#and it’s not about winning anything! but at the same time. this is a costume I’ve poured my entire soul into and I think it would sting a li

[persephonaae]

Screenshot of my discord messages to my partner lol but just a snapshot of the anxiety I’ve been getting over my costume whwhhhehshhshwhwhwwwwwww so far skills I’ve applied are material research/historical thinking, pattern development, sewing, puppet practical effect engineering and crafting, wig work, practical effects with LED lights, millinery, fiber arts (wet felting with resist and crochet), metal work, weathering, a little bit of shoemaking, and special effects makeup. And I’m still feeling like there is so much more I should be doing.

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[iisasxia]

Hey, I recently developed a small obsession with the song "Crush" by Tessa Violet and I was wondering if you could share some thoughts about it ✨ Maybe Katsuki feels like a hopeless loser as he crushed over Reader, not knowing that the Reader has already these feelings? Overall, just fluff hehe 🫶

authors notes: aw I listened to the song and it’s cute, i definitely see him being a sucker for reader and thinking she doesn’t feel the same way :(

context: fluff, university au (18+)

It was the week before fall break, some classes were either canceled for teachers vacation or there wasn’t much going on. On Friday, the school through a mini festival in celebration of fall break and for good luck with new season.

Everyone was allowed to either dress up, wear their uniforms, or costumes depending on whether or not they were in the festival. You decided to wear black leggings, brown boots(like uggs), a white long sleeve with a cute brown jacket and a scarf (color of your choice). It was cold so everyone was wearing pants, long sleeves, scarves, and whatever to keep themselves even remotely warm.

—

“Bakugou!”

You noticed him shooting hoops at a basketball game outside with Kirishima as you walk over to them.

“Hey y/n, nice fit”

Kirishima was always good with compliments, kept it respectful and causal.

“Thanks kiri” you softly smile at his compliment. You look over at Bakugou who hasn’t even bat an eye at you. Him and Kirishima were in their school attire which looked so good on Bakugou. He wasn’t even wearing the sweater, just the white button down and tie and oh God-

“What’re you staring at?”

He was talking to you.

“Sorry I was-“ and then you stopped talking, realizing he still wasn’t looking at you. What’s his deal? Usually he’d at least acknowledge you with a “here to bother me?” Or “what do you want.”

His demeanor this time seemed so dismissive, you figured it was because he was focused on the game so you waited until he was finished.

Ding Ding Ding

“Congratulations young man, you can pick any prize up there of your choice”

The game manager looked at Bakugou as he walked off, huffing under his breath.

“Don’t want one.”

Your eyes also follow Bakugou as he walks away.

“How much is that panda?” You politely turn to ask the man, hoping it would make him feel better and to excuse Bakugou’s behavior.

“Well if you play it’s free if you win but if you’re talking cash it’s [___]”

You slightly frowned, not thinking it was worth it so you politely declined before looking back to try and find Bakugou.

You finally found him and as you began walking towards him you noticed a girl come up to him. She was also in the school uniform but she seemed… flirty? Her hand gently nudging Bakugou as she laughed and smiled, was she blushing?? You couldn’t see Bakugou’s face since his back was turned to you, but you didn’t want to see him. The girl pulled out her phone and handed it to Bakugou and that’s when you turned around.

You walked away, as far as you could. He was being a jerk to you but had the patience for a girl he’s never even met? Your heart was beating against your chest, you knew you liked him and assumed it was jealousy. Maybe it was. Or maybe it was the way you were hoping he’d at least comment on your outfit. You found a nearby bench and sat down, allowing your mind to relax as your emotions began circling around you like an endless whirlpool.

You looked around the scenery. It was packed with university students and some teachers. There were so many food trucks, game machines, and etc. it was busy. In hopes of taking your mind off of it you decided to buy some cotton candy.

—

“Can I get strawberry?” You politely ask the young man. He seemed to be in if not your grade at least the grade above.

“Anything for a pretty girl like you”

You smile at his compliment, “Thank you” at least someone aside from Kirishima noticed your presence.. but it wasn’t him.

You paid for the cotton candy before walking off, as you were about to take some you felt a strong hand pull you back, now taking a piece of your cotton candy.

“Hey-“ you notice it’s Bakugou, you look at him before handing him the cotton candy.

“Have it.” And you turn to walk away before he pulls you back by your arm.

“I never said I wanted it.”

“Then throw it away.” You were giving him attitude and he was not having it.

“The hell’s your problem.”

“I don’t know go ask your girlfriend.”

“Hah-?!”

“You heard me, that girl that was obviously flirting with you.”

“I don’t want her. That’s why I told her to ‘fuck off’, what’s it to you?”

You bite your lip, you’ve had enough with these stupid feelings and the way your heart races every time he’s near.

“I like you. I’m not sure if I’ve made it obvious, but if not then now you know. So sorry if im a bit of a grouch seeing another girl flirt with the guy I’ve liked since high school and today seemed to not even bother acknowledging me until now.”

Wow- you really let it all out huh? There was a moment of silence and he just stared at you. You looked away for a moment and closed your eyes before sighing..

“Look-“ but your words were cut off when you opened your eyes and saw the expression on his face, your body growing hot all over from shock.

“What did you just say?”

He was red. His cheeks, nose, ears, all red. He looked like he would past out from a 104 fever right then and there. Why was he reacting this way??

“That I- like you..?” You were confused.. what was the problem?

He covered his mouth with his hand before turning to look away.

“Dumbass.”

He lifted his hand, a panda plushie? Wait. This was the one from earlier?? From the basketball game?? How did he-

“I saw you talking to the guy, I went back and asked him what you were talking about so when he told me I got it with the tickets I won from the stupid game.”

You gently cupped it with both of your hands before looking at it and back up at him.

“Bakugou-“

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner??”

You slightly frowned, why did it matter? It seemed like he didn’t like you anyways.

“I didn’t know you felt the same way and here I’ve been trying to keep myself together cause I thought you were being an idiot and couldn’t tell I liked you.”

What?

What did he just say?!

“You.. like me too?”

“Obviously idiot. Why do you think I never look at you when you talk to me?” He rubs the back of his head before sighing.

“You’ve been driving me insane since we graduated. Couldn’t get you out of my damn head. When I told Kirishima he told me I liked you but I denied it.. then when I saw you the first day of school.. I realized he was right and I was being an idiot trying to say otherwise.”

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d like a guy like me.”

“I don’t think-“ and his words were cut off with the sudden impact to his chest. You were hugging him. You wrapped your arms around his back, the plushie still in hand as you buried your face into his chest.

“You’re right.”

And his heart aches for a moment at your words.

“I know-“

“You are an idiot for thinking otherwise and for thinking I wouldn’t like a ‘guy like you’.”

His eyes widened a little in surprise, you looked up at him and smiled.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, it hasn’t changed except for the fact that the longer I knew you the more I wanted to be with you. You’re a good person.. kats. You shouldn’t feel otherwise. You’re more than enough for me, okay?”

Oh you pulled on a heartstring.. the minute you buried your face back into his chest he hugged you tightly. Now burying his face in your neck as he smiled against your shoulder.

—

“You’re too damn good for me.”

“And you’re perfect for me.”

Ah I hope this was okay, I feel like I rushed it a bit but I wanted to finish it for you. I really hope you like it if not it’s okay 🥲, this was a cute concept though, Bakugou definitely would think he’s a bit too much for you but with you reassuring him he’s enough I think all he can do is melt for you more. I’m a sucker for loser Bakugou who melts for reader.

[good-chimes]

[HOTGUY!] HAS ONE NEW MAIL

Users with permissions to this shared mailbox:

Bdubs (role: Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes, Actor). Last login: Today.

Cub (role: Hotguy PR Agent). Last login: Today.

Scar (role: IT’S ME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE ONE AND ONLY!). Last login: 215 days ago.

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: are you there?

is this hotguy’s email? i thought you were coming on patrol?

Why do you NEVER ANSWER YOUR PHONE

-cg

 ------------------------------------

To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: The VALUES AND PRINCIPLES of Scar Goodtimes Acting Enterprises

Dear Cub (if that’s your real name),

Now that you’ve been working for Scar for several weeks, I realized I never sent you any AGENCY INTRODUCTION documents. That’s okay! None of us are perfect, despite what you might feel when you look at me.

For your ENJOYMENT and EDUCATION, here are:

The Founding Principles of Scar Goodtimes Acting Enterprises

1.   Bdubs is Scar’s favorite employee.

1a.   Bdubs is also Hotguy’s favorite employee DESPITE the fact he does not technically work for Hotguy, and no upstart new PR agent is going to change that.

2.   Hotguy’s identity is a secret. You must never reveal that we both work for the same person. Take it to your grave if you have to.  

3.   However, if you see someone talking shit online about Hotguy or Scar you should immediately defend his honor. I often do this and you can see the results in the shared folder admin\arguments_bdubs_has_won. You might not be as good as me at winning debates on the internet—don’t worry!! I can give you tips.

4.   Here at the agency, we have the HIGHEST STANDARDS in responding to emails from the public. I noticed there are SEVERAL HUNDRED UNANSWERED EMAILS sent to Hotguy’s addresses that redirect to our shared mailbox. Scar is a very busy man! It is YOUR JOB to clear these out.

5.   We are open and helpful with everyone. Except hostile journalists. And the TCG. And the tax authorities. And anyone who might want Scar to do anything unreasonable like ‘be on time for something’. Keep this in mind as you go through the inbox.

All The Best!!!

Bdubs

P.S. I have noticed that admin\important_documents is now full of files called ‘virus1.exe’ ‘virus2 (gov encryption).exe’ ‘virus3 (might be sentient).exe’ etc. Explain this!?

 ------------------------------------

To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: RE: The VALUES AND PRINCIPLES of Scar Goodtimes Acting Enterprises

Yeah man cool this all sounds great

Scar seems to have a few email addresses that feed into here. i’ve sent replies according to which one the public emailed:

hotguy@hotguy.com — i replied to some of these but then i kinda got bored and started sending links to cool space facts instead. People will appreciate these i’m sure.

EMAIL_HOTGUY!!@hotguy.com — sent everyone a bulk reply of “Thank you for EMAILING_HOTGUY!! Hotguy loves you!”

FAN_LETTERS_THIS_WAY@hotguy.com — sent everyone a photo of Scar in his Hotguy costume

I_NEED_HOTGUY_NOW!@hotguy.com — sent everyone a photo of Scar in his Hotguy costume minus the shirt

super.cool.arrow.giveaway.for.fans@hotguy.com — sent everyone who gave their address some trick arrows. Only some of them will explode.

law.enforcement.collaboration@hotguy.com — redirected this one to spam

boring.tax.stuff@scargoodtimes.com — also redirected this one to spam. replying to the IRS just encourages them.

inbox zero, my friend. we’re ready for the next concerned citizen to write to us. Let’s go.

Cheers,

Cub

P.S. don’t worry about the viruses. Just a hobby. they’re in \important_documents because I needed a folder that scar never clicks on.

 ------------------------------------

To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: Re: The VALUES AND PRINCIPLES of Scar Goodtimes Acting Enterprises

Dear Cub,

Interesting. INTERESTING.

Don’t think you’re going to work your way into Scar’s affections with CLEVER VIRUSES and SHIRTLESS PICS OF HIMSELF. I see your game.

I’ve been Scar’s agent for years and I think when things heat up you might find this job too hot to handle.

All the Best!!!!

Bdubs

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: TCG Special Officer <vigilante.oversight@tcg.gov>

Subject: OFFICIAL REVIEW NOTIFICATION

Dear Hotguy (civilian identity unknown),

We are currently undertaking a review of your recent vigilante activities as ‘Hotguy’.

Vigilantes (‘heroes’) are encouraged to protect citizens and cooperate with the TCG. For this we require vigilantes to regularly communicate with their TCG liaisons, attend emergencies on request, and support law enforcement operations.

None of our emails to <law.enforcement.collaboration@hotguy.com> have been answered—I was going to say ‘in some time’, but I checked our file on you, and it turns out the right word is ‘ever’. You have never answered an email from the TCG. I am sure you can see why this is an issue.

We do admittedly have some difficulty getting vigilantes to ever listen to us, but this is a new low in obstructionism.

We have requested your assistance in investigating thefts from two biotech laboratories, vandalism at a local redstone supplies shop, and multiple call-outs to security incidents at Mumbocorp. You have completely ignored all of these requests. We note you have instead caused widespread chaos, disrupted several TCG operations, and at one point impersonated the Mayor in order to trick ‘Doctor M’ into purchasing a non-existent bridge. 

May I remind you that vigilante activity is only legal insofar as we decline to prosecute heroes for property damage. Kindly reach out to our liaison department immediately so we can work together on collaborative action under the direction of the correct authorities.

On behalf of Head Agent V. Berger,

Special Officer #49

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: are you there?

who is answering hotguy’s emails and why have you sent me a list of top supernovas! this is NOT HELPFUL

 ------------------------------------

To: TCG Special Officer <vigilante.oversight@tcg.gov>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: OFFICIAL REVIEW NOTIFICATION

Dear Concerned Citizen,

Thank you for reaching out about the availability of Hotguy. Hotguy is unable to respond himself because he is rescuing kittens from tragically falling into rivers, an activity that has fully occupied him for the past eighteen months.

This is quite the list of criminal events, my friend. I thought the TCG had this kind of thing under control. It’s concerning that you don’t. Doesn’t make your TCG department look super great, huh?

Thinking about it, this really seems like something the Police Commissioner should know about. If you’ve lost the Commissioner’s email address, don’t worry. I found it on a forum.

Cheers,

Cub

Hotguy PR Agent

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: TCG Special Officer <vigilante.oversight@tcg.gov>

Subject: Re: OFFICIAL REVIEW NOTIFICATION

Dear Hotguy’s PR Agent,

I understand as a law-abiding Hermitopia resident, you may be alarmed at descriptions of disorder intended for Hotguy’s eyes only. Please do not be concerned.  We also strongly recommend you do not forward this chain to the Police Commissioner. As you will see from the news, the city is peaceful and everything is completely under control.

Kind Regards,

Special Officer #49

  ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

THERE ARE THREE HUNDRED CHICKENS WITH LASERS ON FIFTH STREET

tell hotguy to call me he’s not picking up!!!

-cg

  ------------------------------------

To: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

Dear Concerned Citizen,

Regrettably Hotguy is not available as he is escorting orphans to the North Pole to tour Santa’s workshop.

Cheers,

Cub

Hotguy PR Agent

  ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

it’s JULY

 ------------------------------------

To: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

Hotguy believes in being prepared

is this really cuteguy? what’s going on?

-Cub

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

i was coming back from patrol and going to pick up my pizza. i always get pizza, cub, you have to understand this is an important part of patrol.

when i turn the corner to my normal pizza place there are

AT LEAST FIVE HUNDRED CHICKENS WITH BEAK-MOUNTED LASERS

ALL OVER THE STREET

BETWEEN ME AND MY PIZZA

they’re milling around and scratching like someone just dumped them here. whenever they squawk they burn a tiny hole in the nearest wall. i tried to get near one to look at the device on their beaks and i nearly got my finger burned off.

now i’m on a roof. i want my PIZZA, cub. i’m a close-range fighter and i’m not getting up close with a laser chicken. this seems like a hotguy problem!

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Pearl Moon <Pearl@hermitherald.com>

Subject: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Helloooo,

My name is Pearl Moon, and I’m a reporter with the Hermit Herald. I heard Hotguy has a new PR agent at this address. I’m not going to lie, I’m delighted. Hotguy’s a great guy for a quote, obviously, but getting hold of him is kind of a nightmare.

I’m at the scene of the Eighth Annual Fried Donut Festival. I’m contacting you because a citizen running a stall has allegedly just seen a, I quote, “weaponized chicken”.

According to them, it shot an “adorable laser” into their supplies, punctured a hole in their fruit toppings cooler, and ran under the stalls. I’ve been on this beat for a while and this sounds like a Doctor Monster or a Zedaph special to me. Personally, my money’s on Doc.

I know your client and Doctor Monster go back a long way, so I was wondering if we might see Hotguy himself swooping in?

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

  ------------------------------------

To: Pearl Moon <Pearl@hermitherald.com>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Dear Concerned Journalist,

Thank you for your email. As you know, Hotguy is currently in Canada fighting smallpox by shooting individual bacteria with a special crossbow, for which he has received a commendation from their Prime Minister.

I’ve just contacted him to get a quote about the chicken and he definitely said, “Seems bad.”

Enjoy the festival! Feel free to send Hotguy a souvenir donut box to my address.

Cheers,

Cub

Hotguy PR Agent

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

there’s some kind of festival with crowds of civilians going on in the next street. the chickens are wandering towards it. to make everything worse, i think i saw a newsreader van.

this is funny but also very bad.

i’m going to see if i can lead the chickens away from the festival with some bait, since hotguy’s obviously too busy admiring his own biceps in the mirror to help. i’ve got half a granola bar and an apple core. this is going to work really well for eight hundred chickens. here goes nothing.

if hotguy wakes up from his afternoon nap, you can tell him we didn’t even need him.

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Pearl Moon <Pearl@hermitherald.com>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Dear Cub,

I’m pretty sure Canada doesn’t have smallpox anymore. I don’t think anywhere has smallpox.

New update: Several hundred chickens have just erupted into the festival from a side street. They all appear to have lasers. The sheer weight of poultry has overturned two artisan donut stalls, which has caused what I’m going to describe as “mass panic” as people try and avoid the laser beams. People screaming, people running, everything coated in a fine layer of powdered sugar. No injuries yet, but it looks like the Prize-Winning Triple Marshmallow Churro Donut display will never be the same again.

Also, I swear I just saw Cuteguy.

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

i got ONE chicken with the granola bar and NOW IT’S DECIDED IT’S MY BEST FRIEND. it keeps trying to fly into my arms! this is not helping!!

its friends are now all over the stalls. the laser chicken breed has discovered a new staple food and it’s fried donuts. this is NOT my fault. clearly none of this is my fault.

oh god now there’s two TCG agents coming over to see what all the shouting is about. the chicken radius is growing. there’s a folk band on a bicycle and a chicken just launched itself into their tuba.

i’m going to try and round the rest of them up. keep the TCG off my back and tell hotguy to do ANYTHING HELPFUL AT ALL.

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Pearl Moon <Pearl@hermitherald.com>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Situation update: Cuteguy is in the middle of a huge crowd of shouting people and appears to be clutching a chicken. Also, Doctor Monster has turned up. He’s trying to give a dramatic speech about his “evolved chickens” from a nearby rooftop through a loudhailer, but I’ll be honest, everyone seems more interested in Cuteguy.

#laserchickendisaster and #whereishotguy are trending on Chatter, but no sign of Hotguy yet! Sure he doesn’t want to give us a longer quote?

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

 ------------------------------------

To: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

I have a cool contraption that you could probably use for catching chickens. downside is you do need some plutonium. Not much but, like, not a legal amount.

Alternately i also have a great recipe for roast chicken

-Cub

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

we are not roasting these chickens, cub, the chickens have done nothing wrong!! And WHY DO YOU HAVE PLUTONIUM, WE TOLD YOU TO STOP THE DARK SCIENCE. DO SOMETHING USEFUL ABOUT THIS FESTIVAL SITUATION INSTEAD.

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Pearl Moon <Pearl@hermitherald.com>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Situation update: Doctor Monster has now turned his loudhailer on Cuteguy and accused him of stealing his evolved chickens. He seems very upset. The Doctor has declined an interview, but I’ve got some incredible photos and the powdered sugar really suits him.

I’m trying to get a quote from Cuteguy but it’s quite difficult to even see him through the crowd, and the chickens, and the German street band, and the displaced donut vendors, and the TCG agents who are trying quite earnestly to get to him, and—did I mention—the chickens.

My camera team is getting some great footage, but do you know what his plan was here?

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

everyone in the crowd thinks i own these chickens!! one of the chickens has set fire to a hot oil vat and a journalist is after me and an old lady keeps trying to hit me with her handbag!!!

DOC IS NOW TAKING POT SHOTS AT ME FOR NO REASON AT ALL. I HATE THIS JOB.

i’m behind cover

it won’t last

if you don’t get hotguy here now i’m never speaking to him again

 ------------------------------------

To: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

From: Cub

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

nooo you’re doing great man, knocking it out the park. Doesn’t sound like you need Hotguy.

you’re a hero too, right?

-Cub

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

okay cub listen.

i don’t WANT hotguy. if i could fix this chicken situation without the city’s most annoying vigilante turning up to take the credit, believe me, i would have done it already.

but you know what hotguy can do? he can win the crowd. hotguy’s always on the right side. nobody would ever accuse hotguy of owning fifteen hundred laser chickens. he tells people about hope and teamwork stuff and they believe him.

oh god

the TCG are here and i’m apparently target number one.

they’ve just spotted me on this gazebo and i’ve got no good roof to jump to. i’ll have to make a run for it. if you don’t hear from me again, i might have got arrested.

hotguy spouts all that rubbish about teamwork, but hey, it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t believe in it himself!

 ------------------------------------

To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: what I’m about to suggest is legal

we should help him huh

do you know where scar is? like which cell phone towers might be close. I’ve got a map of the towers if you can give me a location.

-Cub

 ------------------------------------

To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: this sounds NOT legal

BDUBS TO THE RESCUE, AS ALWAYS. You’re welcome.

Scar is actually recording a snack commercial over on Twelfth Street. Details in projects\casting_directors_bdubs_is_not_feuding_with\dumb_projects_we_have_to_book_for_money\Sparkle!Cereal!

  ------------------------------------

To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: this is 100% legal white hat hacking definitely

okay I’ve remotely accessed Scar’s phone and put a klaxon on it. Should be audible two hundred yards away.

I’m gonna call him now.

-Cub

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Pearl Moon <Pearl@hermitherald.com>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Situation update from your reporter on the ground (still no quote from the guy himself?)

Cuteguy has been showing great stamina in the chase that’s been going on. The camera crew is impressed!

He is currently being pursued by:

1.   Doc

2.   Doc’s cyborg guard robot

3.   Two TCG agents

4.   Three hundred and sixty chickens (approx.), one of which believes Cuteguy is its best friend

5.   Several animal activists attempting to recapture the chickens

6.   A bar crawl that seems to think they’re doing a parade and wanted to join in

7.   A German band on a long bicycle with two clarinets and a man trying to shake a chicken out of his tuba

Cuteguy is…looking back over his shoulder?

Oh, wait! Situation update paused!

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Cuteguy <cuteguy@freemail.com>

Subject: Re: IS THIS HOTGUY’S EMAIL ANSWER RIGHT NOW

HE’S HERE

HE’S ACTUALLY HERE

FINALLY

 ------------------------------------

To: Hotguy <hotguy@hotguy.com>

From: Pearl Moon <Pearl@hermitherald.com>

Subject: Re: Hotguy appearance? (press enquiry)

Hotguy has arrived!

He’s swooped in with three trick arrow shots that set off fireworks above the crowd, rappelled straight up to Doc on the roof, and started a fist fight with him. It’s very dramatic. I’m not sure he’s actually landing any of those blows.

Helpfully for Cuteguy, no one is looking at him anymore. He’s surreptitiously putting distance between himself and the TCG agents.

Doc is now making another speech while fighting Hotguy. If I’m honest, he seems pretty happy he’s finally getting the credit for his own evil plot. We’ve got a close-up on him. Doc would like us all to know that this is the future of poultry, the future of lasers, and possibly the future of donuts? Last part a bit unclear as at that point Hotguy threw his loudhailer off the roof.

Meanwhile, Cuteguy is trying to lure the chickens away from the civilians with pieces of donut. This would be working better if the crowd weren’t all shoving forwards to try to get a better look at Doc.

Doc has taken off on a jetpack declaring he’ll “be back!”. Hotguy has given him a thumbs up.

Oh, now Hotguy has finally caught on to what Cuteguy is trying to do and is chivvying the crowd to help herd the chickens away with donuts for bait. Donuts are flying. The crowd is now enthusiastically participating in this donut-tossing activity. The chickens are delighted. Hotguy has spotted our camera team chasing him and we’re getting a lot of that action-shot this-is-my-good-side pose.

Hotguy and Cuteguy work together pretty well when they get going, huh?

Now Hotguy has swung down to land in the middle of the crowd and put an arm around each of the TCG agents, who are heavily dusted in sugar and look somewhat sheepish. What a nicely framed shot! Almost as if Hotguy pushed them into position for the cameras.

Well, I suppose I’m writing an article about how much Hotguy helps the TCG.

Your client owes me one.

Doc’s guard robot has rounded up the chickens that Hotguy and Cuteguy have funneled back into a nearby alley. It seems to be putting them in large nets. The local pizza place has a sign that says RIGATONI JONES PIZZA: CLOSED DUE TO CHICKEN EMERGENCY, and for some reason Cuteguy seems upset about this. Excitement over, I suppose?

I do hope you tell Hotguy how helpful the Herald was! Next time he’s got a tip-off to share, just tell him to remember your friendly local journalist Pearl Moon.

He knows where to find me ;)

Yours in pursuit of the truth,

Pearl Moon

 ------------------------------------

To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: hmm

You know, Cub, I’ve been thinking. That wasn’t bad, how you got hold of Scar. NOT BAD AT ALL. I am starting to think you might be a useful type of person to have around.

All The Best

Bdubs

 ------------------------------------

To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: Re: hmm

cheers man

i’ve rigged the klaxon so it plays when either of us or cuteguy calls scar. if he waits too long to answer it starts to play the whole Lilo and Stitch movie audio. if anyone asks this is not technically a virus.

-Cub

 ------------------------------------

To: Cub, Hotguy PR Agent

From: Bdubs

Subject: Re: hmm

I LOVE it. I love it.

You know, I have a whole list of casting directors I think you could test some virus development on. It would do them good. Keep them on their toes!! (I believe this is called…“white hat”).

I am HEREBY going to let you into my most SECRET FOLDER.

<Bdubs@scargoodtimes.com> has shared admin\nemesis_list

Maybe start with ‘casting_directors_who_do_not_recognise_bdubs_talent-spotting_genius’ and ‘producers_who_were_rude_to_scar’

 ------------------------------------

To: Bdubs, Publicity & Comms for Scar Goodtimes

From: Cub

Subject: Re: hmm

leave it to me, man

we’re gonna go far

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[ START | PREVIOUS | NEXT ] [ MERCH ] [ MISC ]

My piece for the Hotguy comic zinethology! Thank you so much to editor @antimony-medusa and designer @cocoabats (I have used tumblr’s format for most of it because my eyes are too bad for pdf scaling on my phone, but for the FULL INCREDIBLE HOTGUY EXPERIENCE you will want to download the actual zine at @hotguycomiczine!!)

[darlingletters]

IT couple ln4

lando norris x singer fem!reader

in which lando norris and y/n y/l/n are the IT couple of the internet and no one can seem to beat them.

warnings: fluff, swearing, inaccurate information about lando’s first win but it’s just for the plot, a picture of a dinosaur head. lemme know if I missed anything else.

driver list navigation

────────────────────────────

lando.jpg

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 273,123,922 others

lando.jpg my beautiful girl, even as a dinosaur

tagged yourusername

view comments

user they’re so cute it’s acc disgusting

user THEY SO CUTE

user I bet she bought that mask and scared the shit out of lando with it.

⤷ yourusername it was fucking hilarious

user I love them so muchhh

⤷ user they’re just THAT couple

⤷ user loveeeee

⤷ user love is the airrrr

user at this point just make a y/n account

lando.jpg liked this comment

user this man is soooo in loveeee

⤷ user she’s the same, have you seen how she looks at him or when when she’s talking about him?

⤷ user they both down bad for each other let’s be honest

danielricciardo ask her when the album coming out. please.

⤷ yourusername soon, you’ll be the first to know when it comes out.

⤷ danielricciardo yesssss

⤷ lando.jpg no fair

⤷ danielricciardo womp womp (I don’t know what that means but oscar told me to do it)

⤷ yourusername 💀

────────────────────────────

────────────────────────────

yourusername

liked by landonorris, lando.jpg, carlossainz55 and 224,282 others

yourusername he’s always taking pictures of me, so I am sharing some pictures that I took and some I didn’t of him because apparently I don’t post him enough 🙄 (i literally have a whole highlight and 35 posts dedicated to him)

tagged landonorris + lando.jpg

view comments

user NOT THE SHAVED HEAD

user BABY LANDO

user 😭

landonorris WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

⤷ yourusername love you 😁

⤷ landonorris SURE

carlossainz55 thanks 👍🏼

⤷ yourusername I can send you more

⤷ carlossainz55 👍🏼

⤷ landonorris damn ok. rude

danielricciardo I have some more of baby lan lan if you want

⤷ yourusername YEAH YEAH

⤷ landonorris no

user lando’s next post is about to be FERAL

⤷ user they actually so funny 😭

────────────────────────────

landonorris

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 234,822,722 others

landonorris she’s still perfect

tagged yourusername

view comments

user pls she’s so funny

user where’s that cow costume from? asking for a friend

user literally made for each other

user 😭😭 y/n what is this

user she must be so fun at parties cl

yourusername hm. alright then.

⤷ user oooo landonorris!! you’re in troubleeeee

⤷ landonorris 😀

user did she buy that dinosaur head?

⤷ yourusername I did 🤭

user this is why they so perfect, they just expose embarrassing photos of each other

────────────────────────────

────────────────────────────

after much thought and consideration we are happy to announce that the IT couple of 2024 is lando norris and y/n y/l/n.

it’s clear that these two are soulmates and will be together for a very long time. we wish them nothing but the best and we look forward to seeing them live a happy life together.

- xoxo celebrity news

────────────────────────────

[luvsymai]

Hi I have a really weird request but I was wondering if you could write something about Katsuki and reader but reader died in the war before Katsuki and was unable to be saved. During Katsuki death where it’s like a shadowy figure of all might the figure would be reader and they want to take him with them. Idrk something really agnsty!

The Final Spark ; Katsuki Bakugo

Paring: Katsuki Bakugo x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Death, angst, …

<- Masterlist

<- Part one // Part two

___________________________________

The battlefield was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaos that had ravaged it just moments before. The war against the League of Villains had left everything in ruins. Bodies of heroes and villains alike lay strewn across the ground, the smell of smoke and blood permeating the air.

Katsuki Bakugo, the explosive hero Dynamight, staggered through the wreckage, his costume torn and bloodied. His heart pounded with a mixture of pain and anger. He had fought with everything he had, but even his immense power had its limits. He glanced to the side, and his breath hitched. There, you laid. Your costume was bloody and torn, hair dirty and your mouth was slightly open.

He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, his vision blurred by tears he refused to let fall. He was alive, but you weren't. The memory of your final moments haunted him—your smile, the way you whispered his name, the way you protected him with your last breath. You had fought valiantly by his side, your quirk a beautiful, shimmering display of power and grace. But it hadn't been enough. He quickly went over to you, holding you gently, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Why... why did you have to go?" Bakugo choked out, his voice breaking. "Why wasn't I strong enough to save you?"

His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He could feel the rage boiling inside him, mixing with the overwhelming grief. He had always prided himself on his strength, his ability to protect those he cared about. But in the end, he couldn't protect you.

"Damn it!" he screamed, slamming his fists into the ground, explosions sparking feebly from his palms. "Why did it have to be you? You were supposed to stay with me! We were supposed to win this together!"

As he lays on the cold, unforgiving ground, Bakugo felt his strength ebbing away. The wounds he had sustained were too severe, the blood loss too great. He knew his time was running out, and a strange calmness settled over him. He would be with you soon. He held onto you, his grip deathly tight.

The world around him began to fade, and in the distance, he saw a figure approaching. At first, he thought it was All Might, coming to take him to the afterlife. But as the figure drew closer, he realized it was you.

You stood there, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, your eyes filled with a warmth that he had missed so much.

"Katsuki," you said softly, your voice like a balm to his wounded soul. "It's time to come home."

His anger flared up again, a desperate attempt to hold on to something, anything. "No! You can't just... I can't just leave like this!" His voice cracked, raw and broken. "I didn't save you... I didn't get to tell you..."

You shook your head, a gentle smile on your lips. "You didn't fail, Katsuki. You fought with everything you had. And now, it's time to rest."

He felt your hand in his, warm and comforting. The pain began to fade, replaced by a sense of peace he hadn't felt since you were taken from him.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice growing weaker. The anger melted away, leaving only vulnerability and longing.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with the same love and devotion you had always shown him. "I'll always love you."

As the darkness closed in, Bakugo felt himself being enveloped in your light. He knew that this was the end, but it was also a new beginning. He was finally with you again, and nothing else mattered.

In his final moments, Katsuki Bakugo smiled bitterly through the tears, his heart at peace. The world may have been lost to him, but in your arms, he had found his way home.

(A/N) I hope this is good, since i’m not really good with angst and i realise that it isn’t as sad as i hoped it would be 😭

<- Masterlist

<- Part one // Part two

[mxtantrights]

this has been in my mind for DAYS

dick grayson falling head over heels for a detective that HATES him as dick but likes him as nightwing

and idk maybe the reveal would be funny asf that theyre the same guy 😭😭😭

a/n: this is a bit bigger than a blurb and honestly this could be like a whole thing but I've had fun with blurbs to this point so let's keep it going. if you want a second part / resolution defo come into my inbox and I'll bang one out because this was really fun thank you so much anon!! <333 (hope your pillow is cold on both sides for this<333)

Dick Grayson thinks certain things in life are just coincidental. His lucky number happened to be part of the winning lotto numbers last night. The older woman he let cut in front of him on the expressway ended up giving up her parking to him at the grocery store. And the love of his life hates him.

Yup.

You started working at the precinct six months ago? Yeah, six months ago. Dick was a normal guy working at his job six months ago. Then you walked in and suddenly he's falling head over heels for you and everything has meaning.

Six months ago he started acting like an idiot.

He knows you hate him. You avoid him when you don't have to see him. You don't even politely wave or smile at him anymore. You used to, in the beginning. But something changed, he doesn't know what.

At first he thought someone said something to you about him. Tried to put you off him. But he asked around and no one admitted to doing anything like that. They even admitted that they don't talk to you about him. Which hurt, ow.

So it's strikes him as odd when he sees you while in costume, and you actually smile at him. He's just finished up taking down a robbery gang targeting small business. And you're there, with you're badge and your smile. A smile!

He doesn't have time to talk. Or- he realizes he shouldn't talk because his voice would sound the familiar to you. Maybe. Maybe if you even remember what his voice sounds like.

He doesn't have time to talk because you start talking. Gushing, raving actually. About him. Well not him, per say, about nightwing. Which is him, but you don't know that. You can never know that.

You tell him how you happy you are to have someone like him protecting Bludhaven. About how people here aren't always looking out for the interests of others. And how he's been doing such a good job recently.

And then you're off. You wave to him goodbye, like actually wave to him with you hand. Something you've never done to him, him being Dick, and you wish him a goodnight.

He obviously goes home from patrol that night and tries to compute what just happened.

-

It's about week seventeen. Dick is standing with you on a rooftop. He has only talked to you five times. Bruce gave him a voice modulator but he still didn't want you to find out who he really was.

He should. His heart is telling him to tell you. You like this version of him. And maybe if you know the nightwing and Dick are the same person then you won't hate Dick as much.

But his brain is telling him he's an idiot. And that you'd probably hate him even more for keeping a secret like this, and letting you gush about him knowing full well that in 'real life' you don't like Dick.

You're ranting about something that happened today. A perp or something that got away from you. He can't really focus when his heart is telling him to end this facade tonight.

So he takes off his domino mask. And as you pace back and forth you don't notice. You don't notice as you keep talking, and talking. And then you turn to get his input, and find him maskless.

"What the fuck." you say.

"You totally hate me don't you?" he asks.

"Dick?" you ask

"Yeah, it's me." he answers you.

But you don't answer him, he realizes. Yeah you probably hate him more than you did before. Bad idea. Great thinking Grayson. He beats himself up internally.

"That's not-It can't be you! You're a detective!" you almost shout.

"This is my night hobby." he jokes a bit.

"Not the time for jokes, Detective Grayson." you answer him.

He sighs, "Do we really have to go back to the way we are at work?"

Your head tilts to the side a bit, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you hating me. I mean, we don't talk. You try not to get partnered with me. You barely say hello." he explains.

Your eyes go wide.

"You noticed that?" you ask.

"Yes! How could I not notice that the love of my-" he cuts himself off.

You walk over to him slowly, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes squint as you get in his face. Seeing you like this, he can see why you were a bit menacing to the perps. They didn't play around with you.

"Did you just accidentally confess your love for me?" you ask, in a judgmental tone.

"I'm stressed out!" he answers back with his hands in the air.

You take a step back and place your hands in your back pockets, "You don't have to be. I don't hate you."

"You don't?" Dick asks.

"No. I don't. You just, pester me."

"So you think of me as a gnat? Or a fly to swat?" Dick questions you.

His hands falls to his sides.

"You're better at your job than you let yourself believe. I've seen your desk and the pile of cold cases you keep on top of it. Why do you do that?" you speak.

Dick looks taken back by that. He crosses his arms over his chest. He sees your eyes dart to his arms and then back up to his face. Struggle. You're struggling to not see Dick as nightwing. Maybe he did make the right decision...

"I don't get lost in the wins. It's easy to do that and get lax. The people of this city deserve someone who's gonna fight for them." Dick confesses to you.

You nod your head.

"What do you say we do the friend thing?" Dick asks.

He holds out his hand for you. You look down at it and then back at him. He smiles. And he swears he can feel the static in the air grow. He survived being 'hated' by you, he could survive being your friend.

You take his hand into yours. It feels warm, and like a shared understanding. Even though you never really explained why you hated him (he doesn't need to know what it really was, not yet) and he never explained why that bothered him so much (he'll tell you the first chance you ask about it)

"Consider the friend thing started." You say.

[capr1pengu1n]

A little victim-less crime

Summary: Upon losing a bet, your consequence is to dress up in an outfit of Edward's choosing, while he shares you with his colleague, Jonathan Crane

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader, threesome, dom!Edward and dom!Jonathan, slight scriddler vibes tbh, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, facefucking, hair pulling

Words: 3.4k

Notes: This is FILTHY guys i'm so sorry, this was inspired by a dream i had and i wrote it all in one sitting lmao. It was meant to be more of a drabble while I work on an anon request but um...yeah this happened. This is also my first time writing Jonathan so forgive me if his characterisation is a little rough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t keep us waiting doll, you promised.”

Hearing your boyfriend call to you gives you a rush of excitement and nerves as you stand in his apartment bathroom. Staring at the muted green tiles on the wall, you breathe slowly to prepare yourself before looking in the mirror to adjust your ears. Bunny ears.

You remember the playful bet you made with the two supervillains, hard to forget when you’re dealing with men like them. Edward, your lover, wasn’t too shy about sharing you with his friend, and as such you developed a taste for having both the criminals at once. He still had demands of his sadistic companion, like that he was not to use his fear toxin on you unless he had your explicit consent, even though Edward knows he still wouldn’t allow it; not sharing quite the same appetite for fear, especially yours. Since Edward’s pride also dictated that you could only be with Jonathan when he was present, you began to look forward to times when you knew the doctor would be coming to visit. It was one of such visits when you’d made the remark you were now slightly regretting.

“Oh come on, he clearly has to blink.”

You were referring to Jonathan’s uncanny ability to stare uninterrupted without blinking, causing Edward to chuckle. “Not if he can help it, although I suppose you could always try and outlast him.”

“Outlast me? Please, she couldn’t possibly.” Jonathan drawled, whiskey glass in hand as he smirked. He knew what he was doing, feeding into the competitiveness you tried to hide.

“I can…I’ll prove it.” You replied, overconfident. Before Jonathan could reply, Edward chimed in.

“Why don’t you make it a bet, my dear?”

This caused intrigue to be felt in the room, as you and Jon looked at Edward, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Perhaps, if you win, both me and Jonathan have to…be your servants for an allotted time.” He started, causing Jonathan to scoff. “Now now Crane, don’t be a spoilsport.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly and ask, “and what if Jonathan wins?”

“Don’t I get to decide? Since I’m the one doin’ all the effort here.” Jonathan murmured, before Edward smirked a little.

“I’m sure you’ll be pleased with my choice. If Jonathan wins, you have to wear something of my choosing, and be ours for the night.”

You couldn’t deny the offer was tempting, having them both at your beck and call would certainly knock their egos down a peg. Although you had no idea what on earth Edward planned on dressing you as if Jonathan won. But what’s the worst that could happen?

“Fine, deal.”

You can almost hear those two words in your head as you look at yourself now, twisting your body to look from every angle. All your curves were squeezed into a tight black corset style bodysuit that even had a cotton tail on the ass. You were floored when Edward had sent you into the bathroom with the instructions that your costume was on the side of the bath, expecting maybe some plain lingerie. But a playboy bunny suit? You’d blushed the whole time you put it on, pulling up the nylon stockings and attaching the wrist cuffs and bowtie neckpiece. Despite your initial hesitance, you’re sure they’ll like it as you spin in the mirror. It certainly doesn’t hide anything.

“Doll, you’re testing our patience.” You hear Edward say sternly from outside, so you reassure him you’ll be out in a moment. Taking a deep breath, you adjust the silly bunny ears on the top of your head for a final time and leave the bathroom, heading down the small hallway to the living room where the two men were sat.

The tension could be cut with a knife as they both look at you, momentarily stunned. Jonathan’s face seems more shocked; clearly Edward had kept it a secret from him what exactly you’d be wearing. But even Edward’s face looks a little stunned, his eyes greedily drinking it all in as he watches you step forward. Unsure what to do, you stand there, placing your hands behind your back in a submissive way they both seem to appreciate.

“Oh sweetheart, look at you.” Edward remarks, grinning now as he adjusts himself in his seat. “Come over here, give Crane a closer look.”

You know he likes that, reminding everyone in the room that despite the dynamics at play, he still is the one that has full control over you, he’s still the one letting Jonathan see you like this. Obliging him, you move over to where the two men sit on the couch.

“Ain’t she pretty.” Jonathan hums, leaning forward a little to properly inspect your curves.

“Well, I think this was a tremendous idea by me.” Edward says in a self-satisfied manner, before gesturing to the floor. “But I don’t think you should be standing right now, should you dear?”

You shake your head before you even realise, getting on your knees in front of them, keeping your back straight so you look eager. Jonathan huffs out a small laugh, flicking the bunny ears on your head. “Real cute.”

Biting your lip softly, you have a good idea of how this is going to go as you feel Edward’s hand tilt your chin up, stroking your cheek softly with his thumb.

“Are you going to be a good girl for us? Or should I say, a good bunny.” He teases, relishing in how condescending and demeaning it sounds to call you a bunny. Especially since you’re the one who got yourself into this position. Regardless, you nod obediently.

“I’m nice enough to admit that Crane probably deserves the first go, since his freakish eyes won us this sight of you.” He relents, leaning back a little and dropping his hand.

“Damn right I do.” Jonathan mumbles, glaring at Edward having not missed the subtle insult. You hesitate before starting to undo the scarecrow’s belt, not missing the way his eyes flash. “Oh, what an eager bunny you seem to be, that right darlin’?”

He helps you to rid him of his belt and slacks, as you decide to play up the whole pet angle and nuzzle your face into his bulge. A groan is heard from above you as he pulls at your hair a little. “Dirty thing.”

Tugging his boxers down, his cock nearly hits you in the face as he holds you in place with his grip. You look up at him, waiting for permission which causes a rush of blood to go straight to his dick. “Look so good, lookin’ up at me like that.” His voice sounds rougher, emphasising his southern accent in a way that sends shivers up your spine, and forces you to clamp your thighs tightly together. Pushing you forward a little, you get the hint and lick a stripe upwards, repeating the motion a few times.

“Arch your back.” Edward says suddenly, his smug smirk never wavering as he demands you. “You’re my bunny too, remember? I want a show.”

Doing your best to do what he asks, you arch your back to emphasise your ass, even giving it a shake for him. His eyes are fixated on the cotton tail, before nodding as if to tell you he’s pleased. But Jonathan clearly isn’t happy with the change in focus, tugging your hair sharply to get you to continue. Breathing deeply, you open your mouth and start to suckle the tip of his cock, before slowly sinking down and bobbing your head. You’re rewarded with a low sound from Jonathan, making the heat between your legs worsen. Jonathan has never been a particularly loud lover, so any sound you can get him to make is a win, you think, as you keep sucking. Your hands grip Jonathan’s thighs, giving you leverage as you bob your head.

Edward watches the sight, mesmerised as he always is. He’ll never admit it out loud, but seeing both of you like this turns him on to no end. Captivated by how your lips look wrapped around the closest thing he has to a friend, causes him to grip his own thigh tight. You make a soft noise around Jonathan’s cock as you pull off for a moment, licking up it and looking up under your eyelashes. He strokes your cheek softly, his way of praising you without words before you begin again.

“You can do better then that, bunny.” Edward mocks, his hand finding itself in your hair as he starts to slowly move your mouth up and down Jonathan’s length. The doctor takes a sharp intake of breath at the sudden change, as Edward forces you deeper before pulling you nearly all the way off, repeating the action. You moan softly, the vibrations sending shocks up Jonathan’s back as he watches you.

“Good little pet, letting me take control.” Edward says lowly, still controlling your pace. “Show us how good you are. Hands behind your back, lace your fingers together.”

You stutter out another whimper as you do what he instructs, lacing your fingers behind your back. Your reward however seems to be your boyfriend pushing you down faster now, almost trying his best to trigger your gag reflex. Jonathan’s hand finds a home on your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft skin of your collarbone. You gag softly as Edward pushes your mouth nearly to the base of Jonathan’s cock, pulling you up to catch your breath before shoving you back down. He repeats this over and over, time blurring as you let yourself be used like this.

Despite the fact you can barely think, the one thing you can realise is how strangely intimate this feels. Not for you specifically, but for the two men above you. Edward essentially pleasuring Jonathan himself, with you acting as the toy. Although you can’t dwell on that for too long when Jonathan’s hips start to twitch and thrust up into your hot mouth, causing tears to form in your eyes from the intrusion. Still, you do your best to relax your throat as Edward keeps maneuvering you up and down, your bunny ears sitting askew halfway down your hair.

“Gettin’ close girl, where should I cum hm?” Jonathan rasps out, asking you as if you had the hope of answering as you splutter and choke on his length. Instead, you do your best to look up at him, your thighs pressed together but offering your drenched cunt little relief.

“Maybe I should paint that pretty doll face of yours, or that body in your slutty outfit.” He mumbles, and you swear you’ve never heard him this talkative before while you go down on him. It makes you shiver, before a small groan escape his lips. “Or maybe I’ll just let you drink it all up.”

You make a pleased noise, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as Edward keeps pushing your down further and further on Jonathan’s cock, your nose practically brushing against his pelvis. Jonathan’s hips twitch and his thigh tense, before he cums inside your mouth with a loud groan. Edward holds your position as his partner finishes, before he pulls your hair and lets you off his length.

“Don’t swallow. Be a good bunny and show us.” Edward taunts, knowing how embarrassing the request he’s making of you is. Still, you relent and stick your tongue out for the two criminals, eager to hopefully get a reward for your obedience.

As Edward looks at you both, his friend panting and spent, and his girl on her knees in front of them with cum painted on her tongue, he feels the rush of power and dominance that he craves, his ego through the roof now.

“Good girl, swallow.”

So you do, tasting the bitter cum before catching your breath properly. Your knees slightly ache from being on the floor this long, but you stay with your fingers interlocked.

“So, you gonna fuck her?” Jonathan finally speaks, glancing at Edward, however the narcissist simply shakes his head. You should feel a little embarrassed at how callously the two men discuss this, but you’re so desperate for your lovers’ attention you don’t let it bother you.

“No no…I think I’ll have the same.” He grins, before heat rises to your cheeks. You go to move into position between his legs before he speaks again. “On the sofa.”

Jonathan moves over to accommodate you as you get up next to him, before leaning over until you’re eye level with Edward’s crotch, adjusting your bunny ears. Your boyfriend hums appreciatively and runs a hand down your spine, feeling the material of your costume beneath his fingertips.

“You know what to do.” He says coldly, as you scramble to undo his belt. Meanwhile, Jonathan is greeted to the sight of his life as he practically has your ass in his face. He can’t resist the temptation to gently run his hand over the back of your thighs. The motion causes your desperate state to push back against him, and Jonathan scoffs a little.

With the assistance of Edward, you finally have his cock in front of you as you repeat the action from earlier, licking from base to tip a few times. To watch you jump, the man on the other end of you suddenly spanks you harshly, the gasp escaping your lips pleasing him. Edward utilises this to grab your hair and push you down on himself, not as harshly as before. You start to suck eagerly, bobbing your head up and down as he allows you to set the pace.

Jonathan spanks your other cheek before massaging your ass firmly, enjoying how your body bends and contorts from this angle. He notices that your bodysuit connects at the crotch, and he smirks before tracing his finger along it, ghosting your cunt through the material. You can’t help but let out a noise around Edward’s cock, needy for anything as you grind against the digit.

“Oh, you dumb little pet. Are you that needy?” Edward starts, ever the motormouth even when getting head. You nod around him.

“I suppose I could make m’self useful.” Jonathan says, a teasing lilt in his tone as he gently traces the seams of your bodysuit.

“You want that? Want Crane to play with you, bunny?” Edward asks, revelling in your needy whine. “Seems like she does…”

“Wouldn’t want her clawing at the furniture.” Jonathan remarks, and before you can remind him that you’re a bunny, not a cat, Edward pushes your head down just as Jonathan rips open the crotch of your bodysuit. You gag softly, feeling as Jonathan strokes up and down your dripping folds; Edward hadn’t left you any underwear to go with your costume. His finger trails up to gently play with your clit as Edward lets you breathe. Moaning, you tilt your head to look up at your boyfriend and observe the smug look etched onto his features before you go back to your job, sucking with vigour as Jonathan increases the pressure. Before long, he trails down and pushes a finger inside your cunt, the sound of how wet you are seemingly echoes around the room.

Both you and Edward let out a groan at this, your cunt finally being filled as you back yourself up on the doctor’s fingers, before he graciously adds a second one. The slick sounds of his digits fucking your pussy can barely be heard over the equally depraved sounds of you sucking Edward like your life depends on it. Your boyfriend is in heaven, truly having the best show of his life in front of his eyes. You can feel your bunny ears slip down again as Edward runs his fingers through your hair, before he corrects them on top of your head.

“So slutty, must be quite the honour. To have pleasured both of the most wanted criminals in Gotham, hm?” Edward teases, always having to mention himself even when trying to make you more wanton and desperate.

“I suppose that’s just what bunnies like her are made for.” Jonathan joins in, moving his fingers quicker and harsher. You moan out around Edward, the condescension making your clit throb. Your lovers’ hips twitch a little, forcing his cock deeper as you relax your throat. Making an almost pornographic slurping noise, you double down on your efforts as Jonathan pleasures you more and more.

“So good, what a good slut.” Edward praises, his hand running down so he can move his thumb over your cheeks as you suck.

Your pussy tightens at his words, Jonathan feeling this and smirking more. He uses his other hand to spank your ass again harshly, wanting to keep you on edge. Curling his fingers a little, your eyes roll back as you’re filled from both ends. You can’t deny that you love this, love feeling like a plaything for two men that strike fear in the majority of Gotham’s citizens. It makes you feel powerful in your own way, having almost tamed them in a manner of speaking. As you push yourself down so Edward’s cock hits the back of your throat, you know that you have the riddler addicted to you and the devotion you give him. You know just how to make him feel like a king, how to give him the praise and attention he feels he deserves, and you love giving it to him for moments like this. Where you can just switch your brain off and let yourself be a pet, a bunny, for them both.

“God, what a mouth.” He mumbles, slapping your cheek gently to punctuate his words as he barely suppresses yet another groan.

“She really is somethin’ else.” Jonathan agrees, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace inside you.

“And all mine, aren’t you?”

You realise that despite it all, this is Edward’s way of asking for reassurance, and you’re all to happy to nod around him. However, with the intense onslaught of sensation, especially now that Jonathan has slipped his other hand around your thigh to rub at your clit, you know you’re getting close. You pull off Edward with a pop before hurriedly speaking.

“Getting close…” you warn them both, before going back to your blowjob as Edward moans softly at your announcement.

“Yeah? Gonna cum sweetheart? Cum from being the riddler’s pet bunny?” he goads you, as he watches you moan desperately around him. “Don’t you dare pull off. Want to watch you cum with my cock in your mouth, understand?”

You nod, as Jonathan speeds up his firm circles on your clit. You’re in heaven, the comforting weight of your boyfriend on your tongue as Jonathan fingers you into oblivion. After a few moments, you’re cumming on Jonathan’s fingers with a moan, the intensity causing your whole body to shake. Edward groans at the sight, gripping your hair in place before thrusting up into your mouth. You swear you’re still orgasming, letting him use you as your mouth goes slack. It doesn’t take long before Edward finishes in your mouth with a grunt, letting go of your hair. You pull off and swallow, before taking sharp intakes of breath. Only then does Jonathan pull his fingers out of you, crudely wiping them on your ass.

Edward pulls you up, letting you rest against him, stroking his hand up and down your back gently.

“That alright?” he asks, like he always does. With your nod, he relaxes a little more. “You looked truly delectable in that costume. I really did make the right choice.”

“What was it between?” Jonathan pipes up. He never really is one for aftercare, but still sticks around, occasionally stroking an area of your body absentmindedly.

“This, or a maid outfit.” He explains, looking at your form with a smirk. “I went with something classy.”

“Classy?” you repeat, “You can practically see my whole ass.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Jonathan asks, causing you to scoff and giggle.

“Well, the iconic playboy bunny outfit design was finalised in the early 60s by a French designer, so yes I’d argue it’s very classy.” Edward says, adjusting the bunny ears on your head. “Playboy bunnies are also required to know and identify 143 brands of liquor, and bend down in a certain way to serve men their drinks.”

“Alright alright, I’m not going that far.” You say with a small laugh, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Not yet.” He mutters teasingly.

[scremogirl]

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

Mentions of blood! Mentions of Death! Mentions of mutilation! Mentions of Murder, GN! Reader, NReader/Diolouge uses a lot of black colloquialisms/AAVE *slightlyyyy black coded but only for the speaking bits. NO APPERANCE MENTIONED!* READ THE NOTE AT THE END PLZ! (●’◡’●)ﾉ Part 2 here Part 3 here

Halloween.

The day where people grasp the fact that the summer's over and the seasons have finally changed. Corny decorations on front porches, masks in windows to scare unaware customers, and people dressed as slutty cartoon characters.

You loved the last one. You’ve always worked hard on your costumes; from a small cameo in the school yearbook to entering contests and pageants. You loved fashion, everything about it. The different fabrics, colors, patterns; you cherished it all. So, it’s no wonder that’s what you’ve chosen as your destined career path. You somehow managed to get into the third most prestigious fashion school. I say third because the first one you applied for, was full of egotistical French exchange students who do nothing but compare their lives at home to their lives in America. The second… well, you don’t want to talk about it. Regardless, you’re so grateful your talents have been recognized.

That leads us to now. At the biggest fright fest of the year. Your professor decided that if everyone got at least a 95% or above on the unit test, he’d take the whole class on a field trip to the annual Freak do Shek Carnival. A free trip and creating a new costume? You’ve never studied harder in your life. You spent days working on your costume; hoping to win the annual costume contest.

“Breaking news! The killer know as the “Mask Maker” is still on the loose and is currently suspected to be in the Witchwood area. It is recommended for all residents to stay indoors travel in groups-,”

Your heart sinks.

No, no, no! Why does it have to be now? Why here? The area you lived in was one of the safest in the city! Police patrolled regularly, security systems were available to all, and most people have been traveling in groups these days. So, why? You look at your friend, Malika, who no doubt received the same alert as you did, judging by her face.

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now!?” She yells in frustration. You all have arrived at the festival and the bus has already taken its leave. Unless you call an Uber, there’s no way out; but then again, with a killer on the loose, no person would be dumb enough to let any stranger in their car. You tell your teacher your concerns, but does he listen? No.

“We’ll be fine,” , “just travel in groups,” , and “make sure you check in with everyone at least every 15 minutes,” is all he says to shake your worries. Great job by the way. With that, he goes ahead with another one of the chaperones, probably on their way to get drunk on cheap beer and look at young girls. Pig.

“I know I ain’t stayin for damn sure,” you chuckle at Malikas abrasiveness and nod your head in agreement.

“Who’s gonna pick us up though? We all came here on a bus and no Lift driver is stupid enough to let strangers in at this time,” you both sigh and end up agreeing that she’d call her boyfriend to come get you. The only downside is he lives in the next county. That means 3 whole hours plus some that you two have to try and rid your paranoia.

“How ‘bout we go check out the costume display for the upcoming show? Maybe scope out some the competition?”

“You know what Malika, that sounds like a great idea,” she holds out her arm and you take it , laughing your way down the hay covered dirt path wearily dodging scare actors. Unbeknownst to you the glowing eyes of one of the masks are filled with anything but fake intent.

“Hey, Mal? Is he on the way yet?” You two have already viewed the display, concrete knowing you’re gonna knock everyone at the park. So you decided that maybe a little sightseeing wouldn’t be that bad.

“Ugh! He said he’s on his way but knowing him, that means he just got in the shower,” with a deep sigh she puts her phone back in her pocket.

“Look,” she continues

“ How about we go get something to eat and enjoy what we can. I mean, we did wait all year for this,” you’re a little hesitant but you end up caving; fried oreos do sound good right now.

The walk to the concession stands is filled with jump scares from actors, Jack, o lanterns illuminating your path and the laughter of children and adults a like. The environment reminds you of why you came here in the first place, maybe there is nothing to be worried about.

Oof!

“Oh I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” to wrapped up in the scenery and nostalgia, you failed to notice one of the actors scrambling by. You hear the muffled laughter of Malika and try your best not to strangle her to cover up your embarrassment. Fortunately , it was just the water that spilled on them; Unfortunately, your oreos lay spread eagle on the ground. However, even with a soaked costume and powdered sugar all over their boots, they remain in character. Only giving you a tilt of the head, a grunt, and tightening their grip on their axe. The eyes that lay behind the papier-mâché mask boar deep into your soul, the white contacts holding something deep and dark. The feeling of guilt is slowly washed away and replaced with anxiousness. Man, they're getting employee of the month. Still, you feel bad so you grab the napkins from your back pocket and gently wipe their mask, some of the fake blood coming off along with the water. Hmm, these effects are off the chain too.

As you clean them up you can’t help but to think that they’ll join the costume contest, definitely giving you a run for your money. You're snapped out of your thoughts when Malika pulls you along the road, whining about how upset she is because she didn’t get to snag one of your Oreos. Making your leave, you look over your shoulder one last time, only to find those same white eyes trailing your figure.

My god, you're even more beautiful up close.

“Personally, if that happened to me I’d kill myself,” once again, your friends laughter snapped you outta your own mind. You just giggle and brush it off.

“Shut up! It’s not like I did it on purpose! Besides he was kinda fine not gon’ hold you,”

“I know right! the way he titled his, had a tear running down my leg not gon’ lie,”

“Girl… don’t you gotta man? Like… on his way here?”

“Shhhh don’t ruin the fantasy,”

Two hours have officially passed, the same old texts between Malika and her boyfriend, this time however he was actually in the car. She had pressed him to turn on his location for safety, you could never be too sure now can you? He should’ve been here by now but with how crowded the festival is getting, you can’t blame him. Thankfully, the contest is just about to start! Going against your better judgment, you and Malika thought that being apart for about 15-20 mins wouldn’t hurt. She’ll be waiting in the audience while you go change anyways.

Rushing to the changing rooms you fail to notice another contestant coming towards you just as fast. For the second time this night you managed to bump into someone.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean I-,”

“Watch where you’re going bitch! Y’know how long it took me to make this thing?” You look to the left and then to the right trying to figure out who the fuck they think they’re talking too.

“Look I didn’t mean it, I’m sorr-,”

“Yea yea whatever, just stay outta my way next time. Besides, it’s not like you're gonna win this thing anyways,” just before you were about to give them a piece of your mind, the manager stepped in and separated you two. Jeez now this is gonna take even longer than you expected. You thought it was only fair to let Malika know shoot her a quick text. “No worries, babe! Gill's location says he’s here already so Imma grab us a quick bite to eat before I look for him and we head to you. See ya soonnn❤︎︎!!!”

Good; that buys you just enough time. After getting changed and checking your reflection for the hundredth time, you step out feeling as confident as ever. Just as you exit the stall, you hear the worst blood curdling scream of your entire life. You look over to your right and see that asshole from early and that guy with the really nice axe murder costume. Your eyes have to be deceiving you! One of their legs is completely severed, blood dripping from the stub left behind. Slash marks, deep and crooked, adorn their arms and remaining leg. They Look as if their limbs could snap off at the slightest breeze. They cry and groan as they reach out to you. Following their eyes the crazed murder shifts his eyes to you. Their weapon of choice freezing in their hands mid swing. Their victim continues to moan in pain and crawl away, begging and pleading for someone to save them. But…you just laugh.

“I see what you're trynna do here, and it ain’t workin’. Your costume is good but it isn’t better than mine. Assholes,” the last part is mumbled under your breath as you walk away. Even though you presented yourself in this prideful manner, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that bubbles inside you. You tried really hard this year, let’s just hope that everyone else thinks you did too.

CHOP

Finally. Holding up the severed head he smiles, crooked and eerie. The bitch wouldn’t stop screaming, but at least he gets to see the look of fear in their face forever.

“Hey! What the hell’re you doing!?” hm? Turning around he sees the manager from earlier, standing before him with wide eyes filled with shock and anger. He can’t have his plans be ruined by a little slip up! He didn’t mean to act so impulsive but he couldn’t help. Nobody talks to you like that; not if he had something to do about it. Swinging his weapon of choice up on his shoulder, he’s about to take a step before he’s interrupted.

“Didn't I tell you guys to keep all spare props in bags because of the fake blood?! It gets everywhere and I’m the one who has to clean it up!” They shoved him to the side before grabbing a large trash bag from the cart they lugged behind them; simultaneously grabbing a mop and bucket. Continue to grumble about how “they don’t get paid enough for this” and “all the newbies are irresponsible”. But hey, free disposal.

“Sh, sh it’s okay; it was never your fault,” you tried comforting her but to no luck. All she can see is red as the burning hot tears streaming from her eyes ruin the makeup she spent so long on

“Okay?! It’s not okay (Y/N)! He said he was stuck in traffic all the while he was toungin’ down some bitch in a slutty cat costume. Very unoriginal btw!” You try to keep your giggle in for her sake. You kept trying to tell her this idiot wasn’t any good for years but nooo “the dick was too good to let go,” and apparently, someone else thought so too. Her weeping continues before she builds up the courage to speak again.

“All I wanna do is go home; fuck this competition,” you smile seeing her personality shine through her sadness just a little.

“Yea, fuck this competition,”sure you’re sad about to being able to participate this year, but with your best friend in distress and a serial killer on the loose, you can’t help but to think that maybe you could wait until next year. Ordering the Uber, you suggest that before it gets here, you should check in with your teacher first. Of course you don’t have his number and you're sure your other classmates are not worried about their phones unless they’re snapping pics and recording for their stories . You send them a quick text to your classes group chat and look for the exit.

“He really is a dick, you don’t need him,”

“Yea, I know. Besides, maybe that axe guy will take care of him for me,” she giggles but you don’t find it funny at all.

“What?”

“Yea, I saw him outta the corner of my eye when I walked in on he who shall not be named about to fuck that other girl,” she rolls her eyes and continues walking but you remain stationary.

“You gotta be joking,“ she turns around and gives you a quizzical look so you continue further.

“He and another dickhead I bumped into put on this whole show to get me to drop outta the contest. Lost limbs, fake blood and everything. I don’t know what his problem is, but he needs to leave me the fuck alone before I get the manager, on some Karen shit”

“Now that I think about it, he has been high-tailing us ever since we’ve got here,” she freezes before looking at you dead on. She wipes away the tear stains and brushes her nose against her sleeve before scanning the area.

“You don’t think it’s Kee-,”

“No! Don’t. It’s not him. It couldn’t be,” she holds up her hands in defense before pulling you along to get the hell up outta here. It goes dead silent, tension filling the air. It couldn't be him! It’s just some rando whos jealous of your skill! But…your mind was just playing tricks on you. That feeling of paranoia started to rise again and the flashbacks felt like they were hitting you in waves. She saw this and decided to speak up before it got worse.

“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I really didn’t mean to-,” this time it’s your turn to cut her off. You offer her a light smile and hold her hand in yours before squeezing.

“It’s alright. Besides, who needs men anyways. You’re all I need,” she gives you an even brighter one, her usual self returning, before squeezing just as hard, laying her head on your shoulder while you walk.

“Yea, fuck men,” you two laugh in sync before changing the conversation to what you’ll do when you get home; maybe a Horror movie marathon and some junk food will cheer you up. Who cares, the night has just begun for you and there’s no way anything was gonna ruin it.

Watching you walk away a gloved hand slams into a tree. Dammit! You won’t get away so easily. You’re his. Nobody else’s. He’ll make sure of it. Starting with her.

Hello everyone!!!! Hope you enjoyed the first part of my Halloween special. I’m breaking this down into 3 parts because I’m afraid people will think it’s too long if I put the whole thing on tumblr. I will be making an Ao3 and the whole fic will be posted without any split up. When it’s created and up I’ll let you know. Hope you enjoyed Loves!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎.

-Love, Sosa❤️

[cowboykento]

Come on Barbie, Let's Go Party!

characters: nanami kento x fem!reader x gojo satoru (nanami x reader is the main pair/relationship.)

warnings: slight dub-con (everyone is a little drunk), alcohol consumption, threesome, face fucking, hair pulling, degradation (they call reader a slut (usually affectionately) a lot), dialogue heavy, other nicknames used (princess, angel, sweetheart, sweet thing, little girl, etc.), no protection used bc i didn’t even think about it (be safer than this irl!!!). let me know if i missed anything big here.

word count: 2.5k

minors and blank blogs dni or i'll block you :3

You were shocked Kento had agreed to go to Gojo’s halloween party, although it hadn’t been without effort on your part. You’d first mentioned the idea almost as soon as Gojo had asked you—an intentional move on his part, he knew the only way to get Nanami there was through you—but Kento had said no. 

That didn’t dissuade you, however, and after showing him countless pictures of cute couple’s costumes that you knew the two of you could pull off incredibly well. It had been the Barbie and Ken costumes that had finally won him over in the end. Well, more truthfully it was the outfit you’d shown him for your Barbie costume that sealed the deal. 

It wasn’t a conventional costume, or really even a costume at all by itself. You’d picked out a cute, two-piece pink dress, a white headband to match, and some frilly pink and white stockings. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Kento knew that you knew how to win him over, but that didn’t convince him enough not to finally agree.

Now that you guys were at the party, you could tell Nanami is restless to go home, and has been since you’d arrived. Nobody could deny that the two of you were the most attractive couple there, but Kento knows all eyes are really on you and your short skirt and pretty top that showed off the perfect amount of skin. 

The more depraved part of Kento thinks he should have left marks along your throat and collarbone for everyone to see, and you probably would have let him, too. Instead, he’s forced to stand dormantly and do everything in his power not to pull you away from Satoru’s wolfish smile and charming words. 

Truthfully, Kento isn’t having a bad time at all. In fact, he’s enjoying himself much more than he thought he would—only because he can shamelessly ogle you as you talk to everyone and could drink free booze, but he’s still having a good time nonetheless.

You’re plenty drunk yourself, anyone with a set of eyes could tell, but Nanami knows better than anyone. You’re being careless—more than you can afford to be with the skimpy little outfit you’d chosen. Part of him, the more jealous and unreasonable part of him thinks maybe you were doing it on purpose, just to rile him up, but he tries to quell those thoughts and blame it on the liquor. 

What he refuses to blame on the alcohol, however, is the way Satoru looks at you. Sure, he’s guilty of exactly the same thing, but you’re his. You’re not Satoru’s, and Kento can feel his blood boiling with the way Gojo eyes you up like he doesn’t know fully well that you’re taken. 

Eventually, Kento makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as you smile brightly at him, thrilled to see him like you’d forgotten he had come with you. 

“Ken!” you shout, smile nearly reaching your ears as you stand shakily on your tiptoes to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. 

“Hey, angel,” he replies, voice much softer than yours but just as full of affection. “Are you having fun?”

You nod quickly, “Mhm! We were just about to play a game! You should play with us!”

Kento frowns—he’d been hoping you’d be just about ready to leave by now, but alas it seems like you’re having the time of your life. 

“I don’t know, princess,” he starts hesitantly before suddenly a new weight has landed on his shoulders.

“C’mon Nanamin!” Gojo shouts, “It’ll be fun!”

Kento shrugs Gojo off, “Yeah, I’m not sure I want to be involved in anything you consider fun, Gojo.”

Before Gojo has a chance to be offended, you’re batting your eyelashes up at your boyfriend, “Aww, but Ken, what if I say it’ll be fun? Please?”

Nanami’s jaw clenches. You know as well as he does that he’ll never be able to deny you when you look up at him all pretty. He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs, trying to ignore your and Satoru’s anticipation as you wait for his reply.

“Fine, I’ll play.”

****

About four rounds of shots and a game that’s devolved into something unrecognizable and Kento’s never wished he had more willpower to tell you no than he does now. 

You’re sitting pretty on Kento’s lap, have been since he agreed to play, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t turned on right now. Your skirt, which was already so short you had to be careful how you moved, had ridden up just enough that the only thing keeping everyone else at the party from seeing your panties was Kento’s hand placed on your thighs. Unfortunately for him, that also means he can feel every time you rub your thighs together when he would whisper something into your ear. He isn’t even trying to get you worked up, but it was working nonetheless, and he knows it.

“You wanna feel good, sweetheart?” Kento whispers, fingers dancing along the hem of your skirt.

You turn in towards Nanami more, trying to hide yourself from everyone else as you clench your thighs together in a desperate attempt to feel any relief between your legs. At this point, the only people left at the party are Satoru, Suguru, Shoku, and Haibara, and they’ve all turned into their own conversations, ignoring you and Nanami. 

You look up at him, your eyes wide and a bit watery—Kento isn’t sure how he let you get this drunk, but he’s far from sober himself at this point and doesn’t have the mind to think about anything other than making you feel good. You nod desperately, hanging on to the front of his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth.

His fingers reach farther up your thighs as he kisses along your neck. It takes the little shreds of dignity and control you have left in you not to moan out. His thick, demanding fingers reach your panties, his thumb ghosting over your throbbing clit. 

“Kento,” you groan into his ear, “need you so bad, need to feel good, please.”

“I know princess, I know. But you gotta keep quiet for me, yeah? Don’t want all of our friends to hear you being a little slut at Satoru’s party, do you?”

You shake your head as Kento continues thumbing at your soaked-through panties, making your head spin with pleasure. 

“You’re so wet for me, sweet thing. You’ve got no shame, do you, princess? That’s okay, I’ll take care of you even if you’re a slut.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips, and instantly Kento’s actions halt.

“Be good,” he pinches your thigh, warning you. “If you make another sound, I’ll have to stop. Understand?”

“Mhm, I’ll be good, promise.”

Kento kisses your temple, as he continues circling your clit, “That’s my girl.”

You can’t help but grind down into the little bit of pressure Kento’s providing, so desperate for your release and mind so foggy from lust and alcohol.

“So close, Ken, ‘m so close,” you whimper as quietly as possible.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he replies huskily, slipping a thick finger into your wet heat. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm shakes your body, jolts of electricity pulsing throughout you as you bite down on your lip to hold back the moan that tries to rip through you. 

You’re panting as Kento puts your panties back into place and presses a kiss to your shaking lips. 

“You finally ready to leave, princess?”

“You better be,” Satoru’s voice interrupts. “Been waiting for the two of you to be done so I can start cleaning up. Thought Nanamin would have a little more decency, but I guess even he can’t help himself around a pretty thing like you.”

Neither you nor Kento had noticed that everyone else had filtered out of Satoru’s apartment, but now instead of pleasure you feel a hot flash of embarrassment rush through your body. 

“Are you jealous, Satoru?” Nanami’s voice cuts through the awkwardness shockingly. You turn to him, eyes wide and misunderstanding his boldness. 

Satoru takes a step toward the two of you, gently grabbing your chin to force your gaze to fall on him, rather than Kento. 

“Mmm, I just might be. She’s real pretty like this, isn’t she?” Satoru teases, looking over your head and  at Nanami like you’re not even there. 

“Of course,” Nanami replies, something in his voice challenging Satoru. He grabs a fistful of your hair, not too roughly but enough to force tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as he turns you back towards him. “What do you think, princess? I think Satoru wants me to share you. My sweet little girl. Don’t know if he’s worth sharing you with.”

Nanami’s expression is hard to read, especially with the traces of alcohol still in your body, but it’s not hard to feel the swell of his dick underneath you, stretching against the fabric of his pants. 

“Do you wanna give Satoru a turn with you, baby?”

Your eyes are wide and wet, and Nanami’s grip pulling at your roots is only making thinking straight that much more difficult. Still, you whisper out a shy, “Y- yeah.”

He pulls your head back to kiss your neck harshly, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. 

“Knew you were a little slut. Good thing you’re so pretty and perfect,” he speaks into your neck. “I’ll let Satoru have a turn with you, but remember who you belong to, princess.”

He presses another kiss to your lips before releasing his hold on you and letting Satoru pull you back towards him. 

“He’s right, you really are a slutty little girl, letting him finger fuck you right here on my couch at my party,” Gojo teases, pulling you off Nanami’s lap and onto his. “How sweet of Nanami to warm up your little pussy for me.”

You moan loudly at his words as he flips your skirt up, fully revealing the pretty pink panties you’d picked out just to match your costume. 

“Oh, you’re such a doll. All dressed up just for my party? Almost like you knew we’d slut you out right here. Or maybe that’s what you wanted this whole time? What do you think, Nanamin?” 

Nanami has since pulled his dick out of the confines of his costume pants, fisting it slowly to the sight of you hovering over Gojo, “Seems just about right to me. Is that what you wanted, princess? For me to share you? To get your slutty little pussy fucked right in front of everyone? Could’ve just asked, sweetheart, didn’t have to be a tease.”

“Please,” you whimper to Gojo as he unzips his own pants, pulling your panties to the side and lining himself up with your quivering cunt. “Please, want it so bad.” 

Gojo clicks his tongue, “You’ve taught her well, Nanami. She begs so pretty for me.” He turns his attention back toward you, hitting his dick against your sensitive clit a few times before pushing into your tight heat. 

Both you and Satoru moan loudly as he enters you. He doesn’t take any time at all before bucking his hips up into you fiercely, and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back as Satoru pounds into your cunt. 

“Shit,” he moans, “Fuck, this pussy is so fucking good.” 

You hear Kento moan from where he sits, and the thought of him watching you get fucked by Satoru is only turning you on more. You want to put on a show for him, to make him so jealous he comes and steals you away from Satoru and takes his turn fucking you. 

Instead, Kento stands and grabs a fistful of your hair once again, pulling your head back to look up at him. Your body is alight as Nanami tells you to open your mouth before he spits directly onto your tongue, staking his claim to you as you swallow. 

“Turn her around, Satoru,” he commands, “I’m gonna fuck her slutty little throat.” 

Satoru is quick to oblige, the thought of you taking both of their dicks turning everyone on even more. He takes no time in returning to his brutal pace, fucking up into your pussy and chasing his own orgasm desperately. 

“Open wide for me, sweetheart,” Nanami tells you, pressing the tip of his dick against your lips before you comply, taking as much of his length in as you can manage. You hold onto Nanami for balance, Satoru’s thrusts pushing you to take even more of Kento’s dick in your mouth, forcing tears to fall down your cheeks. 

Kento groans loudly, his grip on your hair firm as he fucks himself into your tight throat. His pace isn’t quite as fierce as Satoru’s but it’s overwhelming nonetheless. 

“Fuck, princess, tight little pussy’s sucking me right in. I’m so close, want me to fill you up nice and good?” Satoru pants. 

“You better fucking not,” Nanami replies sharply, his hand squeezes your hair even tighter and you yelp. “That pussy doesn’t take anyone’s cum except mine.” 

Satoru moans even louder at that, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his orgasm. You’re close too, the coil in your tummy tightening so much that you think a wayward gust of air on your clit would send you hurtling into bliss. 

You look up at Kento with tears in your eyes, his big thumb brushing them away as they fall down your cheeks. 

“Are you close, angel?” He coos sweetly. “Look so gorgeous like this, letting both of us stuff you full. Cum for me, sweetheart, go ahead.” 

It only takes two more thrusts from Satoru to finally send you over the edge, your vision whiting out as you cream around Satoru’s dick. You gargle around Nanami’s cock as you cum, the vibrations only getting him that much closer. 

Satoru pulls out shortly after you finish, and you only have a second to be confused before you feel his hot seed shoot all over your back, his voice pitching as he lets out a loud, whiny moan. 

Kento continues fucking your throat, his pace picking up as he chases his climax, “So perfect for me, sweetheart. Fuck, gonna swallow everything I have to give you, won’t you?”

You do your best to nod, and that’s all it takes for Nanami to shoot hot ropes of cum down your throat, groaning loudly and pulling your hair, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. 

When the last of him is spent, Nanami pulls out of your throat tiredly and flops onto the couch next to you and Satoru. None of you can remember a time in your life you’d cum that hard before, the overwhelming pleasure enough to wake you mostly out of your drunkenness. 

You curl into Nanami, your breath still ragged and your bones reduced to nothingness. Nanami rubs a hand along your back as he catches his own breath, and Satoru gets up to fetch water and a washcloth. 

You tilt your head up to look at Kento with glassy, worn out eyes and a tired smile, “And you said you didn’t even wanna come to this ‘stupid party.’” 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. You’re lucky you’re irresistible, you little minx. Made this night interesting for all of us.”

i literally wrote this at work i don't even know what came over me. did not plan this or even think about it before words started pouring out of me. didn't even plan on including nanami hair pulling but what is a girl to do after the new episode ??? n e ways hope you all enjoyed as much as i do :3

commissions open!

[metallicaislife]

A Steamy Halloween

A/N: I am so bad at flirting irl and that translates into my writing I'm so sorry hahahahah I think what happens after makes up for it thoughhhh 😏

Requested by : Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut, minors dni

Word Count: 1,531

Warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, m x f pairing

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride there?” Kirk asked for the third time over the phone. 

“Yes, I’m running behind a little bit so I’ll just see you when I get there, okay? Plus, it’s not that far from my house. A short walk won’t kill me.” I said holding the phone between my shoulder and ear as I applied the deep red lipstick. 

“Fine, I’ll see you there.” He finally relented. 

“See ya.” I said quickly and hung up the phone. 

I took my time with finishing touches of my costume.

I entered the party, greeting a few people. I was on a mission to find my best friend though. When my eyes landed on him, I was surprised to see he was already looking at me. I made my way over to him. 

“If you spotted me why didn’t you say anything?” I asked folding me arms. He finally snapped out of whatever spell he was under. 

“I.. uh sorry. Um, nice costume.” He said swallowing hard. Internally I smirked, I was in a short leather dress that accentuated my body perfectly, and a pair of platform heels. 

“Thanks.” I smiled showing off my fangs, tried and true sexy vampire for the win. “Are you a ghoul?” I asked. His eyes were surrounded by black paint and contoured his face to give it that hollow look. 

“Bingo.” He replied with finger guns. What a dork. My favorite dork though. 

“Anything fun going on here?” I asked, finally taking the seat next to him. 

“Not really. But it’s still early.” He shrugged. 

“You’re forgetting who’s throwing the party, my guy. If it was me there’d be games but it looks like all this is, is a costume mingle.” I huffed. 

“Wanna give it a while longer then get outta here?” He asked. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

We got up and talked with some of the other party goers. I was right though, all these people were interested in talking, no drinking games, kissing games, you know a normal party. 

About a half an hour later, my eyes met Kirk’s and I gave him the signal we concocted to give the other when we wanted to leave a situation. Kirk nodded and we met at the front door. 

We walked to his car in silence. He opened the door for me.

“Thanks.” I said sliding in and buckling up. He walked around getting in. 

“Where to?” He asked, starting his car. 

“I’m hungry, are you?” I asked as I  fidgeted with my hair.

“Yeah, the diner okay?” He offered our usual spot to eat. 

“Always.” I replied.

The diner was on the other side of town. Music played softly over the radio. Kirk has been my best friend since grade school, but sometimes it felt like he was my boyfriend except without the perks of kissing among other things. Things that I thought of more often than I would ever admit. Sometimes I flirt with him just to see his reaction. He does the same though. It’s like we’re stuck in this vicious cycle of seeing how far we can push that boundary. Feeling confident in my costume and the reaction he gave from seeing me in it I decided tonight would be a good night to push that boundary button.

“You know, if the party turned into a make out party I’d have let you kiss me.” I said. I was serious, but I kept my tone light. I looked at him, his nostrils flared but he didn’t say anything so I kept going. “I would have even let you touch me.” I said dropping my voice to sound sexy.

“You talk an awful lot for someone who won’t actually do anything.” Kirk snapped as he clenched the steering wheel. My mood soured and I quickly snapped back. 

“You’re one to talk.” 

I jolted in my seat, the seat belt tightened, not letting me go far. 

“What the hell, Kirk!” I exclaimed. 

He didn’t say anything as he pulled the car over and parked where there weren’t many cars or foot traffic. 

“Get in the back seat.” He said in a dark tone. 

“What?” I asked, looking at him. His eyes met mine, there was a fire I’d never seen before. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He warned. My eyes widened as warmth pooled low in my belly. I fumbled a bit as I unbuckled and got out of the car sliding into the back seat. My heart thrummed in anticipation. Moments later Kirk followed suit and got out of the driver's seat and entered the back. He locked us in. His demeanor broke a little and he said, “if you don’t want to do this, tell me to stop.” 

He scooted closer and I moved so I could crawl onto his lap straddling him. 

“I want you to fuck me.” I said. The fire returned in his eyes and our lips met in a deep kiss that I felt in my toes. 

Years of imagining this moment, and it was something so much more than I could have ever wished for. His hands gripped me tightly as I tangled my fingers in his hair. 

I grinded down on him feeling him begin to harden. He pulled away and started sloppily kissing my neck as I continued grinding against him. My dress was riding up and his warm palms ran up and down my thighs as he found my sweet spot and bit down. I moaned as my hands explored the planes of his chest through his shirt. I found the hem and began lifting it up and he pulled back enough to let me help him take it off. I immediately dove in kissing and nipping at his chest. His hands kneaded my ass then he began to lift me. It was a bit cramped but he managed to maneuver us so I was laying across the back seat, my feet planted on the seat knees up. My dress was bunched up to my stomach. Kirk knelt as he rubbed his hands over my legs. His pupils were blown, lips swollen. He looked hot as fuck. His hands traveled further until he was at the top of my panties. He began pulling them down and I shifted my hips up so he could take them off. He shoved them into his back pocket. He ran his fingers through my folds eliciting a moan from my throat. He slipped a finger in, then another, using his thumb to rub my clit. 

“Oh fuck… don’t stop.” I moaned. He smirked. 

“Does it feel good?” He asked.

“S’good.” I moaned louder as I got closer to my release. I squirmed as I came, a slew of curse words leaving my lips. 

“So fucking sexy.” Kirk commented. He pulled his dick out of his pants rubbing my release over it. My hooded eyes met his eyes as he moved closer. He rubbed the tip over my clit, I whined. 

“Want you in me.” I breathed out. He aligned himself with me and thrust in. He let out a groan.

“Thought about this for so long. Gonna fuck you so good you won’t get off to anyone’s cock but mine.” He said, and I believed him. The windows were fogging as he began pistoning his hips, our breathing heavy. He paused for a moment to lift my hips and resumed, I screamed as he hit my g-spot. The car shook with each thrust. I came again, my eyes rolling back. He continued dragging out my pleasure before pulling out, he fisted his dick and came on my stomach. He lowered my hips and rested his forehead on my knee. After a while in silence regaining our breath he sat up tucking himself back into his pants. 

“Stay there.” He said and got out going to the passenger door. I heard him rummage about the glovebox before coming back around to kneel between my legs. He had napkins and tenderly cleaned my stomach. 

“Thank you.” I croaked, my throat hoarse from screaming. 

He smiled and helped me sit up bringing my dress back down to cover me. I got out of the backseat and he rushed around to open the passenger door. He stopped me before I got in and kissed me, I immediately kissed him back. He pulled away, a goofy grin on his face. 

I got in and we resumed our voyage to the diner.

When we got there, Kirk opened the diner door for me, following behind and softly resting his hand on the small of my back. 

We were led to a booth and sat across from each other. I ordered fries and soda, while Kirk got a salad. 

“Do you want to go back to my place after and watch Halloween?” Kirk asked. I munched on a fry and nodded. 

“Can we watch Creature from the Black Lagoon after that?” I asked. 

“Of course.” He replied with a smile. 

We fell into comfortable conversation. Part of me wondered how the dork in front of me was the same one from 20 minutes ago that absolutely rocked my world.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[alicespurplesquid]

hockeyplayer!abby + figureskater!reader ❄️

part two!

🏒abby is AGGRESSIVE on the ice (she’s in the box at least twice a game — she’s gotten the nickname “nasty andy” from a few too many fights)

⛸️ you’re a better skater than abby is (she’s pretty clumsy)

🏒 her teams winning song is just wanna rock by lil uzi vert (it makes you cringe but you love seeing her happy)

⛸️ she always brags about how you’re better than everyone else (“that’s my girl!” is her favorite thing to scream at your competitions)

🏒 abby has great hands on and off the ice (iykyk)

⛸️ she waits on the bench for your practice to be over with two hot chocolates (hers is gone by the time you’re done)

🏒 she ices you every chance she gets and it drives you INSANE

⛸️ the first time she came to practice with you, she sat on the ice and stared at you in awe like a little kid (“how do you spin so fast?!”— she then tried the same spin with ALL her hockey gear on)

🏒 she’s known for being aggressive physically and vocally (her chirps are infamous)

⛸️ she knows you’re pretty flexible as a figure skater (she makes good use of your flexibility)

🏒 hates when people call you a puck bunny or a rocket (will get in a fight over it)

⛸️ she’ll tie your skates for you or zip up your costume before a competition (anything to help)

🏒 she gives you one of her sweaters to wear at her games (she says you look cute in her jersey)

⛸️ she HATES when the boys hockey team that practices after you watches you skate

🏒 you LOVE seeing her all fresh in her suit and toque before a game

⛸️ massages are a MUST after a game

🏒 “you can pick the hand i’ll fuck you up with, buddy” and “ya gettin a little angry there, bud?” are her favorite chirps

[mellowwillowy]

Yan Gamer with (both F/M) Game-character Reader

{A wide variation of shameless, calm but not stoic and the shy one~}

Also there's a special snip where it shows your POV~~

-

So you see, this person right here is a WHALE when it comes to you. (Yan? Tendencies below)

Summer costume dlc where you wear bikini or shorts, revealing all your skins for player to see? Take their card. They'll enter their pin the moment the dlc is released.

Dlc for extra route that involves you? Come at them. They don't mind whose route it for as long as it involves you, even if you just show up for a few moments. If the OG game doesn't really give you that much of a screen time, they'll spam the creator to y'know, at least make an exclusive dlc or pack that stars you.

Depending on the game, I'll be taking Dead or Alive as an example. So it is a 3D fighting game that is infamous for its chicks and dlcs yeah, and what if you are there. For fem, they'll just flash their camera to your chest or butt (doesn't matter if you are flat in and out coughs) everytime they win the game before continuing, observing you closely like look at you, so adorable in that outfit. For male, they'll prolly just shoot at your whole muscles (whether you have it or not but he'll just stare at it anyway) or your ass.

If they are a ryona fans then good luck dear reader because you'll be forced to be other character's punch bag.

Or maybe they just enjoy punishing people so you'll just whoop people's ass mercilessly.

How about fanservice beach game? (Coughs DOAXtreme3). I bet they will just go nuts when they know you are also in the game and will start grinding like crazy to earn anything that is involving you. A puzzles to obtain a set of swimwear (bikini or shorts, your call)? They'll have it obtained real fast. A limited edition dlc that can only be obtained with real money? Kaching, purchased just like that. Oh? A limited edition reward where only few people can get it? They'll compete with the others like crazy to obtain it and they WILL. See, you look so good wearing that while playing volleyball with the others~

A *coughs* sensual scene where you are playing with the volleyball alone? Their camera is all set and (please look away minors) their hand just knows what to do. Another scene where you are doing a pole dance? God they sure knows what to do with the camera angle, it helps him with his relief so much. Oh, that noise you made is also really cute~

Lying on the bed all by yourself while waiting for them to log in? Cmon, you make them feel bad having to leave their PC for their work. Don't worry though, they'll make it up to you soon~

-

If uncomfortable with Yan, look away

But it's really sad how they know none of this will ever exist in real life. You are just a character from a game and it will always be like that. Even if they can invest a whooping millions just to create a VR game or that hologram capsule where they get to communicate and interact with you, they will never be able to feel the warmth of your skin. Oh how they will do anything to be in the same space with you...

Oh what's this? A message...?

It's really different from what you are programmed to say. Depending on what kind of personality you have, if feisty or sadistic (hello Cat) you'll leave some kind of mean words to them that they never know you are capable of, or if you are sweet (hello Fox) you'll leave some kind of sweet message that encourage them to work diligently~ No matter how hard they try to search it up, no one has ever encountered this before! Is this some kind of bug or unused files?

It happens again the next day

They log in and see you standing instead of lying on the bed like usual, with a message that asks them to hurry and finish their work so that they can play with you and shower you with his love. Another bug?

It's getting out of hand now

Their PC suddenly turns on by itself, blasting the mp3 like crazy to wake them up. They wake up and see the notepad next to the mp3 player, something written on it.

"You won't forget playing with me for today too right? I really miss you. It feels lonely without you. You need to play with me unless you want me to delete your whole files ♡"

Not like they are complaining or anything. Delete it all you want, if anything, they are glad you'll punish them for their mistake in abandoning you. A bad lover has to receive their partner's chiding and punishment every now and then right? There's no way out anymore and they don't mind it at all. At least the obsession is mutual. Oh how happy you are whenever they spend fortune just for you ♡ It feels nice to be loved and adored to this extent, you've always yearned for someone's love after all.

You'll leave them lots of messages every day and they will also leave lots of files in their directory for you to peek. They'll also comission few artworks of you and them, setting it as a wallpaper where you can see everyday. It feels like a wedding portrait now, right?

They'll hate it whenever other people talk about you, especially if you come from a fanservice kind of game. They just realllllly want to destroy their PC every time they talk about you ( How? Each varies, prolly in a shady way)

There'll also be some kind of anniversary date between you two where you'll just do something special that only they are allowed to know. If coughs fanservice game then perhaps the pole dance might become a show of.... you know. If it's just a wholesome dating game the you might prepare a whole new date scenario of you and them. Incoming immoral activities! Handholding and hugging!

They've fallen into the rabbit hole way too deep and there's no way out now. Perhaps, this has always been their wish? It's only a matter of time for them to find another way to connect with you directly ♡

No proofread, I wrote this blurb before bedtime

[gnc-valentine]

The older brothers with child reader

AN: I’ve never once posted something like this so bear with me. I made this for a friend of mine who is silly goofy. This is platonic obviously. This only has the older bros but I’ll eventually make hcs for all the characters genuinely I promise please. Reader is Gender neutral. Also She/He levi in this :3

Lucifer:

• you are 1 more added to the 7 how good for you !! But not really !

• nah it’s fine tho really. Just as long as you don’t start/get in much trouble you’ll probably be fine. Oh you’re a kid being raised by a bunch of demons? Nvm then alright.

• genuinely moving on though, I’d say Lucifer would be one of those dads that would show up to whatever sporting event you may do, and just stand arms crossed with like a whole other row of dads watching the game intensely. Not even saying anything except for maybe the occasional jab at the other team and or referee.

• certified shaky camera holder. I don’t care what you wanna say. This man CANNOT record shit steady (me too fr). Might also forget the camera is still on and would just walk around with it in his pocket recording everything. He Denies it ever happened but it definitely did.

• in the anime, there was an episode where Lucifer and some of the brothers went on a camping trip. Working off of this, he definitely wakes you up at 6 in the damn morning just to fish for 3 hours then asks if you wanna hike after you’ve been sitting in a chair or standing for a while and your limbs are all tired. He definitely has one of those back packs that has like a packet for water with a straw coming out of the bag and will drink out of that instead of stopping to drink out of a water bottle for 30 seconds.

• THIS MAN IS INSUFFERABLE WITH BOARD AND CARD GAMES. HE WILL NOT GO EASY ON YOU NO MATTER HOW YOUNG YOU ARE. Oh you wanna win in Uno and you’re 7? TOO DAMN BAD.

• he probably makes the best grilled cheese known to man and if you ask really nicely, he’ll even wake up in the middle of the night to make it for you :3

Mammon:

• oh my fucking god. He is so uncle core you don’t understand. Tacky fashion? Check. Nearly the same if not more energy than the kid? Check. A car to blast music in on the way to get some junk food? Definitely check.

• he has a pool table in his room. I don’t know what else to say. You two probably against each other if by yourselves. He probably purposely shoots for the 8 ball to knock it in and lose if you’re feeling or looking too sad about being behind or losing. He’s cool like that. He plays it off like he didn’t purposely do it. what a good ball. If y’all play against like let’s say beel and belphie or something similar? Y’all are unstoppable 100%. Diavolo and Lucifer? Lucifer would try to win genuinely but diavolo makes trash shots on purpose cause he likes seeing you happy :3

• you two constantly jump to touch door frames or various other stuff near the ceiling. If you’re to short he’ll tease you and kinda brag about being tall but then you bite his knee or something and y’all start a full rough housing session that has Lucifer yelling from across the house telling y’all to calm the hell down before he finishes the fight himself no matter who started it.

• if you’re eating candy in his car or something like he’ll do that dad arm thing where he reaches behind the chair asking for some. He probably calls it the uncle tax or something but yeah

• you play poker with him. Not like real money poker, but poker nonetheless. Y’all are betting fucking candy probably. Stuffed animals too maybe if it gets intense. Again, if he sees you sad about losing most of your candy, he’ll purposely lose so you’ll be happy. He’s just so real like that

Levi:

• he’s definitely the family member that shows you games and movies that he obsesses over, that eventually you yourself obsess over (speaking from experience cough cough)

• if you like the things she likes? Oh boy. You are gonna have the best Halloween costumes of all time I’ll say that much. Hand made too.

• she definitely will watch kids shows with you and like try to get as much into them as you are. Gravity falls? She will go as mable/dipper with you for Halloween or a convention. Adventure time? He will watch any and every piece of media regarding it and will try to have lore convos about it with you. Pokémon? Bold of you to assume she doesn’t already like it you idiot (her fav Pokémon is milotic :3).

• if you suck at games she’ll try to help you but like if it’s a game he is super serious about and you wanna play he’ll probably just give you a fake controller or like let’s you play a mini game exclusively sorry.

• Mario party is always fun with her, you, belphie, and probably beel or mammon. He refuses to steal your star or coins or just do bad things to your character on the board. On the mini games however… she’s destroying you/hj. Mario cart is just as intense if not more intense. She will get a tad bit salty if you somehow get 1st place against her but she’ll be proud at the same time so it evens out.

End X3

Hope you enjoyed and I hope I make another part lol !

[heartfullofleeches]

Check-In at Ruthieland

Yandere Park Staff + G.N Reader

Summary: A gift from the park's mascot leads to an unexpected surprise

Warnings: None/Slight horror elements 

Word Count: 3.4k

The mug shaped candy has merged with its wrapping by the time you pick it up. 

Almost two weeks since your last annual visit to Ruthieland – the remaining tickets left tucked in their envelope and stored in a secure location. Your encounter with the park's main mascot repeats are the only thing you can retell vividly from that day, yet it all still feels like a dream. Ruthie hasn’t been seen in person since you were a kid for reasons even you were in the dark about. Why were they bringing him back now?

Beloved Showrunner Ruthie Hare makes a comeback in time for the reopening of hotel. 

That seemed like reason enough. The article pops up in your news feed while browsing online, the hare's buck tooth grin catching you off guard enough for you to drop your phone on your face. Recovering from the sting, you skim over the letter and from what you read Ruthie had been seen in lesser populated areas of the park gifting the same candies he gave you to random families with park staff informing them to keep hold of them. The park's office social media page has almost just released news that every person giving a candy would be invited to the grand reopening of their main hotel.

So that’s why Ruthie gave you the candy. Since you hadn’t seen him since you were a kid, the costume probably just looked stranger than you remembered, or went through a design change. What about that note he gave you? “Somebunny likes you.” It could be that one of the park attendants has developed a thing for you giving your constant visits, but was too shy to approach in person and managed to pull a few strings for you. Anything was possible, but the conclusion allayed your concerns well enough for the idea of a vacation to sound appealing. If things continued to work in your favor then maybe the park's recluse owner would show their face again, and you'd get to see an old friend one more time. 

-

The information for the contest comes within the following week. A week long stay at the refurbished hotel with all expenses paid, and general admission to the park for each day of your stay. A couple signatures and all is set for your departure. The date of the trip was only a few days away by the time everything was in order, your belongings packed the night before. The brochure included in your mail gave details of a shuttle leaving for the hotel from the usual pick up location at 7am; two full hours before opening. You arrive a quarter before, and are surprised to see only one other person waiting. The others possibly drove, or were running closer to the assigned schedule. Someone off to your side whisper shouts to their companion.” 

“I told you they'd be here.- Y/n, hey, over here!”

Drawing your attention to their ambush, you barely have time to react as your assailant rushes you and smothers you in the fuzzy sleeves of their oversized coat. As she lets you go and picks up her suitcase thrown aside in her sprint, you find the woman to be none other than the park attendant responsible for the theft of your ticket stubs, Ell. Two others catch up with her. Atlas, the head of security, and someone you aren't sure you're familiar with. A medical mask obscures the lower half of their face and a baseball cap makes up for the rest. The former two were frequent faces you'd see around the park, and people you considered friends for the most part. 

“Ell? Atlas? What are you doing here?”

Atlas shoots a side eye at Ell. “Someone managed to get their hands on some of the prize candies when it was mentioned in a meeting that staff members weren't eligible to win.”

“They never said anything about coming in on a day off. If they had a real problem with it, we wouldn't even be here. Everyone knows the park's royalty was bound to win, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say getting to spend some time with them on vacation is too good to pass up.”

Atlas chokes on his tongue; lips wired shut as his brain attempts to come up with a cognate reply. He looks around for a way out, eyes landing on your bag and the transport pulling up to dock.

“Heh- would you look at that? The bus is here. Those look heavy, Y/n. I'll carry those up for you. ‘Cuse me”

Atlas squeezes past the two and snatches up your bags as he heads towards the bus. Ell throws an arm over the other member of their party. 

“Anyway- despite popular belief it wasn’t me who took the candies. Found this thief with a couple in their bag and they offered me one to keep quiet. Then Atlas found us out and we had to bribe him for the same prize.”

The stranger tugs on the strings of their hoodie. “I'm not a thief…. Like you said earlier, Y/n was likely to win, and I wanted to see them more than just once a month.” 

Their voice is muffled by the face guard, but you recognize that tone. “Cass?”

They make eye contact with you for the first time that morning - before immediately looking away. “hi, Y/n.” 

Ell stares at them puzzled. “You have an actual name? Why have we been calling you-"

“Let's go, guys! It's ten past seven.”

Atlas slaps on the side of the bus to get his point across. Ell and Cass toss their bags in the undercarriage and follow you on the bus. The exterior is different from the typical pink decal and mascot characters acting out different scenes depending on the vehicle. Instead, the paint job had been switched to solid white with a streak  of red around the middle like a bow and the silhouette of Ruthie's head acting as the ribbon. You stare at it for a while, the trance broken by Cass bumping into you. 

“sorry…”

“It's alright. Go on ahead.”

Cass hesitates, but moves on ahead to avoid conflict. They stand at the back of the bus, waiting to see where you sit. Being the last one on board, Ell shoves you into the closest available seat right behind Atlas and sits beside you. Cass takes the bench from across you.

Atlas is the first to strike up conversation- despite Ell being right over your shoulder. “Hey, Y/n. I've been meaning to ask you, how exactly did you win lifetime tickets to Ruthie's?”

“That’s right- your family moved you away after they heard about the field trip. It was a contest in elementary where we had to write a letter explaining what we'd do if we won tickets to the park. That’s how I met Cass actually. They deliver the tickets. I still don't know how I won.” 

Ell butts in. “Maybe it's because you’re besties with the owner. What’s their name again? Wayne?”

“Wyatt. We didn’t really know each other well because their dad kept them at home, but the few times we hung out was nice. They stopped showing up to class shortly after the trip, but the other kids would joke that they had a crush on me.”

“Imagine that.” Atlas leans against the bus window, watching the buildings go by; fingers snaking up to the skin beneath his eye. “I still loved that place, even after what happened.” 

Before you can say more, the bus hits a speed bump which sends you flying backwards into the seat. Recovering from the whiplash, you glance out the window to see where you are. The bus pulls into the parking lot of where you'll be staying. It’s astonishing how you've never seen or heard much about its rebuilding before now. An excuse for the first part could be the large circus tent blocking the park's back wall.

The hotel itself was like a crossbreed between a lodge cabin and the fairgrounds. The main building sat in the middle of two towers; roof slanted like the pitch of a carnival tent and walls made of stone and wood. The pillars in its foundation were painted red for a little more color and the park's name along with its main mascot sat on a sign near the entrance; a plethora of lights surrounding the entire building shut off due to the time of day.

“Ruthie's Paradise Lodge…” You read aloud; the hare nestled in the title's ‘P' and drifting off to sleep. You gather your carry-on bag and join the others as they exit the bus. Atlas insists on taking the remaining lounge for you and wheels your bags along with his one duffle bag up to the front doors. A rustle in the bushes along the path catches your attention as you follow behind, but no one else seems to notice. You peak into the thickets – two, long pink ears greeting you among beady black eyes.

You scream.

Heads spin at the sound. Atlas retains a look of defense while Ell barks out a laugh and Cass removes their hand from the pocket at the sight they all behold. For the second time that day, fuzz laced arms trap you to the chest of a foreign body; this one covered head to toe in plush and oversized hands doing a better job at keeping you in place. Within enough struggle the mascot lets you go, covering his face with his hands out of embarrassment. The last member of your group and the first person on the bus walks up behind Ruthie and pats the hare's back.

“Sorry for the fright. Ruthie here is just excited to meet friends.” 

Atlas pulls you away from the pair and creates a protective shield using his own body. “And you are?”

The man laughs. “Me? I’m the receptionist at this fine establishment and the staff member assigned to welcoming you all to the hotel. You can just call me Flo. I probably should've introduced myself earlier, but it seemed like you all were having a great time with each other which is what we love to see most at our parks. Shall we head in?” 

Flo enters the hotel without waiting for an answer, leaving all you with no choice but to follow. Ruthie tails behind you step for step; eyes drilling holes in the back of your head. You can see his reflection in the glass doors right before you step inside. This Ruthie is nowhere near as stretched out as the one you met before, but his stare carries that same uncomfortable weight as the first. He gently pushes past you and marches in front of the other's to stand beside Flo.

The lobby isn’t anything remarkable. A fireplace in the waiting area accompanied by couches and chairs; framed snippets of the hare's crew on the walls. Twin staircases lead to a second floor and . It’s so open spaced you can’t help but wonder-

“Are we the only ones here?”

“Course not! We have the rest of staff and if you're referring to the other contestants I’m sure they'll be here on a later shuttle. If that clears up your questions then-"

The echo of Flo's clap makes you flinch. 

“Let's get this show on the road. As I’m sure you're already aware of, you lovely folks are the first to witness the grand reopening of our gorgeous hotel after its tragic closing back in 95’. The rooms have been renovated to fit with modern times and there are various activities around the building to keep you all entertained when you aren't enjoying a fun day at our fair park. The only thing we ask is that you avoid staff only areas, even if a few of you are employed elsewhere on the plot. 

Ruthie holds up a flashcard with a rabbit silhouette marked with a red X; tapping the board while slowly shaking his head. Flo walks behind the counter and produces four separate room keys.

“I will now give you all your assigned room keys and instructions on how to reach them. Your luggage will be brought to your rooms by staff later on.”

Flo hands out the keys in order of how you entered from Cass to Ell to Atlas to You. 81. 82. 83. 111. Ruthie holds out his hand for a key and crosses his arms over his chest when he doesn't receive what he’s after.  It would've been a little funny had Ell not addressed the elephant in the room.

“Why's Y/n's room so far away from ours?”

Flo half shrugs, almost annoyed by the question. “I’m not sure. Possibly a mix up somewhere with booking and reservations and whatnot. To get to your room you three just have to walk up to the third floor. Your room is in the south tower on the fifth floor. Bit of a strange numbering system, I know, but we’ve kept the layout of the hotel as close to original design as possible. We hope you enjoy your stay.”

Taking that as ignitive to leave, you walk over to the elevator with the others. You’d ask about Wyatt another time. Ruthie sends you all off with a double handed wave. It drops to one when it’s your turn to receive a fair well. Ruthie brings a finger up to his eye socket and drags it down to his cheek.

“Well…” Atlas starts. “We're still in the same location, and we'll most likely be seeing a lot of each other regardless of the situation.”

“Do you mind us paying you a visit?” Cass questions. “You’re the only reason I'm actually here…”

Ell chimes in. “Yeah, kinda lame deal if I can't try to bust down your door at any given moment.”

“I don't mind. Just give me a bit to get settled in first. I'll see you later.” You push the button on the elevator wall and wait for it to open. As you enter Atlas steps forward. 

“Maybe I should head up with you, just to be safe…”

Ell tugs the taller figure into a headlock and pulls him back. “Not so fast, Romeo. We spend time with them together or not at all. I won't give you the chance to shoot your shot with them so soon.”

Atlas flushes, barking out. “It's not like that!” 

“Don't lie to me. I've seen your wallpaper before. I've snuck a few pictures in my time, and I have no doubts that our other friend over there has as well.”

Cass is already halfway up the stairs before Ell gets her point across, frantically scrolling through their phone. Both Atlas and Ell chase after them.

“See you later, guys.” You press the button to your floor, a last minute rider keeping the doors from closing.

Ruthie steps inside the elevator and into the opposite corner where another button panel was placed. He closes the doors, before pressing every single button prior to your floor while making direct eye contact with you. 

The elevator goes up. The doors open and shut for the second floor. The fluff of the costume's chest rises with a breath. Another floor. His fingers twitch and his left leg shifts towards you. He starts to hum, tapping his foot against the metal floor. Two floors left and that soft drill draws out into a whistle. The cold wall envelopes you as you shrink in their corner. Ruthie teeters in your direction and then.. gets off on the fifth floor. 

The hare ducks beneath the elevator and crawls out into the hall, thunderous footsteps sounding throughout his entire descent. Reaching the end of the walkway, Ruthie turns and tilts his head as the doors slowly close. 

You shuffle out the elevator as soon as the doors open again, gunning for the room at the end of the hall with your assigned number. You jam your key into the lock and tumble inside the room. A balloon floats by your head as you lean against the door. You follow the floating orb trajectory to the bedside where a large gift basket sat on the pillows. Curious, you the item, pushing another stray balloon out of your way.

The basket is full of various treats from around the park as well as non-food items such as tee shirts and plush figures. The two in question are Ruthie and the newer addition to the crew, Bash the wolf. The hare carries his signature bottle of root beer and the canine holds a small mallet. Despite his weapon of choice and his scowl, Bash was a kind and timid creature afraid of his own shadow. The lesson his debut was founded on was about not being scared of those who don't seem approachable on first glance. The cellophane wrapping around the case was too thick to tear through, but a notecard hides between the plastic and the bottom of the basket.

“Welcome Home.”

 A heavy fist rattles the door in its frame. 

“Y/n? Are you in there? Atlas got us lost and we've been looking for you for like- twenty minutes.”

It's Ell. Probably with the others. You head over and unlock the door. Sure enough, the three park members wait behind it with smaller bags on their person, and Cass carrying a few plastic bags from a general store.

“You came over faster than I expected…” You gloss over their added luggage – and the pillow in Ell's arms.” Wait, are you planning to stay the night?”

“Okay if you’re okay with it.” Atlas quips. “We just thought it'd be a good way to break in the night, and it’s a long way away back so we brought over things just in case.”

“You got more than enough space to house us all.” Ell bounces over to the couch adjacent to the bed and the window, ending her exploration at the foot of your bed. “Your room is way bigger than ours and you have a nice view. You even got a whole basket of goods. Oh shit, are those funnel cakes bites?”

Ell pokes and prods at the bag to no avail. 

“Yeah, I couldn't get it open either. Anyone have any utensils?”

“You can use my knife..” Cass unsheathes a pocket knife from their jeans and hands it to you. There's a crow engraved on its side. You pass it off to Ell who then cuts open the plastic and at least asks before she digs in to her desired treats.

The rest of the night goes about the same as one would expect. You each take up a random corner in the room and discuss whatever topic comes to plate. Cass comes clean with more about themselves and lets it slip that aside from delivering your mail, they piloted various costumes around the park. Apparently they wanted to be a voice actor when they were little and the roles helped with that dream. They played Momo the clown, the last remaining character from the park's time as a circus and Ruthie’s closest friend. The young sibling of the Bandit Twins. And Farmer Crow.

“You're Crow?!”

Cass is quick to defend themselves. “O-only on weekends…”

The festivities end with you watching the fireworks show from the park at the window, and the others drawing straws to see where they’d sleep for the night. Ell gets the couch, Atlas the floor, and Cass at the end of the bed. As you try to fall asleep, your mind wanders towards what Ell said earlier. You did have a great view of the park from where you were. You had visuals on the entire park starting from the tent that blocks everything else out of sight. The park closed hours ago, but the lights inside  it are still on.

“Don't you think it's weird?”

Half asleep you pick up on a hushed conversation at the end of your bed. 

“What?” 

“You stole the candies so you could be alone with them, but there were way more than you had in your bag, and they had to have a backup plan if something serious happened. Isn’t it a little strange we're the only ones here?” 

“A little, now that you mentioned it. The receptionist said more people were coming.”

“I guess… Night, Cass.”

You pull the blankets up to your chin and close your eyes, cradling the stuffed animals as you drift off to sleep.

[6rookie-writer0110]

Moon & the Stars

Barry Allen x Male Reader

Request- Barry x male reader where Barry’s having a bad day so reader tries to make it better (maybe angst to fluff) (grants Barry)

Barry has been having a rough day and he is feeling frustrated. At work, the new boss is a jerk to him and Barry is trying hard not to snap. During work, he would try to save the city but the boss is always calling him for every little thing. While the new rogues got hard and he lost his fight against them. He doesn't want to be in the lab and he ran home, and you are happy to see him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I don't want to talk about it, Y/n,” Barry said.

“That bad?” You asked.

He nods then you wrapped your arms around him. You and Barry don't say anything then he starts to kiss you on the lips. Barry didn't bother to change clothes, you and Barry lie on the bed holding each other.

“I won't pressure you to talk about it,” You said

“Thanks,” Barry said.

You kissed him on the lips then he moved closer to you. You feel his hand under your shirt, but you and Barry don't talk at all. You two fell asleep holding each other, he has his head on your chest.

--

Hours later, you and Barry woke up. Barry did change into his pajamas and you are making him smile. You are in the kitchen, making pizza from scratch with Barry.

“I always wanted to do this,” Barry said.

“Same. I think you didn't put enough sauce on your pizza” You said.

“Y/n, I did put enough sauce on my pizza. Plus it will taste better than yours” Barry smiled.

“Shut up” You laughed.

“It's true and you know it, Y/n” Barry smiled.

After a while of waiting the pizza is done. You and Barry tried each other pizzas, but won't admit which is better. You two continued to eat the pizza together and not once checked the phones. After dinner, you and Barry started to play video games together. You two are having fun and you are on a winning streak.

“Wait, did someone knock at the door?” Barry asked.

“Yeah. Must be the kids, it's Halloween tonight” You said.

“Oh, I forgot it was Halloween,” Barry said.

You and Barry got up from the couch. You opened the door and there are kids holding bags.

“Trick or treat!” They yelled.

“Cool, costumes” Barry smiled.

He gave each kid a handful of candies to each kid. You closed the door, you head to the kitchen to get a drink and Barry sat back on the couch. He unpaused the game from your controller and he made your character die.

“Hey, that's cheating!” You said.

“You didn't see anything” Barry smiled.

“Wow, you are such a cheater” You laughed

You sit back down and you start to play. After a while of playing games, you and Barry cuddle in bed to watch a movie.

“Y/n, thanks for making me feel better,” Barry said.

“You don't have to thank me. You made me feel better about what happened last week and I wanted to do the same to you” You said.

Barry leans in and kissed you on the lips.

✫ ✯ ✯ ✬

You are at work and Barry called you.

“Hey babe,” You said.

“Hey Y/n,” Barry said.

“You sound stressed out,” You said.

“The new boss is being a jerk. I thought I should call my cute boyfriend” Barry smiled.

“That's cute of you to say. Yeah, he is a jerk. Don't let him get to you” You said.

“I will try. Babe, how about we go out to eat” Barry said.

“Yeah, sure. What do you have in mind?” You said.

Barry looked at the time and knows you will get out of work soon. He used speed to meet you at work and he is waving at you.

“How about... We have dinner in Hawaii?” Barry smiled.

You and Barry hold hands and start to walk home.

“Hawaii, oh that would be fun. And let me guess you will use speed to get us there?” You said.

“Yes, I will” Barry smiled.

Barry kissed you on the lips and he starts to smile.