#sexy feather boa man

[redvexillum]

Me: Alrighty-ho! Time to work on my grossly late fraugwinska's DBD x HH event and @6esiree's contest!

Me, completely a sub to my desires despite having zero experience writing a lucifer x reader fic: This is gonna be a quick, dirty, SHORT one shot. No problem-o! *nearly 5000 words later* fhuck.

TAGS/WARNINGS: vexi's brain rot, p in v, cunnilingus, wtf did I just write, f!reader, lucifer isn't quite over lilith because ✨drama✨️, low key blaming @sociosin for sending me spicy Lucifer's ask and @the-other-soup for drawing sexy lucifer - I stood no chance guys

When you first matched with DuckLover69 on Cinder, you laughed, thinking it was a typo—surely, he meant to type DickMaster69. That seemed on brand for a hook-up app straight out of Hell. But as you stood there in his room, surrounded by luxurious, crimson-hued furniture and bed sheets of rich satin that would have looked decadent if they weren’t crowded by piles—actual mounds—of rubber ducks, you realized this guy hadn’t mistyped at all.  

This man really, truly, loved ducks. 

Maybe a tad too much.

You wove your way carefully through a veritable army of rubber duckies, each dressed in an outfit more absurd than the last. A little one in a sombrero sat beside a duck knight, complete with a silver helmet and a feather. You squinted. Was that one wielding a miniature sword? It stuck out from its back at a haphazard angle, as if this duck had met some unspeakable end in battle. 

How…avant-garde?

“Sorry for the wait!” A nervous, high-pitched voice broke the silence, followed by an anxious chuckle that echoed through the room. You turned to see Mr. Duck Lover, as he’d introduced himself online, standing stiff as a board, his hand twirling a crimson red apple atop his sleek, obsidian-black staff. 

He was exactly as odd in person as he’d been in your chats: curious to a fault and totally oblivious to social cues. His very first question had been, “So, do you know the King of Hell?” Not exactly small talk. But you had shrugged it off, telling him the truth—that you’d hardly kept up with Hell’s political scene since you arrived. You were too busy dealing with entitled assholes in your new, endless service job, a punishment so mundane it felt like Hell’s personal version of torture. 

You’d expected the conversation to taper off after that, but Mr. Duck Lover had caught you off-guard by taking a U-turn, asking without reserve if you liked sex. The question had been so blunt, so awkwardly dropped into the conversation, that you’d ended up laughing. After a hellish day dealing with rude customers, his lack of tact and straight-up weirdness had been refreshing, if bizarre, and you’d surprised yourself by playing along. 

And now here you were, standing in his duck-filled lair, looking at him in all his nervous, overdressed glory. “You weren’t kidding when you said you liked ducks,” you said with a grin, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible as you waved at a particularly stylish duck with a feathered boa around its neck. 

Mr. Duck Lover's shoulders stiffened, and his eyes darted back and forth. Two bright red circles painted his cheeks, and he looked like a mime who’d been caught halfway through his act. His fingers fidgeted with the apple on his staff as he tried for a casual smile, though it came across more like a grimace. 

“I-is that a dealbreaker?” His voice cracked, and you could practically feel the nerves radiating off him. You chuckled, stepping a little closer, savouring the way his breath caught, and his cheeks flushed a unique shade of gold, the colour spilling across his nose in a way that was like glittering treasure strewn across white sand. 

“Nah, just… observing,” you said, your grin turning wicked. “What’s wrong, Mr. Duck Lover?”  

You reached out, tucking a stray strand of gold that had fallen over his forehead back into place. He froze, his breath hitching, his eyes widening as if he’d been zapped. The blush on his cheeks deepened, and he puffed them out, holding his breath, looking for all the world like he was trying not to combust from embarrassment. 

Odd, yes. But somehow, interesting. You found yourself curious—very curious—about just what went on in that strange, nervous, duck-obsessed mind of his. 

You chuckled softly, warmth pooling at the base of your throat as you took him in. How adorable. Everything about him felt so out of place for a guy on an app specifically for hookups. He stood there, stiff as a board, his eyes darting to your every move, arms glued to his sides as though his own body wasn’t sure what to do with itself. And as you leaned closer, you noticed a large portrait hung in the back corner of his room—a family picture, quaint and well-loved. 

Am I his rebound? you thought, as you slid your fingers along his collar, grazing the crisp fabric before slowly easing it off his shoulders. His vest, a pale pink stripe against white, gave him a soft, almost innocent look—a stark contrast to the nerves dancing in his wide eyes. He didn’t resist, simply let his jacket slip down his arms, his breath coming shallow as you leaned in, feeling the heat rise as your faces neared, breath mingling. 

With a gulp, he stammered, “I gu-guess we’re doing the do, that's fantastic!” He tried to smile, his teeth peeking out in a goofy, uncertain grin as he let the jacket fall to the floor. 

“You mean…” you whispered, your voice low as you pressed against him, feeling his entire body tense beneath your touch. “Fucking?” 

He squeaked—actually squeaked—and tried to clear his throat, summoning a shred of composure. “That’s right, f-ffucking,” he stammered, the word awkward on his lips as he sounded it out like it was a foreign concept. “Because that’s… what we do. Now. Here.” His body shivered slightly, and you could feel the tremble that ran from his chest to yours, betraying his every anxious thought. 

A spark of curiosity bloomed in you as you watched his attempts at bravado crumble with each beat of silence. You felt it all click into place. In Hell, family didn’t exactly… exist. Sinners couldn’t create new life here, so the idea of settling down with a partner wasn’t the norm, let alone the idea of casual intimacy. But here he was, talking about sex with the clumsy innocence of someone barely familiar with the concept. “Hey…” you murmured, a thrill lacing your words. “Are you… a virgin?” 

The question struck him like lightning, his eyes going wide, his fingers clutching at his vest in a mixture of embarrassment and flustered denial. “Wha—first time?” He laughed—a loud, forced laugh that seemed to rattle out of him, like he was trying to chase away the truth. “Oh, no, no, no, not at all! I’ve… I’ve used my penis in… numerous ways.” His voice dropped to a low, desperate tone. “I even shape-shifted a few times for… added spice,” he said, his forked tongue flicking nervously, searching your face as though hoping to see doubt there instead of amusement. 

But you couldn’t help it. The men you usually met were arrogant, self-assured, and too focused on themselves to care. Yet here he was—blushing, hesitant, endearing in his innocence. A wicked grin spread across your face as you let your fingers trail lower, smoothing down his vest, tracing each trembling line of muscle underneath until you reached the waistband of his pants. 

You glanced up, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smirk, and his breath caught. His lips quivered, his cheeks flushed, but he returned your grin—innocent and eager, albeit with a slight, deliciously shaky edge. 

You wondered just what kind of man Mr. Duck Lover truly was as your hands moved along his body, peeling away each layer of his clothing, his meagre defences landing on the floor with gentle thuds joining with yours. For all his usual fidgeting and awkwardness, there was something disarmingly tender in the way he touched you, as if each stroke of his fingertips was sacred, each caress reverent. That boyish, clumsy charm he wore like a mask seemed to slip away, leaving behind a quiet intensity in his gaze that made your pulse race. 

“Been… a while,” he murmured, his hands wandering in tentative exploration, pausing over the soft curve of your breast, then settling firmly at your hips. The admiration in his voice deepened as he sighed, his eyes tracing over you as though you were something divine. “God really did create the perfect being,” he whispered, his lips grazing your shoulder, and as your bare bodies met in a slow, full embrace, it was your turn to hold your breath, struck by the unexpected gentleness of it. 

You almost chuckled, the urge to tease him—“Praising God in Hell? How blasphemous,”—hovering at the tip of your tongue. But as he drew you closer, his face tucked deep into the curve of your neck, words fell away, replaced by a silent warmth that seeped into every nerve, every inch of your skin. His arms wound tighter around you, his body pressing against yours, not out of desire, but a kind of longing that felt… deeper.

Meaningful. 

Your arms wrapped around him on instinct, though your mind buzzed with confusion. Shouldn’t this be a quick, meaningless fuck by now? Yet, here you were, tangled in his arms, savouring the sensation of him, feeling the quiet, almost desperate comfort he sought as he held you. The naked intimacy was strange, yes. Unexpected, yes. But something in you didn’t want to break the moment; it felt like a balm, easing all the stress and tension that had worn you down for far too long as you toiled away in your eternal damnation.  

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the steady warmth of his body, your fingers tracing delicate paths along his spine. Each gentle touch pulled soft, barely audible sounds from his throat, the hint of a moan muffled against your skin as your fingers reached his hair, petting through the soft strands. His hair was even softer than you’d imagined, and you felt him sink into your touch, both of you on the brink of letting go.

Letting go of what? You weren't sure.  

But suddenly, he pulled back, and the spell shattered. His cheeks flushed, his hands awkwardly clutching at your waist as he avoided your gaze, his nervous energy flooding back. “Right, uh, sex. That’s what we’re… here for, isn’t it? So, we should, um…” He forced a grin. “Do the, uh… the sex!” 

That was when you finally absorbed your surroundings, the vast emptiness around you, the solemn quiet of his home. There was a lonely hush here, dark and endless, filling every corner, every shadow. And, of course, the lifeless ducks haphazardly thrown around. 

But there was no one else. 

Not a soul in these halls. 

You slipped your hand into his, guiding him toward the bed with a gentleness that felt at odds with your own intentions. You almost considered tucking him under the covers, wrapping him up and telling him that he didn’t have to prove anything to you, that he could wait until he was ready. But he wasn’t a child, and you weren’t here to be his caretaker. 

He lay down first, an eager anticipation flickering across his face despite the faint tremor in his limbs, his gaze fixed on you as you joined him. His body, still soft with nerves, lay at ease, his cock resting against his thigh. You reached out, taking him in hand, moving slowly as your fingers traced down his length, stroking him with a softness that coaxed him to relax. You felt him tense, then soften beneath your touch. 

“Oh… oh wow,” he breathed, his voice catching as he watched your hand, eyes wide with wonder. “Y-you’re… you’re pretty good at this,” he stammered, awe shimmering in his voice as he struggled to keep his composure, his gaze flicking between your face and your hand, his lips parting in quiet gasps. 

At that moment, you couldn’t help but smile—feeling the thrill of his innocence, of his complete surrender. And somewhere in the warmth of his admiration, his trust, you realized you didn’t mind slowing down. 

True to his word, his body responded to your touch with a newfound firmness, his length growing against your hand, his skin silky and heated beneath your fingers. The sensation felt achingly familiar, like a melody you’d danced to before, each note resonating with a purpose neither of you had voiced aloud but understood all too well. 

Loneliness.

That was the reason, unspoken and raw, why you both found yourselves here tonight. You didn’t need his name, didn’t need his history because tonight was about filling that hollow ache. It was a fix—a fleeting, intoxicating drug against the gnawing ache deep in your chest. For one night, the world and its relentless wear could fall away in the ecstatic blur of release. 

You moved to straddle him, your body lowering until your wet, aching centre pressed firmly against the length of his cock, heat melding with heat. His eyes flicked down to where your bodies connected, then back up to meet your gaze, a hungry, almost reverent look filling his face. As you began to grind your hips against him, the friction sent a rush of molten heat through you, a spark igniting as you slid over him, slick and needy. 

He watched, his breaths coming in short, shuddering waves, head falling back against the pillow, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure if he should reach for you or simply feel. His own pulse matched yours, every breath and heartbeat syncing to a rhythm of shared need, unburdened by names or burdens. 

Slowly, you lifted your hips, guiding him to your entrance, pressing yourself down until his thick, warm tip pushed past your folds. Inch by inch, you took him, feeling every delicious stretch, every bit of pressure radiating inside you. A soft, desperate mewl escaped your lips as you sank fully, your bodies meeting in a perfect, seamless join. The raw sensation of him filling you hit deep, igniting pleasure like embers to flame. 

His head tilted back, his eyes fluttering shut, a low hiss slipping past his parted lips. “This is…” he began, voice trembling, his fingers flexing as if fighting to keep control, “oh gosh… really wonderful.” His hands faltered, barely grazing your hips before he let them fall to his sides again, his face flushed with both pleasure and nervous restraint. His hips lifted, seeking you instinctively, meeting each of your downward strokes with soft thrusts that went deeper, each time pushing him further within. 

“Oh, oh jeez, oh—golly…” He groaned, his fingers twisting into the sheets as he struggled to find words, every breath shuddering as he fought to keep up. His words, his earnest surprise, almost made you laugh, a kind of sweetness seeping into his awkward sounds as he gripped the sheets tighter. “Wow…” 

You bit back a smile, letting a small laugh escape between breaths. “What? You’ve never had good sex before?” you taunted, rolling your hips, drawing him fully within before slamming back down again. 

His cheeks flushed a deep gold, his chest expanding as he gasped, his muscles tensing beneath you. “N-No—ah, that’s not…” His voice wavered, breaking off in a moan as he sucked in a breath. “Oh, no… if you keep doing that… I won’t last long.” His voice softened, rich with pleasure and just a hint of pleading, as his eyes met yours, full of shy desire. “Please… I want this to last… just a little longer.” His words trailed into a low, trembling moan, his hands finally reaching, hesitantly finding their place on your waist as he held you, breath heavy with yearning, surrendering entirely to the moment with you. 

You hummed thoughtfully, sliding him out of you, his cock springing free and bouncing against his stomach, throbbing with the loss of warmth. His sudden whimper made you smirk, biting back a laugh as you hovered just out of reach. 

“I'm nowhere close to finishing,” you teased, keeping your wet heat tantalizingly close to him, yet unreachable all the same. 

“I can fix that!” he nearly shouted, grinning like he’d just found a solution to all the world's problems. Sitting up eagerly, he waggled his eyebrows with such intensity that it made you giggle. “After all, I was quite the… generous eater in my day,” he added, flicking his forked tongue out for effect. 

“Oh, is that so?” You chuckled, giving him a playful look. “Show me, oh great, generous eater.”  

He joined in your laughter, but then his eyes drifted over your shoulder. His face faltered, brows knitting together, and you followed his gaze. The same family portrait you had initially noticed back in your view—a tall, curvaceous woman with long blonde hair standing beside him and a child who seemed to carry hints of both their features. 

You moved next to him, and leaned back, trying to keep your tone casual. “If you’re going to bring a one-night stand over, maybe next time use a room without a family portrait.” The words came out sharper than you intended, a twinge of bitterness souring the edge. 

His shoulders tensed as he turned to you, eyes wide with a guilty look. “Oh—no, that’s not…I…” He stammered, his hands fluttering in the air as if trying to reach some explanation. 

You sighed, deciding to throw him a lifeline. You were here for fun, not drama. “Hey, relax. It’s…whatever,” you said with a casual shrug, a grin playing on your lips. But that lingering bitterness in your chest didn’t quite vanish. 

Mr. Duck Lover seemed to seize onto your words, scrambling between your legs, though his excitement from earlier was starting to wane. “I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured, leaning close, fingers hesitating on the curves of your hips, as if battling his own mind. His face hovered near your core, yet he seemed frozen in place, like he was staring into the void rather than your body. 

It was quite a comical sight. 

If you weren't in the picture, that is. 

There he was—his head bowed at your centre, practically on the verge of a self-reflective breakdown. While you laid there, spread out and ready, and he was having an existential crisis. 

You sighed, raising an eyebrow as he muttered to himself, “I can do this,” almost like he was about to leap off a bridge instead of…well, pleasing you. His hands twitched as his hands hovered over your hips, eyes squeezing shut in concentration as if gearing up for some monumental challenge. 

By now, the mood had evaporated, leaving behind only the lingering awkwardness of his whispered self-encouragement. Five seconds later, you realized that, yes, you’d completely lost the heat of the moment, and this was likely going nowhere but more awkwardness. 

You reached out gently, brushing his cheek. “Hey…maybe we should…” you started softly, hoping to ease him off this self-imposed, anxious ride and spare you both whatever spiral he was about to go down. 

His eyes snapped to yours, full of a pleading, vulnerable intensity, his lips parted and his gaze almost desperate. “No, no, I can do it!” His voice trembled, and he bit his lower lip, the slightest twitch in his left eye betraying his nerves. “It’s just been….” 

You softened, trying to help him find the words. “Years?” 

“Centuries,” he murmured, looking away as if confessing a secret. 

Centuries. The realization hits you with a strange thrill. You liked older men, sure, but you wondered how long he had stayed in Hell for. “Oh…” was all you managed, feeling the surreal weight of the moment. 

“May I?” he asked, his voice a tender murmur, fingers twitching, hesitant to touch you. You could only nod, slightly taken aback that he was asking for permission now, especially after where you'd both already been just minutes earlier. 

The moment his fingers touched your skin, he exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if relishing the warmth. He pressed a featherlight kiss against the curve of your hip, his touch more gentle than you could have imagined. With each kiss, he drifted lower, his lips tracing delicate patterns along your skin, until he found that sensitive spot just above your core, making you jolt beneath him. 

Your emotions tangled, caught between surprise and pleasure. You’d expected something hasty, careless, but this…this felt almost achingly tender. 

He opened his eyes, the intensity of his gaze softening as his lips brushed against you. Then, slowly, his tongue traced between your folds, a warm, pleasant heat that sent a gasp spilling from your lips. His own groan followed, deep and low, a sound of unrestrained need, as he continued to explore you, his lips and tongue working in gentle, insistent rhythms. 

You bit your lip, mirroring the way he’d done earlier, clutching the sheets as your body arched, heels pressing into the bed. Every reaction you gave seemed to stoke something in him, drawing another low, desperate moan from his throat. He rocked his hips against the mattress, as if drinking each of your gasps, as if they were fuelling his own desire. 

“Ah—D-don't stop,” you whimpered, your chest rising as your back arched from the bed. But he didn’t let you escape, his lips chasing every inch of you. His mouth closed around your sensitive nub, sucking gently before he dipped his tongue to explore further, the alternating sensations sending you spiralling. 

Your breath came ragged and broken, each wave of pleasure building faster as he licked and sucked with an almost feverish devotion. His own body responded in turn, his hips grinding against the bed, the friction drawing needy, guttural sounds from him that only fed your own pleasure. 

The rhythm intensified, and just as you thought you might break from the mounting sensation, he pressed deeper, his tongue a soft, insistent force. You clenched around the bliss rising within you, every muscle tensing, as he held you there, relishing every sound, every tremor of pleasure that passed between you both in the heady, dizzying night. 

“Shit,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, fingers tightening as you pulled him closer. His lips pressed even harder against you, and you felt yourself unravelling, teetering on the edge of something wild and raw. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, your legs bending as the fire in your belly coiled tighter. Then, with one last fierce suck and an indulgent lick, he shattered your restraint. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, tearing a ragged cry from your throat as it flooded every inch of your body. 

He moved with you, his own hips shifting as if in sync with the rhythm of your climax, his mouth still sealed to you, eager to take in every tremor and quake of your release. His hand slipped beneath him, the hurried motion of his strokes intensifying, his fingers relentless as he chased his own peak while lingering over every pulse and shudder of yours. 

He moaned against you, his mouth vibrating with his own mounting pleasure, his hips twitching as he hit his release just after yours. His strokes slowed, tapering off as he gasped, his lips finally releasing you as his chest heaved. He knelt there, breathless, lips glistening from the shared passion, drenched by the evidence of his pleasure pooling between you. 

But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he crawled up beside you, eyes softened as he reached for you, arms wrapping tenderly around your shoulders, guiding you to rest your head against his chest. You stayed there, uncertain yet draped in the quiet intimacy of the moment. His heartbeat pounded against your ear, each beat so fierce you couldn’t tell if it was his or your own. 

His hand drifted up to brush your hair back, fingers combing gently as his breathing settled into a steady rhythm with yours. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, then another to the crown of your head, his lips lingering as if they held some unspoken affection, each kiss like a vow. 

“You were wonderful, dear,” he whispered, his voice a low, affectionate murmur, pressing another soft kiss to your hair. He stayed there, his arms cradling you, showering you with gentle kisses, an unexpected tenderness weaving around you both in the aftermath, grounding you in a warmth that felt real, if only for this moment. 

“I'm not sure how to even respond to that” you murmured, your mind still a haze, struggling to piece itself back together in the lingering aftershocks of your release. His fingers brushed tenderly along your cheek, and when you looked up, his eyes were warm, soft, his gaze holding an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. 

“You’re perfect,” he said, tilting your chin up, his voice thick with emotion. His lips pressed gently to yours, lingering as if he wanted to etch this moment into his mind. “You’re everything I want and more.” His voice cracked, barely a whisper, before he pulled you against his chest, his arms tightening around you with a fervency that felt almost desperate, as if he were holding on to something he couldn’t bear to lose. 

The raw affection in his embrace left you spinning. He held you as if you were his—an intimacy that felt foreign and startling. You’d just met him, after all. Yet here he was, clinging onto you as if you were more than a passing connection, as if you meant something deeper, something that couldn’t be dismissed. It was unnerving, a stark contrast to what you’d expected. 

Your eyes drifted to the shadowed portrait in the corner of the room, catching the faint outline of the woman in it—a powerful figure with curling horns and a smile that was as beautiful as it was unsettling. Whoever she was, she lingered here, like a ghost following his every step, a reminder of a past not fully left behind. 

But then, he murmured into your hair, “I love you. Please… don’t go.” His voice was fragile, almost broken, and his arms wrapped around you even tighter, his head pressing against yours, as if the strength of his embrace alone could keep you with him. 

There were many reasons people used Cinder. Some were looking for a thrill, some for a fleeting escape, some for connection in a moment that might otherwise feel empty. Maybe that was all this was, a bandage to the wound of loneliness he didn’t want to admit to, a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages. 

You hesitated, your hands resting limply against his back. This wasn’t what you’d come for; it wasn’t what you’d expected. But then, you could feel his frame trembling beneath your touch, the vulnerability in his grip as if he’d waited lifetimes to feel the comfort of another. Gently, you placed a hand on his back, feeling the way he drew in a shaky breath. 

“I won’t,” you whispered softly, almost to yourself, your voice filling the quiet between you.  “I’m here for you.”  

It was a lie, but a beautiful lie, nonetheless. 

At your words, he shuddered, holding you tighter, his trembling easing as if you’d just unlocked something buried within him.  

You were just a passing soul, but at this moment, maybe that was enough. 

[mohavesun]

pretty boy - josh futturman x reader <3

going back in time was weird. granted, everything was weird. but seeing your boyfriend in women’s lingerie? weird. but also weirdly sexy.

content warning: 18+!!!, oral (male receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, a bit of choking. josh wearing lingerie in that one episode has me in a chokehold. not proofread so just ignore any mistakes lol

“fuck it, i’ll do it,” you grab the bag off of the asphalt, exactly where tiger dropped it to chase down wolf.

the bag was filled to the brim with silky robes and lacy panties, corsets and garters that would dress your curves perfectly. josh grabbed the bag out of your hands, a mortified expression on his face as he exclaims, “no! no, you can’t, that’s… no, no way.”

your lips curl into a frown. “josh. it’s for the future.”

“wh-f-fuck the future! no! you’re not… i’m… let me do it. i’ll do it.” your boyfriend’s face contorted into a conflicted expression. he looked into the bag, at the lingerie. his lips pressed into a thin line, an evident sign of a thought process emerging from his brain. he finally looked up, putting his hands on your shoulders. “i’ll be right back. love you.” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, before dashing off behind a bush and behind kronish’s house. you just watched, left standing on the sidewalk with an exasperated expression.

would that shit even fit on him? he did have a thin waist. sure, most of your clothes fit him. but he had never worn your lingerie, or underwear, or bras. although the thought of your boyfriend wearing lingerie was… exciting, in a strange way.

-

after what seemed like a million different people running into kronish’s house, tiger being one of them, josh finally ran out.

wearing… a set of silky lingerie.

“josh?” you couldn’t help but stare at the man in front of you. he was wide-eyed, sweat clinging to his forehead, his hair messy, as though he had been jumping through windows or crawling around on all fours. best of all, a shade of coral lipstick was smeared across his lips, smudged across his chin.

he smiled, a fleck of lipstick on his front tooth. “we gotta go, i can’t be seen wearing this,” josh huffs, reaching to your shoulders, an attempt to take your jacket off.

a familiar warmth stirred in your belly as your eyes lingered onto his body, a corset clinging to his chest and a pair of leopard-print panties, making his bulge very prominent, as well as thigh garters hugging his legs. a feather boa was draped around his neck. and fuck, he looked delicious.

“uh.. what?” he looked at your strange expression. your cheeks were lit a flame, your pupils blown, and your mouth suddenly dry, along with a fluttering sensation in your lower stomach.

you stared a moment longer, causing heat to erupt into his face, a blush spreading all over his pale body. “wh-what?” he looked like a deer in headlines, his sweet brown eyes wide, his hands fluttering over his crotch almost self-consciously.

you snap out of your lustful fog, shaking your head with a comforting grin. “no, no, you, uh- you look good! uh, too good. hot. fuck, we have to get you in different clothes, i think i’ll actually have a conniption.” you shed your jacket, throwing it around his shoulders with one last glimpse at his body, soft and kissable, wrapped like a christmas present.

“what?” your boyfriend was dumbfounded, but you could see his pupils blow with the realization that you were into this. he stuttered, “yo-you what? you mean, you’re, like… turned on, right now?”

you grab his hand, hastily pulling him down the sidewalk. he struggled to keep up with your stride, his breathing growing heavier by the moment.

“you’re seriously, like, you’re into this? right now?” josh stutters, trying not to overthink, his eyes fixated on the ways your hips moved in front of him.

“how—how could i not be?” you scoff, practically sprinting towards the futturman house.

“slow down, i-it’s hard to.. fuck,” josh kicked off his heels and began running barefoot behind you.

-

“god, why do you look so good?” you grumbled, helping him into the window of his—or, his uncle barry’s—room. you climbed in behind him, tumbling onto the floor.

josh’s cheeks were bright red, nearly the color of the lipstick that smudged across his lips to his cheek. “i-i didn’t know you were into this kind of thing,” he stammered, holding his hands out to help you stand, like the gentleman he is.

however, as you looked up to grab onto his hand, you were met with the mouth-watering sight of his half-hardened cock pressing against his leopard print panties, a wet patch along his tip.

suddenly, you didn’t feel like getting off the ground anymore.

“you like seeing me like this, don’t you? god, you look so fucking pretty, josh,” you murmur, hands on his knees, trailing your fingertips up his thighs.

josh’s legs trembled under your touch, as sensitive as he always was. “i-ah… yes, yes…”

you hooked your finger under the garter belt, pulling the elastic band back and letting it slap against his thigh, eliciting a soft gasp from your boyfriend.

“please,” josh whimpered, his cock now fully hard in a pair of panties that could barely contain his excitement.

you shift closer, sitting up on your knees and looking up at him. his big, brown eyes were wide, eyebrows knit together and lips slightly parted. you stared into his doe-like eyes as you drag his panties down to his ankles, only breaking eye contact to look at the throbbing, leaking cock in front of you.

you’d never get tired of seeing josh like this—and you’d certainly never seen a prettier cock than his. his tip was flushed a beautiful shade of pink, weeping precum, dripping down to the veins that adorned his shaft. another throb of arousal shot through you at the sight.

“oh, f—oh, my god, please,” josh whined, his hands pulling your hair out of your face, “need you—s-so bad…”

“be patient, pretty boy,” you murmur, dragging your tongue along the inside of his thighs, eliciting a sharp gasp from him.

you pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to his thighs, leaving a trail of hickeys only for you to see, before finally dragging your tongue against his heavy balls, grazing the underside of his cock before reaching his tip, tongue swirling the drop of precum that seeped from his slit.

“oh, mmph—oh, y-yes—“ josh released a series of gratifying moans, his fingers curling in your hair so tightly that it invoked a stinging sensation along your scalp. “feels… so good, oh, god… doing so g-good…”

your mouth enclosed around his tip, tongue along the underside of his shaft, encompassing his dick completely into your warm, wet mouth, until your nose was buried in his tuft of public hair and his tip prodded at the back of your throat.

his lips parted to an O shape, his thighs trembling as he tried desperately not to buck into your mouth.

“mmm…” you hummed against him, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through josh’s veins. your hand teased his balls, gently caressing them as you bobbed your head back at a mind-numbing pace.

your name fell from josh’s pretty red lips, a string of praises following, his hands still tightly wrapped in your hair as he guided your mouth, careful not to gag you.

he was so considerate, even when his cock was stuffed in your mouth.

“soo—so good, fuck,” josh cried, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as his glassy eyes watched you with blown pupils.

you hummed again, allowing him to push your mouth down and back up, pulling your hair just enough to send goosebumps along your skin. your pace gradually increased, bobbing along with the rhythm he created, every movement causing a whine or a whimper from josh.

“i’m close, fuck, can i…? i—mmm, oh, god, let me cum in your throat, please,” he cried, his stomach contracting and his cock throbbing in your mouth. his legs stuttered, hips beginning to twitch and shudder, meeting your mouth half-way with sloppy thrusts.

“mm—mhm,” was the only response you could muster, drool dribbling down your lip and down your chin.

the vibration of your voice only amplified his orgasm, causing him to push your head against his cock, messily fucking into your mouth as his dick twitched, releasing spurts of hot cum down your throat, choking and gagging you.

“so—sorry, i’m-im so—oo sorry, mmmphh!” josh moaned, eyes rolling back as he choked you against his cock before pulling out, tip still seeping cum onto your chin, a string of semen connecting his slit to your lips.

you gasped for air, swallowing and taking deep breaths, hands holding onto his thighs for support.

“holy—shit, a-are okay? oh, god, i’m sorry, it just—f-felt so good,” josh knelt down, his hands wiping away the sweat on your forehead. his fingers were shaky as he tried to clean your face, eyes wide with worry and cheeks flush from his orgasm.

“i’m—fine…” you breathed, nodding before raising your hand to his cheek, thumb swiping at the smudge of lipstick, “you’re… so hot.”

[calamarikitty]

Hazbin Hotel Redesigns - Part Three!

the hotel attendees are here, along with cherri and mimzy!

individual pngs and design notes under cut

Anthony "Angel Dust" - He/him, trans man, gay

you best believe he has extra legs now! this makes him an anomaly in the industry and grew his popularity.

all of his outfits are like those dumb, tacky sexy halloween costumes. his most used persona is a sexy mafia boss.

he equates his self-worth to his sex appeal and all of his outfits are normal things made 'sexy'

he is more built than he is in the show because i felt like it

spider mandibles and abdomen! for fun! also extra eyes and cool spiderweb eyelashes

also kept his little BANG! gun from one of his earlier designs because i love it so much

also completely unrelated but i just now realized that both angel and molly have drug-related names and i just think that's genuinely so smart.

Sir Pentious - He/him, cis man, straight

just realized that the transparency on his tail is weird so just pretend it's intentional texture shh!

didn't really change his design tbh. i kind of already like it! i just wanted to make him look more cartoon-villainy.

basically just a redraw in my own style

one thing i think he deserves though are silly little mad-scientist swirly glasses.

Cherri Bomb - Any pronouns, bigender, unlabeled

gave them a cyber goth look! i think that she definitely deserved to be more punky.

i wanted everything abt her to be super asymmetrical. i honestly love the different shoe concept that she has in her original design but bro deserves two shoes of the same height so she's not tripping over herself constantly.

the dreads(?) end in a fuse shape because i think that's SUCH a fun reference to her love for pyrotechnics. i tried to include as much explosion shapes as i could.

lots of piercings! stretched septum, stretched ears, snakebites, double nostril, you name it, she probably has it.

also gave her more freckles! she reminds me of freckled strawberry lemonade and idk why. also just thought lime green was such a pleasing accent color for her and i kind of dig it

she's still got her cool goggles and is a badass pyromaniac

Mimzy - She/her, cis woman, straight

my god i have so many qualms with mimzy's original design!!!! i need her to be more glamorous! more fun!

i decided to go a COMPLETELY different route with the colors this time. she is COOL colored now. spooky!

a lot of hazbin sinners are based on specific animals or insects, and i find it confusing that she has no cohesive theming. i decided to take some liberty and make her peacock themed!

i thought this really fit with her glamorous and extravagant nature.

i also wanted to make her hooked nose more prominent, and also give her the awesome feather boa she deserves

i was super scared abt changing the colors so drastically at first, but i absolutely love how she turned out. im also just a sucker for peacock theming though

[obey-me-hoe]

Asmodeus as songs from my comfort playlist:

*Disclaimer: my criteria for this was all over the place. Some are because of the lyrics, some are based on vibes, and some my brain just said choose that one 😬 (all the OM! songs are in the playlist too but obviously they don't count)

(This song gives vibes of "I'm cute I can do whatever I want" which definitely fits Asmo. I could see him becoming a sugar baby. He's still gonna work hard on stuff he likes though but only when he wants to and not bc he has to)

(He's the IT girl. What else do you need to know. Pretty self explanatory if you listen to it)

(He literally charms people so it fits. I could see him giving someone a lap dance to parts of this song especially if he slowed it down)

(The lyrics talk about wanting to be loved and especially by one specific person which I feel like fits Asmo generally and specifically with MC)

(If Asmo were to get pissy he'd definitely start saying stuff like in the song. Sometimes he gets in really lusty moods and needs to let it out somehow)

(I feel like this song's vibe shows what Asmo's softer side would be like. Man's is a lover. Also it's cute just like him)

(I feel like this song represents Asmo's struggle to accept his new reality after falling and how MC came into his life and helped him through it which made him love them more)

(This feels like Asmo talking to any of his lovers except MC bc he'd be more upset over MC leaving)

(This sounds like a song Asmo would dance to while wearing a feather boa. It's a mix of cute and sexy like him)

(This song's vibes remind me of Asmo when he's being cute, sweet, and lovey especially with MC)

Combined OM! Playlist

Asmodeus Playlist

Other versions:

Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Beel, Belphie, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon, Luke & Raphael, Mephisto & Thirteen

[blackout-crypt]

Killjoy design masterpost (see reblogs for more)

I've been thinking for a while that it may be hard to come up with ideas for your Killjoy and you might need some inspiration! So I've been compiling a long list of designers and people to look at for help with you designs. Before you continue reading, THIS IS A LONG POST. It's also PART 1 because I can only have 30 images on one post. (If you want alt text on the images, reblog and I'll add it later, it been a Long Week)

1) Vivienne Westwood/Malcolm McLaren

Vivienne Westwood is often credited as the Godmother of punk. She ran a shop in London with Malcolm McLaren called "Sex" and their designs influenced punk as we know it today. If you want outrageous anti-fascist designs, look towards her and Sex Pistols' manager Malcolm McLaren.

2) Disco

That's right, I see your disco OC's, and I ADORE THEM. The Disco has a few distinct styles and pictured here we have a mix of the more casual style that you'll see dotted around and the outrageous designs that we know and love. (Yes, that's a screenshot from Mamma Mia, fight me. Also if you take inspiration from that movie I love you)

3) David Bowie

How do you even begin to define someone so incredibly iconic as David Bowie? His extreme makeup and style has wowed and wooed the world throughout his life and since his death. He's inspired countless artists, including Gerard Way, in both musical style and outfit choices, so he is the perfect person to model your OCs after.

4) Marc Bolan

Often referred to as the man who invented glamrock, Marc Bolan has a style that Killjoys would absolutely adore. He blended a sexy mix of feather boas, androgyny and mismatched fabrics that he made work. In fact, while we're at it, look at all of glamrock! It's like a Killjoy haven.

5) Hot pants

Hot pants were a brief 70s fashion piece characterised by being VERY SHORT SHORTS. They were seen both with layers underneath and without (although I think our dear Killjoys would appreaciate the sun protection and the style offered by the layers).

6) Psychedelia

I know, I know, it doesn't exactly scream Danger Days, but I feel like some Killjoys would find some of these dresses and cut them up and make them their own. They're bright, they're fun, and they're certainly weird.

7) Betsey Johnson

Betsey Johnson's designs seems to emulate this mismatched style that's often perpetuated by other Killjoys. Fabrics, colours, and themes that aren't typically seen together with an overall fun atmosphere, it's perfect - especially to a young Killjoy.

8) Madonna

You're trying to tell me that there AREN'T any Killjoys that took a few fashion tips from Madonna? Be for real. Madonna's regular use of lace, fishnets and a general edgy vibe make her more unique take on fashion would most definitely be seen somewhere down in a Killjoy's closet.

9) Tunnel Vision

Tunnel Vision is an alternative fashion brand that is all about the weird and wacky. Their website spans from more normal outerwear to more extreme styles, some of which is the more mis-matched style you see often in OCs.

10) Biker style

It's honestly so goshdarn hard to find decent pictures of biker gear online, but here's a couple. There are a large number of OCs who have motorbikes, but !! they don't have appropriate gear !! Please dress them well my babies do not want to die in a motorcycle accident!!

[energon-with-a-curly-straw]

Ace Attorney Investigations is so fucking funny agdfhk I mean sexy-feather-boa-wolf-man is like ‘Hey pretty boy, I have a blood kink’ and Edgeworth is just ‘Hm.. Yes, well, moving on’

[scary-lasagna]

Things I've said/done/thought watching Marble Hornets (Season 2)

- I headcanoned that Tim ate dirt when he was a kid. Like, a lot of it because he thought it was funny when people told him not to. I later headcanoned that he once drank an entire bowl of brownie batter made from a mix, got a stomach ache, and never did it again.

- I headcanoned that Tim owns a hot pink feather boa and if you ask him about it, you will get the angriest glare imaginable.

- Saw Tim limping and immediately got the song "Sexy" from Mean Girls (The Musical) stuck in my head for the next hour.

- I keep seeing Tim and going "Heyyy~♡". I don't even like him like that. He smokes. I'm not into smokers because I have that thing called ✨️asthma✨️ or some other respiratory issue.

- I KNOW Brian likes meatloaf. Look at him. Meatloaf enjoyer. Can't relate.

- I fucking hate Alex. He's such an asshole. I hope he dies.

- Us, watching a weird ad with a princess eating men: This is scarier than Marble Hornets!

- Me, watching a body get dragged offscreen: I think we should let Brian crossdress.

- This story really resonates with me as someone who was in a really shitty friend group that inevitably dissolved because of the leaders actions. I have the memory gaps too, but thats just the depression. I logged a lot of stuff on Discord, but my memories of what wasn't logged are few and far between.

- Would someone please get Tim a nice, hot grilled ham and cheese sandwich and a glass of cold root beer. Give a bitch a break please. Damn.

- I think Masky/Tim's preferred date would probably just involve sharing a root beer float (Initially with two straws. You'd probably get into straw sharing territory later <3), watching some shitty movie, and ranting about how bad the shitty movie is. I know that man is a sucker for quality time and also bonding with people over bad movies.

Those are so accurate I support this

And Tim is 100% a root beer float person, no doubt about it. Brian is an orange creme milkshake kinda guy. Jay probably likes coffee-flavored things or blue raspberry. Alex enjoys the casual mint goodness.

[the-archangel]

It's My (Halloween) Party

Halloween fluff (mostly) with a NSFW middle bit!

“It’s fine V, honestly, it’s fine. I knew that in the end this is what would have to happen and so did you. I’m ready, it’s fine.”

V looks Johnny in the eye, the usual smug look had been replaced with one more sombre and thoughtful.

“Shit Johnny, I’m so sorry, but don’t you think you’re over-reacting the tiniest bit? I mean, I’m literally going to be gone for three days, I promise I’ll spend the day with you on Friday.”

“But it’s Hallowe’en tomorrow V, I wanted to take it all in, dress up and shit, y’know?”

“I know, I do, but you can always decorate the apartment. Hey, why not have a party? Get dressed up, invite your friends, it’ll be fun.”

Johnny huffs non-committally, he does love a party, he might struggle with the friends part though. “I got a costume, see what you think?”

V nods and settles back on the couch and a few minutes later a subtly changed Johnny re-enters the room. V looks at his friend’s black suit, shirt and tie combo quizzically, “Who’re you supposed to be?”

“I’m an old-school assassin, like in that movie we saw where he killed that dude with a library book.”

“Shit yeah! That’s pretty good. If you put away the shit-eating grin and worked on harassed and homicidal you’d look just like him.” V laughs.

“Thank you for your valuable feedback.” Johnny spits before stalking back to the wardrobe.

-

Kerry is also in a wardrobe, albeit a much larger, more glamourous one. This Hallowe’en is going to be epic and he and V need outfits to match. There is already a pretty impressive pile of discarded clothes and exotic costumes, but nothing seems quite right.

V had tried helping at first, unearthing pirate costumes and elegant military gear from long-forgotten videos and declaring it all perfect, but hot as V looked in the sexy highwayman outfit, none of it was vibing with Kerry so the outfit was abandoned with the rest – only a little torn by its somewhat hasty removal. So, V is returning home in good spirits, oblivious to the increasingly frustrated mood of his husband.

“Hey Ker, you still upstairs?” V shouts.

A muffled, “M,hm,” comes from somewhere above him. Taking the steps two at a time and entering the closet, V tries not to smirk at the picture before him: world-famous Rockerboy Kerry Eurodyne sat in his underpants and a black feather boa pouting in a maelstrom of abandoned ideas.

V carefully picks his way over to the comically dejected looking man and sits behind wrapping his arms around his shoulders and grimaces through the pain of the coat hanger currently digging into his upper thigh. “It’s OK Ker, I’ll drive us into the City Center, buy lunch, look for costumes…”

Kerry cuts him off, “No! There’s something here, I can feel it, I just can’t find it.”

V pulls him closer burying his face in the older man’s neck, mostly to hide the chuckle. “Ditch this for a couple of hours, we can come back to it later, we need to pack for tomorrow’s trip.”

The other man looks momentarily startled, he’d been trying to forget about the record company shindig in NY he’d agreed to host, only finally agreeing because there’d be chooms there he hadn’t seen in a few years – and because of the preem Hallowe-en party of course. “Sure, I suppose,” he says, reluctantly letting the boa fall to the floor and allowing V to help him up, not that he needed help of course.

-

V flicks a note to Johnny when they’re on the way to the airport, Kerry sighing and rolling his eyes as he does so. “I just don’t want him to worry.” Explains the ex-merc.

“You don’t want him bugging you all day asking if you’ve set off yet ya mean.” Mutters the Rockerboy.

Johnny reads the message sullenly, last Hallowe’en was a wash out what with hospital stays (him), hissy fits (Kerry) and psychological evaluations by the bucketful (him and V), he wanted this one to count. Asking around various bars had given him a few leads to some preem parties, but none of them were quite what he was looking for, too controlled, not enough mayhem, maybe he wouldn’t bother after all, just throw himself into some work and forget about the whole thing. Fucking Kerry spoiling his fun again.

The Afterlife is buzzing, especially for a Tuesday morning which is often the quietest part of the week, prolly everyone wanting to conclude business before the evening shenanigans begin Johnny thinks curling his lip. He heads towards a couple of chooms in a corner booth and begins to talk biz.

-

Dragging the cases to the cab whilst Kerry expansively describes the hotel they’ll be staying in, V quickly pings off another message to Johnny, ‘En route to hotel, any plans yet?’ but no reply is immediately forthcoming so he takes his seat and looks out at the crumbling skyscrapers of New York that remind him so much of home.

Kerry’s voice brings him back to the moment, “Do you think we made the right choice?”

Baffled, V looks for clues in his husband’s face, does he mean in coming to NY, or picking this hotel, or getting a cat, or, well the list is pretty long of things they may regret one day. “Nope, you’ve lost me.”

“Of costumes ya gonk, what else could I be talking about?”

V lets out a breath and grins, “Course, everyone’s gonna be blown away.”

“Ya think? It’s not going to come across as a little, I dunno, low effort?”

V grips Kerry’s hand even tighter than he already is, “Babe, no one is gonna care about anything other than how fucking awesome we look, it’s not even worth thinking about.”

Sinking into his husband’s arms, Kerry smiles and looks up into the ex-merc’s eyes, “You’re one choice I’m never gonna regret,” he whispers huskily before planting a kiss on V’s bearded chin and snoozing for the rest of the ride.

-

Back in NC, Johnny is in the shower after a seemingly straightforward gig that turned unexpectedly messy. Picking the bits of Scav bone out of his matted hair is taking longer than he anticipated, he grunts with satisfaction as each one hits the floor of the shower.

Finally feeling reasonably presentable he searches the apartment for his jacket, he’s finally found the perfect party, he’s ditched the costume, he very much wants to look recognisable as himself when he walks in. “Fucking thing, where’s it gone?” he mutters to himself as he turns the room upside-down. Sitting on the bed and scanning the room, he frowns as he notices V’s battered old ‘Second Conflict’, jacket on the back of the chair, the October air is too cool to go jacketless, so “Fuck,” he sighs as he shrugs on the offending item and leaves into the Hallowe’en afternoon smog.

-

For the more formal, earlier part of the evening, Kerry has chosen a powder blue shot-silk evening suit and for V a matching one in teal, V is leaning heavily on the dressing table clinging onto the edge with one hand and gently stroking Kerry’s hair with the other as the Rockerboy expertly and enthusiastically sucks on his cock. “You look so hot in that suit Ker,” V purrs between gasps, “hope I didn’t hurt your knees pushing you down on the floor like that.”

Kerry pulls away from the object of his obsession for a moment, a string of drool and precum connecting them still, “You know I’d crawl over broken glass to get to your dick,” he smirks running his tongue up the underside and grinning as V shivers, “but I will get my own back ‘bout the crack about my knees later.” V chuckles, then gasps as his length disappears into Kerry’s warm, willing mouth.

“Five-minute call Mr. Eurodyne,” a runner calls through the door just as V groans and Kerry swallows, he licks his lips and kisses his husband deeply.

-

Johnny is on the street looking over at the warehouse where the party is to be held in a few hours’ time. He’s rolled up pretty early since he’s unfamiliar with this part of Watson and wants to make sure he makes a big entrance dead on time later. Satisfied that he has identified the main entrance and any exits he may need for whatever reason he retires to a nearby bar, orders a tequila and checks his messages.

Despite still being pretty pissed at V for disappearing over the holidays, he grins when he sees his message, “Heck yeah!!” he replies and settles in for a couple of hours while he waits for the party to begin.

-

V basks in the reflected glow from his husband as Kerry charmingly ad-libs his way through introductions and conversations, finishing with him disappearing in a puff of smoke whilst a spooky instrumental version of Dark Matter is played allowing him to grab V and rush back to the dressing room to get changed for the party proper.

“Still not sure about this Vince,” says Kerry pulling on and adjusting the wig he spent many hours choosing and having styled just right, “but it is spooky how much you look like him, got his mannerisms down and everything. Gives me the creeps if I’m honest.”

Looking in the mirror, V has to agree that the make-up artist, who is now working on Kerry, has done a preem job, unsettlingly so in fact. “It’s supposed to give you the creeps, it’s Hallowe’eeeeeen,” he replies in his best spooky voice. After a last critical look in the mirror V grabs his jacket and leans on the doorframe having a smoke waiting for Kerry to be ready. The make up guy does a couple of last adjustments and stands back whilst Kerry plays with his Kiroshis to get just the right eye color and stands to look in the full-length mirror.

He's almost mesmerised by what he sees there, “You’re a fucking genius Terry,” he tells the make-up guy, eyes never leaving the mirror.

V comes up behind him and slips his arms around his waist, “I honestly don’t know if it’s wrong to feel like this, but you look so fucking hot right now.”

Kerry turns in his arms and looks for V’s eyes, but finds only his own reflection in the lenses of his glasses, “V honey, it’s never wrong to tell me I look hot.”

-

 People have started arriving to the party in Watson, Johnny nurses his drink and watches through the grimy window of the bar, waiting for the perfect time to make his entrance. He checks the pistol in his jacket, hefts his duffel bag onto his shoulder and makes his way over, avoiding being seen until he reaches the camera over the doorway to which he gives a one-fingered salute before heading inside.

It's maybe not what most people would call a party, mostly there are heavily chromed Maelstrommers hunched over laptops or having heavy conversations at tables, but as far as Johnny Silverhand is concerned anywhere where you can drink and have fun is a party, he’s already done the drinking part, now he’s ready for the fun.

He’d made it in and up the stairs without being spotted, clearly they’re all too busy to check the cameras, good. Standing just inside the doorway to the goon-filled open space beyond Johnny drops the bag pulling out V’s favourite SMG, Fenrir – perfect for these over-chromed gonks – and with something less flashy as a backup he kicks open the door, spraying bullets as he strides forwards.

Not being complete idiots, most of the gangers flee through the fire exit and disperse into the night, that’s fine, he’s not here to kill particularly, he’s here to collect. A couple of crumpled bodies impede his entrance slightly, but he grins as a metallic voice whines, “Shit, it’s Johnny Silverhand,” he makes his way towards the injured goon.

A couple of the guys don’t seem to have got the message, a well-placed bullet re-acquaints them with it, a couple more decide to try to be heroes, a casually hurled grenade finishes them off, finally it’s just Johnny and his quarry and a nervous woman who appears to be the girlfriend.

“You Taser?” the merc asks lighting a cigarette, well-aware of how this illuminates his scowling face.

“Leave him alone,” the woman shrieks coming at Johnny with impressively sharp steel nails unsheathed, “or I’ll fuck that pretty face right up.”

“Aw, she thinks I’m pretty,” Johnny says as he slows her down with a spray of bullets to the legs.

“Shit, dude!” screams Taser covering his head with his arms and smearing the blood dripping from his chest over his face.

Johnny looks into a face that is mostly polished chrome with two red pin-pricks that he guesses must be eyes. “Brick says you owe him, and you owe him big. He wants his Eddies.”

Taser gulps, “But…” Johnny’s pistol presses uncomfortably into his abdomen, “Shit, fine,” his eyes glow violet for a moment, “it’s done, tell him it’s fucking done.”

“We thank you for your co-operation,” Johnny offers as he leaves.

-

Over in New York, the party is also in full swing, the media swarm around the red-carpeted entrance to the ballroom cooing over the guest’s costumes and analysing their choices. The short journey from their room to the party is a tense one for Kerry, still unsure if anyone will even get their costumes, never mind dig them. Hand in hand, he and V leave the elevator and turn the corner onto the carpet, dozens of heads turn, they’d been waiting for his arrival, not only is he a huge star, but his costume never disappoints. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the gasps, laughs and applause are not unwelcome.

For the occasion, V has replaced his synth-skin chrome arm for an older, silver model, red shades and a dark, shoulder-length wig add to the look, but it’s the ‘borrowed’ clothes – leather trousers, Samurai tank and the iconic jacket – and immaculate mannerisms that really make the resemblance extraordinary.

Kerry had spent ages getting the bandana just so around his thick, curly dark hair. Terry had done an amazing job with the facial hair and tattoos and somehow made him look thirty all over again. The moment of inspiration had come as he put the pile of clothes back into the closet the previous day, his old leather vest had slipped from its hanger as he shuffled past with his armful of rejected outfits and on picking it up something akin to a lighting bolt hit him, Kerry Eurodyne and Johnny Silverhand finally together again after fifty years.

The crowd lapped it up, especially when they stop for a very wet, passionate and long kiss, tomorrow’s screamsheet headlines are just writing themselves.

-

Having collected his payment for a job well done, Johnny makes his way through town, stopping briefly to change before making his way to the Afterlife and the private party he was about to crash. The feeds on the street caught his eye, he stands clenching has cigarette between thin lips as he watches the footage beamed from New York, he was definitely going to have to have a very serious word with V later.

-

The party was awesome, Kerry had kept his crown as the King of Hallowe’en and V was having a lot of fun channelling Johnny again for one night. Back in their room, the Rockerboy throws himself onto the bed chatting animatedly about how awesome the evening was while V sits beside him, smiling at how happy they both are and remembering how lucky he is.

“Y’know,” says V resting his hand on his husband’s chest, “Rock God Kerry is my guy, but this version is still doing it for me.” Kerry scowls at first, but is soon smiling again as V’s hand slides down his torso and into his jeans, “Keep the costume on for a while huh?” he asks, running his tongue around a pert nipple.

Kerry closes his eyes and moans softly, but then opens them and pulls himself up into a seated position, evicting a confused V from his chest, “You’re gonna have to get changed, the thought of Johnny anywhere near my cock is putting me off,” he growls.

V snickers, Johnny would love to know he was cock-blocking him from the other side of the country, “Course Ker, gimme a minute.” The ‘borrowed’ clothes drop to the floor, the shades and wig come off and the make-up is wiped away, a few minutes later a fresh-faced V comes back to four angry messages from Johnny and a gently snoring husband, it’s OK he decides curling up next to his man, it can all wait til morning.

[cmthompson]

Here’s Cullen again.

Now I have less jobs looming over my shoulder, guilting me out, I can actually take my time on jargon.

[yukiphobia24]

I would like it to be know, even though I portray my Scarf Twins Sun and Moon as sexy and sometimes draw them in suggestive ways, please do not draw them in NSFW stuff. There isn't even really any action between Sun/Moon with Y/N in this story. Sun and Moon are just dumbs dumbs that don't know how to interact with adults normally due to their split AI and other adults taking advantage of them. Just know if you want them to actually like you, play jenga with them. Hang out with them and talk about bugs. Just be a friend to them and they will love you in a queer platonic way. Also if you tell them to not do the suggestive stuff with you then they'll admittedly stop. They will be awkward with you though cause they don't know what you want from them now. They are gonna be flirty by default cause that shit been ingrained into their AI to actually work so it is a habit that is hard to change and sometimes they don't know they are actually doing it.

Look at this man!

They just want friends! No sexy time! They just think that’s what every adult wants from them and they will do things if it means they don’t get into trouble. The reason why they would even wear suggestive clothing is because it flashy and not boring. Give them a feather boa and they will love that thing. They just wanna feel nice. They don’t even have any interest in sexy time. They are Asexual! 

[princessmisery666]

Baby - Part 5.4 Under The Radar Mini Series

Summary: Maverick offers Huntress the opportunity of a lifetime, but will her relationship with Jake hold her back? 

Warnings: fluff, slight angst.

W/C: 982

Characters: Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, fem!reader (You. Call sign: Huntress), Captain Phil “Maverick” Mitchell. Mentioned/Small Parts: Lieutenant Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Penny Benjamin, Lieutenant Javy "Coyote" Machado, Lieutenant Robert "Bob" Floyd, Lieutenant Reuben "Payback" Fitch, Lieutenant Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia.

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader, (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: title card made by me // @writercole made the divider // picture source

Series Master Lists: Parts 1 - 5 // Drabbles & One-shots

Baby

Maverick gestures for you to join him at the bar. Bradley smiles down at you, “good luck.” He winks, and you're pretty sure he knows whatever it is Mav has to say. 

As you retake your seat, you watch Rooster join the rest of the group, and it warms your heart a little that he shakes Jake’s hand. You don’t see the two of them sharing a hug anytime soon, but it’s progress.

“I’m gonna get right down to business,” Mav says when you focus on him, “so you can go join your friends. I’m staying at Top Gun for one more year. Then I’m done. Retiring.” 

You smile, happy that he’s made a decision and that it means he’ll get to be with Penny. You always thought he was a lonely man. “That's great, Mav.” 

“I want you next to me,” he says, “I want you to shadow me for the year and then take my position.” 

“What?” you ask, completely flabbergasted.

“I’ve already cleared it with Admiral Simpson. He thinks it’s one of the smartest decisions of my career.”

You don’t doubt it, and you both share a laugh. Your eyes gravitate to your friends. Bradley and Jake are leaning on pool cues looking at you with stupid grins. You presume Bradley knows Pete’s plan, and he’s told Jake. They both look happy and proud of you.

“I don’t know what to say.” 

“Y/N, you’ve spent the better part of a year by my side, helping me out. I know it was technically a punishment.” 

“It never felt like punishment, sir,” you reassure him. 

His billion-dollar smile beams, and it’s so contagious you smile back. “I know you’ve got what it takes to be a Top Gun instructor. I want to teach you everything I know so you can teach the new pilots for years to come.”

It’s a huge compliment and one of the highest honors for a Navy Pilot. It takes a second to get your ego in check. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little smug about the whole thing. Mav chose Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy to run the mission with him, but he’s basically giving you the golden ticket to the Chocolate Factory. There’s no one better to learn from than Mav, who wants you to be the next him.

However, you catch Jake’s eye, and it gives you pause. You want to make it work with him; you do. It’s not going to be a cakewalk, even less so if you’re separated. Maybe you should talk to Jake first and gauge his thoughts and plans before making any decisions. 

“I’m honored and flattered, sir, but…” 

Obnoxiously loud hollering and hooting from the door drowns out your words, and you turn to see a rowdy group of about thirty women pile into the bar, pink feather boas accompany pink sailor hats, and a bride-to-be clad in a sexy sailor’s uniform.

“Take the day,” Mav calls over the women, laughing. “Think about it.”

The women crowd the bar, and Mav makes a mad dash away. Though not in uniform, his bomber jacket designates him as Navy personnel, and the rowdy group would most likely eat him alive.

“Oh, he’s a handsome one, yours, sweetheart?” one of the elderly women of the group asks. 

You chuckle, “no, he’s my boss.” 

“Pretty girl like you has definitely got one of these Navy boys wrapped around her finger,” she says.

You like this woman. She’s fun and feisty, your kind of woman, and she’s given you an idea. “I do have one, actually,” you smirk and make purposeful eye contact with Jake. “Hey Jake,” you call across the bar, “are my drinks still on your tab?” 

“For a lifetime,” he smiles back with a flirty wink. 

Your grin turns devious, and his brow creases for a second before you hold your cellphone in the air and very slowly lower it. 

“Y/N!” Jake yells, pointing a finger at you as he rushes around the pool table. “Don’t. No. Don’t you dare!”

He’s too slow, and by the time he’s behind you, Penny is ringing the bell to gleeful cheers all around. The bachelorette party read the sign in a chorus; “Disrespect a lady, the navy, or put your cellphone on my bar, you buy a round.” Their shouts are impossibly louder.

Jake receives numerous kisses, lipstick marks pepper his cheeks, he gets a boa draped around his neck, and some of the pink feathers take residence in his hair. He flinches when the bride-to-be’s mother pinches his butt, practically jumping into your lap. He’s a good sport for it all, flipping off the team when they can’t stop their hysterical laughing. 

Jake sighs, shaking his head when they finally move on to the dancefloor. “Penny,” he calls, handing over his card, “ring me up, please, before they come back for round two.” 

You manage to subdue your laughter to light chuckling. “Thanks, baby.” 

“Oh, now it’s ‘baby’?” he asks, brow raising high and dislodging a pink feather that he bats away with his hand.

Though he’s teasing, you know he’s still a little hurt that you pulled away from him earlier. You haven’t discussed if you want your relationship to be public knowledge. Truthfully, the only person whose opinion really mattered was Rooster’s. He’s given you his blessing. Penny’s caution rings in your ear - Either you're in, or you're out.

Jake’s edging closer, slotting himself between your legs, and dips his head. You’re in, one hundred percent in. His lips ghost over yours, hesitantly as if he expects you to push him away again. But despite the fact he’s covered in various shades of lipstick and smells like multiple types of perfume, you pull him down and kiss him with an enthusiasm that matches the wolf whistles and cheers echoing across the bar.

Part 5.5 - Without Hesitation

Imagine that a reblog and like button conveniently close together. I dare you to hit one ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️🤣🤣🤣

[lovelytsunoda]

this is halloween // yuki tsunoda

summary: for their first halloween together, y/n shows yuki all of the things that she loves about spooky season. ( even if she is decorating before september is even over ! )

pairing: yuki tsunoda x female reader ( shes related to ted kravitz! )

warnings: implied smut, spooky halloween themed lingerie

when yuki tsunoda came back from his morning run, he thought a bomb had gone off in the apartment living room.

not literally, the house was still standing. but figuratively, as every available surface was covered in stuff.

and in the middle of it all was the one person he could never be mad at, other than pierre. y/n had a bright grin on her face, a black witches hat pulled over her hair and a black and orange feather boa wrapped around her neck.

"hey baby! how was your run?"

"miserable as always. you know how i am about working out."

"i do." there was a period in their relationship where yuki would refuse to work out unless y/n did it with him. more than once, that resulted in a cheeky home gym hookup, and that wasn't going to help him stay in shape for race weekends. "wanna help me decorate?"

"decorate?" yuki gawked. "for what?"

"halloween, obviously."

"babe, it's not even october yet."

she threw her head back in a laugh, fluffing a pumpkin shaped pillow before she lobbed it at yuki's head. a testament to his razor sharp reflexes, he fought the pillow without really using any effort whatsoever.

“I love this song!” she grinned, jumping to her feet as the soundtrack to the nightmare before christmas began to play, leaping over a tangled mess of orange and purple lights before grabbing yukis hands and pulling him in for a dance.

he couldn’t help but smile at the giant grin on y/ns face, breaking out into laughter.

"go get changed, then could you give me a hand with all of this?"

"give me ten minutes." yuki chuckled, kissing her softly before going to take a shower.

he came back into the spacious, light-filled living room ten minutes later to realize that y/n hadn't made much progress, only managing to hang up a needlepoint of the ghostface killer from scream.

the fairy lights were still in a tangle by her feet, an array of stuffed animals and pillows scattered on the couch. a nineties pop song was playing from her wireless speaker, and she had been distracted by the plastic pumpkins, struggling to decide what order they should go in on the mantle place.

yuki stood in the doorway for a moment, watching y/n with wonder. every day, yuki was thankful that daniil had introduced the two of them while he was still at alpine. he truly was in love. she was his sunshine, the best thing in his life. y/n was so full of love, and so full of light.

"babe, come on!" she encouraged, waving yuki in from the doorway. "help with the lights?"

yuki chuckled. "are either of us tall enough for that?"

"oh fuck off!" y/n laughed, attempting to untangle the lights. "we'll make it work."

y/n got one of the wooden chairs from the kitchen, balancing on the cushion precariously in the bay window before she gestured for yuki to pass her the spools of lights.

"angel, are you sure thats even safe?" yuki fussed, passing her the bunch of lights.

y/n laughed. it had been just under a year, and the sound still gave yuki butterflies.

conversely, in the amount of time they'd been together, y/'n still hadn't gotten used to the fact that post-shower yuki would always take her breath away: his damp hair messy and falling across his forehead, muscles straining against the alphatauri t-shirt he was wearing.

"so says the man who gets into a three-hundred-mile per hour death trap every other sunday."

yuki jokingly raised an eyebrow, hands reaching out to steady the chair. "i thought you thought my job was sexy."

"it is! but it doesn't mean that i don't worry about you. i'm the same with dany. just because i've known him since toro rosso was still a thing doesn't mean i worry any less."

y/n had grown up immersed in the world of formula one. her uncle was a commentator, and 'uncle ted' had brought her to her first race when she was ten. over the years, she became fast friends with the members of the grid. she'd also drunkenly lost her virginity to marcus armstrong when they were both nineteen and he was starting out in f2, but neither of them talked about that any more. they still talked to each other, and she'd been on his podcast before.

daniil kvyat had become her biggest protector, almost like an older brother. while lando norris kept trying to set her up with every person she met, and lance stroll was the driving force behind every bad decision she ever made, dany had never pushed her to do anything, merely encouraging her to try and get out of her shell.

until dany met yuki and went 'he's perfect', setting them up on a blind date the week after. daniil was a reserve driver, he needed something to keep himself busy.

it truly was love at first sight, something that y/n thought only existed in the movies.

"ow!" she grimaced as the section of light that she was sticky tacking to the ceiling came unstuck, hitting her in the face and knocking the felt hat off her head. "that was not my finest hour."

yuki laughed, reassuringly patting her on the leg. "i barely noticed, love. do you want more help?"

"i'll figure it out, don't worry babe. pass me the scotch tape?"

half an hour and a lot of yelling later, the string lights were successfully hung up around the living room, an array of plastic pumpkins in candy corn colors set up on the mantle, a large ouija board pillow in the middle of the couch as yuki and y/n slow danced to a tina turner song, a pumpkin spice candle burning on the coffee table as they swayed together, exchanging gentle kisses.

y/n was still wearing the feather boa, and had managed to talk yuki into throwing one on as well. no matter how hard he tried some days to not get dragged into her fun little schemes, he found that he could never say no to her, her laugh, her smile.

"i love you, y/n." he said softly, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"i love you too, yuki. happy halloween, baby."

yuki chuckled. "babe, it's not even october."

"stop killing the mood." y/n laughed, pulling him in for a hug. she lowered her voice, whispering in his ear. "i have one more halloween-themed surprise for you."

yuki raised his eyebrows. "oh, really?"

"yeah." she said simply, kissing him again. "i think you're really gonna love-"

"is something burning?"

y/n snapped to attention. "the cookies!"

she thought about the pilsbury box that was sitting on the granite countertop, realizing that she must not have heard the timer on the oven go off as she was taping the bats to the closet door, yuki struggling to squeeze the throw pillows into festive pillow cases.

she was running towards the kitchen in a flash, her socked feet sliding across the hardwood floor. even her outfit that day had been spooky, right down to the black bell-bottom jeans and ghost socks that she was wearing.

she turned off the oven razor fast, cursing under her breath as she opened it, using a tea towel to fan away the smoke as she dropped the metal tray on the counter, counting her blessings that the cookies were merely golden and not burned to a crisp.

"they're not too bad." she tried to convince herself, using the edges of her fingernails to pick up one of the cookies and take a bite. "yeah, they're not that bad! babe, come try one!"

yuki chuckled, coming to stand next to her as she held out the cookie for him to take a bite, her fingertips brushing his cheek.

"not bad." yuki said softly. "would have been better if you made them from scratch." he said jokingly, poking her in the side.

"we can't all be great in the kitchen like you." she laughed softly, using the plastic spatula to plate the cookies.

yuki smiled to himself, snaking his arms around y/n's waist, gently kissing the back of her neck. "yes, but i have the added bonus of being good in the kitchen and the bedroom."

she giggled, turning around in his arms to kiss him gently. "yeah, okay. if you say so." she laughed before kissing him again, her body securely caged against the counter, yuki's soft lips against hers as they kissed slowly.

"you were saying something earlier, before the cookies started burning?"

"hm?" y/n wondered, kissing yuki again.

"yeah, another halloween surprise, i think you called it?" the driver said, voice lower as he raised an eyebrow

"oh, yeah. that." she said with a seductive grin and a husky tone, trailing her hands up yuki's defined chest muscles and over his shoulders. "shall i show you?"

"mhm, yes please."

she leaned in to kiss him again, and their lips had barely touched when y/n's cell phone began to ring, the device vibrating against the counter. yuki groaned as y/n pulled away, turning to look at the caller id.

"baby, it's my mom, i'm so sorry!" she laughed. "i'll meet you upstairs in ten minutes."

after she was finished on the phone with her mother, a conversation she tried to speed up considering what she had planned to do with yuki when she was finished, she crept upstairs to prepare her little halloween surprise.

she slipped into the bathroom, quickly slipping out of her jeans and tank top, and in to the matching black lace bralette and panty set she had stowed in the cupboard under the sink, fluffing her hair and putting on bright red lipstick before sliding the mesh slip over her head. the fabric stopped just underneath her ass, and was dotted with bats to get into the spooky spirit.

after blowing herself a kiss in the mirror, she grinned, pushing the bathroom door open and practically skipping across the hall. yuki was lying on the queen sized bed, staring at something on his phone, likely talking to pierre.

"baby..." she grinned, knocking on the door. "i've got a surprise for you."

yuki sat up, shutting off his phone with a click and placing it on the nightstand before he turned to look at y/n, his eyes going wide as his girlfriend stepped into the room, spinning around with a cheerful grin on her face, before stopping in front of yuki, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands coming to rest on y/n's bare thighs as she ran her fingers through his hair.

she truly was the most stunning person he had ever seen. every little curve, every little smile, every little giggle.

he never wanted to let her go.

"do you like it?"

yuki swallowed, struggling to find the words, words that would properly convey everything that he felt for y/n. "baby, you look incredible."

y/n grinned. she was absolutely glowing as she moved to straddle the driver, his hands sliding up the back of her thighs to her beautiful ass, running his fingers along the lace as y/n pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss.

"happy halloween, baby."

[inthepeakymidwinter]

i want to be bad (John Shelby x Y/N)

~***MATURE WARNING***~~ A/N: ok so plz im not trying to be the new fifty shades writer i just wanted to broaden my writing horizons so these stories now (borderline this one as well) and in the future may be very not safe for work or for minors eyes Description: Y/N goes for a burlesque job at the garrison. Madness ensues. TW: burlesque, and grown up words tags:@theshelbyclan

———————————

It was a chilled Friday evening in Birmingham when I was to perform as a burlesque dancer and double agent at no other than the Peaky Blinder’s beloved bar ‘The Garrison’. Thomas Shelby hired me to do a quiet show with 2 other girls, but I was to inform him on everything that happened with his future business partner Alfie Solomons during the night. I was backstage getting ready to do my show when I peeked over and saw the Peaky Blinder boys, Alfie Solomons, and his men sat down in front of the mini stage Mr. Shelby put together for the girls and I to dance. The girls performing were old co-workers of mine from a brothel I had the unfortunate displeasure of working at. Claire was so scared she barely remembered the choreography but the girl beside her, Rita, knew what she was doing and moved with Claire to help her feel better. I was supposed to be the “It” girl and come out after Claire and Rita did their routine, but I felt like I didn’t stand a chance. It was as if I had a bad feeling about the entire show. Rita and Claire finished their glitter filled routine and bowed, with the men cheering and clapping as they walked off stage. Thomas Shelby put cash in each of their bra’s and they walked over to the bar to get a drink. It was now my time to put on a show. I had asked Mr. Shelby ahead of time if he could play something on the gramophone to dance to. I started playing the song, “I Want To Be Bad” by Helen Kane. I held onto a red feathered boa as I danced and lip synced my heart out. Now make me some suggestions

Good or Bad, which is the best for me?“Bad!” I heard the older brother shout, and I flashed him a wink. I tried so hard not to laugh as I continued my routine. I danced and shimmied my shoulders to push out my breasts for the guys to gawk at and gawk they did. I overheard the same brother talk to Thomas Shelby, “Tommy boy you really did it this time” and I smirked. Shake your shoulders and shake your hips. Let a lady confess, I want to be bad! I turned around to shake my ass quick before turning back around and wink at Alfie Solomons. His devilish smile was all I needed to know he was on board and so I continued. If its naughty to vamp the men Sleep each morning till after ten, Then the answer is yes, I want to be bad! I shimmied down to the floor to fake that I dropped my boa so I could bend down, pick it up, and do a sexy body roll up. I looked one of the other boys in the eyes and I couldn’t tell who he was. He was an older man with a short haircut, and he dressed like a Peaky Blinder. He had the most charming smirk in the room. Once he looked at me it was as if he became entranced. Performing for the crowd felt like I was a snake charmer in a room full of snakes. I decided to walk up to him to finish the last bit of the song. I took the drink out of his hand, chugged it, and straddled his lap.

If it’s wrong to let someone take

Just a little kiss by mistake

I looked him in the eyes with a fiery passion and kissed his cheek softly. Afterwards I slowly grinded on him and felt him get hard in his seat. It was then that I smiled, got off his lap, and walked back on stage. Let a lady confess I want to be ba-da-da-da-da-da Bad! With the end of the song I jumped down into a slow split and once I hit the ground I smiled at the men who cheered and clapped louder than the last performance. I hope Mr. Shelby wasn’t too mad that I gave that Peaky Blinder more attention than Mr. Solomons but I couldn’t help that I was attracted to him like a moth to a lightbulb.

[ded-and-gonne]

Ded & Gonne present

Chapter 6: The Evil Lair

<<————————————————————>>

AN: For anyone who has been following @sheehalloween 2022, this will be a bit of time travel. Whoops: I posted my first Devil’s Night story out of order. Technically, it takes place after the action of this chapter. Couldn’t move forward with Devil’s Night until this went up. TW: flirtation between two not-brothers, my sense of humor, klaus’s lucky boa, sometimes calling ben evil

Ded & Gonne || Masterlist || Prev: Ch5 || Next: Devil’s Night

<<————Ded & Gonne Chapter 6————>>

Mean Ben is deadly serious. “Klaus. Is it an Evil Lair? Klaus? Don’t fuck with me on this. I need this.” His voice emanates from the ornate headset of the shop’s very bronze antique telephone.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, you big meanie.” Klaus likes to taunt people. That’s what’s happening here. He called Ben up specifically to taunt him. (With a door, which incidentally, does not display Ben’s name. Yet.)

“Yes, Klaus. I do want to know. Tell me. Or I swear Klaus, I will-” As you know, Mean Ben loves to threaten people. He was born for it.

Klaus likes to picture that butch scar whenever he’s taunting Ben. Pretty much daily. Just cuz, you know, running the building stuff. That’s all it is. ‘Course it is.

Klaus winds the cord of the phone around his finger. He made the executive decision to keep all the landlines. Even he doesn’t know how many there are. “What’s with the whole Evil Lair thing, Bennerino? Childhood dream?”

“Your childhood nightmare, asshole.”

“Nightmare asshole? What kind of dreams are you having, Benji?” Klaus giggles in the background.

Ben decides to move on. It’s called ‘restraint.’ He’d like to restrain Klaus, and probably will get around to it eventually, but not today. No, not today.

“And I am not a meanie. I am evil. There’s a difference.” This is one of those moments when he really wishes he was there to point angrily and aggressively at Klaus. It’s a stabby kind of motion.

Ben continues with a sneer, “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. Are you writing this down? That would help keep us from having it again.” Ben sighs the sigh of a man enjoying being annoyed. “Spit it out, Klaus. What did you find?”

“Well,” Klaus responds slowly, with more sexy winding of the phone cord, “I was lounging in my usual spot on the chaise longue by the register when something creepy tickled me.”

“Something did what.” Ben’s voice is deadly serious again. His self-awareness notices this and forces him to backpedal, glossing over it with a mumbled, “I mean, not that I care or anything.”

“Yeah! It tickled the little hairs on my neck.”

“The-” Ben starts then stops.

“The little hairs on my neck, yes. So I put on my lucky boa — you know the one.”

Ben does not contradict him.

“Of course you do! What am I thinking?” Klaus chides himself (for what might be the first time ever), and shakes his head. “Yeah, you know the one. So I put it around my neck, because I figure y’know, feathers are for keeping birds warm. And then I lit a cigarette-”

“Skip to the end, Klaus,” Ben warns, doing that thing he always does, which is losing patience. “Wait,” he interrupts his impatience. “Are you smoking again?”

“No one ever truly quits, babe.”

“You are such a lying asshole. Why do I believe a single word you say? I should have known,” Ben huffs.

“I’m kidding! I quit.” …Wait for it… “Until I started getting really bored.” Ah. There it is. “And cigarettes are better for me to soothe my oral fixation than food, even. It’s true! In the long run, I mean. Girlish figure and all.” Do not follow Klaus’s example. Which applies to pretty much everything, so no big news there.

Ben has been taken by surprise enough to make him behave in an awkward fashion. Related to the oral fixation Klaus mentioned. “Your oral what now?”

Klaus just rolls rough-shod right over him and his words. “Anyway, I’m immortal. Why wouldn't I smoke, is more the right question, Ben.”

“Might be because, Klaus, it makes you smell.”

“I already know how to smell,” Klaus taunts. “And anyways…Hypocrite! You’re a sometimes-smoker!” Klaus is outraged, figuring he’ll give the emotion a try and see how it feels. It feels ok. “Have you ever noticed that former smokers are the worst non-smokers ever? It’s known by science. And I do not smell.”

“Yeah you do,” Ben snarks. “It’s gross. Wait! I’m not doing this with you right now. Skip to the end, Klaus.”

“So hot when you use that tone of voice,” Klaus purrs. Before Ben can warn him again, Klaus gets back on track. “Sorry, about the sexy. Just thought I’d lean into it a little, but that’s ok, one day at a time.”

“Klaus!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Benji.”

“Klaus! Don’t you ever-”

“Don’t I always? As I was saying when I was so rudely interrupted, my lucky boa found a door.”

Klaus pauses, because he knows the heart attack he has caused/induced on the other end.

Evil Ben just got very deadly serious. “You found a what.” There was no question mark at the end of that sentence. At least Ben meant for it to be obvious that there was only a flat, dull period at the end of that question. Ben believes it makes him scarier and even more evil.

“Hoooo, I knew this was going to be good.” Klaus’s voice has just gone up an octave and giggled with almost as much delight as when he wore his soon-to-be-lucky boa to that Backstreet Boys reunion concert. Like teen Klaus squealing while also sporting a raging hard-on. One of the best nights of his life. This is almost like that. “Wanna know how?”

“If the sentence ends with the word ‘door,’ then yes.” Ben is learning the delicate dance of Klaus. Like slipping between all the distracting trip wires and loooong detours to Chatty Town. Just go with it, and know it’ll end the way you want it to. He hopes.

“So the little pink feathers were shivering, too. And I thought, ‘buck up little feathers, we’re in this together.’ But then I realized that not all of us were in it together!”

“Klaus.” Appears he really hasn’t learned how to dance with Klaus. Ben’s warning voice begins the countdown at Defcon 5.

“They weren’t in it together because only one end was shivering. It wasn’t monsters creeping up behind me, after all! It was a breeze. Are you impressed yet?”

“No.” Seriously, what did Klaus expect?

“Ok,” Klaus forges on. “So you know how my power makes me both woo-woo and spooky?” Klaus doesn’t bother waiting for an answer. “Well, other woo-woo people like that talk about, like, these hanging, dangling thingies that you follow around until you find gold or the philosopher's stone. So I was like, ‘Lucky Boa! You are my divining rod! You are my pits and my pendulums!’ Reminds me of that fortuitous snow globe. The right magical item at the right magical time.” Klaus enjoys being an educator. “I have a powerful dousing boa! I followed the boa straight to the source of the cold breeze!”

“Klaus? Do not go through that door.”

“What? Why not?”

“Klaus, whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

“Why not?”

“Klaus? Don’t you dare.”

“Huh? Oooohhh, I see what’s happening here. You just want you to be the one who opens it.” Klaus already knew this, which is why he hasn’t already opened it.

“Klaus! It’s my building! My name is over the door! Don’t you touch that god-damned door.”

“Ah, now I get the allure of the name over the door thing. You just want to throw it around since you can’t throw your weight around.”

“What?” Klaus has caught him off guard. “Why can’t I throw my weight around?”

Klaus sighs wistfully. “Just like my sweet boy. The boring one who used to nag me about orange juice and smoking eggs.”

“What about your sweet baby Ben who is so much better at everything than anybody else. According to you.”

“He didn’t have any weight on him, either.”

“KLAUS!”

“Evil Ben?”

“That’s right I am, and I am warning you, don’t touch that fucking door! Or I will murder you in your sleep. I’ll dangle you from your toes til you starve to death.” He believes he’s just tossed out a good, solid threat. He’s proud.

“In my sleep?”

No one would blame you for rolling your eyes or laughing derisively. Ben deserves it.

Klaus has been musing while you were laughing derisively. “I wonder where that kid Stanley is. My little nephew with the ear cheese. He would have loved this. He eats awkward for dinner.”

“It’s my building. It’s my name. It’s my door. Klaus? Listen to me. Listen very carefully. It’s mine, and I will be there instantly. Wait for me, and don’t even look at it til I get there. Just, it’ll, no, five. Count to five and I’ll be there. Instantly.”

<<———>>

Meanwhile, Logan gets snowed in for like three days. You saw that coming, cuz fate telegraphed it. By the time Evil Ben arrives, Klaus hasn’t seen him in 6 months and 5 days.

<<———>>

Klaus is still considering alternative names for the bookstore. It’s his new hobby. The Noccult Bookstore is still a favorite. “Books & Bodies? Ben’s House of Evil & Books?”

The door blows open screaming “Slam!”

It’s Evil Ben. He is not in a joking mood. Or a talking mood. Or a hugging kind of mood. Without even removing his galoshes, he stalks across the floor of the shop, pausing at the door to all the back rooms, and without turning says, “Where is it? Show me. Now.”

“Oh, so that’s all I’m good for, is now? I’m hurt, Benji.”

“You will be in a world of hurt if you do not show me to my Evil Lair instantly.”

“That’s kind of asking a lot, Ben. Not everybody gets places instantly. That’s a Five thing. And a {Ben + Logan Airport} thing, proving that {instantly = 3 days}.” Klaus inspects his fingernails conspicuously. “I’ve always been gifted at theoretical mathematics, don’t know why.” Klaus is so close to experiencing wrath, but he’s aware, so it’s ok.

“Now!”

“Ok, ok. Now is more manageable than ‘instantly.’” Klaus flaps his hand to indicate that Ben should wait.

Pulling three janitorial-sized key rings out of a drawer, Klaus winds his Lucky Boa around his neck and approaches Ben. All told, there have to be almost a hundred keys. All of them, keys to the building. Parts. Parts of the building.

“Hug me and I’ll show you.” Klaus is officially on thin ice. Officially. “Ok fine! Fine, fine, fine. I’ll take you to the frickin-” Klaus jerks open the door to all the back rooms. He likes to think of it as his Back Door. Easier than calling it the ‘Door To All the Back Rooms’ in his head every time he sees it.

<<———>>

Ben follows Klaus upstairs with great agitation. He wants to run to his Evil Lair, but Klaus is the one who knows where it is. They finally reach the second floor, which is where a room with a hole in the floor looking down into the shop below, should be.

They clear the stairwell door, and Ben is already breathlessly demanding, “Which one is it, Klaus? Which one?” There’s only one direction from the stairs, and Ben is speed-walking down the hall, looking at doors.

“I set up the next one over from my room for you. I couldn’t find fresh sheets, but-”

“Klaus! Which one!”

“It’s the one at the end. The one next to my bedroom that is, therefore, right next door to it.” Klaus wants to whisper ‘Your Evil Lair,’ accompanied by twinkle fingers, but he restrains himself. This is Ben’s moment, and Klaus wants to let him have it.

Ben is standing in front of the correct door. “It’s the one that says ‘Dead Letter Office’ on the door, isn’t it. I can feel it. Can you feel it? Nevermind, get away. Don’t touch it. When was the last time you washed your hands?”

Ben tries the handle. “It’s locked?” His face pales. “Did I come all the way to Boston for this?” He slumps against the door looking deflated and a little bit glisteny around the eye area.

“Cambridge, Ben. It’s Cambridge, not Boston. We’ve talked about this,” says Klaus in a strained voice, due to Ben’s fingers strangling him. “You don’t want your neighboring Cantabridgeans hating you, do you? They feel strongly about this.”

Klaus can handle himself in a fight if he needs to, and he steps easily out of Ben’s strangulation hold. “You’ll get used to it, when you move here.” Ben is momentarily distracted by this. “Because now that you have an Evil Lair, Evil Ben, you’re going to need to mastermind from it. On an ongoing basis.” Klaus knows this for a fact. So do you, really.

“It’s time to move your base of operations, Ben. And let Diego & Lila have the place in LA. Just make them save two of the seven bedrooms for us.”

“I hate you. I hate you so much,” Ben whispers, with his forehead against the door. He takes stock of his options, and thinking it over thoroughly and completely, he decides it might be worth staying to see, well, whatever’s worth seeing.

“There, there. It’s ok, Benji. We have keys! Look at all these beautiful keys!” They’re heavy. He jangles them. It’s loud. “You can spend as long as you want trying them. It can be a hobby, while you get used to living here. I can’t amuse you all the time. Just some of the time.”

“Who said I’m moving here?” asks Ben, wondering how he’s lost control of his life.

Klaus waves with a big smile. “I did!”

<<———>>

Ded & Gonne || Masterlist || Start: Ch1 || Prev: Ch5 || Next: Devil’s Night

Devil’s Night is part of the inspiring @sheehalloween 2022 event. Start Here!

<<———>>

[curious-menace]

Hey can I get a headcanon of any riddler of your fancy finding his partners hidden treasure trove of sex toy goodies after stooping around their home, probably while they're out and how they'd react?

oh ho! any riddler?! this is a blank check for mayhem! 

i have naughty hands and no self control so ima do all my riddlers hahahah

this is only a lil ns fw so no below the cut this time 

Arkham riddler

oh.

OH.

First response is he goes BRIGHT RED. H-He was looking for something else, like an allen key or a pack of batteries or something! He didn't mean to snoop! He’ll throw all the toys back in the drawer or box and hurry away like nothing happened. he did find batteries but was to embarrassed to use them.

his face is going to be bright red for hours, you’ll easily be able to tell something is up but he wont tell you what.

but that being said, hes not going to be able to stop thinking about them. he feels a little naughty for doing it but hes imagining you using them, on him, on yourself. the idea is filthy to him but very intriguing.

Don't expect him to EVER mention it again but if YOU brought up the idea or told him you had some toys to play with, he’d have a hard time hiding his excitement. He hasn't stopped thinking about them since and he has some IDEAS. 

Blacklight Riddler

oh ho! rubbing his little fingerless gloved hands in glee. treasure trove is the right word to use, all his christmases have come at once when he finds this gold mine. 

He knew you were kinky but he had no idea you were THIS kinky, why would you keep this from him??? 

hes like a child in a candy store. what does this one do??? ohh this one vibrates! ooh a purple and green one, did you get this specially for him?

Don't be surprised if you come home and find him elbow deep in your drawer or box still rummaging and exploring, possibly with condoms scattered around him like confetti and bondage rope around his neck like a scarf. 

He’s going to ask right away to play with some of these. he might even sneak off to use them by himself but he will GLADLY let you do the hard work. 

He’s going to want to go to the sex toy shop with you. can you get some couples toys? will you peg him?? OH! what about some of those cool remote control toys??? he can make some custom ones for you both to use if you want! Man is going to be bouncing off the walls, you're going to need to get him to calm down before you can do anything. he’s enthusiastic to say the least.

BTAS Riddler

oh? what on earth is th-AGH! *flings a wobbly pink dick across the room in a panic*. Que overdramatics . lots of “my eyes are SOILED! MY HANDS WILL NEVER BE CLEAN AGAIN!” 

Will probably screech “WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THIS?!” into an empty house.

i think its the shock more than anything. he’s a germaphobe and he wasn't wearing his gloves while he was rummaging and he wasn't expecting to touch something so...intimate with his bare hands. this has ABSOLUTELY been inside you and it feels...off for him to touch it. He hopes to god you are as particular about cleaning these as you are about the rest of your cleaning.

once the initial fright wears off, he probably feels a bit guilty for nosing about. He wasn't looking for your intimates specifically, he was just being inquisitive, maybe looking for birthday or christmas presents. I think like arkham riddler, he’d probably be unable to get the image out of his head. he'd probably have to go back for another look. 

he has to work up the courage to talk about it. he’s probably expecting to get yelled at, he shouldn't have been rummaging through your things in the first place.he doesn't REALLY need to confront you about this. but he’s insecure as all hell and he needs to know, is he not good enough? is he not satisfying you? why do you need these toys if you have him? please be gentle in explaining, whatever your answer is. 

Original riddler

so freaking blase about the whole thing. you could leave them in the fridge or something and he’d be like “hmm, cheese, ham, dildo....hey y/n we’re nearly out of milk!” 

he doesn't exactly want dicks or fleshlights left out around his apartment but he’s not so insecure about you having them. he knows he cant be there for you 24/7. maybe your schedules are conflicting, maybe you just want some quite alone time, he’s not judging, he does it too.

might tease you a little about your taste in toys. like if you have massive dicks he’s going to call you a size queen, regardless of your gender. or if you like weird ones like that windmill oral thing he’s going to call you a kinky lil freak .

i don't think he has any of his own but he’d be quite happy to use yours on you if you wanted.

unlike the others, he probably respects your privacy enough to not go looking for them or even rummaging through your things. but he is childish as all hell. if you left them out in a shared space he’s going to mess around with them, like pretending to give you a neck massage only to bust out a hitachi wand or something.

despite his bravado and not really minding that you have them, his mouth will go a little dry if you bring up the idea of domming him by using them on him . that's....an intriguing idea. 

Telltale riddler 

well. hes not THRILLED about this discovery. But given how often he’s gone, either for work or running from the law, he cant exactly blame you. you have needs he’s clearly not meeting.

he’s pretty tempted to take your batteries away from you for badness. 

he gets a devious idea looking at your toys. He’s offended! how could you replace him with plastic and silicone?! he’s much better than any toy. guess he’ll just have to prove it to you. 

he’ll probably confront you as soon as you get home. something like “been keeping secrets from me?” but like. in a sexy voice, not an angry one. 

He’s obviously a little ticked off but tries to keep it playful. you can definitely expect him to spend the day making it up to you. he’s going to tease you, hes going to ask if you think of him while you use them , maybe even use some of them on you himself but pulling away at the last moment as punishment . if you want relief you’ll have to ask him nicely.

he’d be absolutely speechless if you flipped the script on him. listen he might be 60 but suddenly he’s a teenager again, embarrassed and unable to form coherent sentences in the face of your exuberant confidence. once he gets his footing back however you two are going to be playing hella games. he’s going to want to sext while he’s gone, send you naughty photos and get some back. maybe the toys aren't such a bad thing after all?

Zero year riddler

you’ll for sure know if this riddler has found your stash. you’ll come home and he’ll be drinking out of a dick shaped straw, wearing those dumb penis glasses you see at bachelorette parties. he’ll have decorated with rope or feather boas , taken polaroid photos of him posing with your toys and stuck them to the walls. he’ll have  a smug look on his face but play totally innocent like “something you wanna tell me, y/n?” Shame is not an emotion this riddler is capable of. 

he was looking through your things on purpose because he’s a nosy shit. He likes knowing your secrets to mess with you later. He wished he had a camera to record his reaction upon finding THIS secret.sheer unfiltered joy  .He’s for sure recording your reaction to him putting you on blast so you two can laugh about it later.

 he might feel a LITTLE guilty depending on your reaction. if you react badly or really embarrassed he might feel bad for crossing a line and apologise . He’s still a little shit about it but he’s an apologetic little shit. 

all of these riddlers pretend they're the most confident person in the room but , like the others, if you turn your charm and confidence on him, he’ll crumble like a dry sandcastle. 

He doesn't want to admit he has NO clue what any of these toys do. like why is this one shaped like an egg?...it goes WHERE?!

rare moment of nervousness from him if you ask him to use them on you/ on him. again, he doesn't know what the heck he’s doing with toys but he’ll be damned if he admits that. feel free to mess with him as payback. this is what he gets for running his mouth and poking his nose into other peoples business 

there you go nonnie! i actually got this one out pretty quickly, i wasnt expecting to do it that fast hah. i like doing asks like this, that are a little nsfw but not so much i have to hide them under a read more.

that being said, full nsfw asks are my jam XD

Got something you wana ask me? feel free to send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

[secret-rendezvous1d]

What did the Missus make of her man in leather at the Grammy’s? I bet she was proud of him & watching along texting him when he won!

She loved it, of course.

In her heart, she loved it because he looked good in it and he had the time of his life whilst on stage... but in her mind, and throughout her body, she felt like she was turning feral because he looked too sexy and all she could think about was him in leather. Maybe it wasn’t the leather outfit she had in mind but it was leather and it would do.

She was there, right from the beginning of the day and right through the time he got ready and right in the audience of his performance and next to him through the entirety of the show, so she rather enjoyed seeing him in such a way. No shirt, all leather, feather boa around his neck... which was an outfit that she definitely asked him to keep at home so she could have him in it whenever she wanted. xx