#just shows the desperation in just the setting and the costume

[tossawary]

I don't have a solid plot attached to this idea, I don't currently really have the desire to drop everything to go write "The Hobbit" fanfiction, but for a while I've had the idea of *gestures vaguely" some post-canon story (probably some form of fix-it) taking place before, during, and after a grand dwarven opera performance in Erebor.

Because I am absolutely certain that the Lonely Mountain had an absolutely stunningly beautiful Royal Opera House (and plenty of other, less grand performance halls) that, at the city's height, was putting at least one show every single day. Orchestral symphonies, operas and operettas, dramatic plays, dance performances... you name it, they had it and more. The various cultures of Middle Earth evidently ADORE music, dwarves absolutely included. The Company all bring instruments to Bag End to play and sing themselves off before their quest!

Also, beyond the music side of things, with how dwarves are named as master crafters? Smiths and toymakers and magicians? No way that they did not have some of the most gorgeous costumes, sets, and effects on the planet. Dwarves would go WILD with their articulated stage puppets, I know it.

One of my biggest issues with the film trilogy is that it failed to deeply explore the Company as people who had lost their home, beauty and culture included. Smaug not only killed countless people, entire families, and leave many of the survivors poor and desperate, the dragon went on to hoard their heirlooms and life's work and leave these priceless gold treasures UNUSED. It is an additional heartbreak to imagine Smaug tearing through Erebor neighborhood by neighborhood, house by house, so that he could tear out every gemstone in, say, mosaic made by someone's grandmother that sat above the breakfast table every morning. To think that Smaug in the aftermath tore magical lanterns off the walls, the sort that might have been decorated with animals or flowers, to make some daycare walkway just a little more cheery for the children, and in his greed left a dead city in the dark.

The live-action movies put both Smaug and the Balrog in these... absolutely enormous chambers that serve somewhat unclear purposes. The king's treasure vault and a former marketplace, I think? (Moria has been raised by goblins, I can forgive the emptiness.) It's a quick visual depiction of Thror's uncontrollable gold lust to give him a Scrooge McDuck room, sure, instead of anything with an actual organizational system (normally, I assume dwarves are big on sorting their vaults if they have one). Super big columns and hallways and staircases do somewhat effectively communicate the "lost glory" of Moria (I am very fond of these movies!!!), even if I also think it's not as interesting as it could have been. And the other obvious purpose of big, open warehouse-like spaces is 1) it's easier to animate the big creatures moving around in them generally and 2) it allows the films to show off the full-bodied visual spectacle of their big creatures.

But I think it would have also kicked ass to put Smaug in Erebor's former Royal Opera House or something, some enormous theatre decorated across generations. That could be big! The ART (statues, fountains, banners, windows, general architecture) that you could put on the exterior, which has had its face ripped open for the dragon to get inside? The ART that you could put INSIDE (mosaics, murals, and more) as Bilbo sneaks inside? Ohhh, you could include so many potential lore references with thematic relevance!

Also, Bilbo could get jump-scared by old articulated stage puppets or something. IT'S THE DRAGON-! Oh, no, it's some old opera prop. (Yes, we're talking more about an actual adaptation of "The Hobbit" rather than fanfiction concepts now.)

Sure, there's raw material treasure and coins hoarded here in this place, but there would also be musical instruments and toys and household tools and cookware and fancy dishes, wedding jewelry and anniversary gifts and family shrines and festival costumes, fountain statues and street lamps and mailboxes and business signs, and other evidence that people really LIVED here. These are all ordinary objects that Bilbo recognizes from the Shire.

We could tie these objects directly back to objects we saw featured in Bilbo's home early in this adaptation, which he was trying to "protect" from the dwarves during their "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates" song. There are half-burned portraits of people's late parents here too. Did he think that there weren't any dwarves who made doilies or handkerchiefs embroidered with flowers? Of course they made things like that too.

It's perfectly symbolic to, say, place Smaug's bed in an area like the king's throne room. The dragon is now the King Under The Mountain. But I think it would be deliciously haunting to have the throne room of Erebor be empty, the throne half-broken, the silver stripped from the walls and moved elsewhere, because Smaug doesn't care about Thror's old audience chamber. What's a dwarf king to a dragon? He burns the same as all the others. The dragon has instead made his bed in a beautiful public place of art and culture that was for the people, by the people, surrounded by the lovingly crafted belongings of the ordinary people he killed. Gold is gold to a dragon whether it's in a coin or a candlestick.

I think if you really want to sell one of the key messages of "The Hobbit", which in my opinion is: "If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." then you ought to throw yourself behind EREBOR being a place where food and cheer and song had value, not just the Shire. Thorin isn't lost at the end because he's a dwarf and dwarves don't value such things, but because he as a specific person who makes the mistake of weighing pride and gold over people, and he comes to regret that on his deathbed.

So, back to the fanfiction idea, I think that Erebor had music again in it as soon as dwarves started living in it again. It will take decades and decades before the Royal Opera House is half as splendid as it was before, and there is a performance there with beautiful costumes and puppets and sets comparable to those that came before, some traditional historical show that is part of specific seasonal holiday for dwarves. But that very first winter, when the future still looked grim, I think the dwarves cleared out a small stage and cast the roles of this traditional musical retelling of their history among them, based on who knew the parts best, because they aren't just miners and smiths and soldiers, and there was music again in Erebor that winter despite all the damage that the dragon did.

[invisible-pink-toast]

very specific trope i love: dramatic running through scenery in improbable dresses

[soulwrencher]

minors and men dni!

ೃ⁀➷ellie and you go costume shopping for halloween, but you take a detour to the changing room, i guess ellie's costume is wearing you on her fingers... (getting fingered in a changing room? hell yeahhhh).ೃ࿐

"costume shopping is silly?" ellie whispers into your neck, hot air tickling your skin as she scoffs at the sight of you. you are pushed into the corner of the changing room, one hand pressed against the mirror smudging it and the other digging into her back, you just got a new set of stiletto nails ellie has been begging you to get and try them out on her. however, this was not how you have been imagining to leave scratch marks on her back, it was more of a 'you and her in bed', horizontally, or you on her lap. but it doesn't matter, your mind is occupied with figuring out how many fingers are inside of you and remembering the question ellie just asked you all while trying to keep quiet. and in result of that, only a mindless 'hmm?' escapes your mouth—if the auburn-haired woman wasn't asking you a question, then it was a moan for sure.

but it only makes ellie more cocky, you know by the way she curls her fingers inside of you, the way her grip around your waist tightens, like you're her possession. her face draws closer to your neck again, repeating her question, dragging word for word over your sensitive skin, you jolt back, eyes widening in surprise as your ass bangs against the wooden wall of the changing room.

"fuck," you mutter, but ellie slowing down her thrusts and whispering an 'it's okay' before kissing you softly makes you forget about possibly everyone hearing the two of you fucking. her fingers are still deep inside of you and she has no plans of getting them out of you anytime soon and while you don't like to show it, you don't want her to stop either. in fact you are so wet, you wish you could simply absorb her, you want more, you need more. so you pull away from ellie's soft kisses and slowly start thrusting your hips towards her, desperation overcomes you and you suddenly pick up the speed, making ellie lose her balance.

you watch her cheeks turn red and ellie looks so cute all flustered, but you are too horny to keep on waiting to cum.

"keep up," you whisper, eyes rolling back as your hips rock back and forth, fuck does she feel good. she blushes a little harder at your words, there's nothing else on this world she'd rather do than make what's hers feel good, hit that sweet spot of yours and watch you fall apart at her touch. your pussy clenches around her fingers, your teeth dragging at her lips as she glides her free hand over your body to squeeze your tits.

little moans escape from you, but you aren't the only one huffing and puffing, ellie's breath stagnates with every kiss she drags from your lips to your collarbones. it just makes you want to release, all the sloppy wet kisses and her fingers pushing inside you, filling you up. ellie could swear that you were dripping down her forearm, most likely leaving stains on her sleeves she forgot to cuff. but she doesn't care, all she cares about is making you cum.

"is three okay?" she asks, you nod hastily.

ellie is watching you, holding eye contact while she inserts another finger, your mind is far too gone to hold up eye contact, your eyes roll into the back of your mind.

so she leans in, her breath is steadier than yours, lips devouring you. ellie's fingers start out curling slowly and you push your pelvic harder into her hand.

you can't help it, your body just reacts to her and you are desperate, in a way ellie rarely gets to see. and it is exactly what keeps her going, your desperation for her, the way your body moves against hers, the taste of your lips and the sound of your breath. you are perfect and watching you struggle with every thrust satisfies her immense hunger. you feel so full but so weak, you can't keep up rocking your hips against her any longer, your legs begin to shake, nails digging into her arms to keep yourself from sinking. but you start clenching around her fingers harder and faster while it's getting more difficult to stay quiet being so breathless. you nuzzle your face into her neck in attempt to muffle your moans but she is fingering you so good, how could you not gasp for air? your movements become wilder, almost there, you think to yourself as

you try to ride her fingers, but ellie won't let you have it your way. you glance at her for once, strands of her hair sticking to her forehead, rosy cheeks and sweat pearls rolling down her neck, she looks so pretty like this. she's been putting a lot of work into you so instinctively you want to reach for her face and stroke her cheekbone, however your hand makes a full stop at her nape and your expression clarifies at the realization that you're about to cum. you're out of your mind, ellie pushes her fingers in diligently, the way you clench around her fingers makes her go insane. she nibbles on your ear, "you're doing well," she says.

you roll your eyes and before you're able to leave a snarky comment, your breaths become shorter, deeper, you drag out your exhales—you're just a hot mess of needy hums. all tensed up, your back is arched, you're sweaty and breathless.

and it doesn't take ellie long to figure out how to release all of that tension, just one look at you and she knows how to curl her fingers, how to fuck you. and she takes pride in that, it takes just one right angle for you to momentarily hold your breath, look into her green eyes, "go ahead," she whispers. and you do, your eyes roll back as you exhale shakily, unclench around her fingers and your legs completely lose its strength, she makes you cum just like that.

your body is twitching, her fingers are still inside of you and she stays inside for a second before taking them out to show you how wet you are. ellie pulls you closer and sucks her fingers clean, making sure you watch before she leans in for a kiss, slipping in her tongue for you to taste yourself. you pull away, "you're getting good at this," you whisper, her eyes light up before overconfidence plasters over her whole face.

"i've been telling you," she says, but asks in the same breath if you really thought so, she's adorable.

and then she helps you pull your pants back up, you adjust your hair and pull on your clothes to make sure you look less like you just got fucked well. the two of you leave, power walking out of the store avoiding eye contact from anyone, costumes long forgotten in the changing room.

"just wait until we get home," you say, not giving anything away. you just can't let ellie get away with the games she likes to play with you but luckily, the wand and the rabbit you charged this morning were awaiting the auburn-haired woman for a long and steamy night.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Second Chances

Summary: It’s not common knowledge that you have a superpower: regeneration. You didn’t think that would be a problem... Jason and Damian think otherwise.

Relationships: Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader, Damian Wayne & Jason Todd & Reader (platonic because they’re brothers duh)

DAMIAN WAYNE IS MY SON I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (I just watched the Supersons movie he makes me smile so hard)

Word Count: 4.8k

Content warning for temporary character death. Reader’s vigilante name is Ghoul, BTW.

Jason is in the shower when he hears someone break into his apartment.

He groans, makes sure all the shampoo is rinsed out of his hair, then grabs the knife mounted to his curtain rod. It’s not the first time someone has attacked him in the shower, and it probably won’t be the last. Still, Jason wishes they would at least give him time to grab a towel. It’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for them.

This time, they actually do. Maybe they’re going to be polite enough to wait for him to finish cleaning all of Gotham’s sludge off his body. Jason would appreciate the sentiment more if the upcoming fight wouldn’t immediately dirty his body again with their blood.

He doesn’t turn off the shower when he steps out, dries his feet on the bath mat. He’s reaching for his towel when he hears one of the intruders say something.

He recognizes that voice.

Jason sticks his head out of the bathroom and glowers. “What are you doing here, brat?”

Damian Wayne, one of Bruce Wayne’s many children and the current Robin, scowls right back. “Why is your shower still running, Todd? Do you not care for conservation efforts? There are people in Michigan who would—”

“Okay, Dami,” interrupts another voice.

Jason’s whole body flushes. He makes sure every part of him except his face is hidden behind the door when a second person comes into view.

Your vigilante costume is zipped halfway, the top pulled down and sleeves tied around your waist, exposing the compression shirt with kevlar-like weave you wore beneath it. A large bandage is wrapped around your upper arm, growing redder by the second.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jason says. Does he sound too excited? Does he not sound excited enough?

You just smile. “Hey, Jace. Sorry, we came by for first aid supplies. We’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.”

“No, don’t rush on my account,” Jason says. Does he sound too desperate? “Just give me a—”

He ducks back into the bathroom to turn off the shower after making sure he’s clean and one hundred percent soap-free. Not expecting company, he’d only brought a pair of boxers and military-style shorts in with him. Rushing, hoping you don’t leave before he gets out (Damian can leave, though) he pulls both on and slams the door open.

It hits the wall so hard it rebounds back into Jason’s hand. You jump at the sound, nearly poking Damian with the needle in your hand.

“Watch it, idiot!” Damian snaps. To Jason, he says, “You just dented your wall. Moron.”

“Don’t talk to them like that,” Jason says sternly. God, he knows why the brat is so prickly, but he still got on Jason’s last nerves. He checks the wall, hoping the brat exaggerated, but nope. Another dent to match the nicks, scrapes, and bullet holes that already littered his apartment.

He is never getting back his security deposit.

You’re about to stitch up a cut on Damian’s arm when Jason clucks his tongue. “That doesn’t look good.” The bandage around your arm is sodden with blood.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say dismissively. “Ready, Dami?”

Interestingly enough, the brat doesn’t tell you off for giving him a nickname. It seems to be a privilege reserved exclusively for you and Dick; every time Jason tries, he’s vehemently told off.

Then again, his nicknames are usually derogatory. That might contribute to it a little bit.

Damian sets his jaw and you stitch him up quickly, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” every time his fingers twitch—the only indication of pain he’ll show. Jason eyes the bandage around your arm with worry, but the blood stain doesn’t grow any more in the interim.

As soon as you tie off the thread, Damian hops to his feet and scurries for the bathroom. You start to get up, brow pinched with worry, but Jason says, “Let me look at your arm.”

Your eyes take a while to slide from the shut bathroom door to Jason’s face, but then you say, “Yeah, okay,” and sink back into your chair.

To distract you as he unpeels the sticky bandage from your arm, Jason asks, “So you’re on babysitting duty now, huh?”

“Oh, no, Damian and I patrol together every Friday night.” You use finger quotes with the other hand and say, “B think it ‘promotes more accountability’ when someone gets injured during patrol if they have a partner.”

Jason frowns at the sight of the cut. It’s obviously from a knife, and not pretty, exactly, but also not big enough to let out as much blood as soaked through the bandage. “Who did this to you?”

“Just a typical goon. It’s really not a big deal.” Your eyes follow Jason’s gaze. “I guess it bled a lot, huh? Like a head wound. You know, disproportionate.” You tug your sleeve over the wound.

“Y/N is not as weak as the rest of you,” Damian sneers, having vacated the bathroom on silent feet. You jump, and so does Jason, even though he has Batman-honed instincts.

There’s just something intoxicating about your presence. You’re… distracting.

It was manageable back before Jason was Robin and you were one of his classmates. You were obsessed with Batman and crimefighting, and Jason was a bookworm, so your friendship shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Then, ironically, Bruce Wayne adopted him and Jason became the crimefighter. He never told you about his identity to protect Bruce’s, but you figured it out when he died.

Then he came back to Gotham, hellbent on revenge, and burned every bridge he’d ever built. Including the one with you.

Jason still could barely believe you give him the time of day after all the awful things he’d said and done. But you’re just as obsessed with redemption and forgiveness as Bruce, and he will never take that for granted.

His fascination with you was manageable before Jason died, but it’s downright consuming now.

Jason can’t believe how you’d grown up to be so… so flat-out amazing. Graceful, and maybe not as skilled at hand-to-hand as the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes, but you adapt with a long-range fighting style. You’re strong, and self-assured, and really, seriously gorgeous.

Jason realizes his hand is still on your arm, touching the soft skin, and he yanks it away as if burnt. He doesn’t understand how you remain so scar-free despite years of crimefighting, and he’s abruptly self-conscious about the marks that litter his torso, arms, and legs. Your eyes roam over them, lingering on his chest and stomach

He’s most self-conscious about the jagged ‘J’ carved into his cheek, and Jason tries to cover it with his hand without drawing attention. That doesn’t work—he looks like a weirdo waving his hands around—so he tilts his cheek away so you don’t have to see it anymore.

You clear your throat and look away, as if embarrassed for some reason.

Damian’s gaze pingpongs between the two of you before he rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Are you two finished?”

You push away from the table and make a grabby hand. Damian rolls his eyes again, but he sidles closer, and you check his stitched cut. Your thumb rubs over the raised line of stitches like you’re trying to wipe his pain away.

Jason realizes he’s staring at the bottom lip you’re jutting out in sympathy. He flushes again.

After everything he did, he can’t expect anything more than friendship from you. If that’s what you’re willing to give, he’ll never push for more.

“I am fine, Y/N,” Damian said, pushing your hand away, albeit gently. A hint of whine entered his voice and Jason blinked. It wasn’t often that he heard Damian sound like an actual kid. “Can we resume patrol now?”

“Wait,” Jason hears someone say, and it’s—him, he’s the one saying it. “Are you hungry? I have a casserole in the oven.”

Damian snorts. “My apologies. I did not know you had adopted the personality of a middle-aged white wom—”

You cover Damian’s mouth with your hand and say, “That sounds great, Jay. Thanks.”

Jason’s greedy. He’ll take whatever scraps he can get from you.

The three of you eat, the conversation pleasant whenever Damian isn’t threatening Jason because Jason taunted him. You laugh as they bicker, used to the antics of Gotham’s vigilantes by now.

Once everyone is done, it’s just about time for the Red Hood to start his patrol, so with a little cajoling from you, Damian agrees to let Jason tag along until your patrol ends. Jason suits up, and you lead the charge out of his apartment window, followed by Damian. Jason is last out, stopping briefly to make sure the window latches before stepping off the fire escape.

The sensation of his stomach rising is familiar from so many years of grappling through the city, but no less exhilarating. He follows your and Robin’s flipping shapes as the two of you tear through the city. The bright primary color accents on Robin’s suit and the pale gray color of your own shouldn’t blend in so well with Gotham’s shadows, but you and Damian manage pretty well. It turns into kind of a game of tag, and whenever he gets close enough, you grin and twist away, muffling laughter behind one hand.

He could definitely catch you, but he thinks you’re enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse just as much as he, if not more.

Jason’s just thinking to himself that there’s not much crime tonight when the Batsignal lights up the sky.

“Way to ruin the mood,” he grumbles. The game is over. The three of you grapple toward the giant light without any more flipping or laughter.

Jim Gordon obviously isn’t expecting them when they land. After all, it’s common knowledge that Ghoul is a Bat-affiliate, but Red Hood’s alliance with the Batclan is still relatively new. Shaky.

And a lot of people still think the Red Hood hates Ghoul. Admittedly, the way Jason tried to kill you when he returned hadn’t helped the rumors.

It made sense at the time. He’d also tried to kill Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, so it’s not like it was entirely personal. You don’t hold a grudge.

“Where’s Batman?” is his first question.

You shrug. “Running late.”

Jason’s not sure if that’s true. With you and Robin patrolling Newtown and Otisburg, Spoiler and Red Robin handling everything from the Coventry to the Upper East Side, and Black Bat and Batwing watching over everything else but the Tricorner, the city is in pretty good hands for the night.

And yes, Jason’s knowledge about patrol schedules is from his days as a crime lord, but it still comes in handy as a reformed vigilante.

“Why did you summon us here, Commissioner?” Robin asks.

“Bane escaped Arkham earlier tonight,” says the Commissioner. “We have reason to believe he’s hiding out in Amusement Mile. The Joker’s not out, for one, and we have a… witness… that claims to have seen Bane in the park.”

“Where is this witness?” Robin demands.

“In our holding cell, sobering up,” Gordon says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, great,” Jason says. “So it might have been Bane, or it might have been one of those giant stuffed bears at every amusement park.”

You elbow him in the side and promise Gordon, “We’ll check it out, Commish. Let you know when he’s handled again!”

You and Robin balance on the edge of the roof. Jason asks in a low tone, “Batman’s not coming tonight, is he?” He would have already been here.

You and Robin share a guilty look.

Jason sighs. Bane is a tough opponent, possibly their strongest rogue. It’ll take a lot of force to bring him down… force he’s not sure you and Robin can muster. You’re good vigilantes, don’t get him wrong, but Robin is a prepubescent boy and has the height and muscle mass to show for it. You’re strong and graceful and should be fine as long as you keep your distance, but Jason’s the only one that comes close to Bane in terms of muscle mass.

It’ll be up to him to keep the two of you safe.

“I think I parked my bike somewhere around here,” you say. “It’ll get us there faster than grappling.”

Jason thinks something is stuck in his throat. He croaks, “You have a motorcycle?”

You nod. He can’t see your face beneath the mask, but he’s pretty sure you’re smiling. “Got it just a couple weeks ago, but I needed Earl to paint it over.”

“It is parked in that alley.” Robin points.

“Okay,” Jason says. “You two drive to my apartment. I’ll follow above, then we’ll head to Amusement Mile.”

“Aye-aye,” you joke. “Come on, bud.”

You and Robin swing away, the younger boy loudly complaining about the myriad nicknames you think up for him. Jason swings away to get a headstart. A minute later, the sound of a bike engine revving hits Jason’s ears, and it isn’t long after that he looks down to see you and Robin on a pale bike painted in the same colors as your suit.

You look up and wave.

Jason almost misses his next swing. He swallows and has to look away. Seeing you on a motorcycle…

As soon as he puts the key in his bike’s ignition, you speed away, tires squealing against the asphalt. Jason grins and twists the throttle. He shoots onto the street and hunches low to decrease wind resistance, pushing the bike hard to catch up to you.

You wear no helmet, but you’d forced Robin to wear one. He sits behind you on the bike, arms locked around your waist. At the sight of Jason, he makes a rude gesture, but Jason just huffs out a laugh. The brat likes to aggravate him on purpose, but it’s hard to feel annoyed when he drives next to you, racing side-by-side.

It doesn’t take long to reach Amusement Mile. You and Jason shift gears, rolling to a stop.

“You and Robin go high,” Jason instructs. “I’ll go low.”

“Roger.” You kick the stand for your bike, then you and Robin shoot your grapples for the nearest roof.

In seconds, the two of you are out of sight.

Jason swallows. He hates this strip of clown-themed land. The Joker isn’t in it currently, but it still reminds him of that madman.

Come on. He shakes himself. Jason can’t afford to get distracted. Bane is dangerous.

Jason makes no effort to muffle the sounds of his footsteps as he strolls through the park. A plastic bag drifts along the path with a gust of wind, and a couple bowling pins on the ground roll. But apart from that, the park is empty and quiet.

Too quiet.

Jason turns just in time to avoid a crushing blow to his head.

He hits the ground rolling and comes up with guns blazing. Bullets deflect off Bane’s armor, and he doesn’t seem to feel the ones that burrow into his skin.

“You will not stop me, Red Hood,” says the mechanized voice. “No one will stop me in my pursuit to break Batman, even though he sent you in his place.”

“He didn’t send me,” says Jason.

Help comes from above. A steel bola—one of your weapons of choice—whips through the air and wraps around Bane’s throat. He chokes and reaches up to untangle it. At the same time, a Batarang slices through the air and cuts straight through one of the hoses pumping super-steroid into his body.

He groans. Drops to one knee.

Jason spares a glance to the rooftops, but he only sees Robin.

That moment of distraction costs him. Bane surges back to his feet and tackles him. Jason hits the ground, the back of his head colliding against the pavement so hard his vision blacks out for a moment.

He blinks away the darkness in time to see a punishing fist aimed right for his head. There’s not enough time to dodge. Jason can only brace for an impact… that never comes.

The hook of a grapple is embedded into Bane’s wrist. Its line is taught. On the roof of a decrepit popcorn stand, Robin yanks back with all his might.

Jason knees Bane in the crotch, then elbows him in the face.

Bane grunts and yanks his arm forward, pulling Robin right to the ground in a flutter of cape, but Jason slips out from beneath him and rolls to his feet. Bane may be strong, and his hits may hurt, but that’s only if they connect. And Bane isn’t very fast.

The engine of a bike roars, and your voice shouts, “Hood, out of the way!”

Jason obeys without thinking. It’s a good thing he doesn’t hesitate, because he barely dodges your motorcycle before you ram it full-speed into Bane.

Not even the giant can resist a motorcycle going full-throttle. He topples back, and you keep driving, treating his body like a ramp.

Jason laughs despite himself. “I can see tire tracks on your face, ugly!” He and Robin throw knives at the same time. Robin’s slices off another steroid line. Jason’s lodges in Bane’s shoulder. It should have severed his deltoid, leaving his arms useless, but the man doesn’t react to the pain at all.

Getting run over pisses Bane off. You turn in a sharp circle on the bike and rev your engine, obviously ready to try the same trick twice.

But Jason sees the tension in Bane’s legs, and he’s shouting for you to stop after you start.

You don’t listen. You just drive.

Bane sidesteps your bike at the last possible second, and his arm shoots out. His hand is large enough to wrap around your entire throat, and it yanks you off your bike, which skids away with a screech of tire and metal. You choke, scrabbling at the iron fingers around your throat.

Jason has his gun out in a second, but Bane holds your body in front of his. So Jason shoots his foot. It doesn't have an effect.

“Ghoul!” Robin shouts. He unsheathes his katana.

“I tire of this,” Bane says through his modulator.

He snaps your neck.

“NO!”

It’s like the world slows down. Jason can only watch as Bane carelessly drops your lifeless body.

He sees Robin lunge with his sword. He sees Bane casually backhand him so hard he drops his katana. Robin flies backward, hits the popcorn stand, and slumps to the ground, motionless.

Bane steps on you—your body—and something in your spine cracks. Something in Jason’s chest cracks, too, and he sees green.

The Pit surges.

After it recedes, Robin’s katana is lodged firmly in a moaning Bane’s side. Every one of his steroid pumps is severed, and his mask is cracked. He’s weak enough without his Venom that three Bat-restraints and a set of handcuffs can hold him.

Huh. Jason’s surprised he didn’t kill him.

His knuckles are bleeding; they’re slick inside his gloves. When he flexes his fingers, pain screams up his nerves, through his arm all the way to his heart. At least two are broken, and another knuckle might be dislocated. His jaw hurts, his brain is pounding—concussion, probably—and his knee feels swollen. But he can put pressure on it, at least, and he limps to a stirring Robin.

“Hey,” Jason says. His voice is rough. He doesn’t remember yelling. He tries to crouch, but can’t with the stiff knee, so he just kind of collapses in front of the kid. “Robin. Status report.”

The kid looks at him, wobbling even though he’s sitting down. One hand goes up to touch the back of his head, and the tips of his gloves gleam with dark blood when he pulls it back. “Possible concussion,” he says with a wavering voice. “Ribs—”

Robin gasps and stumbles to his feet.

“Don’t—”

Jason tries to grab him, but Robin wobbles out of his reach. He walks hunched over in a zigzag, limping to your—

Jason grunts and stands back up. “Hey, hey, Robin.” He gets between the kid and you. “Don’t. Don’t—don’t look.”

“Do not stop me, Todd,” hisses the kid, and wow, he must be seriously out of it to use Jason’s civilian name. “Let me see them.”

“You don’t want to,” Jason says grimly. He’s seen snapped necks before, and they’re… Well, they’re as unnatural-looking as they sound.

He hears a rushing in his ears. A wave of grief is cresting, ready to sweep him away, but Jason has to keep it together for Robin. He barely hears his own voice when he says, “Ghoul’s gone.” He can’t say the ‘D’ word. Not when he feels like puking.

“Unhand me, you blackguard,” Robin hissed. “You do not understand. They might be—”

“They’re not.”

“Todd!” the kid says, voice rising into a shrill.

Something clicks behind them.

Jason whirls around to make sure Bane hasn’t broken out of his restraints.

He hasn’t.

So what made the noise?

He and Robin are looking right at the body when some invisible force takes your head and—and wrenches it.

Robin lets out a low cry.

Jason feels frozen. He doesn’t stop the kid when he stumbles forward and collapses next to the body. His shoulders shake, head bowed with grief.

Jason is still watching when he sees your chest rise and fall with a breath.

“Oh, what the fuck,” he whispers, stumbling back. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the—”

Your head raises, and you reach to your neck with a wince.

Robin freezes.

“Ow,” you grumble, pushing up to your elbows. “That sucked.”

“What the fuck?” Jason exclaims.

“What is going on?” Robin demands.

You look between the two vigilantes. “Sorry to freak you out, guys.” Which is a completely underwhelming thing to say when you just died and then unsnapped your own neck.

Robin makes a low, wounded sound, then throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck and squeezing hard. You hug him back just as tight, murmuring low things that Jason tries not to hear. It’s a personal moment, and he feels like an intruder, but he can’t move. His feet are planted to the ground.

Seconds ago, you’d been dead. No doubt about it. Bane had snapped your neck and you had crumbled like paper.

Now you’re breathing and alive.

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t make any sense.

Robin comes to the same conclusion, because he pulls away and pinches your arm. “How is this possible?”

“Bud, do you remember when… you remember when Pyg got me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I don’t,” says Jason. Professor Pyg kidnapped you? What the fuck? When did that happen?

You look up at him, still holding Robin close. “We weren’t exactly on speaking terms when it happened, Hood.”

Oh.

“But Father ran his tests and said his experimentation just gave you advanced healing,” says Robin.

“Which is technically true—”

“Resurrection is quite different from healing!” the kid says.

“Wait, you knew they had powers?” Jason asks Robin.

The kid sneers at him. “Of course. I was the one that found Ghoul, and I patrol with them at least once a week. It would take an unobservant fool to miss their obvious healing abilities."

Jason bristles with indignation.

Robin's head turns on a swivel to glare at you. "It was less obvious that you have nothing to fear from physical injuries. Informing me of this fact would have greatly reduced the chances of experiencing emotional distress at the sight of your dead, mangled body."

"I know," you say, cupping his chin in your hand. "I'm really, really sorry, Dami."

"Do not address me as such," he says, "we are in costume." Robin huffs and scrambles out of your lap, brushing debris off his suit. Then he wobbles and nearly falls over, and you lunge to catch him.

"Woah, bud, you okay?"

"He's concussed," Jason says.

"Too concussed to ride on the back of my bike?"

"Of course not," says Robin. Then he leans over and pukes.

"Oh, Batman's gonna kill me," you mutter.

It's a much tamer drive to the Batcave, in case Robin rolls off the bike accidentally. He doesn't, but you do have to stop a couple of times so he can lean over the side and retch.

When all is said and done and you're back at the Cave and Alfred and Bruce are fussing over Damian, you and Jason hang back a bit. He can't stop sneaking glances at you. Your Ghoul mask is off, and there's a little dried blood around your nostrils, and your hair is a little sweaty, but you're the most beautiful thing Jason's ever seen.

You're alive. He can hardly believe it.

You suddenly sigh and mutter, "I guess you're mad at me, too?"

"What?" Jason startles.

"For not telling you about my abilities."

"Y/N—"

"I just didn't want you guys to think of me differently. Duke has his powers, yeah, but he was born with them. I got mine from Pyg. I didn't want everyone to start treating me like a victim."

All things considered, you're remarkably well-adjusted for someone that survived Professor Pyg's experimentation. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Y/N," says Jason. "Your powers don't change that. They make me feel a little better about you patrolling at night, anyway. They're basically like... a second chance."

You snort. "I think I'm on my fifth chance by this point."

Jason shakes his head. "How did you keep your powers a secret, again?"

"Well, the first time, Pyg shut off my heart, but that didn't shut down my body. When I actually noticed that I couldn't die, though, was that time one of Cobblepot's goons stabbed me in the neck and I woke up in the middle of a shootout. Now that wasn't fun." You grimace. "A bullet caught me in the head and I died as soon as I sat up. The Bats were too preoccupied to notice me, luckily. Then there was that time with the poison dart that I kept a secret, and now this time." You smirk, cross your arms, and bump Jason's hip with your own. "I'm beating you in the resurrection department, aren't I?"

Jason huffs, pretending to be offended, and your eyes widen. "Oh, my God. That was in such poor taste. I'm so sorry."

"No," he says, trying to hide the twist of his lips. If it was anyone else saying it, Jason would probably kill them. "No, it's okay. I'm just glad you're all right. It would have been awful if you'd died and I never took the chance to..."

"Chance to what?" You look up at him through your eyelashes.

Jason's breath catches in his throat. He's never done this before, dammit, but seeing you die today made him remember just how limited their time is as vigilantes.

Well, maybe not yours, but he walks a thin line.

"Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you," Jason says slowly, feeling sweat prickle on his hairline, "want to... Um. Get coffee? With me. As in, like—"

"A date?"

"Only if you want to."

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Hell yeah I want to!"

Damian, Bruce, and Alfred look over at your raised voice. Their disapproving smiles are all eerily similar.

"Sorry," you whisper. You look back at Jason and say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I've been waiting ages for you to ask."

Yes. You said yes. Adrenaline rushes through Jason's veins, and he only barely resists the urge to pump his fist in the air like a moron. He's brave enough to tease, "Well, why didn't you ask me?"

Your face flushes and you look away.

It's at that moment that Damian calls, "Y/N. Stop twittering with Todd and come here. Your presence is required."

"Seriously," Jason said under his breath, "the way he talks like a Victorian child doesn't bother you at all?"

You're smiling. "I think he's adorable." You walk backwards to the brat, making a phone gesture with your hand and mouthing to Jason, Call me.

He definitely will.

"Master Jason," comes Alfred's disapproving voice when he turns back to his bike. "Don't think I didn't notice that you have your own injuries to tend to."

Of course, that sets off Bruce's worry alert even more.

Jason groans. He won't be able to sneak out for coffee with you for an entire week after this whole debacle.

DC Taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever tag list

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

Let me know if there's anything you guys want to see with Jason in the future. My requests are open!

[comphy-and-cozy]

down bad - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x unnamed OFC

Summary: Mat takes a late night booty call to the next level.

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY): Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), creampie. Mega simp Mat. This has barely any plot but has potential to expand into a universe, maybe? Masterlist

The Snapchat notification brightens the screen for a few moments, catching Mat’s eye even while he focuses on shooting down his opponent on-screen. Beau shouts a warning in his ear, and Mat emits a low curse when he gets sniped from behind. 

After one more round, and after bidding goodbye to his friend, Mat’s attention draws back to his phone sitting on the table beside him, tapping to see who the Snapchat was from. His jaw pulses, just slightly, when he sees the name attached to the notification. Instinctually, he feels a gentle throb below the waistband of his gray sweatpants, just at the mere sight of her name.

The photo isn’t set to a timer, and Mat sends a silent thank you to the higher powers that he gets to gaze at it for as long as he desires. The foggy mirror is what he notices first, eyes quickly drawing to the generous cleavage exposed underneath the loosely-wrapped towel, a sliver of delicious skin dragging his eyes down to where the countertop regrettably cuts off the view he would have—of hip bones, leading his eyes down to the apex of two thighs he desperately wants to splay open.

There’s no caption, no commentary needed; the message is loud and clear. A calling that he responds to without fail despite his every effort to remain the nonchalant, professional athlete playboy. Obedient and eager, it’s almost Pavlovian the way his senses kick into gear when her messages come through.

Some might call him whipped, but he prefers the term ‘infatuated.’ He has been, ever since he got that first mirror selfie showing off generous curves clad in Calvin Klein underwear. He’d never admit it outside of the privacy of messages that disappear in 24 hours, but he had never come as hard as he did that night, hand gripping his length while his mind was flooded with images of that body, of those gorgeous lips, of the hips that looked like they were made for his hands.

Mat swipes through the photos he’s saved from her texts, for his eyes only. They’re more private, more sacred; selfies in bathroom mirrors with her top pulled down, videos showing a few specific details of her slutty nurse Halloween costume, and his favorite: his girl, perched on the edge of her bed, a Barzal jersey bunched up around her hips and revealing a gratuitous shot of her ass in a deep blue thong. 

When he first matched with her on Raya, he never anticipated that he’d meet up with her, let alone see her multiple times after that.  A free night in Chicago before a game, he was lying in the hotel room bed in search of his evening plans, in need of a good release. It was her eyes that drew him in first; the same eyes he stared into while she took him in her mouth later that evening. After finding heaven between her legs and climaxing so hard he saw stars, he told her he’d call her the next time he was in Chicago—and he meant it.

Since then, he returns dutifully to her bed when the Isles come to town, and he leaves the door unlocked for her when she travels to New York City for client visits as a CPA (hot and smart; a lethal combination). It’s become an excellent arrangement, the distance far enough to keep things casual, though on nights like tonight, when all he wants is to be buried inside her, he really wishes she was much closer. 

Mat’s attention snaps back to his phone when he sees another notification come through with her name on it, and this time, the dark purple square has his heart fluttering. Clicking into the video, his heart leaps into his throat when he sees the same shot as earlier, only this time, she lets her hand slip so the white towel sags against her body. He’s practically panting, eyes glued to the way she teases him, until she drops the towel altogether.

He’s hard in an instant, flipping back to his Snapchat app to send a photo back of his sweatpant-covered erection.

‘Wish you were here,’ comes her reply. ‘In the mood to get railed.’

Swallowing thickly, Mat feels the twitch against his pelvis. He lets his mind draw back to the last time he saw her; thinking about the feeling of her perfect, wet heat gripping onto him, the way she moaned his name in his ear. He hadn’t gotten more than a few hours with her, hadn’t spent enough time buried between her thighs and worshiping her the way she deserved. The way he craved to. Now, with his last trip to Chicago complete and tax season in the books, he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see her—this fall, at the earliest.

The thought flits through his mind out of nowhere. He considers it for a millisecond, then with a blink, laughs it off. Fly to see her? Tonight?

No, that would be wild, though. It’d be insane.

But you have an off-day tomorrow. You could be back before anyone would notice you’re gone.

Mat shakes his head, pushing away the impulse. He opens his phone, hoping to distract himself by scrolling on Instagram. But the thought doesn’t go away; instead, it patiently nudges at the corner of his brain, lingering until he grants it his full attention. His dick twitches again, as if it knows he’s only a few steps removed from being inside her.

A glance at the airline app can’t hurt, he thinks. Just to see if it’s even a realistic possibility.

He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to see when he opens the Delta app—the perfect timed flight, or a flight that doesn’t work with his schedule. A quick search confirms the former, and he can’t help but laugh out loud at the situation he’s found himself in. Mat shakes his head, the reality of his decision sinking in: are you really about to do this?

He texts her, hoping the distinction of message type symbolizes that he’s serious. The response comes a few minutes later, and he lets out an audible groan when he sees that she’s naked, an arm draped across her breasts seductively. The caption comes next: ‘This is what’s waiting for you if you do decide to come.’

Twenty minutes later, he’s pulling on a baseball cap as he shuts and locks his apartment door, small duffel bag in hand.

Once the Uber drops him off, he briefly notes that it’s strange to be using the public entrance, used to the special business aviation sector that the team used for travel. He could��ve taken a private jet, if he really wanted, but purchasing a commercial ticket was both quicker and easier. And much, much less embarrassing.

He’s halfway through the security line when the reality of what he’s about to do hits him, and he can’t help but laugh at himself. Purchasing and boarding a flight within an hour—for a booty call. Talk about impulsive. And desperate.

The question of ‘why?’ briefly flits through his mind, contemplating his life choices. But then his mind trails to those gorgeous lips, pressed against his mouth, his neck, his—

“Sir, may I please have your ID?”

Mat blinks, coming back to reality, embarrassed that he let his imagination run wild in the middle of the fucking airport. As he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, he does his best to subtly adjust the half-hard erection threatening to make an appearance, smiling innocently at the TSA agent.

If he’s recognized by anyone, no one says anything, though he keeps his head down as he finds his way to his gate. ‘Chicago’ lines the monitor, the flight number and departure times floating across the bottom of the screen. Her last text buzzes in his pocket once he takes a seat, duffel bag seated on the floor by his feet.

The text is actually a photo that has him slapping the face of his phone against his leg, glancing around to make sure no one near him is in sight of his screen. Once he’s sure he’s in safe territory, he sneaks a glance at it again, thirsty for another peek of her completely nude body, a sizable pink dildo pressed against her pouty lips.

Hurry up, the message reads. I’m getting impatient.

Mat hopes nobody notices the way he twitches beneath the dark fabric of his joggers, willing his erection to chill the fuck out as he gets in line to board the plane. 

When he lands 3 hours later, Mat’s knee bounces anxiously as he glances out to watch the plane make its way down the tarmac. A quick check on his Maps app tells him he isn’t far from her apartment, and he sends a silent prayer that he can get deplaned quickly. 

Waiting is excruciating, and he already has the Uber app loaded as he exits the plane, a ride called by the time he steps off of the jet bridge. Mat’s footsteps quicken when he sees the signs pointing toward baggage claim, and it isn’t long until he’s getting into a red Toyota Camry, his driver, Todd, greeting him from the front seat.

‘The door is unlocked,’ her text read. ‘I’m in the bedroom.’

The lights are off when he enters, though the light over the sink illuminates the small kitchen just enough for him to toe his shoes off and head toward the bedroom door. Mat’s heart thuds in his chest as he nears it, nears her, fingers itching to caress every inch of her body. His dick gives another wanton pulse, like it knows its wait is almost over. 

What he sees when he opens the door has him speechless—and that’s hard to do to Mat Barzal. 

The room is dark save for the small string of fairy lights by her window and a sandalwood candle burning on the bedside table. Flickering candlelight casts a warm glow over the room, dancing on the panoramic photo of Wrigley Field on the wall across from her bed.

But Mat isn’t looking at any of that. 

Instead, his eyes are locked on his girl, lying on the bed, gazing straight at him. She’s completely naked, save for the very sheer black lace kimono, untied in the front, revealing her bareness to him entirely. Her legs are spread in a way that he has the perfect view. The warmth of the candle makes her skin look like it’s glowing, soft and golden and delicious.

This time, his dick doesn’t just twitch. It throbs. 

He thinks he might’ve let out a whimper, dropping his bag on the floor; his body moves of its own accord, approaching her bed and immediately slotting between her legs. His lips are on hers before he even realizes it, unable to deny the yearning to feel her touch any longer.

“Hi,” he murmurs against her mouth. She giggles, lips curling into a smile against his own. “Missed you.”

Her reply is a hum, hands carding through his hair, hat knocked on the floor. His lips suck, lick, and nip their way over her jaw and to the place he can feel her pulse against his lips. Mat likes the way she shivers when his breath skitters over her skin, body shuddering at the sensation. 

“Can’t believe you’re actually here,” she breathes, drawing his lips back up to hers for a heated kiss. The pressure mounts, his tongue desperately seeking out the seam of her mouth; involuntarily, his hips begin a slow grind, pressed right against her bare heat. There’s no hiding or denying his own rigid erection, groaning at the feeling of finally getting some friction after hours of waiting.

“Had to have you,” he whispers back. “Teasin’ me with those pictures like that.”

She moans when his mouth makes a sloppy, wet path from her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbones, landing on her breast. Mat licks and sucks every inch of skin he touches, drinking in the taste of her nipple between his lips. “Makin’ me so hard with these tits.”

“Just wanted to see if you were really whipped enough to fly here,” she purrs, raking her hand over his scalp when he takes her hardened peak between his teeth, biting down. His cheeks warm, embarrassed at the attention to just how desperate he is for her.

But he can’t deny it, so he doesn’t. Instead, he allows himself to indulge in her body, thinking that he might as well live up to his newfound title. 

“Need this pussy like I need water, baby,” he says with a sleek grin, letting his hand drift between her thighs, hissing with delight when he finds her drenched.  She rolls her eyes at the exaggerated comment, though she can’t ignore the flutter in her belly at his carnal need for her.

Her mouth opens to quip back, and he revels in the way a gasp usurps whatever sass she was about to deliver when he plunges a finger into her tight heat. She grips his digits snugly, squeezing him so tightly he wonders how he’s gonna fit another finger in, let alone his dick. The appendage gives another wanton throb.

The lemony jasmine of her shampoo invades his senses as his hand continues to pump, working his girl into a slow, maddening frenzy. Her back arches upward, kimono falling open so she’s all but bare to him. The slope of her breasts, curve of her waist, soft breath of her whimper draw him into her, pulling him into her trance.

Mat can tell by the high pitch in her whine that she’s bordering on desperate for something more. Slipping in another finger, he smirks against her lips when he hears the audible squelch of his digits pressing into her drenched center. The sound has his mouth watering, suddenly quenched of thirst. 

Gripping the plush, soft skin of her thighs, Mat pries her legs open—“jus’ a little more for me, sweetheart”—to make room for his broad shoulders before shifting his body down until he’s at eye-level with her waiting, wanting core. He doesn’t wait for her whimper before he’s pressing his face against her, moaning when his tongue tastes her slick. 

His girl is divine, her pussy a certain, secret entrance to the pearly gates. Each lap of his tongue isn’t nearly enough to curb his addiction, the craving never satiated. Her fingers twist into the long locks of his hair, tugging and pulling him exactly where she needs him; he’s pliant, moldable, eager to please. He’d devour her cunt whole, if he could. 

Unabashed moans encourage Mat to allow his fingers to rejoin his tongue, teasing the swollen nub at the apex of her gorgeous, heavenly slit. He drinks in her nectar like it’s the elixir of life, greedy and indulgent. The soft moans that he coaxes from her throat are just an added bonus.

He’s precise, paying close attention to the way she reacts to each flick of his tongue, each twist of his fingers. Between the choked gasps slipping from her pretty lips and the way her thighs tighten around his head, he knows he’s close—that she’s close. 

Another long, languid suck of her clit sends her hurtling into orgasm, spine arching off of the mattress. Mat’s hand rests firmly on her hip, holding her in place even despite the way her body writhes with the force of her release; he savors the taste of her flooding his mouth. 

Mat loses track of how many times he makes her come, flooding his mouth with her nectar. Three? Four? Five? His jaw aches, his mouth, chin and cheeks glistening with evidence of her arousal like he’s at a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet. He wishes Lou would let him grow a beard so he could taste her on his face for hours.

“Matty,” she sighs, and he can hear in her voice that she’s done with the foreplay. Her hands weakly tug at the cotton of his t-shirt in an attempt to draw him up to her. He obeys, pressing his mouth to her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue; as he does, the clothed tip of his erection bumps against her open, waiting center, and she whines.

“I know, baby,” he coos, massaging the inside of her thigh with a large hand. She’s practically putty underneath his touch. “Wanna fuck you so bad I think my dick might fall off.”

“Too many clothes,” she says, voice still distant and hazy from her orgasms. Mat feels a smug sense of satisfaction at the way she weakly paws at his clothes, fingers searching for purchase in the cotton of his t-shirt. She’s right, though, and he wrenches his body from hers in favor of pulling his shirt over his head.

Heat floods her eyes and Mat watches the way her gaze falls to the cut lines of his muscle, shamelessly running over the abs and the biceps he’s worked so hard on. He’d be lying if he didn’t think of her—think of this—on the early mornings he dreaded getting out of bed to workout; the thought of her lips, her hips, her body never failing to encourage him to do one more rep. Mat knows his role, his duty, as the professional athlete: maintain the god-like physique that has her all but drooling.

And when she looks at him like that, how is he supposed to deny it?

Mat shimmies his pants off, palming his aching erection through his boxer briefs. His girl’s hand reaches up to aid him, the thin material barely a barrier between her skin and his, and he can’t help but groan at the contact.

“How long have you had this?” she purrs, stroking him leisurely. He can hardly process her words and she’s barely touched him.

“Since—fuck—since you sent me that picture.” His voice is more of a choked whisper, breath hitching in his throat when she offers him an affectionate squeeze.

“But that was hours ago, Matty,” she says, but the evil glint in her eye tells him that she isn’t really feeling sympathy for him; instead, there’s smug pride hidden behind a coy smile. “You must be desperate.”

All Mat can do is hum in response, every nerve on heightened alert as her hand drags slow, languid lines up and down his length. He knows if he opens his mouth, only nonsensical gibberish is going to come out and probably ruin the moment.

“Desperate enough to fly from Long Island to Chicago just to fuck me,” she continues musing. “I’m flattered.”

Pulling himself together—eyes closing when she gives him a squeeze—Mat steels himself to say, “Best pussy I’ve ever had. ‘Course I’m desperate for you.”

“Aww, Matty,” she says with a wry, teasing smile. “You have such a way with words.”

Impatience huffs out of Mat’s lips, doing his best to suppress a whine and a plea to please, grant him some relief. “Let me fuck you, baby.”

Her fingers dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging it down before he’s hurriedly shucking the material down his hips. “You gonna be polite?”

“Please,” he tacks on, pressing himself forward to connect his lips with hers, needing something—anything—to take the edge off. “Please, baby, swear I’ll fuck you so good.”

His girl hums, returning his kiss, letting his tongue slide into her mouth; symbolic in its action as he teases, dragging the muscle in and out in intentional, suggestive motions. He shifts his approach, letting his voice take on the sickly sweet, honeyed purr that she loves. “Know you want it, sweet girl. Bet you’re jus’ drippin’ for it, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

If Mat had a single ounce of resistance left in him, he’d tease her back, but he can’t draw out his own torture any longer. He lets his hand trail down her body, meeting her own that’s wrapped around his hard, bare length. His fingers brush against her, placing themselves over her hand before guiding himself toward the apex of her thighs. She smiles against his mouth, exhaling softly as his tip broaches her entrance.

“Think I can hear her purring for me,” he says, pressing his hips forward to plunge into her with a groan. A gasp leaves her mouth, hands quickly finding purchase in the dips of his shoulders. The feeling of her walls gripping him tightly nearly makes his eyes roll back in his head.

There isn’t a whisper of a retort on her tongue, his quick-witted girl rendered speechless with him sheathed inside her. As much as he loves her quick wit and feisty attitude, he can’t deny that it’s extremely satisfying to be the one to shut her up. 

For awhile, he’s content to simply stay that way, feeling the way her walls flutter around him, her body silently begging for more. But then she remembers how to speak, saying, “Mat, fuck me.”

It takes a moment to ensure he isn’t going to completely ruin everything by finishing immediately, but once he does, he lets his hips tick forward, then back, then forward again. He works the pace up to one that earns a lusty gasp in his ear, arms holding himself above her, silver chain dangling between his neck and her chin. 

“Squeezin’ onto me like your life depends on it, baby,” he grunts. “Fuck, this cunt is so worth the 3 hour flight. Would charter a private jet just to have it in my bed every single night.”

She hums, responding by wrapping her legs around his waist, welcoming him deeper. “Better make the most of it then, Barzal.”

And, well, when she puts it like that.

Mat fucks her slow, fucks her fast, doing his best to remember everything he’s thought about doing to her since he kissed her goodbye when he slipped out of her apartment two months ago. His voice is low in her ear, filthy words strung together between nips at her neck and sloppy, heated kisses against her mouth. She feels so fucking good, and he makes sure to tell her that—communication has always been one of his stronger points.

He presses his hips firmly against the backs of her thighs, burying himself as deep as he can go. His hands wander freely, one making a path between her neck and her breast, the other languidly trailing along the slope of her ass.

Her ass. Of course.

Lost in the euphoria of seeing her, touching her, tasting her, he’d almost forgotten about his very favorite body part of hers—the one he thought about on nights where he missed her, furiously fisting his length, that never failed to bring him to orgasm. Slowing his hand’s movements, he matches his smooth strokes to the tempo of his fingers kneading the globes of her ass. 

She loves it. He can tell in the way her hips roll, grinding herself against him, a feral-sounding moan coming from deep in her throat. Mat can practically feel the orgasm building inside of her, keeping his movements careful and precise, unwilling to change a single thing; he can’t tame the desire to feel her come around him.

“Matty,” she whimpers, a hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. His eyes glance down to the movement, cursing lowly at the sight. “M’close.”

“Yeah, baby? You gonna come for me? Come on my cock after I flew all this way just to fuck you?”

If she tries to answer, nothing comes out other than another moan. Her eyes squeeze shut, and he imagines the fireworks that will soon dance beneath her eyelids. Fingers stroke at her soft skin, almost as if he’s willing her orgasm into existence. He lowers his voice to murmur, “I’ve been dreaming about feeling you come all over me for weeks, baby. It’s the least you can do.”

When she reaches the precipice, her body freezes beneath him, time standing still for a millisecond as she shatters. He can almost feel the way it courses through her, the way her pussy clamps onto him so tightly he sees stars of his own. 

It’s glorious. Sinfully, decadently, maddeningly exquisite. 

Mat’s patient with her comedown, whispering soft words of encouragement, hips resuming a gentle motion that probes her sensitive core. She whines, pawing at his shoulder to push him away. Her voice is gentle, a soft command. “Matty.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky smile. “Y’feel too good.”

He’s aware, though, wants to give her a moment of reprieve before he bends her over the way he wants to. So, he suppresses a huff as he pulls out of her delicious heat, distracting himself from the loss by kissing her hotly. She seems distracted, too, sighing into his mouth, enjoying the way it feels like he’s devouring her whole.

“Wanna fuck you from behind,” he murmurs against her lips. “Watch this ass bounce on me.”

Mat helps her up, allowing her to tear her lips away from his in favor of flipping over. Once she’s settled on her hands and knees, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight, he takes a moment to admire the view: pussy glistening with the remnants of her orgasm, framed by the globes of her perfect ass. Heaven. 

“Gotta be inside you,” he says, a statement that’s more like a declaration.

“Quit making me wait.”

His eyebrow raises. “Thought we were being polite.”

“You are. I can be whatever I want,” she shoots back with a smile. His dick gives another mild twitch.

Mat hums. “Guess I better give the lady what she wants, then.”

Judging by the way she’s backing up to meet him, he assumes she’s had plenty of reload time and slips back into her. This time, he doesn’t take his time to ramp up, instead setting a grueling pace from the start, his hands gripping tightly onto her hips. 

A groan, followed by a loud curse. “Think about this every damn day. You, taking it from behind like this. Bent over jus’ for me.”

Her reply is to lean forward farther, spreading her arms forward onto the mattress and opening herself to him even more. Mat accepts the invitation to drive deeply into her, hips slapping loudly against the back of her thighs. The thought of her neighbors briefly flits through his mind, but another glance back down at her ass has that consideration slipping away as quickly as it came. He doesn’t care who hears or who he wakes up; hell, he’d be fine telling the entire world that he gets to fuck her.

“Since you came all this way, you deserve a treat,” she says, twisting her head to glance over her shoulder at him. The sight of her peachy, round ass and her bedroom eyes looking up at him makes his balls tighten.

“And what might that be?” Mat accentuates the question by squeezing her hips tightly. He swallows down the comment that this, here, being inside of her, is already reward enough.

“I’ll let you come inside.”

Since their trysts began, she’s made Mat relieve himself elsewhere—her chest, her ass, her face; his mind briefly flits to each, reminiscing on the mental snapshot he took each time. The thought of not just not having to pull out moments before the strongest climaxes of his life, but at the idea of finishing inside of her is enough to have his heart pulsing rapidly in his chest. 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” he says with a grin, leaning forward to brush his lips against her ear. The action presses him even deeper inside of her, his hips snug against the curve of her ass as he whispers, “Fuck my load deep inside this perfect little cunt?”

She nods, mouth opening in a silent gasp when he gives a particularly hard thrust. “Yeah. Wanna feel you, Matty.”

Her eyes shoot open when he pauses his movements, glancing back at him in protest when he pulls away. Both hands pull lightly on her hips, encouraging her to flip over onto her back. When she does, her eyes catch his and he smiles. 

“Wanna see your face when I come,” he says with a shrug, easing himself back into her waiting core. 

“Oh, he’s down bad.”

He laughs, face crinkling into a smile despite the way the burn of euphoria builds in his stomach. A hand drags down the outside of her leg, tucking her calf around his hip. “Fuck off.”

“Are you gonna come in me or not?”

“You begging for it?” 

The four words dramatically change the mood; Mat watches her eyes darken as they sink in. Like he gave a secret code to have her submissive and pliant beneath him. Her voice is barely above a whisper, her lips pouty. “Please, Matty.”

Mat slows his hips, savoring the way her pussy sucks him in, greedy. He can’t help the grin that curls up on his face, watching the way her eyebrows knit together. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please, baby,” she whines, “wanna feel you come in me. I—I need it.”

He hums. “Been dreaming about filling this tight pussy up for months, baby. Wanna watch my cum drip out of this slutty little cunt.”

“Please,” is her whispered plea—quiet and desperate.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he says with a smirk. The pace of his hips increase, balls tightening with the threat of his climax. He listens to her moans, the sound of his skin against hers, the rustle of the sheets beneath his knees. His girl’s hands tighten around his shoulders, holding onto him as she absorbs the weight of his thrusts, body shifting up and down on the mattress. 

Mumbles of her name, of obscenities, flow out of his mouth, low murmurs in her ear. His rhythm starts to falter, no longer a steady metronome but a series of sloppy, uneven thrusts as Mat finds it harder and harder to stay focused. 

The release starts deep in his core, bursting through with a loud groan as he finally meets his end, reveling in the feeling of spilling inside of her. It’s freeing to have no barriers between him and her, to feel her in all of her pure, whole self, the way she contracts tightly around him as her own final climax barrels through her. Mat’s vision goes fuzzy, and for a moment he’s pretty sure his soul ascends out of his body.

It occurs to Mat that he’s slumped on top of her, panting into the crook of her neck while soft, small hands trace lazy lines up and down his spine. The touch ignites his nerve endings, sending another wave of consciousness through his system. Her nails drag delicious, soothing lines onto his scalp, and he feels his throat vibrate against her collarbone in a moan. His vision gradually grows from fuzzy to just a bit of a haze when he peels his eyes open.

“Baby, that was the—”

“Hardest you’ve ever come?”

Mat blinks, fully back in reality now, shifting his head to look at her in disbelief. “How did you know?”

She chuckles, lips brushing against his ear. “You said that last time, too.”

[starryeyedjanai]

bad boys do it better

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: modern au tags: dating apps, innuendo, bad flirting read on ao3

✿

Eddie finally opens Tinder after downloading it in a fit of desperation.

He's tried everything but these stupid apps—bars and clubs and pottery classes and rock climbing—trying to find someone he can connect with.

But he's mostly found guys that string him along with whispered sweet nothings and half-promises they don't intend to follow through on.

So he makes his profile and then promptly fumbles and drops his phone because— no fucking way.

There's no way this is real life.

There's no fucking way the first guy to pop up is Steve fucking Harrington, his unfortunate and longest lasting crush in high school.

He picks up his phone and sees Steve's face staring back at him, unassuming, a bright, cheery smile on his face.

Steve, 28 2 miles away "Hope you like bad boys because I have it on dvd and vhs" Interests: baseball, basketball, live music, movies

He taps to get to the next photo and lets out a shaky breath—the shorts of what can only be his Halloween costume are so short, exposing hairy thighs that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.

The next photo is a snapchat picture of him grinning wide, cradling what might be the world's ugliest dog, the text across the screen reading my nephew is so handsome 🤩🤩🤩.

The last is an obligatory shirtless mirror pic, not showing off washboard abs, but the soft, toned skin of his stomach.

He closes the app, sets his phone down, and breathes through his nose.

This can't be real, right? In what world would Steve be the first person in a sea of profiles in San Francisco of all places?

Eddie expected him to chase after Nancy Wheeler when she went to Boston, but he didn't stick around long enough in Hawkins to find out if they ever rekindled their will-they-won't-they relationship.

Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he found his match and just forgot to delete Tinder. Because there's just no way Eddie has this kind of luck.

He opens up Instagram and searches for Steve and finds him right away because they're probably still Facebook friends.

He scrolls through his profile and deflates a little, because all of the pictures on Tinder are from his Instagram. Which means it's probably much more likely that someone is catfishing using Steve's pictures.

Because the Steve from high school wasn't into men. And he's hot enough for someone to use his pictures to scam people or whatever.

He opens up Tinder again and his thumb is swiping right before he thinks about what he's doing.

It's a match!

Okay, now he knows it's a catfish. Or maybe it's a bot.

There's no world in which Steve Harrington would swipe right on him in the twenty minutes it's been since he created his account.

He types a message to "Steve" saying so are you a bot or just a catfish?

He doesn't get a response right away, so he clicks out of the messages, looking at profiles of what are hopefully actual people he can connect with.

His phone buzzes when the message from Steve comes in.

Hi3 Eddiems, cl!ck th3 linkin my proffile to . achat I am waitin9

He rolls his eyes and goes back to perusing profiles. It's not like he thought it was really Ste-

His phone pings with another message and he clicks back into the chat immediately.

That was a joke. There's not even a link in my profile

Eddie's heart beats a little faster, his fingers typing out a response.

So a catfish then?

Why do you think I'm a catfish?????

Because I know the guy in those pictures and there's no way hes into men. That guy was a jock extraordinaire in high school and very straight

You're awfully judgey for someone who was so anti-conformity in high school. Whos to say I haven't changed?

Or like, learned new things about myself?

Eddie's breath stutters in his throat.

Also you didn't really know me since we never talked.

Okay, I mean. It's pretty easy to guess that I was counterculture in high school by looking at me. So I'm still on the fence about the catfish thing

How about we meet up then? So you can see me in all my nearing-30 glory

And watch bad boys on dvd and vhs with you?

Dude, I am not inviting you to my house on the first date

That's a third date kind of thing

Oh yeah? Is it a back-to-back feature? We start with the vhs then move to dvd?

He can't believe he's entertaining this. A catfish wouldn't offer to meet up unless they thought Eddie wouldn't call their bluff. He kind of wants to see where this is going.

No see, we start with the dvd playing in the living room and then when we inevitably start being bad boys🥵 in the middle of the movie, we can pick it back up on vhs in my room later

To be clear, we stop the movie, right? I'm not sure bad boys has a soundtrack meant for the kind of activities we'd be doing

Oh for sure. I'd even put on my "let's get it on" playlist. As a treat.

Eddie can't help but grin. Even if this guy is a catfish, this is maybe the most fun he's had talking to someone in a long time.

Are you serious about meeting up?

Uh yeah, I can't have you thinking I'm a catfish forever

What's your favorite brewery?

Cellarmaker

Wanna do tomorrow afternoon at like 2 when it's not busy?

That sounds perfect

He isn't sure if it's really Steve or if he's going to be met with someone else or stood up, but at least he'll get to drown his sorrows if it doesn't work out.

Well—he's unsure until he gets the 'stharrington started following you' notification on Instagram a few minutes later.

He screams into his pillow so loud his neighbor thumps on the wall.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Trick Or Treat

Request from Wattpad-

Pairing: Wanda X G!p Reader 18+

Set in Ep6 of Wanda Vision, could you do reader getting turned on by Wanda's Halloween outfit and leaving to sort themselves out with Wanda coming to 'help' (1.4k words)

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Smut MDNI, Girl Penis Reader, Hand jobs, Blow jobs, Orgasm delay/Denial, Masturbation, Caught, Dom/sub undertones.

---

Reluctantly walking down the stairs, you let out a huff as you entered the living room, the boys giggling at your ridiculous outfit. Dressed in a tight green spandex shirt with a yellow diamond at your chest, green leggings under vibrant yellow shorts and a matching cape chosen by your lovely wife, had you questioning many things, complaints on the tip of your tongue until your mouth parted at the sight of her.

Wanda walked over to you, nose scrunched and a smile playing on her lips while she was dressed in a stunning outfit. She wore pink leggings that showed off her long slender legs and the curve of her hips, a tight red corset that slightly pushed her breasts up, her red scarlet witch crown and a matching cape that fell to the ground. You were speechless as she stopped in front of you, a perfect view of her chest as you looked down at her. Her hands ran across your waist, the touch along with her outfit causing a spike of arousal to shoot down you, the spandex feeling even tighter at a certain area.

“Thank you for humouring me and wearing this ridiculous get-up, Detka,” she murmurs softly, eyes raking over your body making you let out a shaky breath. Her fingers dragged across your abdomen through the green spandex, her nail scratching slightly making your untimely arousal even worse. You absolutely lost it when she peered up at you, lip caught between her teeth with a smile.

“No problem love,” you sighed out, needing to find somewhere to get rid of the little, well the big problem that was growing in size. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” you quickly excuse, making your way through your house till you were in the ensuite bathroom you and Wanda shared.

“Fuck,” you groan when you pulled your cock out, your length hard and aching at the sinful costume your wife was wearing. You knew you had to be quick and swiftly spit on your hand before rubbing up and down your length, a sigh leaving you at the pleasurable feeling shooting through you.

You imagined Wanda’s hand wrapped around you, her mouth crashing against yours as she jerked you off expertly, her fingertips teasing your tip before running down to the base of your cock, her other hand cupping your balls and squeezing gently. You moved your hand to her core, circling her clit through her outfit while your mouth descended down her neck, kissing the top of her exposed breasts and desperately wanting to tear the item off her.

“Oh god,” you moan quietly, one hand frantically sliding up and down you while the other grips onto the countertop nearby to support you. Your mind flashes through sinful scenarios with your wife, imagining her on her knees for you, bent over the countertop as you pounded into her from behind and even you on your knees for her, fingers tangled in your hair as she tugged you where she wanted you.

“Trick or Treat, Detka,” she rasps out at the shell of your ear, teeth nibbling on it gently while your body jumps at her sudden presence. You relaxed when her hand replaced yours, firmly gripping you and teasingly moving up and down you at a torturous pace. You lean back against her body, groaning at the way her fingers glide around your tip, smearing the small bit of precum that’s leaked out of you before sliding down to the base.

“Trick,” you jokingly sigh out, moaning at the way she kissed the back of your neck, a breathy moan escaping her at the way you twitched in her hand. You missed the way Wanda smirked behind you, unaware completely of the mischievous glint in her eyes as her hand relentlessly jerked you off.

“Oh Detka,” she husked out lowly before she made you turn around, pushing you until your back hit the countertop and swiftly dropped to her knees. “Do you like my costume?” she innocently asks, peering up at you as her mouth ghosted you, her hand moving to cup your balls as her tongue teasingly swiped over your tip, moaning at the taste of you.

“Fuck, love,” you groan when she takes you briefly into her mouth, your hips bucking at the action. “I love it, it’s so hot, you look beautiful,” she smirks at your affected tone, licking up your cock and spitting on it to make it easier for her.

Wanda’s lips then wrap around you, taking you down her throat as far as she can before bobbing her head up and down your length. You groan at the warm and wet feeling of her mouth, pleasure clouding your mind as you look down at her. She pulls back, panting for breath while she licks her lips, her eyes darkening as she sees your head loll back when she kisses the tip.

“Wanda,” you moan out when she takes you down her throat again, moaning around you making your hips buck, cock going even deeper down her causing her to gag a little. Your hands grip the countertop as she hollows her cheeks around you, not wanting to thread your fingers through her hair and mess up the hairstyle she spent ages doing.

A guttural noise escaped you when she moves to just suck on your tip, her tongue running over the sensitive head while her fingers moved to hold your hips still, not letting you fuck her face this time. “I’m so close,” you groan out, Wanda looking up at you to see the desperate look in your eyes.

Wanda waits until she can practically feel you throbbing and twitching in her mouth, pulling away just before you could crash head first into your orgasm and leaving you to pathetically buck your hips in the air as she returns to her feet. You whimper into her mouth when she keeps your hands trapped on the countertop, not letting you finish yourself off.

“You asked for trick Detka,” she rasps out against your lips, you panting as your orgasm is gradually taken away from you. “If you want the treat later, you’ll be a good girl and not come until then, do you understand?”

“Please Wanda,” you beg, desperate to feel your release as she still keeps you pinned.

“I asked if you understood,” her tone dropping an octave, one hand moving to teasingly run down your length one last time, your hips stuttering as you twitch in the air. You ignore her words once again, looking at her with a pathetic gaze.

“Please just let me come now,” her hand wraps around you once again, jerking you off firmly to have you moaning into her mouth as she tries to quieten you. You practically thrust your hips into her hand as she loosens her grip to let you, teetering on the edge of your orgasm once again until she stops again, a frustrated groan leaving you.

“Are you going to listen to me now Dekta?” her tone condescending as she tilts your head to look at her, “If you want to come tonight, you won’t touch yourself until I say so. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you sigh out, “I understand,” body trembling from being denied twice now.

“Good girl,” she whispers against your lips, kissing you softly and letting your hands go, them immediately wrapping around her waist and pulling her close for an embrace. Her lips place a gentle kiss to your cheek, her mouth opening to say something else but the sound of the twins interrupts her.

“Mom!” Tommy shouts from outside your bedroom door, knowing he’s not allowed to just walk in, “Can we go trick or treating now?” Wanda chuckles against your hair at the impatient tone of one of your sons, pressing another soft kiss to your face.

“Yes, I’ll be out in a second Tommy,” she calls back, cupping your jaw and murmuring softly, “I’ll let you calm down for a bit,” she looks down to your still hard and aching cock. “Meet us at the town centre,” you nod at her words, watching as she quickly fixes her appearance in the mirror of the bathroom before starting to walk out, pausing at the door frame and giving you a smirk before leaving you, frustrated and desperate for her. 

---

I hope you enjoyed :)

Masterlist

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

daddy is my #1 fan

pairing: re6! leon x reader

cw: ddlg, pacifier use, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex, sex toys

summary: reader is a camgirl and her biggest fan is leon. they meet up at a hotel and have a fun and sexy time

a/n: this is a commission from an anonymous commissioner

wc: 3.1k

You started this gig in a moment of crisis. You’d just gotten laid off and didn’t know how else to come up with rent for that month. Plus, you’d seen the way men stare at you. You might as well use it to your advantage. Initially, you kept your face out of the frame, but the main attraction was still on full-display. It’s a good thing you already had a fair amount of plushies piling up on your bed and quite the collection of cute panties. DDLG had been a secret fantasy of yours for quite some time, but you’d never gotten the guts to bring it up to any of your previous partners. Good thing guys on the internet were totally into it.

You wore a schoolgirl skirt and a pair of pink cotton panties underneath. The skirt was for a Britney Spears Halloween costume, but you advertised it as a “Catholic school uniform”. The Catholic schoolgirl persona made you look even more innocent and girlish than you did when you slipped off your panties with Sanrio characters printed on them and began to grind on your pink frilly pillow.

Some of the usernames in the chat became familiar to you, though you referred to everyone as ‘daddy’ regardless of their handle. The money started rolling in and you were able to buy a vibrator that could be controlled by the paying chatters.

You also received gifts in the mail that you used on camera – sex toys, panties, and pacifiers. You ended up having to show your face with those, but it was worth it to see messages started flooding in, telling you how cute your expression was when you came.

There was one user in particular who donated a lot of money. You had set prices for access to your photos and live streams but he always tipped extra. Once, you were planning to stop the stream when he told you he’d send 300 dollars if you joined a private session with him and came one more time.

“Daddy, I can’t. I’m too sensitive,” you whined.

“I know you can, baby girl. You’ve been doing so well for me tonight,” he typed in the chat.

“Okay, daddy, only for you,” you said, the notification for a donation popped up on your screen. You could be mean and stop the stream, taking the money and using it to buy yourself a nice dinner, but you desperately wanted him to call you a good girl.

It was worth pushing through the over-stimulation to receive a private message with the words, “Daddy’s so proud of you,” along with an extra $100.

Some men could be kind of gross, but this man, whose name you’d had yet to find out, was so kind to you – just like a daddy should be. It seemed like he genuinely cared. He regularly booked private sessions with you and not only did he give you constant praise and encouragement, he would ask how your day was and listen to you talk about anything your mind conjured up. You tried to apologize to him once for wasting his paid time by talking about your life, but he told you he loved hearing your thoughts almost as much as he loved seeing you cum. You gave him an extra orgasm that night as a thank you.

So, when he messaged you with an interesting proposal, it was even more enticing to you.

“Any chance you’d want to meet up in person? I’d pay 1500, half in advance.”

Holy shit. He could very well be a serial killer, but 1500 dollars would be an entire month's rent. Plus, he was going to pay half in advance. Would a serial killer really pay 750 dollars to score a cute victim? You sure hoped not because you were going to meet that man.

You tried not to be shallow but you worried that he might be ugly. Why else would he be paying for sex? You could technically send the money back and bail out if he turned out to be completely disgusting. The fact that he offered to meet at the Ritz Carlton, and not a Motel 6, was your first clue that he wasn’t a total sleazebag.

He knew your face, but you didn’t know his, so you had to wait anxiously in the lobby for him to arrive. You wore your best dress and put your hair up in cute pigtails with a bow tied onto each one. You arrived on time, and began to worry that the mystery man wasn’t coming. A man—hot, mid-30s, you’d guess—smiled at you from across the lobby and you were instantly hit with a wave of disappointment at the fact that you couldn't flirt with him. You had to wait for your man to arrive.

But then, he started walking towards you. A little flirting couldn’t hurt, right? Especially since the other guy was late. He’d understand that you’re just too cute for other men to resist.

When he was within earshot, he said, “Hey, sweet girl.” It was just a coincidence, you assumed. He surely couldn’t be referencing your username. Or maybe he was another fan, maybe you were getting really popular. It only hit you when he said “Ready to go up to our room?” and flashed you a room key.

“You’re ‘agentdaddy’?” You only knew his screen name, which you came to find out was a reference to his real occupation as a government agent. Agent Leon Kennedy — a nice name, but you’d rather call him ‘Daddy’.

“Do I look different than you expected I would?”

“No offense, but I didn’t think you’d be so… hot.” You must’ve been starry-eyed. You hoped it made you look adorable rather than stupid.

“I’m far from offended that you think I’m attractive. I was worried it was the other way around.” He held out his hand and you took it. He led you towards the elevator.

“I’m just surprised that someone like you is paying for someone like me.” You made sure not to let him know that you’d let him have you for free.

“You’re too cute, baby,” he said, while pinching your cheeks which flushed bright pink at the gesture.

He leaned down and gave you the softest, sweetest kiss when you were in the empty elevator. When the elevator stopped at the floor you were staying on, you held out your palm, asking Leon to take it. He happily walked hand-in-hand with you to your hotel room.

When he opened the door, you barely had time to marvel at the gorgeous room because he was already kissing you, and his lips were so soft you could get lost in the feeling of them against yours. Thinking about what else he could do with his mouth made you feel dizzy. Good thing he was getting ready to pick you up and place you on the king-sized bed.

He drank in the sight of you, not hungry or animalistic—he didn’t want to devour you, he wanted to dote on you, to take his time with you.

Before he took off his jacket and his own shoes, he helped you unbuckle your mary-janes.

He ran his hands up the fabric of your thigh-highs. A brand new pair that you’d worn just for him. “These look so cute on you,” he said.

“Thank you, daddy,” you said in a small voice, both shy and falling further into your little girl headspace.

“Can daddy see what’s under your pretty dress?”

You nodded your head enthusiastically. You picked out a special pair of panties just for him. Baby pink with “I <3 Daddy” on the front in red. He manhandled you, standing you up so he could take off your dress. You lifted your arms up before being asked, knowing he was going to help you pull it over your head. Leon picked you up and laid you down on the bed, stopping to admire you. You watched as pure desire filled his eyes. He almost forgot to hang up your dress because he was so distracted by your barely covered cunt. Your arousal had already created a wet patch in the thin fabric of your panties.

Leon discarded his shirt before getting on his knees. He wanted to tease you further but longed to taste you. He spread your thighs with his big hands and then he ran his thumb across your still-clothed slit. His light touch was tantalizing, making you shiver.

“So pretty for daddy,” he said. “I knew you were beautiful on camera, but you’re even prettier in person. I bet you taste good too.”

All thoughts swiftly exited your brain and all you could say was “daddy”.

“Daddy’s right here, sweet girl.” His fingers played with the waistband of your panties before he asked, “Can daddy take these off?”

“Yes, daddy,” you said.

He gently slipped them off and began to play with your folds, admiring your beauty. “Oh, baby,” he said, “your princess parts are so wet. Have you been waiting for daddy?”

“Yeah,” you said, “Need daddy’s help.”

“Such a good girl for waiting. I bet it was really hard when you were feeling this way.”

You nodded repeatedly, making sure he received your silent confirmation.

Leon’s head dipped between your thighs and you were biting back moans of anticipation. He flattened his tongue and took a languid lick up your folds, stopping at your clit to suck gently, earning more of your slick and an unbridled moan.

You knew you could reach your peak quickly if he continued. You were already fighting the overwhelming urge to buck your hips as you were dying for the feeling of his tongue.

He pulled back all too soon. Your immediate response was a whine, so desperate it almost saddened Leon.

“Shh… baby it’s okay,” he cooed, bringing his hand up to your cheek. “Daddy just wants to take his time with you.” He selfishly needed to taste you first, but he knew he couldn’t neglect the rest of your body. It would be sinful not to worship an angel like you fully.

“Let me go get something to calm you down, okay?”

You agreed, though your eyes were glossy with tears the moment Leon stood up. You assumed the overnight bag he brought held only a toothbrush and an extra pair of clothes, but you were glad to see that he brought you a brand new pacifier.

Your lips parted, almost instinctively to let him slot the pacifier between them. You sucked on the nub contentedly as you allowed Leon to move you so that you were comfortably situated on the bed with your head on the pillow while he loomed over you, getting a perfect view of your gorgeous figure. Each of his hands cupped one of your tits, giving them a gentle squeeze and then taking a moment to play with your nipples. He gave a kiss to each one because good girls with pretty tits deserve kisses.

“You’re such a good girl. Daddy’s gonna kiss you all over now.” As Leon began to kiss down your stomach, making his way towards the parts of you that needed his touch the most, you held out a hand for him to take. He smiled at your adorable gesture and intertwined his fingers with yours while his other hand held onto one of your hips.

“I think your princess parts need the most kisses. Is that right, baby?”

You nodded eagerly and Leon got to work, beginning by pressing his lips to your clit. You were struggling to keep the pacifier in your mouth as the feeling of his tongue lapping at your folds had you holding back moans. His middle finger slipped inside you, followed by his index, and as he curled them upward to meet that sensitive spot, your legs began to shake. You gripped his hand tighter and he stopped the movements of his mouth only momentarily to say, “I know, I know, baby. Just relax for me. Let it happen. Daddy’s gonna be here the whole time.”

When his lips reattached to your clit as he continued to finger you, doubling the pleasure he was giving you, you came – causing the pacifier to fall from your lips, leaving a trail of drool dripping from your mouth. You moaned loudly, chanting “daddy” over and over again, gushing around his fingers. He made sure not to let a single drop of your arousal go to waste, savoring your taste and refusing to pull back until you pushed his head away.

“Too much, Daddy, too much,” you whined.

“Alright, alright, cutie. Daddy will give you a break.”

“No break, no break, daddy.”

“No break? I thought you said it was too much, honey.”

“Need daddy inside,” you pouted. Leon nearly let a groan slip from his mouth.

“Need daddy inside, huh?” He was unable to resist you. “Let me go get something for you first, okay?”

As it turned out, there were more surprises in his bag. He brought you a plushie to hold onto, and you pulled him into a hug, thanking him for the gift.

You held onto the plushie as you watched Leon take off his pants, fully entranced by the sight of his dick.

“Daddy, I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” It was a huge ego boost to Leon, but you truly weren’t sure if you could take him fully inside.

“It’s gonna fit, sweet pea. We’re gonna go slowly.”

Going slowly didn’t stop the intense feeling of being stretched, but Leon showered you in praise as he pressed inside you, one inch at a time.

“Look at you,” he said with a wide grin when you were fully filled by him. He pointed to the slight bulge in your belly where you could see his dick. You were amazed at your own ability to take him so well, and he was too, as confirmed with his next words.

“Daddy’s so proud of you,” he said. It was your favorite sentence to hear from him. The words alone could make you moan.

“We need to be careful not to get a noise complaint,” he said and picked up the pacifier, placing it back in your mouth. Your oral fixation happily obliged.

Leon fucked you slowly, but deeply, making sure that you felt every inch. The tip touched your cervix with every thrust.

It didn’t take long for Leon to say, “You’re gonna make daddy cum, baby. You’re so tight for me, feels so good.” Leon was nearly as lost in the feeling as you were. With the pacifier occupying your mouth, you couldn’t even tell Leon how close you were to the edge, but he was paying attention.

“Gonna cum for daddy?” he asked, needing to make sure that your pleasure came first.

Tears were forming in your waterline as you nodded, and you sobbed as your second orgasm hit you harder than the first. Leon continued to thrust slowly in and out of you as he held back his own impending orgasm. He led you through the aftershocks before pulling out and spilling all over your thighs, marking you the best he could without cumming inside you. He didn’t want to get you pregnant just yet.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he said as he placed a kiss on each cheek. “I think we should clean you up with a bath.”

Leon came prepared for bath time. From his suitcase – aka his bag of gifts for you – he pulled out rubber duckies and a bottle of bubble bath.

He picked you up and carried you bridal style to the bathroom so you wouldn’t have to use your tired legs, standing you in the bathtub, making sure to keep you upright while he wiped down your thighs that were still sticky with his release.

Leon removed you from the bath and sat you down on a towel, so he could run the water, making sure it was the perfect temperature – he had you stick your hand in to test it out before he helped you step into the tub.

You looked at him, confused. “Daddy, you aren’t getting in the bath with me?”

“Baby, the bath is for you. Daddy takes showers. You’re too little for those.”

Confusion turned to betrayal and a tear rolled down your cheek. Leon immediately backtracked. “It’s okay, honey, daddy can get in too if it’ll make his little girl happy.”

You nodded and the tears subsided. Leon swiped his thumbs across your cheeks and gave you a kiss on the forehead as an apology for suggesting you bathe alone. When he climbed in with you, he positioned in his lap, facing away from him so you could have fun with your rubber duckies, though you did end up laying your head on his chest by the end of bath time.

At first, it was difficult for Leon to stop himself from getting hard with your ass rubbing up against him, but he was soon distracted by your attempt at a bubble beard.

“Look daddy,” you said, proud of your work.

You were even happier with yourself after hearing Leon’s praises. “My baby looks pretty even with bubbles all over her face.”

“Gonna give you one, too, daddy,” you beamed before you coated his face in bubbles. It was too late for him to say no, though you were too adorable for him to refuse any offer from you.

Your fingers and toes were beginning to prune by the time you laid your cheek to Leon’s chest, and you were clearly ready for bed. Leon stepped out of the tub first so that he could be ready to wrap you in a towel the moment you got out. He wouldn’t want his baby to be cold for a second.

“Pajamas?” he asked when he carried you to bed.

“No, wanna be naked with daddy.”

Leon was more than happy to oblige with that request.

“We better get under the covers, then. Don’t wanna get cold, do we?”

You agreed, knowing that daddy was right. Lying skin to skin with Leon kept you warm through the night – so warm you almost missed your checkout time.

“Maybe we should just stay for an extra night, baby,” Leon said, leaning in for your first kiss of the day.

“Really?” You were more than pleased with his idea.

“Uh-huh,” he said, “I think daddy needs some more time playing with baby today.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “need to play with daddy.”

You were lucky you were still naked from the night before, so there was no hassle of getting undressed. Leon was willing to pay double for another day with you, but when his lips met yours, you forgot about all payment. Your number one supporter deserved a freebie, you decided. 

[rui-xyz]

《Backstage Pass》⇝♡

⭒Synopsis: How your favorite boys dick you down in the dressing rooms 🤭🤭

⭒Characters: 3/4 Fantasia Squad (Rui, Tsukasa, Akito) SORRY TOYA LOVERS :(( HOPING TO WRITE HIS LATER!!

⭒Warnings: NSFW, AFAB Reader, possible ooc Akito (still getting used to him), p in v, oral (m and f receiving), semi-public sex --- mentions of a character from my wattpad fic in Tsukasa's, feel free to ignore it 🥰

⭒Setting: Dressing rooms in Wonderland/Street Sekai

⭒Notes: WHAT the title IS NOT inspired by Cupcakke??? (I'm a filthy liar) --- Aged up characters ofc!!

Tsukasa Tenma! ~♡

☆ Starboy's libido doesn't usually act up while his mind's on the show. Seeing you in your different outfits can make his heart flutter, yes, but anything dirty went out the window.

☆ Except today. He had no idea why, either. Yuuki had just finished everyone's costumes for the upcoming show. Yours was no more flattering than any of your other costumes. He's seen your hair styled like this before. And while your makeup was a little different, there was nothing particularly special about it that could cause this sort of reaction.

☆ And yet, he found himself hot in the face and struggling to hide how tight the front of his new slacks were feeling.

☆ Of course, there was no way he was performing like this. So he pulled you aside and bashfully asked for your help, his request being met with a loving smile and a nod.

☆ So that's how he got you bouncing in his lap, sitting on the armchair in his room, and, God, were you merciless.

☆ Your lips were locked in a tight kiss that muffled both your moans. After all, Tsukasa would absolutely crawl in a hole and die if anyone heard, but fuck did this feel amazing.

☆ Your lips were just as relentless as your bouncing, so there was no way to warn you of his nearing orgasm other than to slap the back of your shoulder frantically.

☆ When his release finally hit, his hands grabbed your hips with desperate strength, planting you completely down in his lap and holding you there so tightly his arms trembled. He squealed against your lips, hips twitching up against you with every spurt of his fluids up into your heat.

☆ You were both quick to go limp against each other after, gasping heartily for breath. As usual, once he was breathing steady, Tsukasa's arms wrapped around your waist as he shoved his head into your shoulder, giving your neck a soft kiss and murmuring his love and thanks.

•••

Akito Shinonome! ~♡

▪︎ It was one of those practices where Akito would sing and sing, until his voice became too hoarse to continue. By some magical sixth sense, you always found a way to show up at the stage whenever he was doing this, and had a habit of cutting his practice short.

▪︎ This time was no different. He had been singing full volume when a hand landed on his shoulder, spooking him half to death. He whipped around, ready to punch and kick at whoever thought it was a good idea to interrupt, and by startling him no less, only to see your concerned face.

▪︎ The usual back and forth ensued, with him irritably trying to shoo you off whilst you ignored him and took his hand to drag him off. Except he was feeling particularly feisty tonight.

▪︎ Turns out, all it took were a few special words to get him walking off the stage with you. Namely the promise of, "I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

▪︎ That's what took the two of you to his dressing room. It was nothing particularly fancy, but he did have a stool in front of the mirror he did his hair in. Perfectly fine seating for getting a blowjob.

▪︎ His hand rested on the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and tugging on it to move you how he wanted. He'd coo mean things to you as his tip hit the back of your throat.

"Hmn, is that really all you can take? C'mon, open up a little more."

▪︎ Soon, he's barely able to keep talking, moaning under his breath as he leans his head back on his shoulders. Your drool had long since started dripping down his balls, and your throat was probably as sore as his, not that you intended on stopping before you saw this through.

▪︎ He gave only a few words warning before he tugged your head down and came down your throat. As soon as the feeling had started to decline, his hand released your hair, and you swallowed down the bitter liquid filling your mouth.

▪︎ He leaned back with a sigh, relaxing for a moment while you caught your breath. Once the two of you were cleaned up, he offered his arm to you to walk you home, making a sly remark about just what else he'd do to make good on your promise once the two of you were home.

•••

Rui Kamishiro! ~♡

¤ Rui's heart would always beat faster when he saw you all dolled up for a show. Only this time, perhaps his heart was overflowing a bit too much with his affections for you. This overwhelming love for you had no place to go but down.

¤ And, on the topic of "going down", as soon as Rui was able to get you safely alone in his dressing room, under the guise of "fixing your eyeliner", he decided to go down on you.

¤ He lovingly laid your back down on his vanity, your head pressed to his mirror, and made quick work of absolutely devouring the sensitive space between your legs.

¤ He wasn't aiming for you to finish from his tongue and fingers alone. Well, perhaps we was at first, but once he was hearing you struggle to muffle your moans and feeling your thighs twitch on either side of his head, fuck did it make him hard.

¤ Rui had you on the verge of cumming when he decided to pull away with a teasing chuckle. As you whined, asking why he had stopped, he tugged his pants and boxers down, and the moment you felt his tip brush against your drenched lips, lined up with your hole, your voice died in your throat.

¤ You grabbed onto his shoulders desperately as he slid in, fast and eager to start. You swallowed nervously, moaning softly at the intrusion. This was likely to be a quickie you wouldn't soon forget.

¤ He fucked you silly on that vanity. Well... he could probably do much better in bed, taking his time and absolutely making you lose your mind under him. But for a quickie, God was it good. You hoped, prayed, no one outside had heard you, but... only the heavens knew for now.

•••

Can anyone tell who my favorite is? :3 take a guess

[aventoru]

photobooth

“look satoru! a photo booth!” you say as you drag your boyfriend towards the booth in the street.

you two are leisurely walking when you spotted a photo booth nearby. what better way to spend time with your cute boyfriend? you’ve always wanted both of you to take pretty pics, and now you’ve finally gotten the chance.

“are you that desperate to take pics with me? i mean, i know i’m hot but—“ you smack gojo on his arm, which he dismisses with a laugh. “shush and go choose your accessories,” you scan the array of accessories displayed.

gojo begins skimming through as well, trying on various headbands, glasses, and even costumes. eventually, you two settle for a simpler yet cute style, sporting matching bunny headbands.

you enter the room, the pink background highlighting both your features. (should you be thankful it’s not grey, washing out gojo’s hair?) you both stand facing the machine, choosing the photo booth settings. you look through the frames and styles, opting for a simple vertical black frame with 4 pictures.

“right satoru,” you say as you insert the corresponding bills into the machine, “what poses should we do?”

“hmm,” he ponders, scrolling through pinterest for inspiration. after a few more seconds, he looks up, turning his phone screen for you to see. “something like this maybe?”

“yeah, i also found some more poses on pinterest,” you show him your findings as well.

you both nod, agreeing on the poses for the 8 pictures you were allowed to take. but your gut feeling tells you that gojo is spontaneous (and crazy) anyway, so there’s no point in planning beforehand. and unsurprisingly, you’re right.

the result is nowhere near what it looks like on pinterest.

the first one was…decent. you two choose the most basic pose: a peace sign. it’s simple enough, but with satoru, you never know. the next five pictures are cute as well. with you both executing a variety of cute couple poses, from making joined hearts to posing as spies.

for the seventh one, he decides to hug you from behind and put his chin on the top of your head (ugh tall people). he knows this level of intimacy is unplanned. but he’s sure you’ve gotten used to it by now considering how he’s all over you every time you both get the tiniest bit of privacy. and sure, you do return his affections, but it’s obvious who’s the more touchy one between you. and unsurprisingly, this time you stayed still as well, not moving even an inch from your spot. what he doesn’t know was that you have a surprise planned for him in the last frame.

you two are posing, your faces right next to each other, cheeks touching and eyes smiling. just at the last moment, you grab his face, turn, and kiss him on the cheek. looking at his reflection on the screen, you can see his eyes widen for a split second. yet his surprise quickly morphs into satisfaction as he closes his eyes and smiles contently, leaning into your touch. the camera successfully captures the sweet surprise you gave him.

two minutes later, you two exit the photo booth, printed pictures all sleeved up in your hands. “so, are you finally returning my affections?” he tries to act nonchalant. but you can see the obvious skip in his step. “no, i just did it for the cute couple aesthetic,” you shrug, trying to play it cool. “yeah sure, i believe you,” he dismisses your excuse with a smirk.

“no, you don’t understand,” you grab his collar and pull him down to eye level, “i would do anything for a good pic. so don’t get the wrong idea.”

gojo contemplates whether or not he should point out your reddened cheeks to contradict your statement. but he decides to keep quiet for now, there will be other times to embarrass you anyway.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Attention to Detail (M!Reader x M!Demon)

Pairing: Male!Demon Cosplayer x Male!Demon

Genre: Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Flirty, Fluffy

Word Count: 2563 words

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Halloween is a great time to subtly flex your cosplay skills, pouring hour and hours into your costume. You’d even found an occult book at a second-hand store for reference! At a house party, someone pays special attention to all your hard work.

Request: I’m so glad you’re doing well and good!

Can I request a Male Demon x Male Demon Cosplayer on halloween night? Cosplayer could think that the demon is just another dude unaware of the actual danger he’s in?

and maybe could the demon praise and love cosplayer for cosplaying their kind and getting all the little details just right? 🥹

Sometimes, house parties aren’t so bad.

Sure, they could be crowded, smelly, and way too loud. But that was often a by-product of teenage stupidity and desperation; too many bodies crammed into one place, scrambling for beer and faking adulthood. As an adult they get a lot more tolerable. Comes with practice, you suppose.

This halloween house party has been great so far. You’d come with a group of friends who'd all split up, leaving you to find more drinks in the kitchen, but it wasn’t super stifling. You’d actually gotten a lot of compliments on your costume too, a little ego boost to ease you into socializing with all the strangers.

This kitchen is nice as well. Spacious, lots of counter space, some really nice cooking ware. The kinda thing you appreciate more as an adult. The walls helped block out a lot of the music as well, a perfect hiding hole to refill your beverages and recharge your battery for a second. And adjust your costume. God, leather and sweat do not mix.

You take the time and admire your costume-paint, several runes decorating up and down your bare arms. The paint held up pretty well after dancing for so long, the intricate lines still being cohesive. Your body paint had begun to chafe and smudge a little at your knees and elbows, but luckily were hidden beneath your many leather accessories. 

“Ow, fuck!”

A voice snaps you from your admiration, a shadowed figure with a red solo cup in his hand, now rubbing his forehead.

“Damned horns. These infernal houses are too small…” He doesn’t seem to notice you at all when he ducks his head and enters the kitchen. It makes sense, you’re probably under his line of sight because holy fuck this guy is tall.

You're not the best frame of reference, still sitting on the counter as you are, but he’s pushing 6 '6, maybe even 6' 7. Not including the horns, which seemed to add an extra 3 inches of height alone. You wonder what they’re made of to support their bulk. They stay pinned to his head well too, despite the bump. His paint is immaculately done, dark purple showing no signs of fading or chipping away.

“You need some ice?”

That catches his attention, your quiet voice somehow making this absolute giant of a man jump out of his skin. His eyes are wide, yellow sclera glowing in the dark.

Gotta ask where he got those contacts. They look so real.

Said eyes go up and down, his nose twitching as he takes a deep breath. His face crinkles. Jeez, did you smell that bad? You’d made sure to wear deodorant!

“No…I am alright.” He rubs the sore area again. “It’s just the third time it’s happened. Who lives in this house? Imps?”

That gets a snort from you.

“I think you're just tall, dude. Those horns are killer though, totally worth a casual head injury.”

The tall cosplayer stands a little bit taller, finally relaxing and properly looking you in the eye.

“Thank you. I like..” His eyes narrow, “..yours too.”

You brush a hand across your clip-on horns, gentle enough to not mess with the paint. You had set it, but those hours of shaving down the foam and painting were not to go to waste. “Thanks, not that sturdy but I figured I wouldn’t be headbanging too much tonight.”

The man goes silent, eyes now locked on your arms. You twist your forearm, wondering if maybe the paint had smudged while you weren’t looking.

“Those are incredible.” The man is able to cross the length of the room in just one stride, now firmly in your bubble. You figure he must be a little tipsy and not realize, so you brush it off. Hard to be mad when you’re getting complimented.

“Thanks, man. It was hard getting the shapes just right in the mirror. But I think I did an okay job.”

“You did a fantastic job.” He eyes the specific curves of one rune, the more intricate one on your inner wrist. “People often mess this one up, you see. They forget the toz’goth.”

He gestures to a small arrow-like shape protruding out of the side of the rune.

“Is that how you say it?” The book you had copied from hadn’t had many English sections, most being in a script unrecognizable to you or Google Translate. “Good to know.”

“May I?” The man gestures towards your forearm, palm out and stretched open to hold. You quirk up an eyebrow. You don’t even know this guy's name and he’s already asking for a feel?

But he has been giving me a lot of praise, sooooo.

It’s a mixture of the alcohol and the need for approval that has you nodding, setting your arm into his palm. You finally notice his long, sharp black nails as they gently wrap around your wrist, hand ensconcing it in its size. A textured thumb brushes across your inner wrist. A (hopefully) impercitable shiver runs down your spine.

Can’t say I hate this.

The man mutters under his breath as he traces more and more of the runes, nodding approvingly. You try not to shake with giddy.

“The detail you’ve managed with just a paintbrush is astonishing.” His low voice does pleasant things to your stomach, eyes still locked in thought. 

“Thanks, I got a nice set for Christmas. One benefit of being the ‘artist’ of the family, I guess.” You snort, thinking back to all the cheap sets you’d gotten over the years. The thought was appreciated, if nothing else. “I buy the paint in bulk, it does great for really long wear time. I can send you the link, if you want.”

The man just hums, eyes now crawling farther up your arm to your biceps, then to your shoulders. It lands on your neck and you swear the man darts out his tongue to lick his lips when he lands on your pulse. Your stomach flips again.

“My name's ____, by the way. What’s yours?”

The man's eyes go slightly wide, a smirk curling up the sides. 

“Galvith, the Torturer.”

“Ah, much cooler than mine already.” You play long, a little salty he didn’t give you his real name when you gave yours, but whatever. Maybe he’s just really method with his cosplays, or a more private person in general. “It’s a shame, left all my torturing stuff at home. Otherwise us demons could have had some real fun.”

That gets a laugh, a shockingly boisterous laugh. You see the hints of sharp canines, surely fake, that almost glint in the low light.

“Yes, I bet we could.” Galvith chuckles to himself, almost like he’s remembering an inside joke. “I’d be the brawn, you’d be the brains behind the operation?”

“Well, if you insist.” You throw your hand in a faux sign of humility. “Just didn’t want you to waste all those muscles, big guy.” Patting his chest is a good way for you to subtly feel his chest, and wow are those pecs prominent. Gotta respect the hustle, Galvith is a brick shithouse.

Galvith takes the compliment easily, going the extra mile and flexing his bicep, which is almost as big as the honeydew melon sitting not too far from you. Thank god you’re sitting, or else you’d have probably swooned already. 

“Think we’d have to get you a different outfit though. Cargo shorts and a graphic tee aren’t really giving ‘torturer’.”

“And I suppose all of this  is?” Galvith flicks at a tassel on your leather vest. “Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of leather?”

“Hey man, don’t hate the look! What kind of torture-expert would I be if I didn’t bring style to the gig?”

“A messy one, that’s what.” Galvith takes a step back eyeing your whole outfit, from your vest to your ripped jeans to your combat boots with studs. “You’re less tortue-expert and more Incubus. All style and,” He eyes up your exposed clavicle, tracing it with his eyes, “-debauchery.”

The word feels so perfect coming out his mouth, like it was molded by it. This hard seltzer must be stronger than you thought, cause you can’t remember the last time a total stranger had you this horny.

“Well maybe I’m looking to change positions. Heard it’s much cushier, being an Incubus and all.”

Gavith chuckles, eyes once more rolling up and down your body. Goosebumps pepper the back of your neck, a primordial something settling in your gut. You're not sure if it’s a good or bad thing.

“You’ve certainly got the looks for it, little one.” He clicks his teeth, fake fangs and all. You’re impressed by the durability, and how he doesn’t seem to speak with a lisp with them in.

You find yourself getting lost in his contacts, yellow and slitted. They don’t seem to be irritating him at all, and you add it to the list to ask what his prescription is. It’ll be hard to remember though, when he places a hand right by your thigh, enclosing into your space.

“Do you like to dance, my little Incubus?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow the lump in your throat, once again getting lost in his hot gaze, in that sultry look. “Yeah, I like to dance.”

“Good.” A clawed hand settles on your lower back, pushing you off the counter and practically in his arms. On the ground, it’s even more noticeable just how big Galvith is. “Let’s test out that body paint, shall we?”

—

It’s hot on the make-shift dance floor, despite just being a mat laid out in the backyard, a wireless speaker pumping the top 100 over the party noise. But with Galvith’s hands on your hips, those fangs nipping at the top of your ear, you're steamy.

“I must admit, I’m a fan of this new genre of human music.”

Galvith whispers in your ear, swaying your bodies to the drum beat. 

“I think they call it ‘pop’.” You play along, adding an extra haught to your voice, as if you're really 100 plus years old.

“Hm, like the pop of a vertebrae when you snap it in half. Or a bone being forced out of the socket.”

That has you both laughing, that shared dark humor coming in clutch. You could get down with this kind of roleplay.

“Exactly! The most pleasant sound around.”

Galvith swings you by the hips, your feet nearly lifting off the ground. Your head gets thrown back in a giggle. Seems like those muscles aren’t just for show.

“Oh, what is this?”

Galvith grabs at your necklace, now untucked from your high collar and free flowing. His eyes go slightly wide at the intricate design, composed of several small circles and wrapping lines. 

“A friend made it for me actually. She makes jewelry and I offered to trade some leather pieces for a custom design.” You look at the emblem, wondering if he recognized whatever series the book you found came from. It was extremely detailed, and although a bit on the older side, was full of information too niche to be from any religions you’re aware of. You double checked and everything. 

“Asmaes.” Galvith purrs, twirling the sigils between his fingers. The silver chain rubs against the back of your neck. “Fitting piece, you chose well my little Incubus. Superb craftsmanship as well, kudos to your friend.”

“Thanks, I’ll let her know.” 

Before you can ask him more about the book, he spins you around once more, the world turning as he drops you into a dip. Galvith pulls you up with just as much ease, your ankle hooking around his calf so you don’t collide face-first.

Hot breath blows across your lips, your tongue darting out for just a second. Up-close, those fake fangs look even more real. The closeness is almost too much, your eyes darting to look away. But a calloused thumb presses against your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“So…delectable.”

Sweat pools at your clavicle as Galvith kisses you. Your costume fangs clank together, almost coming loose in your mouth, but it’s hard to care. Not when his hand comes down to your hip, grabbing you and pushing you against him.

It’s easy to fall into the kiss, for that sense of shame to fall to the wayside, even as he practically devours you in front of all these people. You’re not usually like this, you don’t come to these parties for someone to kiss and grind against. But there’s something about him, something thats drawing you in. It’s hot, like a moth to a flame.

The only thing that drags you out of the lust-bubble is the vibration of a phone in Galvith’s pocket, resonating against the thigh you currently have pressed up against him. He growls into your mouth, pulling back at the very last moment.

Galvith curses in a foreign language, you think, grabbing the phone with one hand, the other still swaying you side to side.

“What?”

You swallow down a weird jump of fear. Jeez, you would not want to be on the other side of that phone call.

An unintelligible voice babbles something from the speaker. The vein in Galvith’s head begins to bulge.

“Fine. Whatever.”

He hangs up as the other person is mid-sentence. You don’t even get a chance to ask who it was, before he steals you in another breath-taking kiss.

“Sorry, little human. I have to go.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, sorry.” You try to unlodge yourself from his arms, the haze of kissing fading and feeling a little more than embarrassed. God, what came over you? But Galvith’s grip is tight, keeping you in place with an alluring smirk.

“Do not worry, we will meet again. Sometime soon.” 

You try not to let your smile get too wide, to seem too eager. “Sure thing. Do you want my phone number, or-”

Galvith digs his face into your neck, taking a deep whiff. You nearly squeak. He pulls away with a shuddering breath, wetting his bottom lip.

“I’ll know where to find you.”

Finally, Galvith unwinds his arms, letting you free. You find yourself almost lurching forward, desperate to feel that heat again.

It’s gotta be the alcohol, right? That’s the only logical explanation.

Galvith gives you one last peck to the cheek, a cheeky squeeze of your ass.

“Goodbye, my sweetling.”

With that he’s sauntering back into the house, leaving you speechless and breathless. All alone in someone’s backyard.

I gotta find my friends. They gotta hear about this.

—

Galvith has to sneak into a broom closet to teleport, just barely large enough to fit him. It’s demeaning, even if the spell takes just a second to go through.

Ugh, the one time he finds an interesting human, and he’s called in for an ‘emergency.’ He had wanted to scream at the amatuer demon over the phone. “It’s torture! How hard could it be to figure it out!?”

Galvith steals himself. It will do no good to be angry. Save it for the poor soul currently strung up by his ankles. He takes a deep sniff of the palm of his hand, the smell of leather, denim and your sweat still lingering.

He’ll come back for his little human. One day.

[vanfleeter]

Halloween Affair

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ || Fluff. Smut. Grinding. Sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Penetrative sex.

A/N: Uploading from my phone. No editing, apologies for any grammar mistakes 😅

🎃

You never saw him coming, but how could you? The music was blaring and your senses were clouded. His hands slide over your waist and he wraps his arms around your body. You jump in fright, nearly spilling your drink. You feel the vibration of his laugh against the back of your neck before the soft feel of his lips press against your skin. “You look sexy..” He says loud enough for you to hear over the music.

Jake.

Turning around to face him, he gives you a grin. One full of a plastic set of vampire teeth. The kind you would find at a party supply store. You can’t help but to giggle seeing how swollen it makes his mouth look.

“Decided on Count Dracula for your costume?” You say as you remove the teeth from his mouth.

“I heard you like vampires.”

“Well you heard correctly.”

The two of you have only been going out for a few months but it didn’t take him long to confess his attraction to you in more than just an emotional way. He shamelessly professed it to you in your kitchen one night a few weeks ago. He threatened to throw away those skimpy pajamas shorts that you so boldly wore in front of him. It was that night that you let him have his way with you. You weren’t shy about your own attraction and wouldn’t deny him the chance to be with you.

Tonight, however, proved to be difficult for him to keep his hands to himself. He promised to be on his best behavior but seeing you walk into his brother’s home and wearing a sexy pirate costume, he couldn’t quite make himself behave. You were testing him and he knew it.

The people around you were quite immersed in the dancing and the loud music that no one paid much attention to the two of you. His hands move down your back and he grabs your ass, pushing your bodies together. You can feel a small bulge beneath the pants of his costume, and when you look back up into his eyes, you can see just how lustful they are.

“Would you like to leave?” You ask him.

He shakes his head before gently grinding himself against you. “I won’t make it back home,” He says. “Plus, we always have such a bad time in the car. One of us always gets hurt.”

You giggle at the thought of car sex. It never went smooth for the two of you. One of you either hit your head, or knocked them both against each other when trying to shift your bodies. Once your ass hit the horn, completely blowing your cover. His knee jerked one time and hit the steering wheel, resulting in the car going completely haywire.

“Josh blocked off the stairs.. But we can sneak up there.”

“Oh?”

Jake nods his head and leans down to kiss you. The kiss was hard yet passionate, showing you just how desperate he’s been all night for you. He rolls his hips again, pressing himself harder against your body. Feeling him rub against you in the right place made your head fall backwards. He was practically dry humping you in the middle of the crowded living room. Still, not a single soul there even looked in your direction. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning, though you’re pretty sure that the music would only cover it up.

He pulls you flush up to his chest and moves both of your bodies in a languid manner. He wanted to get you just as desperate as he is so he has an excuse to be dragging you upstairs. This also wouldn't be the first time that he’s fucked you in his brother’s house.

As the music slows, he halts his movements and starts to sway the two of you in time with the beat. He keeps you close, only to conceal his true intentions should there suddenly be any lingering eyes.

“Come with me upstairs..” He whispers to you, his lips ghosting over yours. “Or so help me, I will lay you out on this floor and fuck you in front of everyone.”

“Such lewd behavior,” You tease. “But you wouldn’t..”

“I wouldn’t?”

You shake your head. “No, because as much as you would want everyone to know just who I belong to as I scream your name, you also want to just keep all of me to yourself. Those pretty sounds I make should only be heard for your ears.. Am I right, Jacob?”

Immediately he turns on his heels and drags you through the living room and over to the stairs, not giving a damn if his brother saw him or not. He helps you over the rope before stepping over it himself and proceeding to pull you up the staircase. Once out of the eyesight of others, he pins you against the wall, pressing his body against yours once more and kissing you. He hikes your leg up on his waist, granting him access to grind his hardened member against your core.

Attaching his lips to your neck, he sucks gently before nipping your skin. “Living up to your costume, are you?” He smiles against your neck before pulling away and brings you into the nearest room before closing the door and pinning your back against the wall. He drops to his knees in front of you and works quickly to pull down your sheer tights. He forces your underwear to the side and doesn't waste a second as he dives into your folds.

Your hands found a quick home in his hair and gave the locks a tug making him groan against you, the vibration alone making you moan. You can feel the tightness in your core growing as he brings you closer to your release. His hands hold tightly to your legs as they shake uncontrollably. Pulling out from beneath your skirt, he gasps lightly for air, his chest heaving ever so slightly as he runs his hand through his hair, pushing away from his face which glistens.

He gently lowers your leg before standing back up to his feet. He reaches over to the door and turns the lock on the knob before taking you off the wall and walking you back towards the bed.

It took some time for the both of you to shed the layers of clothing you both wore but by the end of it, he had you pressed against the mattress and on your stomach. He made quick work of himself before leaning over top of you and thrusting himself inside of you. The sting was indeed painful but welcomed pleasure shortly after he began his steady pace. One hand was planted firmly on the mattress to keep himself up right while the other dug deep into your hair to hold you in place.

The warmth of his chest against your back made this moment even more pleasing. His skin was soft, baring no chest hair. But his necklaces were enough to add just a little bit of scratching on your back.

Soon he became less than gentle as he pounded himself deep inside of you, chasing the high that was consuming both you and him. Though his actions were rough, his words were gentle as he spoke to you in dominance.

“You’re taking me so well–just like you always do..” He presses a kiss to your head as he massages the pads of his fingers against your scalp. “Such a good girl for me..”

Soon he has you both crashing into your climaxes, his body now a sweaty and hot weight upon yours.

A loud knock comes on the door followed by Danny’s loud voice. “No one’s allowed up here!”

Jake covers your mouth with his hand and he clears his throat. “Uh yeah,” He says in a deeper voice. “Sorry man, we’ll be down.”

“You’ve got five minutes!”

Jake stays still, holding you close with his hand still covering your mouth as he waits for Danny to really be gone. Once he was sure that he was gone, he slowly pulled out of you and the two of you quickly got dressed again and fixed up your appearances before descending the stairs quietly. Jake cautiously peered around the corner and when he deemed that the coast was clear of any of the guys, he helped you back over the rope and pulled you back into the living room, mixing back into the dancing and mingling bodies of the party goers.

A few minutes later, Josh appears beside the two of you. “You will never believe what happened..”

“Hmm, what?” Jake indulges.

“Danny caught people upstairs totally going at it in the guest room..” Josh explains before taking another drink from his beer and rolling his eyes. “So disrespectful.. Anyways, have you two been enjoying the party? You look a little sweaty–dancing too much?”

“Oh, we’ve definitely been dancing too much.” Jake nods his head. “We've been doing nothing but dancing.”

“Well, you two keep enjoying the party–I am going to find something to eat.”

“You do that.” Once Josh is gone, Jake pulls you closer. “So disrespectful..” He repeats in a mocking tone making you laugh. He draws you in for a kiss and grinds himself against you again. “I like being disrespectful with you.”

“Hey.. You didn't put your fangs back in,” You say.

“Hmph.. Must have left them upstairs,” He shrugs his shoulders. “Oh well.. He’ll find them later..”

“He’s going to be so pissed..”

“Well lucky for me, I’m not the only vampire here,” He winks. “There’s at least ten here. So unoriginal.”

You giggle and playfully push him away but he pulls you back. “You are crazy..”

“Mmmm, but you love me anyways.” He says as he nuzzles the side of his face against your head.

“Unfortunately..” You sigh. His hand slaps against your ass and you laugh. “Of course I love you.” You turn your head to the side and he takes the opportunity to kiss you.

🎃

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[alacetor-the-duckies-deer]

I have this headcanon for Alastor's back story where he's trans, and just as himself, as he is in the show, even as a kid. So his parents sent him of to a convent, were upon ww1 breaking out in his late teens, he ran away, forged a new identity as a man, got found out once he was already over seas, blackmailed a superior into letting him stay on, where he was introduced to radio communication, and the rest is history.

But all that to say, I like to then imagine, whenever anyone tells him something mildly outlandish, but definitely true, he likes to respond with "Yes, Vox, and I took a vow of celibacy when I was a catholic nun"

To which of course people think, "so you don't belive me? I mean but aren't you a virgin? Are you not????"

And of course, this never gets asked because who's gonna ask The Radio Demom about his Sexy Life.

Angel Dust that's who.

I imagine him doing an interview on Al's Show, just a mix of publicity for them both, hanging out because they're friends, and it's all a big middle finger to the Vee's.

Maybe it's pride month and so they were planning some talk about that, Alastor joking about a possible comming out, even though its plenty well know Alastor is some where on the ace spectrum to anyone with eyes.

They get on the topic somehow, Angel says something like, "I never laid myself across the bar like that! Second set of arms at most! Never my butt, never mind my legs! not after the first time!"

"Mh-hm. You got desperate in your flirting, and I took a vow of celibacy, when I was a nun. We all do silly things, Angel."

"Well, maybe I've laid out on the pool table, but it makes for good pictures. Anyway, I been meaning to ask you about that."

"About being a nun?

"No," angel laughs, plays it off, thinking he's joking. "About your being ace and all. No pressure, but like, you really never even wanted to try?"

"No, I find it quite repulsive. The idea even,"

"You don't watch nothin'? Read nothing either?"

"Ha! No! The filthy little novel Sister Amillia sneaked in the once was quite enough- are you okay Angel?"

Angel had infact just chocked on his latte. "Wait? Sister Amillia? Sneaked in? To where!?"

"The convent, Angel. I was 14, she was 16. Wonderful woman, taught me how to handle a knife, she left shortly after the novel was discovered- Sister Tabitha was as squeaky a little rat as she looked- never saw Amillia again, though."

"Wait, sorry. You were a nun, like, actually? What the fuck?"

One of the little lights that says they have a caller lit up, but Alastor ignore it for now. "Yes, Angel, do keep up."

"Wait, so like that nun costume you wear on halloween?" Angel blows right past the fact Alastor just came out as trans, because yeah. Didnt see it comming but, the trains already wizzing by, and more importantly- "Is that like your actual nun costume?"

"Ha! No, I flung that horrid thing in a garbage can on my way to the enlistment office when I was 17."

"Enlistment?" Angels begining to see what Alastor meant when he said this episode was going to be a unique experience for his listeners at the start of the braodcast. "Like world War 1, right? You were alive for that..."

"Yes, I figured with all the confusion one little girl-"

Angel's phone goes off. It's Val. Angel hits ignore.

"Fuck off Val, I'm off today" Angel says into his mic.

But they get interrupted again and again until Angel turns his phone off.

At which point all twelve of the little light that indicate the show had callers on the line, light up.

"Ah fuck. What does he want that bad? Can you just answer it real quick?"

Alastor flips a switch and answers.

"The fuck you want Val-"

"I'm not calling for you!" It's Vox on the other end, his voice booming from the speaker "Alastor! Are you fucking serious? You were a fucking nun?"

"Yes, Vox." He says with faux patience. "My goodness, did you all stuff your ears with cotton this morn-"

"So you DID actually take a vow of Celibacy? The other day at the meeting during my presentation, you said "that'll work, Vox, sure- and I took a vow-"

"Yes. I was there."

"And!?!"

"Celibacy, among other things. If this is a dig at my sexuality than-"

"Nah fuck that, hang on I'm doing math! Okay you were born in 1901, makes you 17 in 1918, yeah that tracks. Okay so 2024 make you 123, minus the 17 years to be conservative, thats 106 yeah?"

"I was 15 when I took that vow, and under threat of being institutionalized, if that's what you're getting at-"

"108! Ha! Oh my God! 108 years! That's gotta be a record!"

"What are you getting at Vox?"

"You took a vow!" Vox screams through his laughter. "All the pomp and circumstance! On consecrated ground! before god!? To abstain from sex! And even here in hell, were sin and blasphemy are rampant and free-"

"Careful Vox, your televangelist is showing-"

"Who gives a fuck!? You're the one whos upheld their vow to God for over a century like some devout saint!"

Angel and Alastor sit there staring at eachother while Vox laughs his head off around them

"Saint Alastor the Abstinent! The pantron Saint of Virgi-"

Alastor hangs up. "Well that was informative!" Alastor chirps "Well, What's to be done about this? Hm, Angel?"

And for some reason, an unholy one, surely, the first thing out of Angel's mouth is "I could suck you dick? If that- would count?"

And it's a testament to how far they've come as friends, or pooooossbily Alastor's nerves, or maybe his sheer unwavering bravado, but Alastor only bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he get out between laughter "I don't- have one!"

And then they're both laughing and laughing and laughing, and eventually they calm down, and Alastor gets a thoughtful look. "Though, Vox did have one good point."

"Oh?"

"That does have to be a recorded, at least among sinners. Why! I very well might have redeemed myself! We should certainly bring this up with Sera at the next conference!"

And then their off both laughing again, imaging Serra's face when she realises she's going to have to look into yet more research onto the workings of redemption from Heaven's end.

[fandomnerd9602]

All Hallows Eve

Sienna Shaw x Wolverine!Reader

Request by @tokufighter

Halloween Special

The way she smiled. The way she looked at you. Her dark brunette hair. Her brown eyes that stared at you. It was something you couldn’t deny. You were one hundred percent in love with your best friend Sienna Shaw.

But you couldn’t tell her. You were a freak in the eyes of most people. You were the teenage offspring of James ‘Logan’ Howlett - the Wolverine.

You had to keep this side of you hidden. You had hoped it could remain that way.

You helped Sienna to assemble her Valkyrie costume. She looked like a true warrior goddess in your eyes.

The more animalistic side of you just wanted to just pull her close and kiss her. But you kept that side of you at bay.

“So what do you think?” She asked you with a nervous little smile gracing her lips.

“Heavenly” you remarked with a little Howlett side smile.

Sienna gave you a gentle blush and laugh, gently tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. She looked up at you, her eyes looking back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How desperately you wanted to kiss her in that moment.

“We uhh…should get to the party” you answered before walking away.

And then came the Art incident.any you knew were slaughtered. Sienna’s brother was kidnapped. You and your Valkyrie found yourselves against the wall.

“I can’t lose him!” She told you with tears in her eyes.

“Jonathan won’t die tonight” you pull your sleeves. You tried to keep it hidden but now was not the time. You popped your sleek metal claws out of your knuckles.

Sienna gasped but a little smile made its way across her lips. “hot” she replies.

Using your incredible sense of smell, you tracked down Art and Jonathan. You burst into the room, claws drawn.

Sienna’s Valkyrie sword began to glow. The two of you charged at the maniacal clown. The otherworldly clown tried to dodge your attacks but it was no use.

Your claws cut through his chainsaw. Your claws cut through his ax and knives. His attacks had no effect on you.

You lopped off an arm and then a leg. The clown, for probably the first time in its entire life, was terrified.

Sienna jumped in and lopped the clown’s head clean off. She buries her sword right through his chest and into the ground.

You gently approached your warrior goddess, her chest heaving and her eyes burning with tears.

“Sienna?” You asked. She immediately turned around and jumped into your arms, hugging you tight.

“Don’t let go of me. Please” she begged you.

“I’ll never let go” you hugged her back. Jonathan hugged both of you.

The police and medics were quick to the scene. You set a fire on the clown, burning him and the house to the ground. The sword remained buried deep through the clown and into the earth, making sure the clown would never reappear.

The medics tended to Jonathan and Sienna’s injuries. The police took your statements.

You walked up to your warrior goddess, you weren’t about to let another moment go by.

“Shaw?” You asked, getting her attention. “Are you alright?”

“Maybe.” She responded.

“I’m sorry you had to see…well…” you gestured to your knuckles.

“Are you kidding? Those claws are amazing! Is that what you were trying to tell me?”

“No…actually it has to do with…” you sigh. “We Howletts have never been much for words”

She gives you a gentle smile, her voice has a slight purr to it, “then let your actions speak for you”

You smile. You grab her by the lower back and pull her in. She wraps a leg around your waist, letting out a soft, seductive gasp. Her arms wrap around your neck.

“I love you Sienna” you whisper

“Show me” she replies with a smile. You mirror her smile.

You pull her in, caressing her face. You kiss her tenderly and yet at the same time years of longing burst forth.

She gripped the back of your head, kissing you repeatedly and happily. You pulled back just a little, only to grab a bit of oxygen.

“My warrior goddess. My Valkyrie” you whispered against her lips.

“My Wolverine” she answered back. You give her a playful little growl.

It would take awhile but you and Sienna would build a life together. One free of fear, free of the monsters in the dark.

You were just so glad you could build it with your warrior goddess.

[cgunderwearstories]

The Lambda House Halloween Party

The Lambda house Halloween party at Ashford College was in full swing, the house decked out in its usual haunted decor—flickering lanterns, spider webs stretching across doorways, and a thick mist rolling from a fog machine. The music boomed through the rooms, and dozens of college guys dressed in everything from werewolves to gladiators packed the space, laughing and shouting. Some of the Lambda brothers had their eyes set on making the night memorable in a very different way. Every year, they prided themselves on pulling pranks that left guys feeling more than a little exposed—especially those who arrived unprepared or overconfident. Tonight, they had their eyes on Jason.

Jason is wearing a toga that is supposed to drape down to his knees, but it barely covers his meaty thighs. The material is a thin, gauzy white that shifts easily with movement, lifting higher and showing more with every step. As he moves, the toga flutters, and the sides part to reveal a glimpse of his underwear—a skimpy pair of lacy blue panties. The lace pattern is intricate, with small floral designs that contrast sharply against his skin, and they’re cut high on the sides, exposing a lot of his hips. The waistband is thin, and when the toga rides up, you can clearly see the blue lace riding above his thigh.

The guys at the party erupt into laughter. “Nice toga, dude, but I think you forgot to dress for the occasion!” one of them shouts. “Those are some fancy panties you’ve got under there!” another guy adds, grinning. A guy nearby shakes his head and laughs, “Guess you wanted to be the ‘Greek god of lingerie’ tonight, huh?” They lift the back of his toga, exposing the full lace design. “Oh man, you’re showing off more than you think!”

Jason, feels his face heat up as the frat guys start pointing and laughing at his predicament. His toga, already too short, has ridden up enough for everyone to see his blue lacy panties, the thin material barely covering anything. He desperately tries to adjust the fabric, pulling it down, but every time he does, the lace waistband peeks out even more. The frat guys are relentless, crowding around him, their laughter echoing through the room.

“Hey, man, nice choice! Are those lace panties?” one of the frat guys jeers, reaching over to lift the side of Jason’s toga even higher. “Looks like someone’s got a secret.”

Jason, flustered and trying to save face, stammers out an excuse. “It’s—it’s part of the costume! You know, like ancient Greek underwear, uh, they wore—fancy stuff back then, you know?”

The guys roar with laughter at his attempt. “Greek underwear, huh?” one of them scoffs, tugging at the back of the toga so it rides up higher, giving a full view of the lace against his skin. “Sure, dude, because all Greek warriors fought in their girlfriends’ panties.” Another guy doubles over, clutching his stomach, “Oh man, next you’ll be telling us you’re wearing a bra too!”

Jason tries to pull the toga back down, but the frat guys aren’t letting him off that easily. One of them pulls at the waistband of his panties, snapping the elastic against his skin. “Nah, man, if you’re going to wear something like this, you’ve gotta show it off!” he laughs. Another guy joins in, lifting the front of the toga to expose the full lace detail. “Check this out, boys—looks like Jason’s gone all out tonight!”

Jason’s face is burning red now as he feels the lace cling to his skin, the panties barely hiding anything. “It’s—it’s a joke, okay? It’s just for fun,” he tries to say, but the frat guys are having none of it.

“Yeah, right,” one of them sneers, pulling the back of his panties and letting it snap. “You’ve been caught, dude. Just admit you like it!” 

Another mischievously smiles, “Why not just take the whole thing off if you’re so proud of your ‘costume’?”

He grabs the side of the toga and gives it a tug, pulling it off entirely. The group hoots with laughter as Jason stands there, desperately trying to cover himself. One of the frat guys holds up his phone, snapping pictures. “Smile for the camera, lace boy!” he says, grinning.

“Yeah, show everyone your ‘ancient Greek’ look!” another guy taunts, pushing him forward so he stumbles in his lacy panties.

Jason’s attempts to regain his dignity are futile. “You know what, maybe he’s right,” one guy says, pretending to consider Jason’s excuse. “Maybe this is just how the Greeks did it. All lace, all the time. What do you think, boys?”

As Jason tries to make his escape, one of the frat guys steps up behind him, snickering. Without warning, he slips his finger into the waistband of the panties. His finger lingers for a moment, running along the waistband as if inspecting the lace pattern. “You know, this lace really suits you,” he teases, giving a slight tug that pulls the fabric into a wedgie. “Bet you didn’t think you’d be showing off your cute little panties tonight, huh?” he adds with a smirk.

Jason’s face burns as the guy continues. “Honestly, dude, you should just own it. Walk around and show off those cheeks—you’ve got nothing left to hide anyway.” The other guys around him burst into laughter, egging on the one who’s teasing Jason.

Feeling the humiliation, Jason doesn’t dare reach back or try to fix his wedgie. He walks away, face down, while the guy shouts, “There you go, show off that lace! Everyone’s loving the view!”

As Jason tries to make his way through the crowd, cheeks burning with embarrassment, one of the frat guys steps up behind him. Slowly, he slips his finger into the waistband of Jason’s lace panties, tugging them just enough to expose his ample behind. Jason feels a shiver run through him, his body betraying the thrill he feels as the lace is lowered. He knows he should push the guy away, but he’s frozen, heart racing.

The guy leans in, his breath warm against Jason’s ear. “We can all see your pretty little panties, man…and your pink hole” he whispers, his finger brushing against Jason’s sensitive hole. The light touch sends a jolt through Jason, and he bites his lip, struggling to suppress the excitement he feels. The teasing touch moves closer, grazing areas that make his knees weak. The lace panties hang below his buttocks, intensifying every sensation.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, grinning as he sees Jason’s reaction. “Bet you love showing off for all the guys.”

Around them, the other frat guys laugh, their voices echoing in Jason’s ears. “Dude, looks like you’re really enjoying this!” one shouts, and another adds, “Guess he wanted everyone to see what he’s packing under that toga!”

The guy’s finger continues its teasing journey, lingering on Jason’s hole. The sensation is electric, and Jason can’t help but let out a soft, involuntary gasp. Jason’s head spins, caught between humiliation and the undeniable thrill of being teased and exposed. The frat guy behind him presses a little closer, his finger still teasing along the edge of the panties. “I think he loves it,” he says loudly, making sure the whole room hears. “Let’s see just how much.”

Jason’s body feels alive, every touch amplified by the attention from the group. He knows the guys are watching, laughing, taking it all in—and, deep down, he loves every second of it.

[xkaidaxxxx]

UNBELIEVABLE

KATSUKI BAKUGOU X CHUBBY READER

Mentions: Club, Virgin reader, Alcohol, Jealous kats, Fluff

Reblogs are appreciated <3

“ It’s unbelievable. I can’t believe she said yes! Ugh she’s the best” Kirishima said with his heart full of love. “Yeah Yeah Yeah we get it you have a girlfriend. Quit rubbing it in.” Denki replied, rolling his eyes. “ The rest of us are single as fuck.” Sero said. You felt defeated as well. 

You like Katsuki Bakugou. Sure he’s loud, explosive, crazy, has a hard time expressing himself, and is reserved but you like all those and more traits are very cute. You know he has his own little ways of saying thank you, sorry, or that he cares. You like the way he laughs and smiles, which is rare. His cooking is amazing. You love the way he always pushes forward and doesn’t allow anything to stop him. You’re basically head over heels for this man. Little did you know he likes you just as much as you like him. It is so insane how neither of you knows it. The girls tell you and you always say “ You guys don’t make me delusional.” You thought that way because you didn’t consider yourself beautiful. You’re a chubby girl. You hate your stomach fat. You hate the stretch marks. You hate when you sit down, your fat rolls. Katsuki thought otherwise. He loves your stomach rolls, He loves the way your costume shows off your thighs. He thinks your stretch marks are cute. He always says he wants you to squeeze his head in between your thighs. He knows there's so much more to love. He wants and needs you so bad. He is willing to do anything for you to be his girlfriend. He's on his knees at this point.

As time went by you did notice yourself spending more time with him. He threw hints at you. You did miss a few but then connected the pieces later on. 

“ Hey!! Come on dance with us!!!” Mina yelled over the loud music. You took your last 3 shots. “ Finally girl !!!” Momo yelled. You had 2 horrible weeks. You were desperate to have time off and have fun. You were all dolled up. You straighten your hair and put on simple makeup. The dress you wore was a bit short. It hugged you beautifully. The heels made you look even more sexier. Some guys were checking you out. Including Katsuki. You finally let yourself free. You danced like no one was there. Mina and Momo danced with you. A guy dances up behind you. He placed his hands on your waist. You couldn’t give 2 fucks. Katsuki was losing his mind. He was so jealous his small explosions said it all. The guy ran his hands down to your thighs. “When are you going to confess to her!? You’re dying right now! Go claim her!” Izuku said, smacking his head, over the loud music. Usually Katsuki would blow up at him but he was so focused on you. The topic. “ What if I just make her drift away!?” Katsuki asked. “Oh wow. I didn’t know that Katsuki Bakugou was such a loser!” Izuku said, knowing exactly what he was doing. “ Yeah what a pussy!” Kirishima yelled, pushing Katsuki’s button. He went to the dance floor and gave the guy a nasty stare. He was getting way too handsy. You only allowed it because you want experience. You’re a virgin, You never had a boyfriend before, zero dates, you haven’t even had your 1st kiss yet, you just started drinking like a month ago, and this is your 3rd time at a club. You dancing with a guy and a bit sexually is NEW. The man stood his ground against Katsuki. That didn’t stop the explosion boy. He leaned down to your height and kissed you. You gave in and kissed him back. The guy saw how you guys were making out. He left. You knew it was Katsuki you were making out with even though you were drunk. You danced the night away. 4:25am hit. “ Let's get out of here pretty.” Katsuki said. You nodded. When both got to his apartment it got crazy. He pushed you against the wall after he closed the door and locked it. You made out like it was the last time you’d see each other again. “ Mhm fuck.” He said carrying you up stairs. He set you on his bed. You giggled as he took your heels off. He smiled at your drunk self. Now Katsuki knows you're inexperienced. “ Kkaattss!” you yelled. “Yeah I’m here,” he replied. He respectfully was babysitting you as you showered. He stood facing the wall asking if you were good. After drying up and changing into clothes he lent he blew  dry your hair and soon after that you were laying on his bed. Still drunk. He was surprised how you even managed to shower thoroughly. He then took his time to take a nice warm shower. “ Kats!” you laughed like an idiot then suddenly went quiet. Once he was changed he turned the lights off and got into bed. “You good?” he asked, playing with your hair. “ Wish. You- were h-herruu actuchily.”you said slurring your words. You touched his hair gently. He pecked your forehead. 

The following morning you woke up to him holding you. “K-Katsuki?” you questioned. “Yeah?”he replied. “W-what am I doing here?” You lifted the sheets, fully clothed. You sighed in relief. “We didn’t do anything…It’s unbelievable,” he replied. “ What is-are you calling me a slut? That I’m easy or something!?” you said you were upset. “It’s unbelievable that you’ve always been in my heart and in my mind. Now you’re waking up here in my bed. You’re mine.” He replied holding you. You blushed. “ I like you so much, kats.” you confessed. “I like you so much Y/n.” he replied. You both felt complete and happy.

Why don’t we- unbelievable