#ratty freak

[partoftheairforce]

Matthew Healy’s iPad

[tai-janai]

free my prof he aint do shit (ft full-er designs) (+ the adventurer's will !)

from @slaytheprofessor

[nuvomica]

despite it all, i am more femme irl than i am not femme. and i'm grabbing everyone by the fucking shoulders. your gay ship doesn't need to have the pretty kind of twink that media spoonfeds you for rep. please, it really doesn't. please. PLEASE. PLEASEEEEE

[paperconsumption]

oh i adore them already

[ssaalexblake]

big finish audio of Yaz taking 13 to get her ear pierced in the interlude in twwfte and them having to go back to the same person in claire’s to get it done 8 times because the regeneration energy keeps healing her ear every time she gets it done 

[lcandothisallday]

OMGGG MATTY FINALLY SCORED IN THE NEW YEAR WOOOOOO

[phoenixcatch7]

Why aren't there more shazam x Percy Jackson crossovers. They slap incredibly.

[freakthatiam]

literally found the bag of dreams today for 5 dollars 🤤🤤

[my-wildflwr]

literally sw*fries in any other platform are so annoying and stupid i want to take my eyes out

[lifetimeoftired]

How to Adopt a Dead Kid in Three Weeks or Less (Part 2)

Part 1 || Part 2

As promised; part 2! I would like to apologize to Dick for the trauma I put him through, but honestly it was really fun for me. Also I love the idea of Danny actually trying to leave, but he keeps getting pulled back into family shenanigans because they decided 'mine now'.

Tag list: @tkiesai @sir-ghost-the-green @dreamingaboutsakuratrees @atinygracie @wolfeyedwitch Enjoy<3

Duke squints at the mop of black hair, just peeking out of the blanket. When did Tim get in last night? And really? A couch? He usually at least makes it to the batcave and sometimes even his actual room if he’s going to pass out. And what happened to his sneakers? They look weirdly worn and they’re tucked up under the couch instead of being put away properly. Alfred’s going to be really annoyed when he comes down and finds Tim like this. Duke considers walking away and leaving Dick and Tim to whatever the heck is going on here- it would serve Tim right for being so terrifying about his unhealthy sleep schedule. 

Yet, just as he’s going to walk away again, he notices that Dick’s not moving. He’s crouched there, staring at the sleeping Tim with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s… Unnerving.

“Dick? What’s wrong?”

“Tim’s not breathing.”

Is… Dick okay? The bags under his eyes aren’t as bad at Tim’s but he looks like he hasn’t slept. Duke can only stare blankly at him. Then at the has-to-be-sleeping Tim. Of course he’s just sleeping- it’s Tim! He consumes his weight in poison on a daily basis; there's no way he’s just gone. But the longer he looks at the should be sleeping form, the more Duke realizes the same thing Dick did. There’s no rise in the blanket. No accompanying fall to indicate that the body is breathing and alive. 

Panic wells up where his heart should be- having dug its way somewhere down near his stomach and was now useless beyond a frantic beating. Oh god oh god oh god- Bruce and Jason flash through his mind. Stephanie- Shit. 

“Tim- Tim wake up!” Unthinkingly, Duke grabs for him, unhearing of the noise Dick makes and- It’s only his bat training saves Duke from being flung head first into the wall. 

He twists, feet skidding along the floor and recovers in time to see Tim try to spring up from the couch. Dick snatches their brother mid-jump, and gets wrenched to the side so hard they flip over the back of the couch. Dick bends, ducks and rolls, ends up the other side with Tim in his lap getting the biggest cuddle of his life so easily in a feat that Duke would find impressive later when they all calmed down. 

“It’s us Timmy! Everything’s okay, you're safe.” Thankfully, Tim calms down pretty quickly and waits for his brother to get done with his bear hug.

It’s odd though. Tim doesn’t usually sleep if he’s in a bad enough way to freak out like that. Sure there’s a long list of cases that are ongoing right now, but that usually means so much caffeine Duke can feel his liver cringe in horror. Oh well, the only way to get answers is for their resident caffeine addict to talk, Duke knows he can only wait until their certified Older Brother™ gets it all out of his system.

Duke plunks down with a sigh, and grunts when he lands on something lumpy. Something that turns out to be a ratty old backpack that looked spiritually connected to those cranky old war veterans you see on sitcoms. Was it for a case? Tim’s not exactly a stereotypical rich guy (none of the Waynes were thank god), but any of them would have replaced this thing long before needing to duck tape the corners and shoulder straps like this. He looks over the couch to ask, maybe offer to help and hope Tim actually takes him up on it. But when he makes eye contact, the words die in his throat. Those are blue eyes (icy blue, wide, frozen in fear), and jet black hair (longer than Dick’s, stick up where he’d been nuzzled half to death, scruffy where he hadn’t, bangs styled forward in a way none of them had), but that’s most certainly /not/ Tim.

“Dick? That’s not Tim.” 

“What?”

Dick pulls away from the boy in his arms to get a better look at the wrong boy- Duke himself. Who quickly gestures back at the freaked out, curled up kid. This time, when Dick looks, it’s a much more proper look and notices all the reasons that’s not Tim.

“You’re not Tim.” Dick said stupidly. 

“I am not Tim!” The boy jazz hands awkwardly, his arms tucked close, and adds an even more awkward grin to puncture the statement. “You wouldn’t be the first person to think I’m him if that makes you feel any better.”

There’s a beat where none of them move, then Dick leans back with a long drawn-out groan. Before any questions can be asked, Dick ‘completely unnecessary acrobatics at any given time’ Greyson rocks them both back, laughing at the boy’s squeak, flips forward, and lands on his feet. Only then does he set not-Tim back on his feet with a friendly hair ruffle.

“What makes me feel better is that you’re okay. You gave us a bit of a scare there- I thought you weren’t breathing.” 

“I uh, y’know. Got a deep R.E.M. sleep?”

It’s a really dumb answer. Like, really dumb. It’s clear he never expected to be asked about whatever’s up with him and he doesn’t want to give a real answer. Moreover, it’s clear the backpack really is his because those clothes he’s wearing? Every bit as ratty. The shirt he’s wearing is less ‘white and orange’ and more ‘off white, suspiciously stained, and the logo is cracked to hell and back with very little indication of what it’s supposed to be’. Same with how many tears and faded stains are in the jeans. Also clear, from the way he angles himself, keeping both of them in view, that whoever he is, Duke knows better than he should about all the signs of a street kid.

“You guys weren’t kidding about Bruce’s adoption tendencies.” Duke quickly says. Distracting Dick so he won’t press too fast too soon and scare him off. The others (Jason excluded) are every bit as nosy as said serial adopter is paranoid and it can be a lot. Better to let the new kid acclimate to the manor so he’s not crawling out the window and disappearing into the night. Something Duke thought about doing every time things got to be too much. Which was no less than five times a day.

“I’m not being adopted!” When both Duke and Dick blink in surprise, not expecting the sheer amount of vitriol from Bruce’s latest, he winces and curls back in on himself. “I’m not staying, I mean. I didn’t even mean to wind up here- it just sorta, happened? In fact, I should probably get out of here. If you could just-” He makes a grab for the backpack, and Duke lets it go easily. “Thanks.”

“Hold on hold on-” Dick holds up his hands placatingly. “You haven’t even had breakfast yet! Alfred’s gonna be sad if you don’t join everyone.”

Dick gets a stare that says the kid thinks he’s insane- and Duke kinda can’t blame him. He also thought the Wayne’s were crazy. Because they were. For literally anyone else, random street kids they found pretty much dead on their couch weren’t usually invited to breakfast… At least their particular kind of crazy was nice.

“I know that that sounds, but Alfred really does love it when people appreciate his cooking. I’m Duke by the way.” Duke stands back up, holding out his hand with a smile. Seeing as not-Tim automatically shakes, he guesses the guy did have parents for the better part of his life. “Sorry for not introducing myself sooner.”

“... Danny.” 

Oh yes, a name really does make everything easier. Duke shakes Danny’s hand, and he even gives him a little smile.

“And everybody calls me Dick!”

“Well, people can be cruel.” 

Duke’s laugh desperately wants out both at Dick’s little puppy pout and Danny’s mortified expression, but he chokes it back very elegantly.

“You know, I’ve heard a lot of versions of that joke but somehow it always surprises me.” Dick says with a laugh, and another hair ruffle when Danny grumbles. “C’mon Danny. Let’s get some food in you, you can tell us how you met the old man. Then we get you some new clothes.”

“I like these just fine, thanks.”

“Sorry Danny,” Duke says apologetically. He’s been here long enough to know that stubborn glint in Dick’s eyes. He might insist he’s different than Bruce, and in many ways he is, but Dick’s mother henning is every bit as bad. “He’s going to pout and whine until you let him buy you something. Can we settle on a new backpack for now?”

It’s enough of a compromise for Danny to agree to be herded to breakfast. Bruce isn’t there, but Tim and Cass are. The real Tim is half asleep into his cereal (and grumbles about the bear hug he gets), and though Cass gives the new kid a curious look, she only stays long enough to grab an egg sandwich. Alfred is more than happy to put a big plate of the best food Duke knows he’ll ever eat in his life in front of Danny too- Much to his surprise. Did he really think Bruce would let him stay and not feed him? Hopefully he’d learn that Bruce was a pretty good guy after all and that he was safe here.

-

Over the course of the entire day, Duke learns a few more things about their new brother. 

For starters, Danny could eat. He was surprisingly good at hiding it too. Nibbling here and there and pretending he was eating slow and listening, but the second they pretended they weren’t paying attention, he’d stuff a good portion down his throat and refill his plate. Meaning he was able to eat almost four times the amount they would have reasonably expected out of a starving street kid while making it look like he wasn’t. It could only mean one thing; Duke knew he had to be a meta. No normal person could pull off either the speed or volume. 

The two other things he learned concurrently; That Danny was as accident-prone as he was kind.

Despite originally not really wanting to even go to the mall, with Dick’s good natured pestering and Duke mediating, they managed to convince Danny into not just the new backpack, but several new sets of clothes as well. In that time they saw him run into two separate doors- one of which broke his nose. His response? Crack it back into place and worry far more about the blood smear. Not even a few moments later, he was somehow roped into helping some little old lady carry her bags back to the front (they almost lost him there). Next, in the cafeteria, some unruly children knocked their tray and a good portion of it slapped Danny in the face. All he did was smile, clean himself off, and entertain the siblings with Dick’s help so their mom could take a small break and know nobody was in trouble. On the way out, Danny nearly got hit by an actual car helping some other shop-lifting street kids escape from the mall cop by pretending to trip in front of him. When the guy went tumbling into the street, Danny threw himself forward to push him out of the way of an oncoming car.

Getting back to the manor where Danny was moderately safer was a relief. It meant they could hand him off to a much more capable-of-dealing-with-this-crap Alfred and give Duke a moment alone to discuss things with Dick. The conversation went a little like;

“We need to make sure Danny is never on his own or he’s going to get himself killed. Meta or no meta. Agreed?”

“Agreed. I'll call the others.”

[pizzaqueen]

Eddie drops by Steve’s when Steve’s washing his car and he doesn’t get a chance to say anything before he just…short circuits. Because Steve’s wearing this ratty old gray sweatshirt that’s got all these holes in it and the collar is all stretched out so it shows a lot of collarbone, and it’s wet in some parts so it’s clinging a little, and the only other thing he’s wearing is a pair of cut-offs that show more of Steve’s legs than Eddie has ever seen

It takes him a good twenty minutes to function again, and Steve is kind of freaking out and touching Eddie’s face and shoulders, trying to get through to him, which only makes it worse, and the first word he manages to say is “thighs”, and Steve is relieved but confused, and Eddie clean forgets what he came over for, but it doesn’t matter because thinks he might be dead, anyway

[alt-vera]

If you’re taking Joel requests, can I suggest a pre-virus where you’re being a good neighbourly citizen and always bringing him extra food you’ve cooked when you know he’s had a late shift (for Sarah and him) and one night there’s a knock at your door and he returns the favour of gifting you food, when Sarah’s at a friends house, so he stays for dinner and gets to know you except the dinner also comes with some slutty Joel

— cowboy take me away ⁀➷

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joel miller is surprised by how kind his new neighbour is. he decides he has to find a way to repay her.

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♡ | joel miller | 2.5k | ❛ cowboy take me away - the dixie chicks ❜

warnings: preoutbreak!joel miller. mentions of food/eating. thigh-riding. fingering. praise. piv sex. age gap. mdni.

note: very lowkey channeling that scene where jess brings rory food in gilmore girls n denies it was from him <3

❝ i wanna be the only one, for miles and miles, except for maybe you and your simple smile ❞

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JOEL HADN’T EXPECTED HIS NEW NEIGHBOUR TO BE SO… NEIGHBOURLY.

　Sure, he’d offer the polite wave and greeting every time the two of you would leave your houses at the same time, have small conversations when getting the mail, even sending out the offer to help you fix anything wrong with your new place.

　But Joel never imagined that he’d come home after a late shift to Sarah telling him how earlier you’d dropped off food for the two of them, and he certainly didn’t expect for it to become a common occurrence.

　It’s almost as if you had a sixth sense for when he’d be working late and couldn’t make Sarah a proper dinner. Or maybe you were just observational.

　At first, Joel was hesitant. Sure, he knew you, but he didn’t know you. What if you were some psycho freak who put poison in the food just for kicks?

　But one cautious bite into the dinner you made, and Joel knew that wasn’t the case. This food was prepared with heavy TLC; tender love and care.

　After two weeks of your graciously received meals, Joel decided to return the favour. He’d whipped up a hearty pasta salad, excusing it as a reason to use the stray veggies in the fridge for a nice summertime meal. You also seemed the healthy type; he’d snuck peeks of you doing yoga in your backyard multiple times, sports bra and leggings doing nothing to hide your figure.

　As he hovered his meaty fist over the solid wood of your door, the first pins of doubt began to needle him. Was this weird? Joel hadn’t been able to acknowledge your kindness at all, simply because he hadn’t seen you since you began your nearly daily meal runs. It was almost as if you were a ghost, dropping the food off to Sarah and disappearing into the simmering sunset.

　‘No,’ He finally decided. ‘I’m simply returning a favour.’

　He rapped at your thick door, the knocks echoing through the quiet neighborhood being painted by the hues of the sunset. A soft summer breeze flowed around him, cradling him with the smell of lilacs and faint barbecue.

　He tried not to jump when you answered the door almost instantly, a smile gracing your youthful features as your eyes scanned him. He suddenly felt very subconscious in his worn grey tee and ratty jeans. He shifted his weight in the soles of his workboots.

　“Joel Miller,” You greeted, elation present in your voice. “What can i do for you?”

　You didn’t address your dinner droppings at all, and Joel struggled to not let his eyes crinkle in confusion at that. Maybe it wasn’t you doing it? Or maybe you wanted to leave the simple kindness at that. Simple.

　Maybe he was overthinking everything, given he’d been there for only a minute.

　“I, uh, brought this for you,” He said gruffly, awkwardly holding out the tupperware filled with his delicately cooked pasta salad.

　“Come on in,” You welcomed, waving him into the house and shutting the door behind you. He took in his surroundings, breathing in the smell of lavender and linen, noticing how clean your house was despite being moved in for less than a month. He’d figured there’d still be boxes scattered around, like there was when he first moved into his house with Sarah, but everything was pristine and spotless.

　“Did Sarah put you up to this?” You asked, disappearing into the house. Joel took this as a cue to follow you, dinner still in hand as he clumsily shook off his heavy boots, listening to the sound of your voice to find you. “I told her you guys didn’t need to do anything in return. I just wanted to be helpful.”

　“Uh, yeah, she did,” Joel replied. A big fat lie. He did this entirely of his own volition. “Said I should return the kindness.”

　“Well, you might as well join me,” You replied softly, and Joel watched as you already moved to the cupboards, grabbing plates and cutlery. “Is it just you? Or should i grab another place setting for Sarah.”

　“No, she’s stayin’ the night at a friends house,” He replied, sitting down in the oaky chair at your kitchen table, putting the food down carefully, as if it were glass and he were afraid to drop and break it.

　You brought the place settings to him, and he watched you as you neatly organized everything, the smell of fresh flowers tickling his nose from the vase in the centre of the round table.

　You even went as far as to serve the food for him, pouring him a glass of water and making sure he had everything he needed before serving yourself and sitting down to eat.

　Joel tried not to relish in the domesticity of it all.

　“You really don’t need to bring us food,” He said after swallowing a bite of the meal, the sweetness of bell pepper lingering on his tongue. “Sarah can cook—well, she can cook grilled cheese and use the microwave, and that’s about it, but—“

　“No, no, I don’t mind,” You replied, smiling at him before taking a quick sip of water. “Sarah told me it was just the two of you, and I usually make too much anyway. I’m used to cooking for a big family, and now that i’m by myself…” You trailed off. “Well, i guess i’m just not used to portioning for one.”

　“Big family?” Joel prompted after a moment, not wanting silence to dig it’s sharp claws into the comfortable atmosphere around the two of you.

　You nodded. “Yup. Three brothers, all on sports teams. My mom worked a lot, ‘cuz she was an RN, so i’d have to make a lot of food for those knuckleheads. Learned how to barbecue at a very young age.”

　A chuckle escaped Joel at that. “Yeah, I know the feeling. My brother Tommy, well, he was on the football team. I mean, i was too, but boy he could turn a family sized meal into a meal for one.”

　The conversation flowed easily as the two of you ate. Talking about family, and the past, and the present. How the job Joel was currently working on was taking longer than it should. How you were settling into the neighbourhood.

　After the plates were cleared you set a chilled beer in front of Joel, the condensation beading and running down to create a wet ring on the top of your table.

　As he reached for a sip from the now half-empty bottle he winced, a sharp pain shooting through the muscles in his shoulder.

　“Bum arm?” You asked, and Joel nodded silently.

　“Been given me trouble for a few days now,” He mumbled, turning the cuff in a sloppy circle. “Must’ve pulled a muscle or somethin’.”

　You pulled your chair to him, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. “Here, let me see,” You offered, gently taking his arm into your hands.

　“I’m a physical therapist,” You said softly, as if to explain your actions. Joel tried to ignore the smell of your perfume, and the soft tingles your feather-light grip left in it’s wake as you gently stretched his shoulder.

　You pulled your hands away, and Joel’s arm suddenly felt very cold, goosebumps raising on his skin.

　“Is that better?” You asked with a lopsided grin.

　Joel nodded, eyes studying your face now that he was closer to you. He traced your nose with your eyes, zeroing in on the slight tint on your cheeks and the way your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked. How your lips turned as you smiled, and how the faint beginnings of crows feet settled into the corners of your eyes.

　Without thinking, he kissed you. It was all too much for him; the floral smells, the proximity, the domesticated actions. It gave him a sense of warmth, drawing something deep within him that longed for someone to share life with. The feeling of home that your presence gave him.

　You kissed back, as if you were waiting patiently this whole time for him to make a move. Your lips melded into his, becoming whole as his tongue moved along yours, muscles twisting and melting into each other. When you pulled away you gazed at him with wide eyes, face heating into a rosy bloom and lips dewy and parted.

　No words left either of you as you led him up the stairs, steps creaking under your feet, and the absent minded thought crossed Joel’s brain that he’d have to come back and fix those steps for you.

　He lost all train of thought, though, when the two of you entered your bedroom. Clothes were tossed lazily onto the floor as you stripped each other, shirts and pants being discarded haphazardly until you both stood in your underwear, bodies tangling.

　Joel laid you softly onto the cotton of your comforter, your head resting against the pattern of bluebonnets on your pillowcases. The air between you held so much raw animosity, such a strong difference from the homey aura you’d created down stairs. Your eyes were wild, waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do you first.

　His breath fanned your skin, hairs raising as he undid your bra, settling between your parted thighs as he gently took one pebbled bud into his mouth, his stubble creating small red marks on your breast in his wake. A light sound escaped you, airy and desperate. His fingers found your other nipple, twisting as he worked.

　He could feel the warmth radiating off your cunt, feel it clenching around his thigh as he pressed his leg against your panties, rubbing slightly to create a delicious friction that had you whispering his name.

　He couldn’t hide his smile at the sounds you were making. He inched himself lower, unlatching from your nipple as he peppered kisses down your stomach to your navel, stopping as he reached the band of your lacy underwear. He traced the fabric, fingers hooking into them as he pulled them down your thighs, calloused pads tracing shapes into the plushness of your thigh.

　You mumbled his name again, and Joel caught your gaze, eyes clouded with hazy lust. “You’ve been treating me so well, baby,” He said wantonly, “Now let me pay ya back.”

　He entered one finger into you, wetness coating him as your gummy walls sucked him in. It didn’t take long until you were ready for another, and as he entered a second digit he pressed a chaste kiss to your clit, sucking it gingerly. A high pitched whine left your lips, and Joel couldn’t resist as he grinned into your pussy.

　He loved the sounds you were making. They sounded like music to his ears, clouding his mind with a foggy lust that kept him on a single-minded train of thought. “Those noises all for me, baby?” He questioned, keen smile still on his lips as he watched you writhe beneath him.

　He watched you nod, mouth coming to form words that died in your throat as he hit a special spot inside of you, your eyes glazing over as you started bucking against his hand, holding his fingers in a vice grip as you came around them.

　“Please, Joel,” You breathed out after you recovered from your winded state. Your dainty fingers found the band of his boxers, curling around it as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

　“I wanna hear ya say it,” He teased, watching as your eyes glanced uncertainly between him and his tented underwear.

　You hesitated for a moment before the words tumbled between your swollen lips. “Please fuck me, Joel.”

　Joel groaned as he lewd sounds left your mouth, nudging your hands aside to replace them with his own, quickly working himself out of his boxers. The simple way you said his name was enough to get him worked up.

　He palmed himself, running his hand over his cock to stroke himself skillfully, a drop of precum leaking from the fat tip. He pulled you closer to him by your hips, leaving prints that would be sure to mark you come tomorrow. He dragged his length through your folds, collecting the sloppy wetness that had accumulated.

　He began to push in, slowly, giving you time to adjust. You braced yourself, in turn your cunt began clenching around him, the tightness making it nearly impossible for him to continue to enter you.

　“You’ve gotta relax, baby,” He cooed gently, his thumb releasing pressure to rub tight circles around the jutted bone of your hip. You melted into his pleasant touch, relaxing just as he asked. He pushed himself further into you, your warm walls stretching around him. “That’s it. Good girl.”

　He continued to rub those soothing circles into your skin as he pressed himself into you, hips meeting as he reached the hilt. You let out a shaky breath, the pain of being spread soon turning to a dull pleasure.

　“Move, please,” You begged, and Joel was sure to give in right away, hips rolling indulgently against yours as you let out sounds of satisfaction. Your noises spurred him on further, and his gentle rolls soon turned into harsher snaps, heavy balls making sinful slaps against your bare skin.

　“Joel!” You exclaimed lewdly at his rougher actions, his thumb coming to brush your clit as you squeezed him, pleasure coursing through your veins.

　“So well, baby,” He murmured, barely being heard over the sound of skin on skin. “You’re takin’ me so well.”

　He changed his angle into one that mimic his fingers earlier, finding that spot inside you that had you cursing and clenching around him, eyes lolling back into your head as you squeezed your eyes shut, high over taking you. You felt as though you were in the clouds, wild blue sky washing you in it’s waves.

　Seeing you come undone from his actions fed Joel into his own orgasm, rutting into you tirelessly until he felt as though he was about to snap. He pulled out quickly, thick ropes of hot spend coating your stomach as he pumped himself.

　He barely caught his breath before he was grabbing tissues off of your bedside table and wiping up the mess he had made. Only after you were cleaned up did he allow himself to collapse beside you, thick arms pulling you to rest against his bare chest.

　“It wasn’t Sarah’s idea,” He confessed after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “I wanted to make ya dinner.

　“I know,” You replied, voice soft as he felt you smile against his skin.

　“I think i wanna make ya dinner again,” He spoke again, and you lifted yourself up to face him. His deep eyes stared back into your own, the corners crinkling as a grin spread across his face. It was warm, and sweet, like thick honey on a summer day.

　“If it means i can repay you the way you just repaid me, then i’m all for it.”

　You let out an airy laugh as Joel pulled you in for a soft kiss.

　“If it means I can be close to you like this,” He said fondly, “Then i’ll have to start cookin’ for ya more often.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

okay so i saw this tiktok and immediately said 'but what if steddie?' so here you go!

Steve honestly can't believe he let Robin convince him to go to this goddamn haunted house...attraction...thing.

He also can't believe that they somehow got separated. Them! The two peas in a pod who share the same braincell!

Now he's wandering the place alone, and in the goddamn dark. Following whatever sparks of light he can find, though he knows that's just gonna lead him to more scares.

'and to the exit, Dingus.' Robin's voice says in his head.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm almost out of here anyway, right?" he says aloud to no one.

"Wrong you are, pretty boy." a husky voice says into his ear from the dark, and Steve's running.

Running, running, running, somehow not tripping over shit in the dark, just letting his instincts take him wherever they want while some freak in a mask and wielding a machete follows close behind, cackling all the while.

The thing also says things like, "They're so much sweeter when fear courses through their veins!" and "The pretty ones always die first, that's why I'm still around." each followed by more unhinged cackles.

Finally, Steve turns a corner to find blinding light. Well, blinding to the rest of the place at least.

A steady light comes from a lantern beside a chainlink gate. He dashes to it, thinking its salvation, only to find a blank black wall behind it.

It was only another set piece.

"Oh fuck."

"Hello sweet thing,"

Steve spins, pressing his back against the fence behind him, heart hammering through his whole body.

The creature, in a bloody pig mask, as Steve can see now, chuckles hoarsely when he comes around the corner..and in the way of the only exit.

"Oh, fuck."

"Oh darling, there won't be time for any of that, now will there?"

Steve registers everything he can about the thing as it stalks closer. He's about Steve's height, slighter in build from the legs he can see under the ratty gown thing he wears, and he's immediately got a plan.

"You would look so sweet under me, though, wouldn't you?"

Damn, this guys' been flirting with him this whole time. Weird, unhinged haunted house flirting, but flirting nonetheless.

Another piece of the plan slots into place.

"C'mon darling, why so quiet? Lemme hear those screa---"

The thing surges forward, machete raised, so Steve shoots out an arm, catching his wrist and gripping tight.

With the other, he shoves at the thing's shoulder and spins them, pinning it against the metal fence with a clang.

Finally, Steve sets his moves to stun; dropping the thing's arm and using both hands to lift the plastic pig mask up over the actor's face, everything slows to a crawl.

Steve takes in the face of the actor pinned under him in a split second. He's just about the same age as Steve, with long dark hair that frizzes out under the lip of the mask where it's caught between it and his face. His face, thoroughly sweaty and flushed from chasing people around all night, is looking up at him in shock with big dark eyes and...holy shit..

Is it ethical to fall in love at first sight at a haunted house? With the thing guy that was chasing you?

Time speeds up again and Steve surges forward this time, locking his hands along the man's jaw instead of on the mask, letting it fall down onto his face as he kisses him.

Deep, quick, and with a quick flash of tongue before he's spinning and racing back out the way he came, this time being lucky enough to find the exit along a path he had taken the wrong fork in last time.

"Holy shit, Steve! There you are! What happened??" Robin catches him as he clambers though the curtain covered exit.

"I..." he takes a deep breath, holding himself up by his knees "I fell in love."

ehehehe there's a part 2 to this :o)

[usedtobecooler]

Stocking Stuffer prompt: phonesex with Eddie and the not so innocent reader?

smutty stocking stuffers day five — eddie munson x reader

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk

Word Count | 2k

A/N | just when i think i’ve almost exhausted all sexual scenarios involving eddie somebody will suggest something i’ve never done 🫣🤍

It’s pitch dark in your bedroom. You know that much as you groggily rouse from your deep sleep to the shrill ring of the telephone by your bedside, unaware of how long you’ve actually been asleep for. It’d been a long day, you’d gotten home and just passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, blocking out the world in favor of a peaceful nap.

You pick up the receiver, holding it to your ear, “Hello?” You whisper, voice gravelly and throat dry, and you so desperately wish you’d thought of taking a cup of water from the kitchen before descending the stairs earlier.

“Hey, sweet thing,” Eddie Munson’s cool voice echoes down the phone, and you find yourself struggling with not rolling your eyes, because of course it’s him calling at this hour, “I can’t imagine O’Donnell would be happy to find out her best student didn’t show up for tutoring her worst student tonight.”

“Shit,” You mutter, rubbing at your sleep crusted eyes and groaning, “Sorry, Eddie. I fell asleep, forgot we were meant to study tonight. I can do tomorrow instead?”

“No can do, sweetheart, got Hellfire tomorrow night,” Eddie shuffles around on the other end of the phone, and you wonder what the fuck he could be doing, “What am I meant to do now, hmm? It’ll be your fault if I fail this class again, babe.”

“If you were that concerned you’d bail on your silly little club to study tomorrow,” You hum in disapprovement, flicking the switch on your bedside lamp and flopping down onto your back, hand splayed out on your belly – comfortable, “What time is it? I can maybe come now?”

“It’s one in the morning, I don’t think mommy and daddy would like their little princess sneaking out at this hour to meet up with a delinquent,” Eddie’s chuckle is deep, and you find your stomach doing flips because of it, “They might think you’re up to no good, we can’t have that, can we?”

You wriggle around a little, cheeks flushing hot, “Maybe I want them to think that,” You speak honestly, a breathy little sigh escaping you, “‘Good girl’ like me corrupted by the town freak? People would eat that shit up.”

“Maybe she’s not as good as everybody thought,” Eddie muses, and you can tell he’s grinning by his tone, “Have a feeling you’d get a sick thrill out of that, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, maybe,” You agree, hand gliding down your belly to dip into the waistband of your pajama shorts, unable to contain yourself, your pussy fluttering just at listening to him speak, “Hey, Eddie? I might have a way I can make it up to you.”

“Really, do tell,” Eddie’s humoring you now, he’s already right where you are, bare cock slapped up against his belly. He’s never been so fucking glad to sleep naked in his life.

“Yeah,” Your breath hitches as you dip your hand into your pretty underwear, fingers gliding through your folds to find them already soaked, you shudder at the feeling, “What’re you wearing?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, the unexpectedness of your bold question catching him completely by surprise, “Nothing,” He answers honestly, cock kicking up against his belly, leaving a smear of precum behind, “What about you? Probably a virginal white nightgown, knowing you.”

“Shorts and panties, some ratty old shirt – they’re black, though. Good girls don't always have to be virgins,” You remind him, and you catch the strained noise that comes from his throat on the other end, vibrating straight to your cunt. You swipe your fingers over your clit, sating the hunger only momentarily, “Wanna touch yourself?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Eddie feigns idiocy, even as he leans over to rummage in his bedside drawer for his bottle of lube. He uncaps it quickly, squirting a heavy amount onto the thick underside of his cock. You make a shocked noise on the other end, “I like it wet.”

“Lucky for you, my pussy is always wet,” You deal the first gut wrenching blow, and Eddie whimpers in response. You hear his fist wrapping around his cock, sliding up and down to get him nice and soaked with the lube, “Go on then, tell me what you wanna do.”

“Finger yourself for me, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice is gruff on the other end, clearly overcome with the pleasure of his own fist on his hard cock. It does things to you, makes your pussy flutter.

You don’t know why you do it with zero issue, slipping your middle and ring fingers deftly over your hole, catching and dragging on the entrance so you can get them nice and slick, “Fuck,” You sigh quietly, sinking them both into your cunt in one swift motion, “My fingers are too short, I can’t reach that well. Bet your thick fingers would feel so good.”

Eddie chokes on his own spit, face flushing hot, “You’ve noticed my fingers before? Dirty girl, maybe you’re not so innocent after all.” His breathing hitches as he thumbs over the head of his cock, hand working himself and wrist twisting at the top few inches.

"Hard to ignore them, Eddie," You moan, tilting your head to the side so that you can rest the phone between your ear and your shoulder, dipping your other hand into your panties so you can thumb at your clit, a raspy little contented sigh escaping you, "Those fucking rings bring all the attention to them."

"Bet you'd love it if I fingered you with them on," Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying hard to rid himself of the image in his head otherwise this'll all be over too quick, "Wanna see you come all over them. I'd make you lick them clean, but you'd like that, huh?"

You gasp quietly at his words, voice going straight to your core, "I would, Eddie." You admit, thumb swiping over your sensitive nub in time with your fingers fucking in and out of you. You're so wet that the schlicking noises boom in the otherwise quiet room, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on even more, "Then I'd sink down on that big, fat cock. It's big, isn't it? I know it is. Can see the outline of it in your jeans."

"You're sick, baby," Eddie loses composure but only for a moment, slicking up and down his cock almost languidly, not quite tight enough to send him reeling but just enough to feel nice, so that he doesn't fuck himself over and come too quickly, "That pretty little mouth needs shutting up."

"Maybe you should do it for me, then," You're bouncing off of each other in an odd fight, and you're unable to tell if you're both equally as submissive or equally dominant, "Stuff those fingers in my mouth and choke me. You freaks are all into that shit."

Eddie can't help the groan that escapes him at that, almost admitting defeat, squeezing his cock a little tighter, hips betraying him and fucking up into his fist, the name calling always did it for him, "That makes you a freak too, no? Wanting me to choke you with your cunt stuffed full."

"Maybe it does," You shrug, fingers slipping in and out of your wet pussy like it's nothing, and you grow frustrated, "Don't feel full enough, Eddie. Wish you were here, your dick would slide into my soaked pussy so easy. You'd love it, I promise. I'd let you be so rough, wanna feel you in my throat you're that deep."

“You’d like that, babygirl? Like my big cock rearranging your guts?” Eddie gasps, hand flying up and down his cock with a renewed fervor, the wet noises of his lube covered hand ringing through your ears down the phone, and you’re gasping out loud, crooking your fingers to seek out that spongy spot.

“Mmph,” You garble in return, and Eddie’s deep chuckle has you clenching around your own fingers, thumb slipping over the soaked nub of your clit, sending you reeling, body like a livewire. Eddie always had such a mouth on him even in public, you might’ve known he’d put it to good use in the bedroom.

“You’re such a good slut for me, aren’t you? You’ll let me take that tight pussy whenever I want, yeah?” Eddie’s demeanor doesn’t falter, as he focuses his attention on the mushroom tip of his cock, fist twisting around it until his hips are bucking up.

“Anytime, Eddie. I’m your dirty slut,” You cry, the slick sounds of Eddie’s hands on himself making your skin burn up, doing things to you that you never expected. He’s insatiable, knows what you want before you even know yourself, knows just what to say and how to say it to get you going.

“Oh my fucking god, y’r killing me, sweetheart,” Eddie groans, watching as the head of his cock slides through his fist, stomach coiling and muscles tensing, “Wish it was your cunt I was fucking right now, need it, baby.”

You whine in response, the slick from your pussy drenching your inner wrist as your fingers sink in and out, making a mess of yourself and the sheets, “Gonna fuck me in the van before school tomorrow, Eddie? You promise? Make a mess of my needy pussy?”

“Shit, you want that?” Eddie’s stuttering over himself now, gasping and clamping his hand down at the base of his cock to stop himself from coming on the spot, “Wanna go to class full of my jizz? Leaking down your thighs in that pretty little skirt?”

You nod. It’s redundant because he can’t see you but you don’t care, “I’m gonna come, Eddie. Keep talking to me like that please,” You plead, thumb relentless on your own clit as your body starts to wind up in a tell tale sign of an impending orgasm, fingers crooking and just barely reaching your g-spot, you ache for Eddie’s skilled fingers inside of you, finding all the spots you struggle with.

“Right there with you, sweetheart,” Eddie moans, throwing his head back and baring his throat, hand going straight back to working his cock, fist tightening, chasing his own high, “Can’t wait for you to ride my cock, like the good fucking girl you are. Tell me you wanna take it,”

“Wanna take it, Eddie,” You cry, walls clenching sporadically on your own fingers, tummy coiling up tight, “Wanna feel you in my guts, fuck, fuck,”

“That’s it, sweet thing. Come thinking of my fat dick in your tight pussy, pounding it ‘til you can’t take it anymore,” Eddie’s hips fuck up into his own fist, precum weeping from the slit of his cock, “Baby, you’re gonna make me come. Come with me, yeah?”

“Ed– Eddie!” You squeal, tummy unraveling as you come, unable to handle Eddie’s words any longer, clamping your thighs together uncontrollably as you gush all over your fingers, making a mess of yourself – the receiver drops from between your ear and shoulder, but you still make out Eddie’s gruff moan of your name as he spills into his own hand.

You lie there momentarily, catching your breath as you slide your soaked hands from your soiled shorts, grimacing as the cold, wet material snaps back onto your puffy cunt. You pick up the receiver, “Still there?” You ask quietly, trying hard to contain your smirk.

“Pick you up at seven tomorrow for school?” Eddie pants down the phone, trying hard to ignore how good you sound after coming for him, in fears his cock will kick up again too quickly. He needs to ask before you hang up and it becomes a forgotten thing that’ll never happen.

You grin, rolling your eyes, but your belly does flips thinking of Eddie’s big hands all over you, thinking of getting to see his cock for the first time, “Okay... bring condoms.”

“So long as you bring your pretty ass in that tight little miniskirt.”

[majinbangus]

Similar to this, but make Soap the freak this time, except unlike you, he's perfectly aware he's being freaky :)

I'm thinking you have a cut parallel to the arch of your brow, a lucky slash from the enemy that's bound to scar with blood trickling down the side of your face. You hardly pay it any mind, hardly feel it with the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

But Soap notices, eyes locking onto the wound similar to how a shark latches onto the scent of blood. He hasn't looked away since you two settled into the safehouse. It would be unnerving if you weren't so oblivious to his attention.

You collapse on the ratty couch in the living room, head resting against the backrest cushion. Yawning, you slip your eyes closed with your neck exposed. Your wound continues to seep out blood. He clenches his fist.

"You solid?" Soap stalks over, eyeing your dribbling blood with a concentration he uses when diffusing bombs, yet you pay him no mind, keeping your eyes closed, blissfully unaware of the shadow he casts over your lazing form.

You give him nothing but an informal thumbs up and a casual, "Yup. You?"

Soap doesn't really hear the question, though, too busy watching your blood trail down your cheek and down your neck. His taste buds tingle, and in lieu of giving you a proper response, Soap simply grunts, bending down to lick up your blood, tongue laving the red staining your neck. Predictably, your eyes shoot open, and you instinctively try to jerk away in shock, but Soap is prepared, hands quick to pin you back down.

"John- what-?"

"Shh." Soap pauses for a moment to nip at a sensitive spot under your jawline and you audibly gulp, a full-body shiver running through you. "Tastes good."

He continues, tongue licking up your cheek as if it's the most normal thing in the world, and even more strangely, you allow it, refusing to acknowledge how your breathing turns heavy and the little pleased hums Soap makes licking up the blood on your face.

You flinch once he reaches your cut, the sting suddenly making itself known. Soap pulls back to coo softly at you, thumbing the edges of the wound with a fond look. "Gotta clean this up, love. I'll find a gauze for you later. 'Sides, I owe you for helping me from before."

He waggles his finger that still has a scabbing line along the pad of it. You blink, a small noise escaping your throat, but before you can get a proper word out, Soap leans in, tongue swiping over your cut.

-

This was gonna be like, a three paragraph ramble, aghh words... tried to keep it short

[starshideurfics]

Ring my bell, part 6

steddie, omegaverse, flagging/signaling culture, there’s plot now, in the smut, mdni 🔞

Part 5

Steve wakes to the sound of the phone ringing. The sky is still pre-dawn purple, and Eddie’s arms are tight around his waist. He hears Wayne shuffle to the phone and answer with a tired, “Munson residence.” Barely two seconds pass before he continues, sounding much more awake, “Kid, slow down. Eddie’s sleeping, s’early. — Yeah, I’ll get him.”

The receiver taps as it’s set down on the counter, and Wayne doesn’t bother keeping his steps quiet as he heads down the hall and pokes his head into the room. “Ed, get up. Got one of your friends on the phone and he’s barely gettin’ a word out that I can follow.”

“Be there in a second,” Eddie grumbles, squeezing around Steve’s waist. “Just gotta grab pants.”

“Morning, Steve,” Wayne adds as he retreats.

“Morning!” Steve calls back, flushing hot. Wayne had Eddie invite him for dinner back in January, told him the only ground rules were no sleepovers on school nights, and practically welcomed him to the family. Doesn’t mean Steve isn’t embarrassed to be caught naked in bed with his boyfriend.

Eddie pushes himself out of bed, gropes around for a pair of ratty sweats that he tugs over his pasty ass, and slouches out to the kitchen. “Yello!” Pause. “Lucas, hey, slow down, dude.” Pause. “What the fuck? Are you okay? Shit, no—Are you safe?” Long pause. “Okay, thanks for the heads up. Do you need someone to come get you? Are your parents gonna freak?” Pause. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

He jogs back to his room, plucks a shirt from the “still good” clothing pile, and struggles to dress quickly.

“What’s going on?” Steve mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Something fucking bad happened, Stevie. Lucas is freaking and Chrissy Cunningham’s dead.” He bites his quavering lip.

“What the fuck?”

“I *sold* to her yesterday, Steve. She was good at hiding it, but she was terrified of something. And Lucas sounded real messed up on the phone.”

Steve swings his legs over the edge of the bed and searches for his clothes. “I’m coming with you.”

“Puppy…”

“Lucas has seen enough bad shit as it is. I’m coming to check on him.”

“And yet you claim you didn’t birth these kids.”

Steve tugs his henley back over his head, and grabs Eddie’s hand. “Now you’re just wasting time.” As usual, he’s the one taking charge and he grabs his keys. “We’re taking my car, you drive like a maniac.”

“Puppy! I’m not that bad!”

“And we’ll look fucking suspicious showing up in your van.”

“…Yeah, okay.”

Steve doesn’t bother saying Eddie is jittery as all hell, that he knows he wouldn’t pay enough attention to the road. They just say bye to Wayne and hurry out to the Bimmer.

“The basketball team started partying out at Benny’s old place when Hargrove moved here… I’m guessing that’s where we’re going?”

Eddie nods, suddenly quiet. As soon as Steve starts driving, Eddie starts shaking his knee so hard that Steve needs him to stop—he’s bouncing too much in his peripheral vision. His right hand shoots out and grabs Eddie’s thigh, squeezing twice. “Ed, hey. We’re gonna get Lucas and get out of there. That’s it.”

“It’s not that… There’s more—we both know Lucas would call you in an emergency over me. But I wasn’t the backup. He called because my phone number is still written on Chrissy’s hand.”

“Eddie…”

“She wanted something stronger than weed! I figured I’d give her some options later! I didn’t think whatever she was scared of would leave her d—” He chokes in the word. “Steve, I hate this.”

“I know, Puppy. Me too.” Steve lifts his hand, holds it palm-up, and Eddie takes it, lacing their fingers together.

When they pull up to Benny’s there are cop cars everywhere, blocking in the cars of the basketball team. Most of the guys are standing around or sitting in the grass, all with the same haunted look, but Lucas is talking to Chief Powell.

Steve parks, and he and Eddie get out together, hands finding each other again.

“I told you,” Lucas says as they approach, his back to them, “There was no screaming. I was one room over and I didn’t hear anything.”

“But you did recognize the phone number written on her hand?”

“Yeah, I noticed it the night before, because it’s my friend’s number.”

“Oh? And who would that friend be?”

Eddie lifts his hand in a quick wave. “That’d be me, Chief. Chrissy loaned me her History notes, told her to call me when she needed ‘em back.”

“Munson. You staying out of trouble?”

“Trying to.”

“And where were you last night?”

“At home, with my boyfriend.” He lifts Steve’s hand, showing their laced fingers and drawing attention to him.

Lucas’s eyes bug out.

Powell shrugs. “We’ll call if we’ve got any more questions.”