are…

Not drunk, per se. You’ve built up quite the tolerance these past few weeks, and it’s hard to get wasted off of drinks that are basically three-fourths orange juice. (Seriously, was Yukimiya getting stingy with the champagne? Sober You might be able to acknowledge the fact that Yukimiya might have just been preparing for the Worst Case Scenario, which would be you hogging all the drinks to yourself. Which sort of happened. Fuck. Sometimes it sucks to be known so well.) You’re definitely tipsy, though. Maybe half a tier above tipsy? Whatever the case, you are definitely in no shape to drive. 

“Kenny,” you whine out his nickname, trying your best to pull out your puppy-dog eyes. “Please take me home.” 

“Ah, damnnit, [Name].” He runs his fingers through his dark curls. “Did you seriously get drunk off of orange juice?” 

“Champagne drunk is the best drunk. I’m pretty sure People Magazine quoted me on that like, last year, so it’s basically fact.” Yukimiya doesn’t seem overly impressed. “And I’m not drunk, but my alcohol levels right now are definitely above the legal limit. Sorry, but I don’t plan on making headlines for a DUI. Hard to spin that into something iconic.” 

This gets Yukimiya to crack a smile. “I thought you were leaning into the party girl look?” 

“Yeah, but after Justin Timberlake got caught for intoxicated driving, he made it look totally lame. He ruined it for us!” 

“I wish I could drive you back, but I have to retake some photos for this sneaker ad I’m doing, and with traffic, I’m really cutting it close already. Do you want to just come with, or hang out at my place until I get back? You should’ve said something sooner; I could’ve asked one of the guys to drop you off.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan of strangers knowing where I live.” Becoming a model at such a young age thrust you into the spotlight. With media attention comes total pervs who lurk in Reddit threads and 4Chan, and stumbling upon some of the things said about you, reading the things they would do to you if they found you, all laid out in disgusting, graphic detail, left you kind of paranoid. Getting doxxed might be one of your worst fears. No Ubers. No car ride homes with strangers. “I’ll wait here. It’s been a while since I went through your things, so I’m sure there’ll be enough of your dirty secrets to uncover to keep me occupied.” 

“Did you need a ride?” 

Shitty luck, indeed. 

The teammate who decided to stay behind to help clean up (because he’s just that outstanding of a guy) is the sole reason for why you went buckwild on the mimosas. You can see why Rin was always frustrated with him.

“Nope—” You say, at the same exact time as Yukimiya nods enthusiastically. 

“Would you mind? [Name] actually lives pretty close by, so it might not be out of the way.” 

You shoot Yukimiya a scathing glare. He ignores it completely, smiling at Isagi. 

“I don’t mind. That is, if you don’t mind.” Isagi is looking at you expectantly. Yukimiya trusts him. And you trust Yukimiya. By some sort of logic, you should reasonably be able to trust Isagi. It’s clear that Kenyu wants you to carpool with him, anyway, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so happy to dump you onto him. 

“Sure. I’m ready to go whenever you are.” 

What would happen if you jumped out of a moving vehicle? 

At best, you’d get your pretty skin all scraped up, meaning your photoshoots would either have to be delayed, or you would have to endure all the clear distaste for your “unprofessionalism” in the workplace from the people who actually had to work to get to where they’re at. At worst, you end up hospitalized. Somehow, it seems easier to photoshop out a few cuts and scrapes than working with someone in a full-body cast.

As you weigh the pros and cons of jumping out of Yoichi Isagi’s vehicle — a sleek, black sedan that’s top of the line, sure, but understated luxury; it’s not flashy like the sports cars you see most athletes sporting — he smoothly reverses out of Yukimiya’s driveway. Isagi does that boyish thing where he ignores his backup camera completely and opts to rest one hand on the back of the passenger headrest, the other hand on the steering wheel. Fuck. Maybe it’s not a boyish thing. Maybe it’s manly. Isagi leans a bit into your space; not enough to bother you, but enough to where you can smell the scent of his cologne. He smells clean and fresh. Maybe it’s not cologne, but laundry detergent and fabric softener. Somehow, you find this very fitting of him. 

He glances out the window to check for traffic and eases you two onto the open road. 

He’s not playing any music, and you’re sure as hell not about to ask for the aux. You look out the window instead, watching the world pass you by through tinted glass. It makes everything around you appear darker. Somehow, you find this to be very fitting for you.

“You live around this area, yeah?” Isagi asks you, and you’re reminded that if you want to go home, you actually have to let the driver know where home is. 

“Yeah, sorry. Keep heading straight, and I’ll let you know when there’s a turn coming up.” Talking to Isagi shouldn’t feel so awkward. After all, you managed to talk (and actually enjoy talking) to all of Yukimiya’s teammates. You even got along well with Kaiser. But it just feels weird — you’ve never met him directly, but you’ve heard so much about him, that it’s hard to not see Rin’s rants every time you look at Isagi. 

So you don’t — look at Isagi, that is. You look at everything else. His car is clean. There are air fresheners in the AC vents. The floor of the passenger seat is oddly clean, like no one ever sits here. If that’s the case, you hope your heels didn’t track in any grass blades or dirt. 

“Um,” Isagi awkwardly clears his throat at a red light. “When I mentioned Rin earlier at the party…” 

“What about it?” Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Since the car is stationary, you’re in the clear, right? If you just unlock the door, you can escape on foot. Your house is now close enough that it’ll just count as today’s exercise. 

“Sorry for bringing him up. I didn’t know—”

“—didn’t know what?” You turn to face him. His jaw is surprisingly sharp, and you watch the way he swallows before he answers you. 

“I didn’t know that you two broke up.” 

No one knows that you two broke up. You’re still in the process of making sense of it all, and because you’re so messed up over it, naturally you had to confide in Yukimiya and Juliette. Neither of them would ever share that secret, though. 

So why the hell does Yoichi Isagi know?

“The light’s green.” You tell him, shifting your body in the seat, avoiding him by positioning yourself even closer to the door. 

Neither of you say anything else during the drive.

[kiribakuswife]

In Need of a Hero

Kirishima x Reader

Kinktober day 2

You have become the stereotype. It was honestly a mistake, your heat wasn’t supposed to start for a few days, and you were on the way to get suppressants, honestly. Work had been insane lately and by the time you got off the drug store near you was closed. You had decided the best thing to do was make the long trek across town to the 24 hour store. The last thing you expected, let alone happen, was getting hit hard with your heat in the middle of your walk home.

Your skin instantly felt hot, your brain beginning to fog over. You only had 20 minutes left, picking up your speed as your breathing began to grow more labored. You would make it home if it killed you. Thankfully, the streets were fairly empty, the moon high in the sky as the last of the last remaining drunken bar patrons stumbled home. You ripped open the bag as you walked, popping one of the pills that wouldn’t do anything at least until tomorrow afternoon, pulling your hood up and tucking in as an attempt to block the scent you were sure you were giving off at this moment. 15 more minutes that was all you needed and you would be safe in your own bed.

Your head was too hazy though, unable to smell the towering alpha that stumbled out of the alley before you. He stunk, his scent a terrible mix of musk and whiskey that made your nose curl as your omega shrank back in fear.

“Has no one ever told you not to walk alone?” He snarled, stepping before you, blocking your path.

“Excuse me.” Your voice was pathetic, and as soon as you heard it you couldn’t blame his laugh that cut through the silent night.

“Oh you're not going anywhere!” He laughed, roughly grabbing your arm and beginning to drag you back to the dark alleyway. “I could smell you a mile away, little omega. Let me show you what a real alpha can do.” He spoke in your ear, sending chills down your spine as you tried to pull away.

“Let me go!” You tried to scream, but he just kept dragging your fighting form. For how tall he was, he was thankfully pretty scrawny, allowing you to put up at least a little bit of a fight, but he seemed determined, unwilling to release you.

“(y/n)?” You heard a familiar voice call out, sounding distant, but not too far. Your eyes widened in realization. You had met only a few times, he was friends with one of your friend’s boyfriend. Definitely not close by any means, but he was a Pro.

“Kiri-!” Your shout was cut off by the hand of the disgusting man covering your mouth. You bit down on his hand hard, the taste of dirt and blood and something else you filling your mouth.

“You bitch!” He yelled back, elbowing you hard in the chest as he jerked his hand away. “You’ll pay for that!” As you tried to spit the foul taste from your mouth he grabbed you rougher this time, pinning your arms to your side.

“Hey!” You heard another voice shout, head spinning to find the pro hero Red Riot in all his glory, running towards you both. “Release her at once!” He wasn’t in his hero costume, instead in a casual pair of sweats and a tight black t-shirt, dropping a bag of take out as he got closer. His smell hit you at once making your knees weak as much as that was so unhelpful in your current situation. The strong smell of pine and a hit of rain filled your lungs as he reached you. The man released you instantly, hands up as you fell to the ground.

“Hey man, I didn’t mean anything by it, really! You can smell her! I was just trying to help.” He rambled, his footsteps stumbling as the hero stepped closer around you.

“Bullshit man, not cool.” Was all he said before a thud could be heard, turning to see the man fall to the ground as Kirishima made his way back to you, dragging the man behind him. “Are you okay?” He looked like he barely broke a sweat while the other man had a trickle of blood beginning to appear on his head.

“I think so.” You squeaked, looking up at him. His red hair that was usually styled was instead down, a few loose strands falling in his face as he tilted his head at you, trying to read you. You could tell the moment he caught your scent, his nose scrunching up briefly as he took a deep breath and shook his head. You had thought he was cute before all this, avoiding him out of nerves at your friends' dinner parties, but now? Your mind flashed truly embarrassing thoughts of him as you avoided his gaze. If you were feeling warm before, you were absolutely burning now.

“Let me call someone to get this loser. I’ll walk you home.” He nodded to himself, dragging the still limp man over to a wall of the building, already on the phone as he explained the situation to someone. He continued to talk as he walked, grabbing his food and your own bag. You couldn’t look away from him, no matter how much watching his taut form was making you squirm with need.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Nothing hurts?” His voice broke you fr

om your trance as he approached, causing your cheeks to heat. Hopefully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t see, the street light right above you dashing your hopes. At his question though, the adrenaline wearing off, your chest began to hurt where his elbow had caught you.

“My chest…” You mumbled, trying to look anywhere but him, pulling your hoodie tight around you.

“Do you want to check? How bad?” He asked, coming closer, causing you to gasp as his scent hit you full force again. You must have reeked with the scent of your heat by now, but he acted as if there was nothing wrong.

“No! I’m okay!” You basically shouted, putting out a hand as if you could block him from any closer. He only chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he sat before you.

“Todoroki should be here soon then we can go.” He said instead, “Mind if I eat? I’m starving.” He laughed with a huge hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Of course.” You whispered, meeting his eyes before quickly looking away. Maybe it was part of their hero training, to have some sort of immunity against the smell, looking unbothered as he dug into his sandwich.

“Thank you…” You mumbled as he ate, earning a smile and a thumbs up in response.

“All in a day's work!” He replied. The air felt heavy as he ate, but it was like he didn’t notice anything, only making you squirm more, chewing on your thumb as you waited. Like he had said, Todoroki arrived soon, Kirishima getting up to meet him halfway as he moved toward you. They spoke quietly as they approached the still unconscious man. You waved halfhearted to Todoroki as he looked at you, heaving the villain on his shoulder. His eyes flashed briefly as they met yours, no doubt catching your scent before he turned abruptly, hurrying away.

“Ready?” Kirishima asked, turning back towards you with a smile on his face, like this was the most normal night he had all week. You nodded meekly as you tried to stand, but you legs betrayed you, still far too shakey. Before you hit the ground though, his hand gripped your arm to steady you, right where the villan had held you, causing a confusing mix of a moan and a groan to escape you, your omega beyond pleased to finally have his hands on you.

At your sound his hand jerked away, closing his eyes tight for a moment, as if he stopped breathing before letting out a sigh, moving to grip your elbow instead. “Let’s get you home.” Was all he said, letting you lead the way.

The silence felt thick as you walked, and you couldn’t help but glance in his direction every few minutes. His jaw was tight, but besides that he looked so normal, so natural. It made that stupid voice inside your head preen. He had to the most respectful man in the world to completely ignore at this moment, and that just made you want him more, need him more.

“Kirishima?” You asked finally, earning a hmm in response. “Thank you really, I’m sure this must suck for you too.” You tried to make a joke, an uncomfortable too forceful laugh bubbling up.

“Eijiro, you can call me that I mean,” He said, joining in on your weird laughter. “I think we’ve crossed that line.”

“Eijiro then, thank you.” Your laughter was becoming more real as you gave into the absurdity of the situation. He hmmed in response as you scrambled to explain yourself “Really I didn’t plan this! I know some omegas do to…well you know, but these are my suppressants!” You held up the bag as proof and he just rolled his eyes playfully.

“It’s fine (y/n). I’m happy to help!” That made you shiver. You were close to home now, and the thought of him leaving was making you feel incredibly anxious, like something bad would happen if he wasn’t with you. Maybe you could ask him to stay? Just until you were asleep? He could sit in the living room and you could retire to your room and by the time the heat between your legs became so unbearable it woke you up, he’d be gone. He had saved your life, if he was going to hurt you he would have by now right? It seemed reasonable to you now, but would you feel the same when your head was screwed back on correctly. You liked Eijiro, and you were kicking yourself for avoiding him before. He was so much nicer than you had thought, and maybe you really wanted to see if being interested in him would actually go anywhere. Would asking him inside ruin it all though?

As you reached your street your heart rate started to pick up, vision beginning to narrow, your omega beginning to panic. You were thankful for his warm hand on your arm, feeling almost dizzy from the contending lust and panic.

“(y/n)? Are you okay? Is it your chest? Breath honey it’s alright.” He suddenly stopped, forcing you to look at him. Your chest was rising rapidly as you shook your head at his question. “What is it then?” He raised an eyebrow, growing more concerned as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Eijiro, please…” It was basically a whine and you didn’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed. He stiffened instantly, eyes growing a shade darker before they slammed shut, holding his breath again. “Please come inside, please stay with me until I fall asleep? Please?” You were begging at this point, and you know it with virtually no shame, gripping his large hand in both of your own. “Eijiro?”

He groaned heavily, using his free hand to wipe his face. A glance down showed you he wasn’t entirely immune to your antics, a prominent bulge appearing in his sweats, and you almost wish you hadn’t looked with the way your core throbbed. You were already wet before, but at this rate you were going to leak through your thin leggings. As your scent hit him again he let out another groan before almost an entire 180, relaxing his shoulders and lacing his fingers with your own.

“Of course (y/n)! What kind of hero would I be if I left a lady in distress?” He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly as he smiled brightly, but his eyes hid something in them. Something you died to unlock, shame be damned. As you made your way to the door, fumbling with your keys your eyes met his, catching the light dusty of pink on his cheeks and the heavy look in his eyes. Your eyes were caught in his, sharing a silent word until he cleared his throat again.

“Let’s get you to bed, ‘mega.” His voice was low, a clear order from his alpha that made you jerk away, unlocking your door and stumbling inside, abandoning your shoes and jacket by the door as you moved towards the living room, him following along, locking the door behind. The air felt stifling, the heat wasn’t even on, but you felt like you were in a furnace. His scent fluffed around your tiny apartment as you gestured to the couch.

“I think I need a shower.” You laughed, uncomfortable but anything but afraid. “The remotes on the table.”

“Just shout if you need anything.” He flopped down onto the couch, smiling up at you. Your mind ran as you made your way back to the bathroom. You had actually invited him and he actually agreed? You felt so conflicted, one part of you wanting to drag him under the warm water with you as it started to fill the bathroom with steam and the other part of you wanting to send him right back outside, blaming your heat for your lack of a filter. It wasn’t just your heat though, and you knew that. You would want him here regardless, you just weren’t bold enough to actually tell him that. As you stepped under the water your mind filled with scenarios of how he could help you in more ways than just guarding your door.

The large red mark on your chest would surly bruise, tender to the touch between your breasts as you scrubbed the skin, trying to remove any bit of the disgusting scent that seemed to cling to you no matter how hard you tried to scrub it off, your omega almost frantic to remove it as you gave up, stepping out of the shower and pulling on your robe. You could always ask Eijiro to scent you, but that felt like too far after dragging him into your house.

Deciding against it, you let out a whine before opening the door, jumping back as you almost ran into a broad chest.

“You smelled upset I’m sorry I-I had to make sure you were…okay” He seemed to have a hard time finding words, eyes completely shifted to the alpha yellow as he looked down at you, gaze searching for any sign of danger. It was now or never you guessed.

“The smell…” You pouted up at him. “I smell like him, could you um?” Before a silence could fill the air his hands shot out gripping your hips tightly before dragging his scent glands over your wet hair, slowly moving down as he scented your neck, your back ramrod straight as you let out a breathy gasp. His lips grazed over your own scent gland, causing you to shiver in his arms as he moved further down still. Your robe had fallen open, not yet exposing your breasts, but the space between them, red and starting to bruise open to the air. He growled low, lightly rubbing his cheek over the spot before placing a chaste kiss over it. That made your knees collapse, and if it wasn’t for his grip you would be a puddle on the floor.

“Sorry ‘mega.” His voice was gruff as he pulled away, causing you to whine as he looked down on you, “I couldn’t help myself. Let’s actually get you to bed.” Your mind was cloudy, feeling like you were floating as he guided you down the hall and to your room. He stood at your door as you made your way inside, allowing your robe to drop off as your mind became laser focused on reaching your nest, momentarily forgetting he was there entirely.

He was sure any other alpha would have ripped into your room instantly at the sight, but he had to control himself. You had already been traumatized once tonight and the last thing you needed was a burly alpha like himself ruining your safe space as you flopped into your nest, rearranging the blankets and pillows that filled it with a huff, brows furrowed. You only seemed to get more agitated as you worked, head finally snapping back to him with a huff.

“Alpha needa smell like you.” Your voice almost slurred as you spoke, almost snapping his fraying resolve. He knew he should have stayed in the living room, but the sour switch of your fruity scent had almost made him feral, and he just couldn’t leave you. Couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you pouted to him. “Want you.” You mumbled to him and he was done. String snapping he made his way through your room to your nest,hesitating at the edge before you grabbed his arm with surprising strength, pulling his willing body in with you. Your body instantly molded to his, despite your heated skin his warmth feeling amazing as you scented him.

“Alpha please.” You didn’t even know what you needed as you begged for something, anything as he stayed stiff, arms at his side as you burrowed against his chest.

“Shh, you’re okay.” He said, finally wrapping his arms around you as he maneuvered you, laying with his back against the plush fortress. “You should sleep ‘mega.” That nickname made your skin tingle like it was on fire. You whined again at him as you pulled up, locking eyes with him. He looked at home in here and you had half a mind to never let him leave your nest again.

“Needa knot first.” The words fell from your mouth before you could stop them, that being even too far for your current state, instantly breaking eye contact as you pulled further away, looking away as his hand came up to cover his eyes, breaths ragged as he took in your words.

“(y/n)...I need to know if you mean that. If you really want me, or if it’s just your heat.” It wasn’t just your heat. You had fantasized about this before, you had thought of him more times than you would like to admit and not just in this way.

“Only want you, Eijiro, only ever you alpha.” You babbled in response, hoping that he believed you. There must have been something in your face, because as he lifted his hand from his eyes and stared at you for a moment he finally nodded his head.

“Alright ‘mega,” His voice had changed ever so slightly, the commanding alpha tone back, “You’ll tell me if anything is too far. If anything hurts. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Are you on birth control?” You instantly defeated at his words, the stress leaving your shoulders as you fell to him.

“Yes alpha, I am and I will!” You said back eagerly. “I want you.” He laughed lightly at you, shaking his head as he sat up, catching your mouth in a kiss that soon morphed into something less than innocent, tongues tangling as he eased you onto your back. His hands gripped your hips pulling you closer as one hand began drifting towards your center.

“Jesus ‘mega, you’re soaked.” He pulled away speaking against your lips as you mewled.

“Need your knot.” You said as a response. He shook his head lightly.

“Need to make sure you can take it pretty girl.” He said, a finger slipping in easily, soon adding a second, pumping in a way that made your spine curl. You moaned as his lips connected to your chest, tongue encircling the bud of your peaked nipple causing you to cry out as he began to scissor his fingers. You could feel yourself getting close, already so close to the edge before he even touched you.

“Cum and I’ll give you my knot ‘mega. Need you ready for this dick.” His words seemed to melt into your skin, lighting you up inside, sending you hurtling over the edge as his fingers reached a specific spot inside you as your toes curled, crying out his name as you did just that.

“Good girl, such a good ‘mega.” He praised you as he continued to move his fingers allowing you to ride out your orgasm as you groaned at his words. “How do you want this pretty girl, it’s up to you this time.” His words of “this time” swirled through your head as you tried to answer him through your moans, eventually reaching down to grab his wrist, stopping his movement for long enough to catch your breath.

“Want to see you.” You huffed out, hoping he understood what you meant, and to your glee he seemed to be on the same page. He pulled out his hand slowly, your pussy clenching around nothing as he pulled your legs up, allowing them to rest on his shoulders. You weren’t sure when he took off his shirt but were beyond happy with the view it granted you, his huge muscular chest making you clench weakly.

“Look at me.” He commanded roughly, causing your eyes to snap to his as he shimmied down his pants, allowing the leaking head of his cock to trace over you. “You will tell me if it’s too much; tell me to stop and I will, one word and it’s over okay?” His words made you want to fold in on yourself, allow him to take whatever he wanted, but his eyes were different. They almost looked nervous like he was worried for you and holding himself back. He looked like he truly cared, almost like-

“I will, Eijiro.” It was like a piece of your mind had finally come back to you, and at your words he nodded, allowing his cock to slide in, inch by inch. Despite stretching you earlier, there was still a delicious burn as he sunk in bit by bit. If he didn’t want you after this, you didn’t know what you would do, never feeling so full before, his knot not even fully inflated at this point.

“You okay?” His voice was gruff, like he was holding himself back as he looked down at you intently, trying to read your face.

“Please, alpha fill me please please please.” You begged under him, trying to wiggle your hips as he let out a groan, hands moving to grip the back of your thighs, bending them to your chest.

“Anything for you, ‘mega.” Before you could even process his words, he snapped his hips, causing you to cry out as your head fell back, at his complete mercy as he began to fuck you hard into your carefully crafted fortess. It was like your brain was disconnected, short circuited as his hips pistoned into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room, drowned out by your near sceam- moaning.

“You’re mine now ‘mega. No one else will ever lay a finger on you or I’ll break their fucking arm.” He grunted out, pushing your legs higher as you cried below him, babbling nonsense as you tried to connect back to your brain, clenching tight at his words.

“All yours alpha.” You moaned out. You were embarrassingly close again. If he meant what he said though, you would at least have a day or two more of this as he helped you through your heat.

“Gonna fill you up so much no one will even smell your heat on you. All they’ll be able to smell is me. They’ll know who this cunt belongs to.” His words were filthy as he spoke to you. “Are you gonna cum again? All over my knot ‘mega?” You could only moan at his words, knowing he was right. “You know I’ve wanted this for months, every time I saw you I wanted to drag you away and show you who you should belong to…show you why you should choose me.” Your vision was beginning to grow hazy, seconds away from crashing over the edge. “You know what? It wasn’t even your tight pussy or your ass that I couldn’t get out of my mind.” His words made you pause, gasping as his eyes meant yours. “It’s those fucking eyes, I couldn’t get them out of my head.” He said with a particularly sharp thrust as your head fell back again. “Look at me as you cum.” As soon as your eyes met his you fell, the tight cord inside of you snapping as you gushed around him, a few more thrust before he too was cumming, hot seed filling you as his knot locked you together, feeling almost uncomfortably full as he let your legs fall back down, resting his head on your collar bone as you both tried to catch your breath.

He soon raised his head, puppeting you to a more comfortable position as you waited for his knot to deflate, already half asleep as you snuggled up to him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I mean it, you know.” He said, your turn to hum in response. “I want to take you out ‘mega. I’ll prove to you, I’m worthy of you.”

“You are worthy, Eijiro.” You mumbled out, kissing his arm as you snuggled impossibly closer. “Sleep alpha.”

“Sleep ‘mega.” He agreed with a laugh as you faded into the most restful sleep you’ve had in a long time.

[thegaysinmyhead]

Obsession PT 2

Danny was freaking the fuck out. Considering he spent the last few weeks in a lab being picked, prodded, and vivisected, he feels like he deserves a little bit of a freakout. But trauma-related things aside, Danny was freaking out over this hot-as-hell baddie who saved him. Like, holy shit! This guy’s biceps were bigger than his head, and he would really really like to have his head placed between those thighs.

Holy fuck. His knight in shining red armor was going to fully kill him for how fucking sexy he was. That gruff voice? The tight muscle shirt? The beautiful cheekbones hidden slightly under his mask? Danny was going to die a second death and he wasn’t even going to complain, not if it was this guy doing it.

Danny was thirsting so hard he almost missed what the man was saying.

“–Red Hood. Answer my first question, why do the Pits react to you,”

Red Hood? The Red Hood? Ancients, Sam was going to froth at the mouth when he tells her that Red Hood saved him and was hot as fuck.

“I don’t know what ‘the Pits’ are, dude. The only thing that reacts like that to ectoplasm is more ectoplasm, and that’s the only thing that’s reacting to me. You’re like, constantly angry,” Danny grimaced at the fresh wave of hot rage.

Damn, he wishes there was more reacting to him.

“The Pits. Lazarus Water. The green shit you got all over the floor and my fucking hands when I carried you here,” The vigilante (crime lord?) growled.

Fuck that growl is hot. He wants Red Hood to growl like that in his ear, wants to know what he sounds like when those growls break into whimpers, wants to taste that growl–

“That’s ectoplasm, kinda makes up my whole body in this form so it’s not like I choose to bleed it. Trust me, I’d bleed regular blood if I could. Blood stains are so much easier to get out of my clothes,”

Danny could tell Red Hood was glaring at him underneath his domino, and he was gonna have a problem in his pants if the other man didn’t turn away soon. 

“Why. Do. The. Pits. React. To. You,” The vigilante growled out slowly, teeth clicking together in what sounded almost painful. Danny had no idea what he was supposed to say. The man in front of him had obviously died before and came back, but the ectoplasm felt more like a contaminated blob than a full ghost. He couldn’t even see the ghost core underneath all the gunk, even if he could feel it. Red Hood’s core felt…just as angry as when Danny felt it earlier.

How do you give Ghost Biology 101 to a pissed-off guy with a gun who probably had death-related trauma?

“So…I’m just gonna be as blunt as possible and hope you don’t shoot me,”

Red Hood glared harder, his core thrumming ANGER-CONFUSION-ANGER as Danny flipped to sit cross-legged above the couch. He pinched his face together to think about the best place to start, but realized the worst part should probably get put out of the way first. He did say he was going to be as blunt as possible.

“So, you died—” Almost as quick as he said it there was a bullet grazing through his shoulder and embedding into the wall behind him. Thank fuck for intangibility. The crime lord’s core thrummed louder, a garbled mimic of a ghost growl as green blinked behind red lenses.

“Yeah, I know how you feel man. Dying really, really sucks,” Danny murmured before lowering fully onto the couch. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“–But, that’s probably the start of what I need to tell you, unless you’ve come in contact with glowing green water beforehand?” 

The vigilante grit his teeth, but shook his head no.

“Right, so. You died–and I’m not gonna ask or make assumptions about it! I get it. But, when you got pulled from wherever you were before…you didn’t exactly…come back all the way,” He finished his sentence with a murmur, but the silence of the apartment made sure it was heard easily. A deep frown etched itself onto Red Hood’s face.

“Come back all the way? What kind of bullshit is that? You’re dead or you’re not, even I’ve met ghosts and shit that proves that,” 

Red Hood’s met ghosts? Hopefully none from the Ghost Zone, they’d probably tear him to pieces in a ghost brawl with how weak his ectoplasm is. Might make this explanation easier though.

Danny wrung his hands together before shrugging awkwardly, “Not…exactly? Death is more of a spectrum than a black-and-white kinda thing. You can lean towards one side or the other, sometimes being fully on one side, but it’s supposed to be impossible to sit on both at the same time. That’s…kinda where I come in?”

The halfa shifted while looking anywhere but the crime boss in front of him, lips tucked into a silent whistle as his core hummed anxiously. Danny could tell Red Hood was getting impatient, but he didn’t expect to have to show a solid 12/10 hot piece of ass his human form right after getting away from a GIW base! Sue him, he needs a minute!

With a groan, Danny flung himself into a stand. He rubbed a hand down his face while chanting “Please don’t be naked, please don’t be naked,”

A bright light filled the room before Red Hood could react or question the mumbling, and when the light finally faded he blinked rapidly to get rid of black spots. In the place Danny stood moments before was an individual with black hair, blue eyes, and very very tattered clothing. The cloth (if it could even be called that at this point) looked as if it used to be a NASA hoodie and black jeans, and duct-taped red sneakers sat on the new man’s feet. Blood stains were covering most of the fabric, and the man sheepishly scratched the back of his head. A bright red blush was spreading across his cheeks to slightly pointed ears.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot the last time I was in this form. At least I’m not naked?” The new man (Danny?) said with a small smile.

“Wait, wait, wait–” Jason raised his hands in a stopping motion with a shake of his head, “–what the fuck do you mean ‘this form’?”

(Supposedly) Danny just tilted his head before placing his hands on his hips. He tipped his head up and pursed his lips in thought, “Well, that was technically my ghost form before? This is my human form… and oh jeez, I feel like I skipped like a hundred slides of the Ghost Biology PowerPoint,” Danny mumbled while hiding his face between his hands.

Jason slid a still-clawed hand over his eyes, frustration building, but surprisingly no green was threatening his vision. Small mercies, “Ghost? So, you’re a ghost?” he questioned slowly.

“Only half ghost…”

Jason took a deep breath and deadpanned, “How the fuck can you be ‘half ghost’,”

Danny looked like he swallowed a lemon as he went silent. There seemed to be a silent debate going on in the man's head as the thing in Jason’s chest rumbled with RAGE-FRUSTRATION-WORRY. Danny seemed to come to a decision as he finally spoke.

“Well…same way you did? Kind of a Schrödinger cat situation. Do you really not notice anything ghostly that you do? Like–hiding better than you ever did before, shadows clinging to you in ways that seem unnatural, attacks on you not hitting their mark even though you know they should have?”

Jason paused, shoulders tightening with tension. He never really thought about it, but those words stirred something in his brain. Bullets that should’ve definitely hit him dead on were usually explained away with the distance between him and the gun shooting at him, but the times he was barely holding onto a hiding spot and wondering how the hell he wasn’t caught? The warm embrace of Gotham at night when shadows were everywhere and he was swinging and jumping through rooftops? Jumps no normal human would’ve been able to make unless they were a meta? 

He knew the Pit had changed him; his eyes glowed green when he felt emotions too strong, his body filled out with more muscle than he knew what to do with, and he was straining the edge between trained strength and superhuman. Now…now he isn’t really sure what the Pits did to him…

“–And if I say I have? Noticed… ‘ghostly’ things I do?”

The black-haired man just gave him a bright smile, “Well, then that probably just makes it easier to accept what comes next,”

“What comes next?” Jason blinked.

“Yeah. Because, again, sir, your ectoplasm is rancid. Disgustingly rancid. I’m filtering as much of it as I can, but you need a doctor like yesterday,”

Jason could feel the frustration growing again. This guy just did not know how to give good explanations, “What do you mean you’re ‘filtering’ it?” He said through gritted teeth. His jaw suddenly felt like it was too small for his molars, and his gums burned worse than when his wisdom teeth needed to get removed. Danny just waved off his building anger.

“Exactly that, dude. I’m pulling the toxic stuff into me and pushing the cleaner stuff back to you. It’s not pure ectoplasm, we’d probably need to go to the Ghost Zone for that, but you should feel a whole lot better than you did before,”

And Jason…Jason did actually feel a whole lot better. There wasn’t an angry voice whispering in the back of his mind that he needed to spill blood, and he wasn’t fighting off an indescribable rage with every ounce of his willpower. He felt better than the best days of dealing with the Pit and then some. But what the fuck was a ‘Ghost Zone’? Danny must’ve seen the confusion from his frown because he was speaking again.

“–Shit, I’m really bad at explaining things, sorry. The Ghost Zone is basically where most ghosts, or ‘ecto-plasmic beings’ depending on who you ask, live–and usually–stay. The atmosphere is pretty much pure ectoplasm because everything there is made of ectoplasm. Like how everything alive here is made of carbon,” Danny waved his arms around awkwardly as he spoke, back squished tightly against the cushions of the couch. His fists were clenched white with nerves.

Jason nodded. That made sense…kind of. He was still wrapping his head around the whole ‘half-ghost’ thing, honestly. He was also wondering how the fuck that was possible and why this guy thinks he’s one.

“You said I’m like you?” 

Danny nodded, before thinking for a moment and shrugging, “Not exactly. I can tell whatever you went through never let you finish forming a core, but if your core does fully develop you’ll end up with ghost powers, probably. You’d also be able to actually filter the ectoplasm in your system, which means you won’t have to deal with all that junk,” he said while waving a vague fully-encompassing hand motion at him.

Jason squinted his eyes at Danny from behind his mask, but he couldn’t detect a single lie from the man. After a long moment, he sighed and slumped back in the recliner. He covered his face with one of his hands and murmured, “–And what’s a core?”

Danny froze before blushing and looking away in embarrassment. Jason doesn’t know how he knows Danny’s embarrassed.

“I’m…I’m just gonna pull up the Ghost Biology presentation. You got a laptop?”

Pt 1, Pt 3

Masterpost

[disillusioneddanny]

Crackling Flames and Humming Electricity

Prompt courtesy of @stealingyourbones Jason gets his neck sliced by Bruce’s batarang. It irreversibly damaged his vocal cords.

Pros: He can still use ghost speak

Cons: None of his family knows ghost speak (as it’s sounds aren’t for living men to understand)

It had been an accident when it happened. That’s what Bruce had said anyway. He had been so focused on saving Joker from being killed by Red Hood that he hadn’t even realized what he had done to his son . That he had permanently disabled Jason in a way that could never be repaired.

The slice to his throat had destroyed his vocal chords. He hadn’t been able to say a single word in over a year now. After a year of vocal therapy, Jason had learned how to do these strange chirps and growls, these weird noises that didn’t seem to come from his throat at all but moreso his very being let out the noises. The only problem was that no one understood what he was saying.

Cass had been a blessing and had taken the time to teach Jason how to successfully sign. She had taken it on as her mission as the only other person in the family who was mute to make sure that Jason could effectively communicate.

He hadn’t been back at the manor since the accident, hadn’t been around Bruce since it happened. But each of his siblings had come to check on him, they checked in on him every so often and they had even managed to develop their own way of understanding the strange rumblings that came from Jason’s body that were now his only form of vocal communication.

A chirp meant that he was happy.

Two chirps was a yes.

A short growl was no.

A long snarling growl? He was pissed and you better leave him the fuck alone.

It wasn’t the best, but it worked when they spoke with him on comms. They couldn’t understand any of the other noises that came from Jason, the wails, the crackling of fire that somehow espaped him sometimes. A sound that could only be described as the sound of smoke itself slipping through the air. They were sounds that didn’t have names, there were no true words to describe the noises that would come from Jason at times.

His family tried. Oh his siblings desperately tried to understand this new way of communication with their brother but none of it was effective. No one truly understood him anymore. Not even Cass could always understand what Jason was trying to explain in his broken sounds and strange chirps.

That had all changed one fateful day, though.

Jason had gone to pick up a coffee from the only functioning shop in Crime Alley. It had just opened a few weeks before and he had been meaning to try it out. Wanted to see the brave bastard willing to open up such a pretty coffee and tea shop in the middle of Crime Alley of places. Something had been tugging at Jason’s gut about the place, almost as though it was calling Jason here, like he needed to be at the coffe shop.

Seriously, though, as he inspected the layout, it looked like the kinda place to be opened in one of the fancier neighborhoods in Gotham, not Red Hood’s home.

Red Hood had managed to keep his operations running even after the accident. If anything, it had made his people even more loyal to him. Those closest even taking the time to learn sign language just so that they could communicate and translate. They had all seen the way he had tried to take down Joker, only for the fucking Batman attempt to murder him just to save the very man who tormented the people of Gotham. Of course, the people of Crime Alley were more commonly his victims, less likely to be noticed if they were murdered, less likely to be taken seriously.

So it had come as a personal offense to all of them when Red Hood had been nearly killed. They had all respected Red Hood even more after it had happened, realizing that not only had he gone against the bat, but he had done it and lived out of pure spite.

Jason slipped through the door of the shop, Phantom’s Oasis it was called and looked around. Dark black metal chairs and tables lined the walls, Boston ivy grew along the charcoal grey walls. Any parts that were not covered by ivy were covered by bookshelves overfilled with books. And while tables and chairs lined the walls, comfy, overstuffed chairs filled the corners with small coffee tables, the middle of the area sat large velvet green couches. It was like it was the perfect oasis for Jason.

He made it up to the back counter where a single employee stood cleaning the counter. He was young, probably just a year or two younger that Jason. He was tall and lanky with deep black hair pulled back in a pony tail, showing off the shaved sides of his head. Cosmic themed earrings hung from his lobes and cartilage and when the man glanced up, Jason was also surprised to find a ring on either nostril in the man’s nose along with a septum piercing. For all that his looks screamed edgy, though, he exuded nothing but safety and warmth. Something in Jason’s very being ached to be close to the man.

Unable to stop himself he released a soft sound, the sound of walls breaking under strong flames. The man’s head shot up and he smiled at Jason before releasing a sound of his own.

It was the sound of the stirrings of a storm. Hello, it said. How are you?

“You know what I’m saying?” Jason asked, only the words came out in the sound of a roaring flame, those of a bonfire finally growing higher and higher. He signed the words as well causing the barista to grin in response.

“Of course I do, we’re the same,” he explained through sounds of a building creaking against harsh winds.

A childlike peel rang from Jason’s mouth unable to stop himself. It was the laughter of a child who thought Robin was magic. The laughter of someone who had finally found someone who understood him.

“How?” Jason asked, tilting his head to the side, his heart racing.

The barista smiled and a single black painted finger nail beckoned him closer.

In English the man whispered in Jason’s ear once he approached. “Because just like you, I died wrong and came back wrong,” he murmured before he pulled away and took in Jason’s form. “It’s why you were drawn here.”

Smoke crackled in the air showing Jason’s curiosity, his confusion.

The barista smiled. “You don’t know what you are, do you?” after a shake of Jason’s head the man smiled. “Jason Todd, you are an extraordinary being that is both of life and death. A being that has lost more than he ever gained but continued on stubbornly, refusing to back down. You were called to Phantom’s Oasis because your core heard my ghost speak and like calls to like.”

Ghost speak? Is that what the sounds that escaped Jason were? A language of those who had died and come back wrong? Or didn’t come back at all judging by the name. The sound of fire crackling filled the empty coffee shop.

“I’m Danny, by the way. Now, what would you like to drink? I can make it real quick, close up shop and we can talk.”

The crackling of a sparkler escaped Jason’s being causing Danny’s noseto wrinkle in amusement. “You’ve got yoursel a fire core, huh?”

Pops and crackles slipped from Jason, showing his curiosity.

“Order first, then I’ll answer your questions,” Danny said in the form of the sounds of electricity crackling through the air.

Jason frowned and started to sign his order only for Danny to push his hands down. “Use your words,” he said quietly. “I’ll understand.” The sounds that came from Danny were reminiscent of an old generator turning on for the first time in years, the electricity hummed the words out for Jason to understand.

Rustling and crinkling of a fire’s flames going out sounded throughout the room. “Vanilla late with sweet cream,” it said to Danny.

The hum of white noise came through in response, telling him that Danny understood as he got to work. He waved a hand causing Jason to look back as the door to the shop locked itself.

“I’m a halfa,” Danny told him through the sizzling of lightning that had just hit the earth. “You are what feels like a revenant. Someone who died a brutal death and came back to seek revenge. You have someone we ectoplasmic entities call a core.”

Jason listened as Danny spoke in sounds of crackling electricity and quiet hums of white noise as he explained ghost cores to Jason. Ghost cores were their very being, they were created in result of the person’s death. In their examples, Danny had died by electocution, it was why his ghost speak sounded like electricity coursing in the air and lighting crackling angrily and wildly. He didn’t need Jason to confirm before he had said that the revenant had died in a fire of some sort. He explained that all ghosts had the basic chirps and growls for ghost speak but that the rest was specific to their cores as they were all different.

It wasn’t Jason making the noises that came out of him but his very core himself. For the first time in a year, though, Jason was finally able to speak to someone without sign, to use his words to explain what happened to him, the pain he had gone through when realizing that his father would rather kill him than let him get revenge. He had finally found someone who understood the ache of not being able to exact revenge on the person who had killed him.

For the first time in Jason’s life, he had finally found someone who understood. Danny had sat there drinking his own London Fog as he listened to Jason’s tell. Responding in chirps, whistles and a gentle hum of running appliances. He gave insight and advice, had even given Jason his number explaining that yes, they could use ghost speak over the phone as well.

He had never felt so seen in all of his life.

Maybe that explained why he kept coming back to the coffee shop. Every day he would come, order his coffee, using a language that just he and Danny knew and curled up on a couch and read for hours, feeling at peace in a way he hadn’t experienced since he had died.

Maybe it explained why he went out on a limb and asked Danny on a date, demanding that the halfa come over to his place for dinner.

Of course, Danny had only agreed if Jason promised to make the halfa’s favorite. The night had quickly ended with their cores singing for one another as their legs tangled together under the safety of Jason’s blankets.

Rustling and crackling of a candle flame sounded through the room as electricity hummed along with it, creating a symphony of white noise that Jason loved more than anything in the world. The noises provided a sense of comfort and safety unlike anything he had ever experienced. He wanted to drown in the sounds, drown in the sounds of Danny’s crackling electricity that whispered promises of happiness and safety. Just as the whispering flames of Jason’s core told Danny stories of love and promises of companionship, holding him close, wrapping around him in a warm comforting blanket.

The air crackled around Jason as he stood in the kitchen quietly making breakfast, revelling in the feeling of Danny surrounding him from all sides.

His fire chirped at the halfa in curiosity. One or two it asked him.

Two, electricity said with a charged hum, thin arms snaked around Jason’s waist.

“I think you’re going to have to invite me over more often,” lightning crackled, a crash exploding from Danny in a way that made Jason shiver in delight.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you leave,” fire roared, flames licking high in the air, causing wood to shatter and break under the heat. Danny just chuckled and kissed the side of his neck softly.

Electricity flowed from Danny along with a series of chirps, whistles and growls, telling Jason he had no problem with staying by Jason’s side.

[jaegersolstice]

soccerplayer!eren who decides he’s gonna go pro senior year of high school, and starts putting in more hours before and after practice.

soccerplayer!eren who confides in you, his best friend, hoping that you’ll support him even if his family doesn’t.

soccerplayer!eren who hugs you the tightest when you say you support him no matter what, and you start helping him run drills even during those chilly december mornings.

soccerplayer!eren who gets scouted first out of his whole team for his top choice school, taking you for a car ride that same night with the windows down, blasting your guys’ shared playlist.

soccerplayer!eren who admits to you, while the two of you lay on the hood of his car that same night, how scared he is that he won’t be good enough for the league, and that he’ll be left with no purpose.

soccerplayer!eren who’s shocked when you nuzzle into him, head on his chest and arm around his back, reassuring him that he’s good, inside and out, and that any team would be crazy not to pick him.

soccerplayer!eren who, with a light blush across his cheeks, softly kisses the top of your head, newfound confidence even with so much unsaid between the two of you.

————————————————————————

pt 2?? im really obsessed with sports aus right now so that’s gonna be the fruit of all my labor lolz

ALSO ISNT HE JUST SO DREAMY 🤩🤩🤩

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— egoist + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — teasing isagi is great. in fact, it's all fun and games...until his ego comes out to play.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, established relationships, smut, makeout sessions, dry humping, ruined orgasms, clothed!sex, spit!kink, pro player + mean!isagi... he's very condescending not beta read ! - fem!reader.

⭑ words — 1.5K.

⭑ notes — hi !! lmao this is super last minute but i wanted to post something for isagi's bday because i'm obsessed with him !! i blacked out when writing this lmao fhbgb enjoy!! - m.list ✩

make-outs with isagi always start off soft and slow.

you’re always curled up cuddling, tucked into his side with his head atop yours and no matter what you’re doing together — he’s always overwhelmed with this sudden urge to kiss you. yoichi will dwell on it for a while, blue eyes peering down at you while you’re distracted. overthink the best way to kiss you, if you’re in the mood, if you want to be touched.

in the end you catch him staring and a smile that makes his heart race in the way that it does on the pitch breaks out across your darling features. “yoichi,” you croon knowingly, cocking your head to the side playfully. “i know you wanna kiss me.”

“yeah, precious?” a grin to rival your own tugs in the corners of his lips, isagi looking effortlessly sexy with his dark hair in his eyes and his tongue poking in his cheek while he thinks of his next move. “how’dya know?”

“you’re staring.”

“i like the way you look. s’cute.” he taunts.

you shift and face him fully, narrowing your eyes before you counter. “then why don’t you do something about it?”

“can’t,” he shoots back smugly. “you talk too much.”

“and you think too much—!”

isagi gets hot and bothered when you play cat and mouse, he can’t help but lean in and capture your lips in a soft kiss to test the waters and see how far he can push you. he puts a hand on your chin, holding your face up to his and smirks against your lips when you work your own against him. they move together, tender and curious like the gentle push and pull of a tide guided by the moon up high — but waves always crash against the shore like dopamine hitting all the right points in the striker’s brain.

you flip a switch inside of him and the lights come on in the home of his mind. it’s when your delicate fingers traverse upwards, landing on the nape of his neck to toy with the tiny black curls there. you tug on his roots and isagi goes wild, his mouth becoming feverish against yours— tongue darting out to swipe over the seam of your lips in a silent plea for more.

along the way he manages to roll you over, so you go from being by yoichi’s side to lying underneath him— trapped in a lion’s cage. there’s a hand just above your head and one working it’s way up your shirt, your eyes are hooded and darkened and isagi’s are scrambled and feral. crazy. in the same way he gets when he’s piecing himself together during a match. this happens when you don’t let him in, when you kiss him with only your lips and tease him past the point of return.

the striker pulls back, figuring you out as he pins you to his bed with strong, slender hips— his hands leaving you to run through silky black locks and to cup his chin. “what’s the matter, egoist?” you lay waiting, panting beneath isagi while you look up at him and dare him through your lashes. “thought you wanted to kiss me.”

this is where everything changes; you lose your soft, loving isagi the moment you decide to provoke the little monster inside of him. “don’t push,” he breathes, his voice thick and husky. low in the way that makes lighting strike all the way down your spine. “you know how that ends for you, precious.” he knows you better than anyone else, what makes you tick and twitch. so he grinds down against you, just above where you need him and swoops down with a ravenous mouth when your lips part to sing isagi’s praises — eyes blowing wide as he ruts his dick into your soft tummy.

his tongue glides over yours eagerly, tasting everything you have to offer him, pushing into your mouth with a domineering force. you writhe against yoichi and mewl his name between the slipperiness of your kisses— swapping spit with your noses pressed right up against each other and your breathing so ragged that you feel as though you might pass out. your mouths slot perfectly together, moving so fast that the pace of your sloppy make out is almost bruising.

“yoichi,” you sigh out when you finally get the chance to take in some air though your chest won’t stop heaving. “goin’ too fast. w-what’s the matter, pretty boy?” your attempt to get back at him is weak, bucking your hips upwards to chase the friction that your boyfriend refuses to give you.

now it’s his turn to tilt his head to the side, licking at the string of saliva that connects your lips to his. “w-what’s the matter pretty boy?” he mocks you with a calculated thrust of his hardness against you— stickiness from his tip oozing against your skin. pouting, you fight against isagi for something. anything. you need him and he’s dangling that pleasure just above your head. “what’s the matter with you, hah? so pretty, precious. so needy. you want it that bad.” he sucks his teeth, mimicking your pout the more you grow desperate, sneering evilly as you lock your eyes away to fight off the frustrated tears.

“oh no, you don’t get to do that. open those pretty eyes for me precious,” yoichi growls but touches you tender, his hand cupping the roundness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “you wanna mess around with me? fine. you wanna tease me? ‘m good with that. but you look at me. only me.” when he tells you that he means it and when you nod your head despite the whimper — agreeing to your boyfriends terms, he rewards you by shifting back and pressing the chubby outline of his dick against your molten core as his tongue laps into your mouth to swallow your moans.

then he’s sucking on your tongue, the rough pads of his fingers trickling up and down your sides, squeezing your ass and dragging you up to meet the carnivorous pace of his hips as they piston into you. you do your best to keep your eyes on him, despite the tears that pool in them, watching isagi devour you from below and his facade fall apart when his sticky tip catches on the hood of your swollen clit.

a wet patch from your naughty little pussy forms on the front of his sweat pants from just how much it drools and how much precum smears isagi smears against you. “where’s your fight precious? thought you wanted to tease me.” his limbs ache and muscles burn with desire as he works himself against you, panting into your open mouth and filling you with nothing but him. “c’mon… gimme somethin’, precious girl.”

he spits the words into your mouth, laughs as you clench around nothing and chase the delicious drag of his cock between your clothed folds. “mm… yo—!” but you can’t say anything, you can’t do anything because the way isagi talks down on you but grinds into you like he loves you is too embarrassing for you to bare. “s-stop, s’mm…it’s—“ you drawl all dreamy like, a familiar twist in your gut telling you that you’re close, that he’s pleasured you beyond what you can take and he’s not even touched you properly.

“you don’t want me to stop, baby. i know what you need,” isagi grunts as he sucks on your lower lip, takes it between rows of pearly whites and drags it away from you with a hooded stare, sapphire eyes sending you spiralling. his cock pulses against your sweltering pussy, soaks through your pants and drives you up the wall. “you want me t’get you there. you can cum like this, you’ve done it for me before…”

“i-i’ll do it again, please yoichi! ‘m…i-i’m,” you babble brainlessly, fingers finding his hair again and scratching at yoichi’s scalp the way he likes. in the way that started this whole ordeal— changing the path of your makeout from soft to sexy. “i’m close!”

all he does is grunt, shuddering under your touch, circling his hips until both of your eyes roll back. “i know precious. i know. i’ll get you there— make you c-cum, shit.”

and you’re about to burst, eyes drifting shut. you can feel it as you wrap your trembling thighs around isagi’s waist and match the way he grinds against you. your brain is muddled, dazed and fixated on his lips and the way he might sound when he shoots is load between your legs…but in an instant it all gone.

your eyes flutter open once again— revealing the monster you’ve made of yoichi isagi. his blue eyes delirious, his lips curled into a cruel smirk while your orgasm fades away and you whine out for him.

“thought i told you to keep looking at me,” he snarls wickedly, lifting his hips away from you, watching you pathetically chase the friction. “guess you don’t know how to listen, precious. that’s okay though, i’ll just have fuck you good ‘n proper... get inside you, fuck you up and make sure that i get it through your pretty little head. you only look at me.”

make-outs with isagi always start off soft and slow. but if you push the right buttons, his egoist always swoops in to fuck you right.

[ivystoryweaver]

🎉I made this for you b/c you deserve a party!!!! 🎉

I love Marc Spector catches you trying on lingerie. So... what might have happened w/ Steven or Jake? Another surprise? More lingerie? Less lingerie *wiggles eyebrows at you*???

Steven Catches You Trying on Lingerie

AHHHHH!!! Take all my money so all the Moon boys will give me special messages! I LOVE IT SO MUCH! Look at you linking my fic like a pro

Oooh, ok, so there's a little about Steven + lingerie in Moon Boys' Kinks <- which I sort of used as the basis of thought for what you see below...

nsfw below the cut - sensual and suggestive but no actual smut Steven Grant x gn!reader who likes lingerie (Read Marc's part above, in the ask) Word Count: 754

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You snap a few pictures of your new lingerie in the mirror, satisfied by the way the fabric hugs your curves. With a sigh, you toss your phone on the bed and pout for a second, wishing you didn't have to wait until date night to reveal your surprise.

Then a thought tickles the corner of your mind. Steven actually sends dirty texts all the time, but that's usually what they are - texts. Words.

You imagine him working hard at the museum, leading a tour or sitting in his shared office doing some research and you giggle to yourself as you try to envision his face when he sees you in this brand new sensuous outfit.

Without another moment of debate, you grab your phone and swipe to the most scandalous pose before dropping it into Steven's text thread, adding 'Got a surprise for you' underneath.

Thirty-seven minutes later, you hear the front door deadbolt turn. You haven't even bothered to change out of your lingerie yet - tying a robe around yourself instead.

Determined footsteps clomp toward your bedroom, the thought never crossing your mind that they don't belong to Marc.

Steven's hair is a mess - clearly he's pushed his fingers through it one too many times on the train ride home. His cheeks are flushed, lips parted as he draws heavy breaths, eyes dark and hooded...

and zeroed in on the curves of your body.

"Bit naughty of you to send me that picture while I'm giving a tour to primary school students," he husks, peeling off his jacket and stalking toward you.

"What are you doing home?" you gasp out with mock innocence.

Long fingers find the tie of your robe and he yanks it loose, swiping his tongue over his lips as the very lingerie you teased him with appears.

Shifting from one foot to the other, his smoldering eyes rove hungrily from your collarbone, over each curve, all the way down to the center of you. Ever mesmerized by beauty and softness, he swallows thickly, his own desire stirring to life as he forces himself to wait before devouring you with his mouth and hands.

"Surprise," you whisper, shrugging the robe all the way off your shoulders and striking a simple but effective pose meant to highlight the best features of the lingerie, and your body.

Dropping to his knees, he tosses his hair out of his eyes, peering up at you through endlessly long lashes. Squeezing his hands into fists, he fights every urge pulsing, inviting him to trace the soft, sexy fabric that has you on display like this.

But he knows to wait.

"You're so good to me, Steven," you praise, carding a hand through his curls, inching gently toward him. "Got you something soft to play with."

"Gods, love," he chokes, forehead nuzzling your stomach as he struggles to keep his hands in place by his sides.

"Do you like it?" You murmur, using the grip on his thick hair to turn his face up to yours.

"Yes," he pants, nodding, despite your grip on him. "Oh god, yes. Please, I..."

"You want to touch me, baby?" You purr, stepping a little closer until his cheek rests against your soft abdomen. "Will you make me feel good?"

"So good, darling," he promises, his voice already wrecked as he tries to wait for your lead. "Won't stop until you make me."

You hum out a satisfied moan, nodding once, indicating that he can touch. Stretching out his fingers, he brushes your bare thighs temptingly, heavy breaths falling where his head stills rests against your stomach.

Seeing this beautiful man on his knees for you already has you stirring with raw want.

One agonizing inch at a time, he seems to return the favor, making you wait for the impending bliss that's sure to follow this display of restraint.

"So pretty like this," he whispers, finding the hem fitted over your hip bone. "Wonder how long it might take me to unwrap you like a present."

Now it is you shifting in anticipation, aching for his expert caress to find the center of you.

"Think I'll leave this on you while I make you come for me." His eyes flicker up to yours as he touches right where you want. Breath rushes out of you as he starts to pleasure you. "Would you like that, darling?"

"Yes, Steven, please..."

There it is. Once he turns the tables on you, there's no stopping him. This is gonna be fun.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ivy's 1st Ficiversary Celebration

Originally from Moon Knight Asks

Steven Grant-Centric stories

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