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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

#bamf danny phantom #danny phantom #dc x dp #jason todd #Jason takes him to a library and they pick out books for each other #Danny asks him on a second date and they talk about the book over coffee #and then they watch the stars (Danny uses his ghost powers to clear a patch of sky)#but Danny just kind of watches Jason’s face and goes yeah this is just as good #Danny dngasf #Danny will throw hands with a clown #Danny thinks the Gotham Rogues are kinda cute #with their gimmicks #unimpressed bc they’re kind of obvious #and he’s seen worse and better #danny is Gotham’s Mom Friend

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hughmanbean · 3 months

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How Do You Do, Fellow Humans?

Now, Fright Knight is a very experienced ghost. He's served millennia, gone through the whole ordeal that was Pariah Dark, tolerated the Observants, and generally has a large area of competence.

But perhaps he should expand his skillset.

As he was guarding an outing of the Royal family, his Queen had inquired of his pastimes. He had answered with his duties.

"I mean, you should definitely get out some more, dude. Chill a bit. Not in the Far Frozen sense."

The Princess had agreed, saying that traveling would be quite the eye opening experience for him

His Queen assured him that the royal family could suffice without his presence "for a year or two, just make sure to visit."

So the Knight of Autumn sets out to find a mortal settlement that will work. He comes across Gotham City and its respective city spirit, Lady Gotham. She graciously invites him in, and he vows to remember her contribution. She merely gives an amused smile.

Within Gotham City, Fright Knight comes across a mortal woman controlling plant life, and even if subconsciously, follows her due to the familiarity to another ghost the Queen had "known."

She has a rendezvous with another mortal woman, and they go inside a house/haunt that radiates their love. Fright Knight stands outside of it for a week straight, attempting to deduce a way for him to meet them.

Harley, on the other hand, had just opened the door at like, 2:48 in the morning and her hyenas shoot straight out the door and around the house, barking. They jump around the legs of- a giant suit of armor? Really? Just staring at the wall, is it?

Gotham, truly, is delightful.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #Guess who? That right!#fright knight #good parents jack and maddie #queen mother danny phantom #poison ivy #harley quinn #fright knight does NOT have a mortal form #Giant disembodied suit of armor he will stay #If you want to continue this be my guest!

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lgbtpopcult · 2 years

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40 Sapphic TV Shows You Have to Watch or You're NOT Gay*

We've already established I make the rules 😌

1. First Kill

2. The Haunting of Bly Manor

3. Harley Quinn animated series

4. Derry Girls

5. Yellowjackets

6. Skam Espana

7. Dickinson

8. Atypical

9. Killing Eve

10. Wheel of Time

11. The 100

12. Vigil, BBC

13. The Wilds

14. Orphan Black

15. Invasion

16. The Owl House

17. NCIS: Hawaii

18. Motherland fort Salem

19. The Outlaws

20. Everything sucks

21. Shera and the princesses of power

22. Legends of Tomorrow

23. Adventure Time Obsidian

24. True love or true lies season 2

25. Welcome to Eden

26. Fantasy Island

27. Orange is the new black

28. Skins

29. Runaways

30. Feria The Darkest Light

31. In my Skin

32. Station 19

33. Hightown

34. Run the Burbs

35. Kevin Can Fuck Himself

36. The Haunting of Hill House

37. Home Economics

38. Eldorado KaDeWe

39. The Sex Lives of College Girls

40. Astrid & Lilly Save the World

*This is a joke, you're the gayest person ever, I said so and I'm the ultimate authority on this matter. Case closed.

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 15 - Noncon

Ghost x Reader - 4.6k (on ao3)

summary: You find yourself cornered in a Maze of Mirrors. (Reader POV)

cw: noncon everything, face fucking, pussy slapping, degradation, kinda a wedgie? like a front wedgie? is that a thing?, orgasm denial

note: if you like this (or hate it but like the concept) read Halloween Haunt by Harley Laroux <3 her erotica is top tier

You’ve always loved Halloween - always been the kid with the scariest costume in class, always had the house decorated with uncomfortably realistic decorations. When your sorority sisters dressed up as black cats and sexy witches, you spent hours painting the most realistic zombie makeup you could. (Your sisters complained for months that you ruined the pictures, but the frat boys had all thought your makeup was far more interesting than theirs. God, you do not miss college.)

Regardless, you’ve always been known to love any and everything scary. There’s something about the thrill of a scare - the creeping horror as you start to realize what’s coming, the ultimate reveal - that always gets you a little squirmy in your seat. Your first crush was Skeet Ulrich in Scream - specifically the scene where he’s covered in blood, licking his fingers.

You get all those ooey-gooey good scared feelings as your friend drags you through the decently crowded fairgrounds. The actual fair - the one that comes yearly, that no one ever calls anything but the fair - had left only two weeks ago, so this travelling fair had set things up in mostly the same arrangement and, you suspect, to trick certain people into thinking they were the same company.

You’ve already forgotten what your friend said the event was called. She hadn’t needed to give many details to convince you - you heard travelling circus, horror themed, interactive workers, and you were in. The branding isn’t very strong anyways, the only place the name was displayed was the entrance booth, and none of the workers seem to wear any sort of logo, so you don’t feel too forgetful for letting it slip your memory so easily.

You’re not very impressed with the fear factor so far. You hadn’t done too much makeup (hadn’t wanted to risk being mistaken for a cast member) but since it’s the night before Halloween you’ve got a half-done costume on - a clown. Just some white face paint, black lips, and overdrawn triangles around the eyes, a little smudged to make it look like you’ve been chasing someone down and working up a sweat. Your hoodie and tennis skirt look a bit out of place, but you’d wanted to be comfortable since you hoped you’d be spending your night running from actors.

But even a face full of makeup feels like it might’ve been too much effort for this place. Most of the costumes look like they’re from Party City at best - some of them even look very lazily hand-made - and none of the workers seem particularly interested in scaring people. Still, the crowd is easily amused and even a wave or a feint towards a customer has shrieks ringing in the air every few minutes.

You sigh a little disapointedly as you and your friend linger on the edge of the fairgrounds, off to the side and in the dark so you don’t have to deal with the crowd. She pulls out a cigarette and offers you her light.

“I’m sorry,” she says, lighting the stick between your teeth when you lean forward. “I really thought it would be scarier than this. Some of the posters…” she exagetates a shiver. “I thought they’d at least have better costumes.”

You eye a man in a werewolf mask across the pathway, pissing into the dirt. He’s got a flannel and jeans on, and the mask is a little bit crumpled like he pulled it out of a Walmart bin this morning. You’d bet money the flannel was just a happy coincidence he noticed when he showed up for work.

“Yeah,” you sigh, blowing out a lungful of smoke and watching the actor try not to get his dick stuck in his zipper. “Not really your fault, though, these things always look scarier in the ads. Wanna get out of here soon?”

You pass the cigarette to her. “In a bit,” she replies. “I want to try and find some food first. You hungry?”

You shake your head with a grunt. “I wouldn’t trust anything cooked here, honestly. Might just pick up something on the way back.”

She passes you the cigarette for one last breath. “Well I’m too hungry for that. You good on your own for a bit?”

You crouch down a moment to stub out the cigarette, leaving the butt in the gravel. “Yeah, sure. Might see if these fun houses have anything worth seeing in them.”

“You should!” She smiles over her shoulder at you as she starts off to a more well-lit section of the fair. “You never know, maybe they stick the real scares in there!”

You give her a final wave and shout, “Here’s hoping!” at her back as she leaves.

You linger outside for a little longer, scanning the few structures nearby to decide which one you want to waste a few tickets on.

There’s a Freak Show, but you already know you’d be horribly disappointed if you went in there, something labeled a “House of Horrors” that you’re sure is as much a scam as the freak show, and a few games that have cheap prizes lined up above them.

Across from you, with no lights around it and just one attendant - slumped over, hopefully sleeping - at the front, is a House of Mirrors. Figuring it’s the least likely to be a waste of time (and knowing the kid won’t wake up to charge you), you head over to the building.

The closer you get the more you worry about if he’s asleep or dead, but his snores rattle the little tickets resting on his desk so you figure he’s just a slacker. It’s almost too easy to get by him with all your tickets safe in your pocket. There’s no one else around the darkened corner of the fairgrounds, but you’re quite sure no one would bother snitching on you this late at night. All the parents with little kids left hours ago, leaving mostly teenagers and adults of varying ages left to wander the park.

There’s music playing from speakers that you can’t see, an old clown-themed song that sounds like it’s playing on a scratched up DVD. You’re pleasantly surprised as you make your way through the dusty lobby and into the main section of the building, creatively labeled MAZE OF MIRRORS.

Their branding could definitely use some work, but you’ll give them points for ambience - the lights are turned so low that it’s nearly too dark to see, making all of the mirrors even more difficult to spot. You find yourself a little spooked as you start to make your way through the maze, grinning to yourself.

It’s a shockingly difficult maze, you quickly discover. The music is so loud in some spots that you can hardly hear your thoughts, and so faint in others that you think it might be turned off. The maze itself is a series of either tight, tiny hallways or large open rooms. Whoever designed it clearly knew how to take advantage of the space they were given, the maze feels ten times bigger than it looked on the outside as you wander through.

You know the trick to mazes - keep one hand on the right wall and eventually you’ll find your way out - but it’s fun to just wander around the place, so you let yourself get stuck wandering in circles. You’re glad your friend isn’t here to see how many times you manage to walk into a mirror fully confident that it’s not there, only to whack yourself in the face. For how low maintenance the rest of the fair is, you’re surprised that the hall of mirrors is what they focus their upkeep on.

You’ve been in the maze for about five minutes when you see him.

He scares the shit out of you at first. You spot him behind you in a mirror - one you’d just walked into, which is the only reason you can see well enough to notice him - standing at the entrance to the hallway you’d turned down. He’s clad in all black, except for the skull mask over his face. You think he’s just something taped onto the wall with the way that he blends in, but then that mask titls to the side and you’re struck with the bone-deep knowledge that you’re being watched.

“Shit!” You shout when it first registers that he’s not a piece of paper, one hand coming up to clasp at your erratically beating heart while the other steadies you against the mirror. He doesn’t move past tilting his head a bit further, and after a moment you relax.

You don’t turn around, but you study him a bit in the mirror. It’s too dark to see much more than the outline of his body, but he’s big. He looks like he’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans with the mask, and he must be wearing gloves to cover his hands since you can’t see them.

You huff out a laugh as you let both of your hands fall to your sides.

“You got me good,” you call, glancing over your shoulder. You almost jump again - he’s closer than you’d realized, but too far away for you to touch. “I didn’t even see you follow me in here.”

He doens’t say anything. You turn around more fully, leaning back against the mirror and crossing your arms across your chest.

“You gonna start chasin’ me now?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow. You’re playing up the sass, but it’s always fun to mess with theme park employees.

The man takes a few steps forward, heavy boots thudding against the cheap wood flooring. He really is an intimidating bastard, far scarier than any of the other actors you’d seen so far.

“Well?” You call out, standing up from your spot. “Do I get a head start?”

Still no answer. He rolls his head on his neck, then steps to the side and walks into one of the connecting hallways without sparing you a glance. When you step closer to see which direction he’s chosen, he’s already gone.

You huff another laugh to yourself, shaking out your limbs and bouncing a few times on your toes.

Now that you know there’s someone in here with you, the thrill of a scare is starting to get you worked up. You hope they don’t have any rules against physical contact between actors and customers, just imagining the skeleton man tackling you has shivers running up your spine.

You don’t bother to be any quieter as you keep wandering through the maze. You bump into just as many mirrors, continue to question the speaker placement, and keep an eye out for any skeleton masks lingering behind you.

You see him a few more times, always behind you, always just out of reach. He gets progressively closer everytime you spot him. You're reminded of the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who - every time you look away, he gets closer.

It’s fun. More fun than you’ve had all night.

He finally catches up to you what you guess is about half an hour later. Youre just turning another corner, thinking about how it’s been a bit since you’ve seen your shadow, when a hand plants itself firmly between your shoulder blades and shoves.

You’re sent to the ground with a cry, palms scraping against the floor. There’s a gloved hand collaring your throat before you can think to do much more than catch your breath, hauling you up and holding you in the air.

Your eyes fly to the mirror less than a foot away, staring wide-eyed at the image reflected.

There’s you, in your messy clown makeup and hoodie, being held up by a giant swath of black behind you. He’s not ducking down at all, his feet planted on either side of your splayed legs as he towers above you. The way you’re being held up, your head doesn’t even reach his belt buckle. The contrast of your shock and discomfort to his plastic mask has your thighs clenching, just a bit.

He doesn’t duck lower, just tilts his head in that now-familiar way of his and pulls you a little further up. His hand is absolutely massive, thumb resting beneath one ear and his fingers resting below the other. You choke a bit as you’re lifted, knees scrambling beneath you.

This close to the mirror you can see his eyes - bright blue, surrounded by black paint, and staring back into yours.

He lowers his head, his free hand tugging your hair until you lean back and look straight up. The hand on your neck shifts to hold you in that position, his other hand lifting to pull the black part of his mask up.

He’s white, with thin lips and a broad jaw. You pant as you stare up at him, incapable of processing what’s going on.

His jaw works for a moment, lips twitching, and before you realize what he’s about to do you feel something wet splatter against your cheek.

He spit on you. Who the fuck does that? Being tackled and manhandled is one thing but spitting? You recoil reflixivley, lips curling as you reach up to try and wipe disgusting liquid off.

“What the fuck-” You start, but before you can even finish your sentence you’re yanked forward by your neck.

You yelp as you’re thrown from between his thighs, hips twisted awkwardly and head slamming back against the mirror. You cry out at the sharp pain at the back of your skull, but before you can think of doing anything there’s a hand around your neck again, a body crouched in front of you - over you - keeping you from doing anything.

You gape up at the actor, panting and surprised. None of the other employees even got close to touching customers - half of them didn’t even look like they wanted to be there - what the hell is this guy’s problem? Does he just take his job way too seriously

He’s far too close to you now, your nose nearly brushing where his shoulder be, his boots on either side of your thighs, his chest pressed so close that you can’t do anything with your hands.

The hand not around your neck comes up to your cheeks, grabbing them both in one hand and pinching until your lips pucker up. You squirm, letting out a noise of surprise and pain when his thumb and pointer finger dig in between your teeth to force your mouth open. One eye squeezes shut at the ache, but there’s nowhere for you to go with him caging you in.

This time when he spits, it lands right in the little hole he’s made for himself. With how close he is, you see the way his lips twitch up in the corners.

You try your best to get out from under him, hands pushing at his shoulders and legs desperately kicking. But he’s like a statute above you, hard as stone and immoveable.

He leans so close that his lips nearly brush yours, meeting your glare with a spark of amusement.

“Like how it tastes?” He purrs, chest rumbling against yours.

You make a noise somewhere between offended and annoyed, trying to throw yourself every which way for even an inch of freedom. All you manage is a tighter grip on your jaw and neck, leaving you wincing.

“Lots more where that came from,” he promises.

It’s insultingly easy for him to manhandle you, and you curse all the times you swore to yourself you’d finally start taking self-defense classes. You can barely manage a single blow, and when your hands or feet do make contact he doesn’t even flinch.

There’s absolutely nothing you can do as you’re wrestled to the floor. He gets you flat on your back then kneels over your head, his knees so close that you worry he’ll squeeze them together and pop your head like a berry.

He doesn’t give you a chance to sit up, planting one heavy hand in the center of your chest and leaning his weight forward, knocking the air out of you. You finally regain the ability to speak when his other hand moves to his belt, undoing it right above your face.

“What are you-? No, no, get the hell off me!” You shout, desperately pushing at his arm and trying to get enough leverage with your feet to squirm away. “Don’t you fucking dare- help! Somebody help!”

Your screams go ignored, blending right in with that stupid clown music and bouncing off the mirrors just to come straight back to your ears. Your noise doesn’t deter him at all, and he’s got his belt off and jeans yanked down despite your resistance.

“No, no, no, don’t- stop, please, you can’t-” you gasp, eyes flying wide as you find yourself staring up at his cock above you.

He doesn’t give you any warning, just grabs your jaw, holds it open, and sheathes himself down your throat.

Your limbs spasm, every instinct in your body screamin to get away as he slips right past your gag reflex. You’re terrified that you’ll vomit and choke on his cock, the fear dousing you in icy cold and leaving you limp for a minute. All you can think about is breathing around the intrusion in your throat, finding some way not to suffocate and die on a sticky mirror maze floor.

“Finally,” you hear him grunt from above you. He grabs both of your wrists, easily ignoring your weak pulls and tying them together with his belt. “Somethin’ to shut you up.”

You try and make a sound around his cock, yanking your hands away and panicking even more when you feel how firmly tied they are. You make another sound, insitively trying to cry out even with something stuffed in your mouth.

He moans above you, lowering himself to his elbows over your body. “Yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Mouth feel’s fuckin’ heavenly.”

You go silent, determined not to give this piece of shit anything he wants. Tears pour down your temples and across the tops of your ears, and your throat burns.

His hips move slowly against your face, grinding himself as deep as he can get before pulling out just a few inches and sliding back in. He’s got an unfairly large cock, and there’s already an ache developing in your jaw from just seconds held so wide open.

His foreskin catches on your teeth when he pulls the whole way out just to fuck back in, and you’re sharply reminded of the fact that you have teeth.

When his cock bottoms out, his balls resting against your eyes, you bite down, praying it’s enough to break skin.

It’s not. Instead of blood pouring into your mouth and a screaming man falling off of you, you hear the man snarl, pulling his dick out entirely and slamming it back down your throat so harshly that it feels almost like he’s punched you in the face.

“No fucking teeth,” he snaps above you, and you feel his weight shift back onto his knees, then his hands grab at your thighs and throw them open. He flips your skirt up and before you can think to bite down again lands a stinging slap against the gusset of your underwear.

You nearly scream around his cock, hips snapping closed to try and smother the pain. He only growls another sound, using one hand to hold you open and the other to rain down a series of progressively harder smacks.

Your breath hitches as you sob, hardly able to get any air in around his thrusts as he starts them back up again. Every time he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, he lands another hit to your poor pussy. You can’t help but wail around him.

“There it is,” he moans, the sound loud and unrestrained. “God you feel good screamin’ around my cock. Good fuckin’ hole, huh?”

He punctuates the last four words with slaps, leaving his length inside your throat and going back to that horrible grinding against your face. You go silent again, using all of your willpower to keep from screaming. What little thought is left in your head is used to figure out how best to breathe through your nose without choking on snot.

He doesn’t smack you again, but you feel his fingers trace around the edges of your panties. Your hips wiggle against your will, just trying to get away from the violation. One of your legs is pinned to the floor by the thigh, but the other oscillates between going limp and trying to get leverage and force your body up.

His fingers hook around the gusset of your underwear, but before you can even worry about him touching you there, he pulls them up towards your body.

He does it with such force that you’re left squealing, hips flying off the ground to try and lessen the pressure against your clit. His hand pulls so far up that you feel it resting nearly at your belly button. You can’t help the little gasping, gagging noises as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth again.

You hear - you feel - him laugh, swaying his hand from left to right. Your hips try to follow naturally, just desperate to alleviate any of the pressure you can.

“Like a little puppet,” he murmurs, yanking even further up, moaning when you scream.

He lets them go only a few thrusts later, big hand smoothing the fabric down over your cunt. You can feel that it’s stretched out, a little looser around the meat of your pussy, and the thought only makes you cry harder.

But you go silent again. It’s the one thing left in your control - even pinned to the floor, hands tied, legs useless, mouth stuff, you can decide how much noise you make.

He doesn’t like that. He groans a little when you go quiet again, tapping your thigh sharply.

“No, come on, make your little noises again. Feels real nice on my cock.”

This time you’re ready for the smack against your vulva, and you remain silent. You stay silent for the next three too.

His hips work with a little more force again, balls smacking against your face and leaving you to squeeze your eyes shut. After the next slap his hand doesn’t lift again, just rubs over your vulva slowly.

It’s pure luck on his part that he happens to rub over your clit. It’s a pure lack of luck on your part that you moan at the sudden and unexpected pleasure, completely taken off guard.

He stills above you, then slowly repeats the movement. You’re helpless to the little whimpers coming from your throat, and you curse the fact that you’ve always been loud during sex. He zeros in on exactly how to rub your clit unreasonably quickly, fingers sure through the fabric of your underwear.

“That what you need?” He rumbles a laugh above you. “Pain won’t make you noisy, but pleasure will? I can work with that.”

Before you can even begin to question what that means, your underwear are tucked to the side, and there’s a face buried in your pussy.

He doesn’t bother taking any time to explore or try and learn your body, just dives tongue-first to your clit. His technique of lick first, figure out what feels good later unfortunately works on you, and you’re left writhing beneath him, eyes rolled back in pleasure and moans muffled.

He groans agaisnt you, too, lips vibrating against your clit in a horrible and delicious way. “There you go.” You can barely hear him over the sounds of your own choking, especially with his own voice muffled in your folds. “That feels good, keep going.”

You don’t want to, but the magic he works against your clit leaves you no choice. You can’t help the hitched cries spilling from your lips, even if they make you cry all that much harder as you hear them.

He doesn’t take much longer to come, and you’re torn between resenting the fact that it’s your sounds that get him off and being glad that he does so he can get off of you.

He comes with a loud groan, sent right into your cunt and dragging you far too close to an edge you do not want to see, and sends thick ropes right down your throat. It’s almost a kindness that you can’t taste him, only have to swallow as quickly as possible so you don’t choke. The movements of your throat only draw out his orgasm though, and you’re locked in a terrible cycle for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t get you off. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or not.

You gasp when he finally pulls out of your throat, taking uninhibited breaths for the first time in far too many minutes. You can’t shut your jaw from the pain, but you also can’t kick your legs when he kneels up more fully.

He’s silent as he takes back his belt, and no matter how much you beg your arms to move, they remain still on your stomach. He shifts off of you, and you whine wordlessly when he grabs a handful of your hair, wiping his flaccid cock off in it.

Still, you don’t move.

He stands and redoes his belt silently, the jingle loud even with the clown music still playing. You stare up at him, and he holds eye contact with you. For some reason, you can’t look away.

He crouches down again before he leaves, and you can’t help but flinch away. He doesn’t touch you sexually again, though, only reaches out and pushes your jaw closed with two firm fingers.

You hate that he still has the mask pulled up, because it means you can see his smirk.

“That was fun. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

He’s gone before you manage to understand what he’s said, and the tears start all over again when you do.

—

It takes you a while to scrape yourself off of the floor. You only catch sight of yourself in one mirror before you stare at the ground.

Your makeup is ruined, teartracks running down your temples and both cheeks. There are smudges along your jaw where his hands grabbed. Your lips are swollen and red. It could not be more obvious what’s just happened to you.

You plant one hand on the wall to your right, and keep your eyes firmly planted on your sneakers as you leave the maze. You feel almost detached from yourself, unable to truly understand what happened, what it means.

The throbbing between your thighs is distracting. You worry you might chafe from how soaked your panties are.

It doesn’t take long to find your friend once you finally make it out. She takes one look at you and laughs, teases you about having fun without her. You can’t bring yourself to correct her, and she picks up on your tone quickly, dropping the subject.

The two of you walk silently to your car. You hate it, but you can’t help but scan every actor. Thankfully - or maybe not thankfully? You don’t know anymore - none of them are even close to as big as the masked man in the hall of mirrors was.

You tuck your hands beneath your armpits as you finally make it to the parking lot, walking as quickly as you can get away with without running. Your limbs go a little looser as you get to your car, mind relaxing as it recognizes how close you are to safety.

You freeze when you finally make it to the driver’s side door, lungs going still and heart beating so quickly you worry it’ll pound right out of your chest.

There, sitting in the driver’s seat, is a skeleton mask sewed onto a balaclava.

#this is not very edited but i am BEHIND #this was originally gonna have like two more scenes but then it started to annoy me #i am coming to you again to confess: i did not read through this #ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #kinktober #kinktober day 15 #bo writes #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kinktober 2023

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queer-media-tourney · 2 months

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Here are all 64 round 1 polls:

Rent vs Orphan Black

Heartstopper vs Orange is the New Black

Carol (2015) vs Bugsnax

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern vs Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Fienburg

Red, White and Royal Blue vs This is how you lose the time war by Amar el-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Our Flag means Death vs Always human by Ari North

The last of us two vs On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden

Heartbreak High vs Shameless

Undertale vs The Handmaiden

Young Royals vs Revolutionary Girl Utena

Sens8 vs Carry on by Rainbow Rowell

Bee and puppycat vs The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Yuri on Ice vs Ranma ½

Q-force vs Feel Good

Torchwood vs The interview with a Vampire (2022)

Homestuck vs Good Omens

Some like it hot vs Killing Eve

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off vs Bound (1996)

It's a sin vs Magnus Chase by Rick Riordan

Doctor Who vs Portrait of a young lady on fire

Steven Universe vs Saltburn

Xena Warrior Princess vs Cyberpunk 2077

Welcome to Nightvale vs Schitt's creek

Night in the woods vs A league Of their own

Lisa Frankenstein vs The boys in the band (1970)

Black Sails vs Owl House

Hannibal vs The Traitor Baru Cormorant

Bottoms vs The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir

The picture of Dorian Grey vs Adventure time

The Sandman (comic) vs Supernatural

Maurice (1987) vs Hazbin Hotel

Nimona vs Love Simon

Epithet Erased vs What we do in the shadows

Buffy the Vampire Slayer vs The Other Two

One Day at a time (2017) vs Falsettos

She-ra and the princesses of power vs Dykes to Watch Out for

Celluloid Closet vs Harley Quinn

But I'm a cheerleader vs Vida

Angels In America vs Glee

Hooky by Míriam Bonastre Tur vs They both die in the end by Adam Silvera

Will and Grace vs Paris is Burning

Sanders Sides vs The Magnus Archives

The L word vs Goncharov

Queer as Folk vs Paper Girls

Boys don't cry vs Dracula

All of us strangers vs Yellow jackets

The Song of Achilles vs D.E.B.S

Brokeback Mountain vs Dead end: paranormal park

Carmilla vs Pride (2014)

The Bifrost Incident vs Pink Flamingos

Call me by your name vs Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Grishaverse vs Roswell New Mexico

Riverdale vs We Know the Devil

Stardew Valley vs Pose

Disco Elysium vs Different For girls

Banana fish vs my own private Idaho

Celeste vs Tales of the City, by Armistead Maupin

Everything Everywhere all at once vs Outer Wilds

To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything! Julie Newmar vs Victor/Victoria

Moonlight vs Stranger things

The birdcage vs Midnight Cowboy

The Watermelon Woman vs The Ritz

The haunting of Bly Manor vs Epic of Gilgamesh

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel vs How to survive a plague

#queer media tourney

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ghostie-dragons · 9 months

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Another OC (oh gosh i have a bunch of these)

I'll like, do a write up of their lore at some point. The important note is that most of them are weirdo dragonkin of some kind or another. This one is just a dragon! And a very apathetic one at that.

#ghostie's haunted art house #furry #art #oc art #Idio Harley #dragon

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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There's something so terribly secretive about fathers and pain. Fathers are open wounds, and Bruce isn't the exception of the rule.

But he's very, very good at disguising it. He's a haunted house and refuses to let them in, and a part of Dick, a part of him that both smiles and cries when he sees Bruce interact with his siblings, wishes he could overpower that strength.

"You have to leave it alone. We don't talk about it."

" But we should."

" That's now who I am, chum. Tati's sorry."

So Dick does. What a good little bird he is.

But Bruce's secrets weren't dormat and docile and obedient. They'll come out of someone's mouth if not from his. Dick just didn't expect it to happen like THAT,

Oliver and his dad always had the most curious relationship. It heavily reminded Dick of Jason and Tim, in some ways.

They liked having Oliver around. Uncle Ollie was saucy and witty and railed Bruce up considerably. It was the perfect moment to be a fly on the wall, studious and smirking,

"You're the most unstable Individual I've ever encountered. And I have lunch with Harley on Fridays."

" 1) Rude for not Inviting me. 2) I'm not the one who tried to kill himself at 8."

Pin drop.

Jason's voice hasn't been so small since he was a kid, " ...What?"

Oliver, entirely unaffected by dropping this hard of a bombshell, sips his tea, " Yeah, why do you think your old man stays away from Robinson Bridge?"

A suffocating hush falls over them. Bruce gently puts Damian down, promising they'll finger paint later, and walks away with eyes downcast.

Oliver blinks, looking at a face palming Roy, "Uh...This is the part where you laugh?"

But looking around their frozen grimaces puts understanding in him. " ...Yeah, never let me improv again."

#tw suicide mention #pls dont chew oliver out!! its their inside joke and he assumed the batkids were in on it #but its also my personal headcanon #for the heartbreaking image of alfred diving after him <3 #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #dick grayson #batman #jason todd #batfamily #hugging bruce is free therapy!! just to let the batkiddos know #text #oliver queen

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 4 months

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Shadows Entwined: part 6

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 / Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

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A/N: And one week later, the Gotham adventure continues💙

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You arrive at Arkham Asylum, finding the eerie building abandoned, with the expectations of a few mutants. One mutant especially, makes Leo realize a fear he did not know he had.

Warnings: Spelling, fear gas visions, imaginary death, angst, desperation.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

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“I win!”, Robin said proudly as he landed at the gates of Arkham Asylum. “And you owe me a pizza”, he said, gesturing towards you, seeming oblivious for a short time, as the rest of you took in the appearance of Arkham Asylum and its menacing atmosphere. From the gates to the front entrance, was a path marked with dead trees, all casting contorted shadows on the ground. Its gothic walls were dark, with a glow of green and red, giving it a sickening appearance. Windows were smashed and not a single window carried any light, making it feel similar to a haunted house in the worst horror movies.

“I’ve never liked this place”, you mumbled, causing Leo to turn his head slightly towards you. The look on your face, it wasn’t fear. Batman had probably learned you to not show fear, yet there was something in your eyes. Your pretty eyes. A determination yet a hesitance. Leo noticed how your shoulders had tensed a bit, and how your demeanor had changed so much since your small race on the rooftops.

Leonardo offered his elbow out to you ever so slightly, causing you to look at him in slight confusion. “Just hold on if you ever need to”, he said, feeling his heartbeat to raise ever so slightly when he saw a small smile on your lips.

“No sign of the Foot or the League”, Batman’s deep voice sounded, causing both of you to jump back to reality, back in front of Arkham’s threatening gate. “Stay sharp”.

With all of your weapons ready, you followed Batman up the path and through the main doors. None of you saw anyone. Not a single soul. All you could see was the dark corners of Arkham, and the haunting silence.

BANG.

You jumped slightly, placing a hand on Leonardo’s arm. If it wasn’t for the threatening atmosphere of Arkham, Leo would probably have enjoyed the feeling. Maybe he would even have turned to smile at you, if not for the sound of something being dragged along the ground.

“Well, would you look at that”, a voice sounded in the darkness. A dog-like being dressed in a jester costume and carrying a big mallet, jumped onto the railing at the top of the staircase. “The bat has made some new best friends! So, are you gonna introduce me to your new turtle pals or what?”

“Harley. What have they done to you?”, Batman asked, ever so stoic.

“The ooze”, Donnie spoke up. “They must have injected themselves”.

“Aha”, Harley said with a finger in the air before jumping back from the railing. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk once you find Mister J and our guests. He got a whole thing planned! I don’t wanna ruin it. You know how he gets!” And with those words she turned and left, leaving you and the rest in shivering unease. All expect Batman and Leonardo.

The said turtle stepped forward, ready to follow the mutant, but Batman stopped him. “Wait”, he said, causing Leo to look at him. “Presumably Shredder and Ra’s have mutated all of the inmates of Arkham”.

“Was this their plan?”, Batgirl asked in confusion. “Mutate the villains and unleash them on the city?”

“I have a feeling this is just one part of the puzzle”, Batman said. “Split up. Investigate each wing. (H/N), you and Leonardo come with me. Remember, this whole asylum is essentially a maze. There are hostages to rescue, and on top of that, even before they were mutated, these inmates were the deadliest criminals in all of Gotham”. That was the last the dark knight said before he turned, his cape flowing behind him.

“I was kind of expecting a pep talk”, Donatello said, looking to you, Batgirl and Robin for some sort of confirmation.

“That was the pep talk”, Robin grumbled, slightly irritated over the fact that Batman had chosen you to go with him, and not him.

“Go team”, Batgirl said, two thumbs in the air.

You and Leonardo did just as Batman had told you to, and followed him down the hall. Well, not before you shot Batgirl a smug grin, as she and Donatello decided to go together. But that smug grin soon disappeared as the three of you walked through the halls of Arkham in complete silence. You felt a slight frustration at the way Batman would position himself either between you and the blue clad turtle, or just behind you, never leaving any of you out of sight. You knew very well it was because of Batman’s protective mannerisms towards his family. It was his wish to protect that made him look out for any danger that could harm you. But to Leo it felt different. He couldn’t shake this itching feeling that Batman did not want him to be alone with you in Arkham. Was it because he did not trust that Leo could protect you, or did he not wish his daughter to be alone with the mutant turtle she was starting to show affection? Well, he couldn’t blame the bat. He still hardly knew Leonardo.

The three of you continued down Arkham’s many stairs, until you came to the boiler room. Walking into the middle of the room, Batman suddenly stopped behind you and Leo, his attention turned to the side of the room as he listened.

“What is it?”, Leo asked, noticing the sudden shift in attention.

“Someone’s here”, was all the bat said, making it shiver down your spine.

“Can you please stop saying it like that?”, you asked, rubbing your arms to calm the shiver. “Nothing good happens when you say it like that”.

That was when something flashed above your head, moving swiftly in the shadows. Black feathers fell from above, landing before your feet. Leo watched the movement before flicking his katana slightly out from its saya, using his thumb. That was when whatever that had moved in the shadows landed before you.

“Hello, Batman”, said the being covered in feathers. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. Though not as afraid as you’re going to be”.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane”, Batman told Leo.

“Calls himself Scarecrow”, you added.

Leo couldn’t help himself. He turned his head towards you, one brow raised. “Really?”

Scarecrow let out a cry, before flying towards you, causing all three of you to jump out of the way, just before Scarecrow’s claws could skim the floor, just where you had been standing. You stumbled on the ground, having a hard time finding your footing.

“Watch out”, Batman called out from the other side of the room, as he started to cover his face with his cape. ”He has a fear gas that can make you see things that aren’t real”.

Leo looked up, seeing Scarecrow hover before flying directly at your turned back. Batman saw the same thing, calling out your name as he launched forward, all stoic features gone from his face, and now replaced with fear.

“(Y/N), watch out!”

You started in shock at Batman. He never used your real name whenever you were in costume. It was an unspoken rule. When in costume, you were (H/N), just like Bruce was Batman. Just like Damian was Robin, and just like Barbara was Batgirl. You could not think, shocked that he used your name while Leo and the Scarecrow was around. Leonardo however, not thinking further about the name he had just heard, ran and pushed you out of the way, just as the Scarecrow threw a gas that made him choke on his own breath.

Leo fell down on all four, coughing as he tried to breath. He opened his eyes, watching in horror as the boiler room changed around him. He stood and turned, taking in the warping world around him. Until he saw his brothers. The Scarecrow looming over them. Leo yelled, his heart in his throat, telling them to get out of there. Then the Scarecrow opened his wings, sending furth an army of crows, swarming his brothers. Leo watched in fear as the crows poked at his brothers, tearing them apart. Leo could not hear their screams, but he could see it in their eyes. They were hurting. His brothers were hurting. His best friends. His one and everything. The reason he lived and fought to be a leader. They were hurting.

It happened so fast yet it felt like an eternity. The crows formed into a black mass surrounding his brothers. They disappeared, leaving behind three dried bodies. Raph, Donnie and Mikey. His brother dead before his very eyes.

Leo’s breath was erratic. He fell to his knees before clutching Mikey’s dried hands in his. His fear and horror only grew as wind picked up, turning all three of them into dust. Leo yelled, screaming at the top of his lungs before falling back to the ground.

“That’s right”, Scarecrow's voice sounded in his ear. “Everyone is gone, and it’s all your fault”.

“Leo?”

Leonardo’s heart almost stopped at the sound. So weak, fragile, scared.

“Or, almost everyone”, Scarecrow sounded yet again.

Shaking in fear, Leo turned to see you on the ground, shaking in fear. Your legs had given out, your arms working to get you moving as far away as possible.

“(H/N)?” Leo stood, walking towards you, only for you to scream and scrabble further away.

“Stay away!”, you yelled, tears pooling in your eyes, your voice cracking. Leo was confused, his heart breaking a bit as you right tried to get away from him.

“(H/N)?! What’s wrong?!” Leo was growing more and more desperate with each passing second. First his brothers and now you.

“Don’t look at me!”, you started screaming, covering your face trying to hide from him. “Don’t look at me!”

“Tell me what’s wrong, (Y/N)!” Leo was surprised to hear himself use the name Batman has just used.

“You’re eyes!” You were crying. Leo felt a pain in his chest at your words. You were scared of his eyes. You were scared of him. “Please don’t look at me! I beg you! Don’t look at me!”

Desperately he tried to reach for your hand, but you screamed, pushing back trying to get away from him. Leo wanted to cry, he wanted to yell and scream at you. To tell you were hurting him. You were crying and Leo didn’t know what to do. He was paralyzed, frantically trying to get you to look at him. So frantically, that he did not notice the Scarecrow came and pulled you away.

“No!”, Leo yelled, standing to run towards you, only to be surrounded by Scarecrows, taunting him. His brothers were dead because of him. You feared him. It was all his fault. It was all because of him.

“Leonardo”. Leo turned to see a lone Scarecrow with you hiding behind it. Leo’s blood boiled. “Listen to my voice”.

Batman ducked as Leonardo came after him with his katana in hands, fear and anger in his eyes. It was different from the eyes that had looked at you a moment ago. Fear and sadness. They were nothing like the blue eyes that you had found yourself spending so many thoughts on.

“You killed them! You took her!”, Leo yelled, slashing out his katanas at what he saw as the Scarecrow. But Batman continuously dodged the sharp blades, hearing all of your gasps as you watched on helplessly.

“I don’t know what you’re seeing”, Batman said. “But it’s not real”.

“You’ll pay for what you did!”, Leo yelled, slamming his blades against the pipes they passed.

“Your anger won’t help your brothers”, Batman said. “And it won’t save (Y/N)”. Batman jumped and rolled, before kicking Leo in the back, bringing him to the ground. You gasped, ready to jump in, but Batman signed at you to stay out of it. “You have to focus! Fight it!”

Leo sat on the ground, in a trance-like state. His normally beautiful eyes wide, as he held his katana extended out in front of him. Then suddenly he turned, swinging his katana through the air and hitting Scarecrow. The flying mutant fell groaning to the ground, as Leo braced himself against his katana, fighting to regain his breath.

Batman walked up to Leo, pulling a small pink liquid and needle from his utility belt. “The antidote to Crane’s gas”, he said as he injected Leonardo through the shoulder. “It should wear off quickly”. And so it did.

In the blink of an eye, the boiler room turned back to normal. The irrational fear left Leo’s mind, and he could finally breathe normally again. He saw as you came to his side, all though hesitant in your steps. It poked in Leo’s chest yet again. He had indeed scared you, just like the fear gas had made him believe. But now you looked him in the eyes, as if you never had been scared of them. Leo wondered if you ever actually had been scared of them. And with that thought he remembered his reaction. How he had reacted to the fear of you not wanting to see his eyes. He felt embarrassed, ashamed. He had had no control over his actions, with no regards for how it may have affected you. Yes, he had been affected by Crane’s gas, but to Leo, that was no excuse. He had to do better than that.

As if you had been able to read his mind, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, your eyes never leaving his beautiful blue ones. The ones that you were just happy to see again. Leo placed a hand over yours, enjoying the feeling for a moment.

Batman watched the two of you for a second, before speaking up, once again ripping you out of whatever thought you had been having. Your hand falling off of Leo’s shoulder, causing him to feel what could only be described as disappointment.

“Let’s move”, Batman said, directing the two of you back towards the door and out of the boiler room.

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