#It's also the half ghost thing and ghosts thing is pretty hard to find a good shrink for and Spectra just set a really bad tone

[flwrkid14]

Love and Obsession: The Tim Drake Way

part 2

Everyone in the Batfamily knows Tim Drake has… issues with boundaries. They’ve spent years trying to teach him what’s appropriate and what’s—well—deeply unsettling and completely invasive. To be fair, he’s learned. Mostly. He doesn’t stalk his family anymore (much), and he no longer pulls up files on every single person they talk to (okay, maybe just sometimes). But it’s progress.

But then Tim starts dating Danny Fenton. And, oh boy, a few screws come loose.

It starts small, as always. Just little things. Tim’s a detective, after all—background checks are second nature. Danny’s living in Gotham, and Gotham isn’t safe. So, really, what’s the harm in knowing a little more about Danny’s friends? And his professors? And maybe also his classmates? It’s just standard protocol. Okay?

“Tim, you’ve run a full dossier on my entire biology class?” Danny asks one day, laughing as he flips through a file on the coffee table. Tim shrugs. “What if one of them is dangerous?” “Pretty sure the most dangerous thing in that class is the midterm.”

Danny doesn’t think much of it. He’s a little flattered, even. Tim’s protective. It’s sweet.

But Tim’s mind doesn’t stop there. Danny’s too handsome. Too charming. What if someone tries to hurt him? What if someone tries to take him away? It’s not obsessive—it’s just concern. So, a tracker on Danny’s phone? Necessary. Cameras in his apartment? Standard. Monitoring his sleeping patterns and hangout spots? Logical.

Tim tells himself it’s love. And maybe a little insecurity.

“You have a tracker on his phone?” Dick asks, trying not to sound alarmed. Tim nods, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Of course. What if something happens to him?” “And the cameras?” “Safety.” “The background checks on his professors?” “Gotham U isn’t exactly known for its stellar staff, Dick.”

It doesn’t stop there. Tim knows everything. Danny’s eating habits, his favorite places to go when he’s stressed, his childhood allergies. Tim’s mapped out Danny’s entire life. He knows about Danny’s ghost powers too—of course he does. He’s Tim Drake. The moment he realized Danny was Phantom, it just… clicked.

Danny being half-ghost? That’s just one more reason to worry. Tim’s up late at night, watching for any signs of ectoplasmic interference. He tracks the energy spikes. He monitors Danny’s fights.

He doesn’t think Danny knows. He’s terrified of what will happen if he finds out.

But then he does.

One evening, Danny walks into Tim’s apartment and casually drops a folder on the table. Tim’s heart stops.

“What’s this?” Danny asks, raising an eyebrow. Tim swallows hard. “I… it’s just…” “You’ve been tracking me?” Danny opens the file, glancing through pages of surveillance reports, background checks, even analysis of his ectoplasmic energy. Tim feels like his world is about to shatter.

“I… I can explain,” Tim says, his voice tight. “I’m just… worried about you. You’re in danger all the time, and I—” Danny walks over, cupping Tim’s face in his hands. Tim braces for the worst.

But Danny just smiles. “Can I put a tracker on you too?”

Tim blinks. “What?” Danny kisses his cheek. “If you’re watching my back, it’s only fair I watch yours. I need to make sure you’re safe too.”

Tim stares at him, speechless. Danny doesn’t look scared. Or angry. He looks… fond. Like Tim’s obsessive tendencies aren’t a problem at all.

“I’ve never had someone care about me this much,” Danny says softly. “I trust you with my life, Tim. This? This just proves how serious you are.”

Tim thinks he’s just fallen deeper in love.

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

The Batfamily? They’re worried.

Jason corners Tim in the cave. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You’ve got cameras in his apartment. You’ve mapped out his entire life. You’ve got a tracker on him and a heartbeat monitor. And he’s… fine with it?” Tim nods, a dreamy smile on his face. “Yeah. He even wants to put a tracker on me.” “That’s not… healthy, Tim,” Dick says carefully. “That’s—” “It’s mutual,” Tim interrupts. “We’re protecting each other.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tim, this isn’t how relationships are supposed to work.” Tim shrugs. “It’s how ours works.”

Damian watches the whole thing with narrowed eyes. “This is deeply unsettling,” he mutters.

They try to talk to Danny. Intervention style. They invite him over, sit him down, and gently (or not so gently) try to explain that Tim’s behavior isn’t normal.

Danny just laughs. “You guys do know I’m half-ghost, right?” “That doesn’t mean—” Dick starts. “I spent my entire life being hunted by ghost hunters. I’ve had worse invasions of privacy.” Danny smiles. “Tim cares. He keeps me safe. That’s all I need.”

The bats don't quite know what to say.

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

Tim and Danny, two slightly unhinged souls who think mutual surveillance is the ultimate act of love.

The bats? They’re just trying to keep up.

(“At least they’re happy?” Barbara offers weakly. Bruce sighs. “For now.”)

Gotham’s version of love was never going to be normal. But this? This is a whole new level.

[abbotjack]

(18+ only) nsfw alphabet– michael robinavitch .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚

pairing : michael "robby" robinavitch x afab!reader

18+ MDNI—warning : explicit sexual content, use of cunt, rough sex, praise kink, post-sex intimacy, body worship, possessive language. this is just pure filth start to finish like oh my god...

a/n : no plot, just robby being hot, obsessed, and way too good at ruining your cunt. you're welcome. roughly 4,000 words... needless to say I was very passionate about this one as well. I also did one for dr. abbot!. anyways, happy pitt thursday & ty for 100 followers !

♡ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He treats aftercare like it’s an extension of the act itself—just as intimate, just as necessary. He pulls you against his chest immediately after, and murmurs, “You alright?” His voice is low and hoarse, lips ghosting your temple. He doesn’t rush. You’ll feel his fingers smoothing across your skin, touching every place he left red or trembling.

He wipes you down gently with a warm cloth—he never makes you do it yourself—and then pulls the blanket up over both of you. There’s a certain reverence in the way he laces your fingers together afterward. He might not always say the words, but it’s there: You’re mine. I’ve got you.

♡ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite on himself : His hands because they get to touch you. He’s obsessed with how much he can make you feel with just his fingertips. “Tell me where you want me,” he’ll whisper against your throat while teasing a finger down your thigh.

On you : Your mouth. Not just for what it does, but how it moves. The curve when you smile, the little intake of breath when you’re trying not to moan, the way it parts when he slides a finger into you and whispers something filthy against your ear.

He’s obsessed with the way you whimper against his kiss. Sometimes he’ll press his thumb into your bottom lip and say, “Let me see how much you want it.” And then watch—ruthlessly—as you fall apart

♡ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Robby finishes deep, every time. It’s instinctive. You clenching around him when he starts to lose control? That’s what does it. He’ll bury his face in your shoulder with a groan that sounds almost pained, holding you in place while he spills inside you. And afterward? He stays inside just a little too long. “Just… let me have this for a second.”

He loves watching it drip out of you after. Fingers gentle but greedy as he brushes it back in, eyes dark with a possessiveness he never voices out loud.

♡ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a thing for catching you in the middle of it.

Not touching yourself for him—not some showy, performed thing. No. He wants to catch you when you think he’s not there. When it’s real. Quiet. Desperate. Private.

That’s his secret.

He’s walked in on you once—half-asleep, legs spread, hand between your thighs, whispering his name under your breath without even realizing it. You didn’t notice him right away.

But he noticed everything.

The way your hips stuttered. The little gasp you made when your fingers brushed just right. The slick sound of you trying to get yourself off like it wasn’t already too much. The blush that crept up your chest when you finally looked over and saw him standing there, hard in his jeans, eyes dark, watching.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

And sometimes—he doesn’t mean to—but he lingers outside the bedroom door when you don’t know he’s home. Just listening. Breathing slow. Letting his cock throb in his hand while you whimper his name with your fingers buried inside you.

He won’t ask you to stop. He won’t interrupt.

♡ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Robby is the guy who doesn’t look like a heartbreaker, but you find out after that he could be. He’s had lovers—but he doesn’t throw it around casually. When he touches you, it’s obvious : he knows what he’s doing. His rhythm, his pressure, the way he reads your breath and adjusts in real time. Precision with heat.

And when you moan his name? His lips part, slow, like he’s drinking you in. “That’s it. Just like that. Good girl. Let me hear you.”

♡ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

In the privacy of the bedroom, Robby's preferred position is classic missionary. He loves to have you lying beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, allowing for deep penetration and full-body contact. This position enables him to maintain eye contact, reading every nuance of your expressions, and to kiss you deeply, muffling shared moans.

What elevates this position for him is the intimacy it fosters. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, synchronize his breathing with yours, and whisper sweet or filthy nothings directly into your ear. The ability to have his hands free to explore your body, caress your sides, or intertwine fingers adds layers to the connection. It's not just about the physical pleasure but the profound emotional bond it reinforces each time.

♡ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not really goofy—more warm. He’s serious when it counts, but he has this soft, crooked smirk when you laugh mid-kiss. He’ll say something under his breath like “You’re trouble, you know that?” while flipping you over. The humor is subtle—intimate. Like you’re in on something private.

♡ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s got a full bush, thick and dark, not out of neglect but because he doesn’t see the point in shaving something that feels natural. The hair down there is soft but dense, and when he’s hard? It frames his cock like it’s meant to be worshipped.

There’s a trail leading up from his pelvis—dark and straight. It’s the kind of thing you see once and can’t stop staring at, especially when his shirt rides up after a long shift and your eyes catch that line of hair leading down. He notices when you look. He always notices.

And let’s not skip the beard.

He loves burying his mouth between your thighs like it’s the only place he wants to be. His tongue is slow, deep, deliberate. His stubble drags across every tender inch, rough enough to leave you raw, just the way he knows you like it.

He shaved once.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel slung low, jaw bare, clean, pink in places where the razor caught. He looked at you—wet hair, smug expression, a glint in his eye like he thought he’d done something special.

Your eyes dragged over his face, down to the curve of his throat. Blank. Quiet. Then :

“You shaved.”

He nodded, a little too proud. “Figured I’d try something different.”

You didn’t answer. Just got under the covers, and faced the wall.

You didn’t fuck him for a week.

You still let him pull you close. Still let him kiss your neck. But your cunt stayed untouched, aching and slick in silence, because you chose to starve him with it. To remind him that this—you—has rules.

You waited until the stubble came back.

That night, you let him between your legs.

You didn’t speak. Just pulled him down and pressed your cunt to his mouth like something owed. He took it like an apology.

Now, he doesn’t forget. When he fucks you with his mouth, he does it slow. Thorough. Until you shake. Until you cry out. Until it’s more than just pleasure—it’s possession. His jaw works like he’s starving. Like he remembers every second of those nights you wouldn't let him have it.

When he pulls back—chin wet, lips parted—his breath ghosts over your skin. You’re flushed and trembling, still pulsing from the friction.

He looks up, voice wrecked, reverent.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

You exhale, heavy, jaw slack.

“You won’t.”

♡ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When he’s in your bed, it’s not about sex—it’s about claiming space in your life. Every touch is intentional. Every glance lingers a second too long. Every thrust carries the weight of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

He gives his full attention, eyes locked on yours while his hands hold you still, and his voice drops in your ear :

“I want you to feel me tomorrow. I want you to remember this.”

And afterward? When your legs are still shaking and your mind’s gone foggy? He pulls you into his chest because you’re his. It's the kind of closeness that tells you—no one else gets this version of him.

♡ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Robby jerks off only when it’s necessary—when he’s so hard it aches, or when he’s had a day that pressed every damn button and he needs you to take the edge off… but you’re not there.

He always does it the same way : Back against the headboard, hand braced on his thigh, one slow stroke at a time while his eyes are shut and you’re the only thing in his head. Sometimes it’s your voice. Sometimes it’s the way your body looked the last time you collapsed under him.

He finishes hard, jaw clenched, chest rising. And every time? He mutters your name under his breath, like a confession he’s still trying to outrun.

♡ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He doesn’t just want to fuck you—he wants to manage you. Override your thoughts. Rewire what you associate with pleasure until the only thing you crave is his voice, his rules, his cock.

And he does it slow. He makes you ask. Not because he’s into power trips—but because he wants to hear you break.

“You want something, you say it. Use your words.”

“That tone won’t get you what you need, sweetheart.”

And when you finally say it—broken, desperate, voice shaking—he rewards you by giving all of himself, rough hands, heavy weight, deliberate thrusts that make you sob.

He’s into positional control—knees spread wide, hands behind your back, chin tilted up with one thick hand under your jaw. Not to scare you. To focus you.

You don’t look away. You don’t squirm.

You listen. You obey.

And when you don’t? He’ll stop mid-thrust, press his body flush to yours, and growl :

“Try that again. See what it gets you.”

When he puts you where he wants you and says, “Stay still while I fuck you,” —you do. Every time.

That’s the kink : You, undone. And him, fully in control of everything.

♡ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a bed man, 100%. Not because he’s boring—because he wants time, room, and access. Sheets pushed down. One knee between your thighs. He wants to make a mess.

But he does have a soft spot for the couch especially after a long day, when you curl into his side while watching something on TV, kiss his neck, and he doesn’t even bother pulling your pants all the way off before tugging you into his lap and sliding in from underneath.

♡ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What gets Robby going?

You. Wanting him.

It’s the way you shift closer when you speak—like your body can’t help but chase him. The brush of your leg against his under the table, slow and unthinking, but your breath always catches after. The way your eyes dilate when he says your name low.

It’s instinct. Want in its rawest form. Not loud. Not deliberate. Just something in you pulling toward something in him.

And he notices.

Feels it in the silence. In the way your thighs tense when he stands too close. In the heat radiating off you when you pretend you’re not thinking about his hands on your skin. But you are. And he knows it.

And when you do ask?

That’s what does it.

Just a soft little please—barely above a whisper. His cock’s already hard in his pants, jaw tight, breath low and steady, because if he moves too fast, he’ll lose it.

And if you’re already wet when he checks?

He groans—low, rough, wrecked.

“Yeah. That’s all I fuckin’ need.”

Because that’s what gets him. Not performance. Not noise. Just need. Honest, helpless, soaked-through need.

The kind that has your cunt dripping just from the thought of him.

That kind of power? That kind of want?

He’ll fuck you senseless for it. Every time.

♡ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t turn sex into something cold and punishing.

You can tease him. Push him. You can mouth off just to see how long it takes for him to press you into the mattress and make you sorry you started it. He likes that. He likes the challenge.

But he doesn’t want cruelty. Not from you, not toward you.

The first time it comes up, it’s not even in bed.

You say it offhandedly—half a joke, half testing the waters. Something you read in a post, or a thread, or some comment section that said men like him—older, quiet, in control—like it mean. That they get off on making you cry. That pain is the point. That it’s not real unless it hurts.

And his reaction is immediate. Not angry—just quiet. Controlled. Serious in that way he gets when he needs you to listen.

He touches your chin, gently, turns your face toward him. Thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes on yours.

“No, honey. We don’t do that here.”

His voice is low, even.

“You want to be taken apart? Fine. You want to be mine? Good. But not like that.”

Then he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes.

He doesn’t care what you’ve read or what men like him are supposed to want—he’s not here to watch you cry just to feel powerful, not interested in pain that leaves you numb or pushing past what you can take just because you think that’s what gets him off.

He wants you honest, wanting, undone by pleasure. He’ll ruin you. Wreck you. Push you to the edge of something so intense it leaves you shaking.

But pain for pain’s sake? Anything that feels hollow, detached, or cruel?

That’s where he stops.

♡ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving?

Devotional. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t tease. He feasts. Like your thighs are the only place he wants to die.

One arm looped under your leg, the other gripping your hip. He’ll drag his tongue in deep, slow strokes until you’re begging. Not because he wants praise—because he wants you undone. Wants your thighs trembling, your voice high and ruined, your fingers scrabbling through his hair with desperate little gasps.

Receiving?

He loves it—but more because he likes watching you want it. The heat in your eyes, the way you look up while you suck him slow, spit slicking your lips. If you grip his thighs and choke a little, he’ll groan and push your hair back :

“Easy, sweetheart… take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

♡ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Controlled.

Not fast, not rough—measured. Like every thrust is calculated to make you feel exactly what he wants you to.

He’ll keep it slow until you’re practically begging, then snap his hips once—just once—and smirk when you whimper.

“That’s what you needed, huh?”

He’ll go harder when you ask. But his rhythm never loses that precision.

♡ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Robby doesn’t like quickies. Not really.

He wants time—wants to press his mouth to every inch of your skin, listen to the way your breath shifts, draw your orgasm out like he’s conducting it. Quickies cut corners, and Robby? Doesn’t like cutting corners.

But you? You’re standing just a little too close during a quiet stretch in the ER—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, voice barely above a whisper: “Please. I need you. Right now.”

And when you reach for his hand, tug him gently by the wrist toward the back hallway— He knows where you’re going. And he doesn’t stop you.

You slip into the empty on-call room. He’s two steps behind you, shutting the door with a quiet click and turning the lock.

His voice is low, sharp, already strained:

“You really want this here?”

You nod, out of breath.

“Please, Robby… I need it. I don’t care if it’s quick. I just—fuck—I need you inside me.”

That’s all it takes.

He’s on you in a second—one hand at your throat, the other already pushing you back against the wall. His mouth crashes into yours—filthy, impatient—and he grabs your scrub pants, yanking them down just enough to expose your thighs.

Your underwear stays on.

He hooks a finger under the elastic, pulls it to the side, and groans when he sees you—slick, swollen, already soaked for him.

“You came in here like this?” His voice is gravel now. “Fucking desperate for it?”

You nod again. Barely.

“Robby—please. I need you—need to feel you—”

He growls low in his throat and presses two fingers into you hard and fast, feeling you stretch around him, already pulsing.

“God, you’re fucking dripping.”

He pulls his cock out fast—thick, flushed, angry—and lines himself up without another word. Then, still holding your underwear to the side, he drives into you in one brutal thrust.

You gasp—loud—and his hand’s at your mouth now, pinning you to the wall with his weight.

“Shhh. Be quiet for me. You wanted this so bad, now take it.”

The rhythm is relentless. Fast. Deep. Ruined in five minutes flat. Your hands scramble at his back. Your forehead presses to his collarbone. You���re so full, so fucked, all you can do is sob into his palm as your orgasm crashes over you way too soon.

He fucks you through it. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. Just grits out,

“That’s it. Just like that. Come around me. God, you feel fucking perfect—”

When he spills inside you, it’s with a broken moan into your shoulder, hips jerking, fingers gripping your waist like he’s trying to hold himself together.

After? He pulls out slow. Gently tucks himself away. Adjusts your underwear back into place and helps you with your pants. Then brushes his thumb along your lower lip where you bit down too hard.

“Next time? You wait until we’re off shift. So I can do that right.”

But you know—The next time you beg?

He’s going to cave again.

He doesn’t like quickies. But for you? He’ll fuck you like it’s the last five minutes of his life.

♡ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Robby’s not reckless. But behind closed doors? He’ll try anything once—as long as it comes with trust.

You want to be tied up? He’ll get a rope. You want to try temperature play? He’s already warming the oil. But he needs to know you’re there with him, not playing a part.

♡ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two to three rounds, easily—if not more, depending on the day.

And in between rounds? He doesn’t check out. He kisses you. Runs his fingers through your hair. Stays in it.

You won’t even realize he’s hard again until he’s flipping you over, saying, “We're not done yet.”

♡ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Selective. But curious. He keeps a viberator in the nightstand drawer—not for you to use alone, but for him to hold against you while he’s buried inside you.

“Let go. Come on. Let me feel it.”

He’s also into remote-control toys. The idea of having you wear one while you sit across the table at dinner? Knowing he could ruin you the second you tease him?

Yeah. He’s thought about it. A lot.

♡ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He lives to tease. Not cruelly—strategically. He’ll keep you on the edge for hours. Pull away right before you come. Make you ride him slow until your voice breaks.

And the whole time? He’ll say shit like:

“You want to come? Say it. Say it like you mean it.”

And when you finally do? He’ll give it to you. Hard. Without hesitation. But only once he’s dragged every drop of want out of you first.

♡ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts. Groans. Low curses whispered into your neck. The sound he makes when he comes is rough.

And when you ride him, slow and deep? He’ll let out this low, desperate moan into your chest that sounds like he’s trying to hold himself back and failing.

That sound? It’s all because of you.

♡ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He kept the first pair of underwear you left at his place. Not to be creepy. Not to sniff or jerk off to. Just… because.

They’re in the back of his drawer, folded neatly like he might give them back, but he won’t. It’s a memento. A reminder of the first night you stayed. The first night you were his.

♡ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick. Heavy. Veined. He’s not porn-star long, but he doesn’t need to be—the girth alone is enough to make you gasp every time.

You feel him with your whole body. Even when he’s just rubbing the tip through your slick folds, your hips buck involuntarily, desperate for him to fill you. Stretch you. Keep you full until your thighs shake.

And he knows it. Smirks when he catches the way you hesitate right before he pushes in.

“Too much?” he’ll murmur, nudging at your entrance with slow, deliberate pressure.

“You can take it. You always do.”

He presses all the way in, holds there while your body adjusts. He doesn’t fuck like he’s showing off. He fucks like he’s memorizing you with it. Like he’s been thinking about it all day.

And when he pulls out, slow and slick and aching, you’re already sore. Already wanting it again.

♡ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Robby can hold off for days. Weeks, even. But when he finally has you?

He’s starving.

He doesn’t just want your body. He wants you wrecked. Tearing up. Shaking. Pressing your mouth to his neck so no one hears how hard you come for him.

He wants you craving him just as badly. Not for show. Not for ego. Because that’s the part he hides from everyone else—how badly he needs you when he doesn’t have you.

And when he’s buried in you, deep and slow, holding your wrists down above your head, mouth at your throat, voice shaking from restraint?

That’s when you hear it : “I’ve needed this. You have no idea how fucking much.”

♡ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You fall asleep on your side, facing him. One arm draped over his chest, leg tangled between his, skin still hot from where your bodies were pressed tight.

You’re bare.

Still flushed.

Still soft all over, your thighs sticky, your cunt sore and slick from how deep he took you.

And Robby’s still wide awake. Lying flat on his back, one hand resting on the dip of your waist—but his eyes?

They’re on you.

He watches the way your breath slows, the way your mouth parts slightly, the way your fingers twitch against his ribs while you sleep. You’re loose now. Limp and warm and completely undone—and he still feels you, everywhere.

Your stomach rises and falls against him in slow, perfect rhythm. There’s a faint line on your hip—stretch mark, scar, something you used to try and hide.

He sees it.

He loves it.

He traces it lightly with his thumb, barely a touch.

He wants to move.

Wants to roll you onto your back, lick into your cunt until you're whimpering again, make you take him slow all over.

Wants to feel you twitch when he whispers things he never says out loud—like how badly he wants to keep you like this forever he literally has a ring hidden in his nightstand but that’s besides the point.

But he doesn’t. You’re asleep. Spent. Trusting him with your whole body.

So he shifts in a little closer. Presses a kiss to your shoulder. Lets his palm settle over your hip, wide and warm and claiming. Because for now, that’s enough.

Eventually, his eyes will close.

But not yet.

Not when you’re still glowing from what he did to you.

[rin-may-1103]

Aspiring Escape Artist (part two)

Last | Master Post | Next...

"Why don't we all head inside, yes?" Mr. Wayne suggested, waving his arm in the doors general direction.

"Yes, that sounds great," Ms. Clance agreed, turning to Danny like she was debating whether or not she should drag him inside. Danny was very against that idea and glared at her. She huffed but turned and started making her way up the stairs.

The other, he can't really say kids because he's pretty sure half the people standing in front of him were over the age of eighteen, but they still lived with Mr. Wayne, apparently, so kids it was. The other kids continued to try to stealthily watch him as they made their way into the building. (He refused to call this place a house; it was bigger than Sam's manor for Ancients' sake.)

The gray-eyed girl waited for him, the not-so-happy but happy sparkle back as she watched him approach. Pausing for a moment, Danny turned and gently patted the bush closest to him, it had been practically begging for attention for the past ten minutes and Sam would have throttled him if he had just ignored it.

She treated them like demented puppies, and it's against every unspoken law (in danny's books, atleast) to ignore a puppy.

The gray-eyed girl (man, he was going to have to learn their names, Ancients, why were there so many people here?) tilted her head curiously, eyeing the plant he just patted.

"My friend has plant powers," Danny huffed, which was true. Sam still had lingering plant control and a connection to the green because of Undergrowth. Danny was just leaving out the fact that he also had plant powers. He wasn't sure why he always got new powers after beating new powerful ghosts, but it happens, and now he needs to pet the plants because they get sad if he doesn't.

(Jazz theorized once that the new powers were due to his half-a nature, but then they looked at Vlad and decided it was probably something else.) (Also, why in the world did he get ice powers and then almost immediately plant powers? like, seriously, why?)

"Close friend?" Gray asked, turning to follow Danny inside.

"One of my best friends," Danny agreed. Man, he missed them. He'd have to figure out how to get out of here soon; there was no way he was going to just not see his friends on Tucker's birthday. Which meant he had about a week to bust out of here and get back to Amity. Oh, and stay under the radar so Vlad doesn't find him.

Glancing around the entry hall, or was the term foyer? like, the place was fancier then most five star hotels he's seen (which he wants to make clear, was against his dying wishes. fuck vlad and his not hard earned money.) like, sure, it wasn't all white modern minimalist like the hotels, but he's pretty sure the vase just sitting a little too close to the edge of a table was worth more then a human heart on the black market.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor," Mr. Pennyworth started, closing the doors with a heavy thud. He didn't lock it, though, Danny noted. Probably because Ms. Clance still needed to leave.

"may I have your coats?" he asked, holding out his arm to Ms. Clance and looking over to Danny. Ms. Clance immediately started to shrug off her jacket and dropped it onto his arm without a second glance, trying to talk to Mr. Wayne about an office or something.

Danny shook his head, "No thanks. I prefer to keep my things with me." especially in a new place, who knows what they'd do to his stuff. last time he handed anything over it had been locked up and never returned. (or well, not returned until he stole it back right before leaving, but that's getting into semantics.)

"So, Daniel was it?" the older guy from the first three asked, smiling brightly and trying to act casual. He was failing.

"It's Danny," Danny huffed, glancing around to study the others.

Gray was nice, he had a feeling they'd get a long fine. she was like an open book, all her opinions and emotions right there for him to see. Though that just meant she was awear of them and could easily hide them.

The others not so much.

Eyebags looked tired but alert, watching Danny like he was a new puzzle. Which was fine, Danny could deal with that. He probably wasn't as bad as Jazz or his parents were when obsessed with new things, so he goes lower on the list but not off.

Mr. Casual over here was watching him AND the others, which meant he was probably the peacekeeper. That or he was the one who antagonized the others into acting without them noticing. Same as eyebags, then.

Blondie looked like she was planning how to prank him right then and there, but also like she was evaluating him for something. Like he thought earlier, she'll probably stick around until she gets bored. So, hmmm. Keep an eye on more than eyebags, but probably not a problem.

there was a kid maybe two-three years younger than him trying to hide on the stairs out of view, he looked pissed off and annoyed. Something was telling Danny he should stay away from him. So, definitely going to the top of his list right next to butler man.

And finally, Mr. Wayne. He was smiling and chatting with Ms. Clance like he didn't have a care in the world. And it would have been believable if it wasn't for the fact that the man was easily steering the conversation away from the stuff Ms. Clance wanted to talk about, without Danny around, before leaving. Which means Mr. Wayne wanted Danny to be part of the conversation, probably to get both sides of the story.

He was smart and knew how to manipulate situations without people catching on.

Also, top of the list, then.

"Only people who want to kill me call me Daniel," Danny added, watching as Ms. Clance tried to bring up his file and fell for another diversion.

"Really?" Eyebags asked, actually surprised for some reason.

Oh, wait, murder isn't normal. Ha, to live a normal life. It must be boring. Couldn't be him, even if he wanted it. There was nothing normal about growing up with mad scientists, and nothing normal about being half dead and a vigilante.

"Yeah, my friends and I made a chart and everything. Granted, we didn't have many people to add to the list to compare with, but it's checked out so far." Danny admitted, turning to face Eyebags.

Honestly, it was just Vlad, his parents, a few GIW agents, and those very few times his friends almost killed him. But come on, they all called him Daniel at some point. Therefore, it totally checks out.

"Huh," Mr. Casual blinked, glancing at his siblings before shaking his head. "Right, so uh, why do people want to kill you?"

"Because they're Fruit Loops," Danny grumbled, finally deciding to approach Ms. Clance. Might as well get this done and over with. The longer she stayed, the less time Danny would have to scout the place by himself later, after all the introductions.

Next (to be written)

[plutotheplum]

Close to You

sylus x fem!reader

summary: a sleepy morning with sylus results in unravelled feelings.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff, oral sex, vaginal fingering, mutual masturbation, face-sitting, p in v, handjob, dom/sub undertones, aftercare

wc: 4.9k

a/n: i fear i am obsessed with the man

also on ao3!

It’s wonderfully warm.

That’s what you think when you begin to stir, eyes blinking open blearily as soft rays of sunlight pour into the room, having snuck through the gaps in the curtains. A yawn escapes you and you squirm under the blankets, pressing your face back into the warmth of Sylus’ chest.

His arms tighten around you and a smile tugs at your lips, legs tangling with his.

“Morning,” he rasps, his voice deeper than usual, laced with the remnants of sleep.

“Morning,” you whisper back, lips pressing against his chest in a soft kiss.

Sylus cups the back of your head, his large hand stroking over your hair gently and you sigh, letting your eyes slip back shut.

He’d stopped by last night, said he had some information about a group of abnormally acting Wanderers. One thing had led to another however, and you’d let him stay the night, his body pressed up against yours. 

“Stay,” he grumbles when he feels you try to pull away, his face burying into your hair.

“I have work,” you murmur back, twisting your head to glance at the clock beside your bed. 

The glowing numbers tell you that you’ve slept in, and you groan, slumping back down as you realize you were most definitely going to be late.

“Call in sick,” Sylus replies, his hands squeezing at your waist.

You want to deny him, but Sylus knows you better than you know yourself. You can never find it in yourself to truly resist him, not when he pets across your body so soothingly anyways. You just hope it doesn’t turn into a repetitive occurrence, it’s not like you can keep missing work whenever you feel like being wrapped up in his arms to make out with him lazily.

Reaching for your phone, you write out a quick text, sending it to Jenna to tell her you’d come down with a sudden fever. You can feel Sylus’ lips on your forehead beginning to drift and you tilt your head, letting him land a kiss to your cheek as he caresses your hip.

“You’re a bad influence,” you whisper, feeling his hand creep up under his shirt that you’re wearing.

“Maybe so,” Sylus says, shooting you a smile.

You bite your lip when his thumb swipes the underside of your breast, his calloused fingers spreading across the skin of your breast before finding your nipple. His red eyes bore into yours and you don’t let your gaze slip away, mouth opening to let a soft moan spill out as he tugs and pinches at your nipple.

“You look so pretty like this, sweetie,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours.

Sylus doesn’t kiss you and you don’t make any move to kiss him either. It’s what makes the push and pull between you and Sylus so rewarding, he riles you up and you rile him up until one of you snaps. It’s what you’d done last night anyways, bent over the arm of the couch in a short skirt with your ass in the air, pink panties bared to his eyes as you’d grabbed the tv remote that you had accidentally dropped. 

Too bad your panties hadn’t survived the onslaught of his hungry mouth, his fingers getting impatient until he’d ripped the flimsy fabric off of you and fucked you right there in your skirt. 

The feeling of his mouth on your neck draws you out of your thoughts, letting him play with your breasts as he trails hot kisses down your skin. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers splaying across his broad back. You can feel his muscles flex as he moves his arm, both of you panting softly as he gropes at the fat of your breasts.

“Ask for it, baby,” Sylus whispers, rolling the hardened nub between his fingers.

You shake your head, gritting your teeth when you feel him roll his hips against your side, the feeling of his half-hard cock making arousal pool between your thighs.

“No,” you pant out, biting your lip as your back arches, “you ask for it.”

Sylus lets out a low laugh, nosing against your cheek as he presses another kiss to your skin. “You know I’m not one to beg.”

“First time for everything,” you retort, pressing your breast into his warm palm firmly, fingers trailing down his bare chest.

A smile spreads across your face when his cheeks flush, your hand drifting lower and lower until your hand presses against the hot bulge of his cock through his thin pajama pants. Sylus groans at the feeling of your hand and you wrap it around his heavy length, now fully hardened.

“So hard for me,” you coo, batting your eyelashes up at him as you drag your hand up and down. The hitch of his breath is welcome and has you feeling bolder, tongue licking across his sternum.

“Dirty, little whore,” Sylus hisses, his fingers digging into your side as you hook your leg over his hip and press yourself closer. “Always pushing me, aren’t you?”

You grin, letting him roll his hips into your hand as you kiss across his chest, the sound of your lips on his skin emanating through the room. Sylus grabs at your ass, pulling you up so that you're settled on his lap, your knees bracketing his hips.

“Look good like this,” you murmur breathlessly, palming at his cock a little more.

The imprint of his cock is clear, pre-cum causing a dark spot to appear on the fabric. Your fingers trail over his length, eyes entranced as you watch it twitch under your touch. His fingers grasp at the shirt, pushing it up and feeding the fabric into your mouth. Half-lidded eyes stare down at him, the hem of the shirt bitten between your teeth.

“Pretty baby,” Sylus whispers, his gaze trailing over your exposed breasts and stomach, down to where a pair of white panties sit snug on your hips. You hope he won’t rip them, but his fingers grasp at the material, pulling up and a sharp gasp leaves you, your panties digging into your cunt deliciously. “Greedy pussy, hm? Can feel you dripping all over my cock.”

You send him a glare, shirt falling back down to cover your body from his wandering eyes.

“You’re annoying,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sylus only grins and tries to pull the shirt back up again, but you swat his hand away and stay seated on his lap stubbornly. He clicks his tongue, red eyes darkening at your challenge. 

“Stop being a brat,” he warns, fingers tapping against your thighs.

“Or what?” you reply, raising your brows. You give him an innocent look, letting your lower lip jut out into a pout. 

“Or I’ll fuck you until you-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, crawling up his body. Sylus’ eyes widen for a moment, confusion flitting across his face until he realizes what you’re doing. Your clothed cunt settles onto his mouth and he groans, nosing at your panties to breathe you in.

“Much better when you don’t speak,” you sigh, running your fingers through his snowy hair.

You’ll have to pay for your boldness later, but you don’t care, biting your lip as you roll your hips against his face. Sylus licks at you through your panties, his hands coming up to grab at your thighs and squeeze at the fat.

“Just like that,” you whisper, head tipping back as he sucks at your slick through the fabric of your panties. 

Your hips roll and rock as you please, fingers gripping his hair. Sylus moves your panties to the side before long and you gasp, body doubling over as he licks across your bare cunt.

“Oh- oh fuck!” you mewl, writhing atop his mouth when he thumbs apart your folds to spit on your pussy.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Sylus rasps, his fingers gripping your thighs a bit firmer to push you onto his mouth again.

His tongue glides through your folds a few times, flicks at your clit lazily and kisses the swollen little bud gently before he tugs your weight down onto his face fully. A loud squeal leaves you and you think you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, seeing stars behind your eyelids as he eats you out hungrily.

“Sy- Sylus!” His name sounds in a wail, and he simply grunts into your cunt, fingers dimpling into the fat of your ass as he slurps and sucks like a man starved. 

The sounds of his mouth on your cunt are horribly lewd, and your fingers don’t know where to latch onto, alternating between tugging on his hair and grasping at the rumpled sheets beside his head. Mindless chants escape you, wet pussy rubbing against his face unabashedly and across his tongue as he holds it there for you to grind against.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper, your hand landing over his as he pushes the shirt up to grip one your tits. 

He squeezes roughly and you moan, grabbing his wrist to guide his hand higher, closing your mouth around his fingers. You suck desperately, tongue swirling and eyes slipping shut as your hands curl around his wrist and forearm tightly. Sylus groans into your pussy again and your hazy eyes peer down to find his crimson ones staring right back at you.

A drunken smile spreads across your face and you lick at the pads of his fingers before kissing them. His eyes narrow and you moan when he spanks your ass at your display of blatant brattiness. It does little to deter you, mouth sucking his fingers in deeper until he spanks you again and sucks your clit into his mouth harshly. 

You come with a cry, body shaking and thighs trembling. Sylus moves you off of him and you mumble out an apology for suffocating him, slumping against the bed as he pulls you into his chest and kisses your forehead.

It’s a little too intimate for what you two are to each other, but you’re secretly grateful for the bits of affection he gives you. Sylus doesn’t need to know that you’re starved of it, although you think he might’ve picked up on it with how clingy you’ve become, insisting that it was okay for him to stay the night only a few weeks after you two had first slept together. 

“That was nice,” you slur softly, droopy eyes peering up into his.

Sylus huffs out a laugh, his hands petting at your sides. “I’m sure it was.”

Your slick glistens over his mouth and his chin and you sit up, tugging his shirt over your head and handing it to him. Sylus uses it to wipe his mouth and tosses it behind him, the fabric landing on the floor of your bedroom.

“Think I deserve a kiss for all that,” Sylus says, his nose nudging against yours.

You nod your assent, tits squished up against his firm chest as his lips meet yours. Sylus kisses you messily, tongue slipping into your mouth almost immediately so you can taste yourself on his tongue. A soft whine leaves you, returning his kisses with just as much fervor as you let your hand drift down, dipping into his pajama pants to grasp his hard cock.

His hips buck into your hand at the feeling and you smile against his lips, slowing the kiss to something more languid and lazy as you drag your hand up and down his throbbing cock. 

“Hand feels so fuckin’ good, baby” Sylus sighs against your lips.

You hum, tilting your head to kiss his cheek and then his jaw. Pre-cum wets your hand, the slick noises of his cock filling the room as you stroke his cock for him. Sylus moans into your mouth, his hands unable to stop touching you as he grips the fat of your ass and then your hips.

“‘m sensitive,” you whine when his hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers rubbing over your clit.

“You can take it,” he whispers back, kissing you again as he slips two fingers inside of you.

You’re both panting again, meeting each other’s kisses with the same passion. His cock throbs in your hand and Sylus lets out a low moan when you tighten your fingers around him and let your thumb brush over his leaky tip.

“How cute,” you tease when you see the tips of his ears flush pink, his eyes half-lidded and chest rising and falling at an increasing pace as you twist your wrist and move your hand a little faster.

“You’re going to regret this,” Sylus replies hoarsely, his face tucking into the crook of your neck as he fucks his cock into your hand. 

A half-laugh, half-moan escapes you when he curls his fingers inside of you, quickening the pace of his fingers as he fucks them in and out of you. Your other hand joins the mix, cupping his heavy balls. Sylus lets out a strained moan, his hips thrusting harder into the heat of your hand as you play with his balls, massaging and caressing  them.

It’s a stark change from how he usually acts. Sylus is just as needy as you, despite being the leader of an illegal faction from within the N109 Zone. At least with each other, you both get to indulge in what you want. It’s how you came to this agreement anyways, a little coaxing from Sylus and some carefully placed kisses later and you were agreeing almost immediately. 

His fingers move faster, scissoring inside of you to draw out more whiny gasps from your throat, his thumb joining to rub at your swollen clit. A whimper breaks out of you, body shuddering as you cum on his fingers, your hands stuttering as you struggle to keep them moving through the haze of your orgasm.

Sylus lets out a growly moan, shoving his face deeper into the crook of your neck as he comes. You can feel his heavy breaths of air against your neck, the rise and fall of his chest when his cum coats your fingers and smears across his abdomen. It’s hot and thick, and you whine, wanting him to kiss you again.

He lifts his head sluggishly, slots his lips over yours and kisses you until you can’t breathe. You want to wrap your arms around his neck, but your hands are covered in his cum so you pout until he pulls your wrists out from where you’ve begun to stroke him again slowly.

“Always so cockhungry,” he tuts, guiding your fingers to your face.

You smile dazedly and make a show of licking your fingers clean. Sylus groans and leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss, his hips jerking slightly when you push your tongue into his mouth, feeding him his cum.

Sylus squeezes at your waist and you press yourself closer, letting out a contented hum. He smooths his hand up and down your back, rubbing soothingly circles into your skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod, arms looping around his neck as he picks you up and carries you into the bathroom. Sylus sets you down onto the countertop of the vanity, his fingers tracing over your jaw for a moment before he reaches for your toothbrush. You watch him, sated and sleepy, mouth opening for him as he presses your toothbrush against your lips. 

The action in and of itself speaks volumes for friends that are just fucking, but neither of you feel the need to address it. Your eyes slip shut as he brushes your teeth for you, his hand cupping your jaw to hold you in place. Sylus kisses your cheek, his thumb smoothing over the line of your jaw gently.

“Rinse,” Sylus says, handing you a glass of water.

You do as he says, rinsing your mouth free of toothpaste and leaning forward to land a quick peck to his lips. Sylus grins, crimson eyes flashing with amusement as he watches you hop down onto the tiled floor with trembling thighs.

“Don’t laugh!” you protest, swatting his chest.

“It’s cute,” he drawls, helping hold you steady as you reach down to pull your panties off. “You’re always like this.”

An annoyed grumble leaves you as you step into the shower, eyes catching on the red welts running down his back, courtesy of your nails during the throes of pleasure last night. 

You catch his eyes in the mirror, voice a little airy as you speak. “Red looks good on you.”

The shower door slides shut before he can respond, a small smile settling on your lips as you let your body loosen under the hot water. Sylus doesn’t join you, and secretly you’re grateful. You’d probably be tempted to have him take you under the spray of water, but your body is still sore from last night, thighs a little achy. 

You finish up quickly, a yawn leaving you as your hands grab for the towel to wrap around your wet body. You step out of the shower, squeaking when you nearly collide with Sylus’ chest. 

“Relax,” he mutters, gripping your chin and tilting your head up to kiss you.

You melt into it, lips working against his, feeling him back you up against the shower door. 

“Stop doing that,” you mumble against his lips, hands landing on his chest.

“You like it when I kiss you,” Sylus replies, his forehead resting against yours.

You do. You really do. No one’s ever kissed you like he has and you’ve never had someone display such passion towards you. It makes you feel wanted, makes you feel cared for. 

“Go shower,” you whisper, letting him kiss you one more time before you’re pushing at his chest gently, squirming out from under him. 

Sylus grunts in dissatisfaction when you escape his grasp, running his hand through his hair as he watches you leave, that little towel wrapped around your body making him want to bend you over the vanity and fuck into you until you’re creaming on his cock again. He doesn’t though, lets you go instead and steps under the shower himself. 

Another yawn leaves you, your arms stretching above your head after you get dressed, pulling on a pair of comfortable sleep shorts and an oversized shirt. Sylus has finished up in the shower by the time you’ve made coffee, his footfalls sounding through your apartment as he steps up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“I have another auction coming up,” Sylus says, his chin resting on the top of your head as you dump a spoonful of sugar into your hot beverage.

“What’s that got to do with me?” you ask, turning your head to peer up at him.

“Having a Hunter by my side would make things far easier,” he replies, squeezing at your sides, “besides, I’d have to go to all the trouble of finding a date.”

“So find one,” you retort, spinning his arms to hand him his cup of coffee, “I’m not in the mood for a repeat of what happened last time.”

“You wound me,” Sylus murmurs, his eyes boring into yours intently, “aren’t I being generous?”

You roll your eyes at his feigned hurt, although the slight furrow of his brows has you second-guessing whether he is actually hurt by your rejection. You brush the thought away, telling yourself that you're imagining things.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and taking a sip of your coffee.

“My black card,” Sylus counters, setting his mug of coffee down, “no limits.”

You scoff, raising your brows. “Are you trying to buy me out?”

“Hardly,” he replies, “I’m letting you buy whatever it is you desire.”

Your lips purse, eyes narrowing at the man suspiciously. You don’t why he’s being so insistent, when he most likely has access to an endless supply of women. He raises his brows and you shake your head again, refusing his offer.

Sylus’ jaw clenches, his fingers tightening into your shirt. “Why must you deny me?”

“I’m not denying you,” you say, setting your own cup of coffee down, “I just don’t want to go.”

“Is the thought of being with me that unappealing?”

“I didn’t say that!” you protest, irritation pricking at your skin.

Sylus stares down at you, his lips thinning. He’s never gotten angry at you before, and you don’t understand why he’s starting now. Another scoff leaves you when he pushes away from you suddenly, his fingers reaching for the keys to his bike.

“What is wrong with you?” you snap, stealing his keys before he gets them.

“You’ve been pushing me away,” Sylus hisses, glaring down at you.

“Pushing you away?” you echo, shaking your head, “we’ve been together since last night!”

“For a Hunter, you are infuriatingly dense,” he shoots back.

Your breath hitches when he suddenly cups your cheeks, his body drawing closer until you're trapped between him and the kitchen counter. His keys drop from your hand, landing on the floor with a clatter.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sylus whispers, his head lowering, “I want more.”

“M- more what?” you sputter, trying to lean away from him. Sylus doesn’t let you, his forehead pressing against yours.

“More of this,” he says firmly, “more of you, more of us.”

You blink up at him, words getting stuck in your throat. In hindsight, your intuition was right. Sylus cups the back of your head, drawing you into a kiss. It’s hungry and all-consuming, a soft mewl spilling from your mouth as he smooths his thumb over your cheek gently.

“Let me have you,” Sylus whispers.

“I didn’t take you for a romantic,” you mutter weakly.

Sylus rolls his eyes, hands finding the backs of your thighs as he scoops you up into his arms.

“My- my coffee!” you whine.

“Forget about the stupid coffee,” Sylus dismisses, dumping you onto your bed before crawling over you, his hips settling between your thighs.

Your eyes widen, his actions tugging at your heart uncomfortably as he smooths his hands over your hair, cradling your head as he lands soft kisses across the expanse of your face.

“Oh,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut, “you like me. You like me a lot.”

“Should’ve been obvious,” Sylus grumbles, his face pressing into the crook of your neck petulantly. 

There’s no more teasing when he rolls his hips, an airy gasp escaping you as he grinds his hard cock into you. Sylus reaches for your hands, pinning them on either side of your head, his fingers lacing with yours. 

“I need this,” he murmurs, “I need you.”

“You- ah- you have me.”

“Not yet,” Sylus whispers.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he draws back and pulls your shorts down your legs. Sylus frees his cock from his sweatpants, shuffling forward until he places his cock snug between your folds.

“Watch,” he orders, squeezing your hip.

You do watch. You watch with your lower lip bitten, fighting the urge to let your head tip back as he rubs his cock along your folds, the flushed tip of it disappearing before appearing again. The head of his cock nudges against your clit, his pre-cum beginning to drip in fat globs already, coating the swollen bud.

His fingers find yours again, body moving atop yours as he continues to grind his fat cock against your pussy. 

“Could have this cock everyday,” Sylus says, squeezing your hands. “Hm? Doesn’t that sound good? I’ll fuck you nice and slow then cuddle you after. All you have to do is be a good girl and ask.”

“Y-yes,” you whimper, hips bucking to try and get his cock to slip inside your achy hole, “Sylus, please.”

“Tell me, baby,” he coaxes, his lips brushing your jaw.

“I- I want you,” you gasp out, eyes wide and earnest, “so please, please stay with me.”

“Good girl,” Sylus praises, his hand gripping the base of his cock.

You whine when he presses the head of it into you, the rest of his fat length following as he sinks into you, inch after inch. It’s different than before, somehow you’re acutely aware of how his body feels on yours, how his cock is stuffing you full.

He kisses your forehead, his eyes never straying from yours as he holds your hands again. Your legs lock around him immediately, mouth falling open as he begins to fuck into you slowly.

“This cock is all yours,” Sylus groans, “I’m all yours, baby.”

“Then- hah- then don’t leave,” you manage out breathlessly, “o-okay, Sylus?”

“Not going anywhere,” the white-haired man affirms.

Sylus kisses you deeply and fucks you slowly, making sure you feel every ridge on his cock as he slides through your clenching walls. Soft moans fill the air, both of you unraveling under each other’s touch. You let go of his hands in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his forehead and letting him tuck his face back into the crook of your neck.

His thumb rubs at your puffy clit and you’re seizing up, back arching as your body draws taut.

“Ha- nngh! ‘m gonna- fuck- ‘m gonna cum!” you cry, fisting his hair in your hand and pulling hard.

Sylus hisses at the feeling, his mouth closing around your tit, sucking your nipple into his mouth. You can feel his thumb press against your clit a little harder, his balls slapping against your ass when he speeds up a bit more before his hips slow into deep, rolling thrusts.

“Cum, baby,” Sylus whispers, “cum on my cock, cream my fuckin’ cock like a good girl, sweetie.”

“Sylus!” you grit out, thighs twitching as you cum violently on his cock, body shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm hits you harder than anything you’ve had before.

“Baby, fuck-” he growls, his fingers grabbing at your thighs to hold you in place as he shoves his cock into you as deep as possible.

You squeal, eyes squeezing shut tightly as he unravels with you, hot cum spilling into you. A soft whimper leaves you as Sylus humps his hips into a few more times, his motions stuttery and uneven as more cum floods your pussy, your walls clenching around him greedily.

A noise of protest sounds when he slumps over you, his heavy body landing on yours. Light sweat covers both of you and you pout, knowing you’ll have to shower again. Sylus doesn’t get up for a few moments, mouthing at your tits lazily and landing little kisses to your nipples. The sensations make a shiver rack through and he grunts when you push at his chest firmly, softening cock slipping out of you as he rolls onto his side and tugs you back into the warmth of his chest.

True to his word, he does cuddle you, although you’re sure he would’ve done it regardless of his previous words. 

“Asshole,” you mumble hoarsely, trying to crawl on top of him, “now I can’t walk anymore.”

Sylus laughs, his hands smoothing over your hips and waist as you settle on his lap, breasts flush against his chest and your face in the crook of his neck. You hum contentedly when he drops a kiss to your hair, squirming happily when he pets over your thighs and ass.

“I suppose I’ll just have to carry you, hm?” Sylus says, rubbing your back.

The warmth of his body has your eyes drooping shut as you nod. Sylus makes you feel safe, despite everything, his gentle touches making your mind hazy. You feel yourself falling asleep, lulled by the man beneath you.

- 

You wake up again, mumbling softly. The weight of Sylus’ arm is noticeable, slung around your waist. Your brows furrow when you look down, realizing that he must’ve cleaned you up while you were asleep, a fresh pair of panties pulled up your legs and one of his shirts covering your upper-half.

Wriggling, you turn onto your side to find him already awake and staring at you. A sleepy smile spreads across your face, and you inch closer to land a sweet kiss to his lips. Your heart stutters in your chest when he traps your chin between his fingers, deepening the kiss for a brief moment before letting you go with a soft peck.

“Does this mean I get your card whenever I want?” you ask teasingly.

Sylus shakes his head, “that was a one time offer.”

You shoot him a sulky look, prodding your finger into his chest. “Jerk.”

He grabs your finger, lifting it to his lips and kissing the pad of it. You flush, heart fluttering at the action. Sylus smiles and you snuggle back into his chest, not before kissing his cheek quickly.

“I’m glad we met,” you say quietly.

“As am I,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers spreading across your scalp pleasantly.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” you add on after a few moments, tracing random shapes against his pec.

“Thought you’d crack first,” he replies, tucking your hair behind your ear, “all that clinginess. I was sure.”

You pinch his bicep in retaliation, squealing when he smacks your ass in return. A giggle breaks out of you when he peppers your face with kisses, a dopey smile spreading across your face as Sylus nuzzles into you affectionately. 

It’s something you’ll remember for the years to come.

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 7, Part 3

masterpost it's 11am and it's already been A Day

Danny turned Clockwork’s medallion over in his hands. He’d taken it out again for the MRI. He didn’t know if things inside of his ghost body could react to the giant magnet, but he hadn’t wanted to find out be destroying a very expensive medical device.

The design was slightly warped now, like it had been melted on the one side, and the once bright gold was tarnished. Danny was pretty sure that the tarnish was from his blood and ectoplasm.

Fourth time dying and still not the charm.

Which Danny was damn glad for, of course, but it was still his fourth time dying. Fifth, if alternate timelines counted.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Mina said as she set down the tray of tea.

Danny eyed it.

“It’s just normal tea,” Mina assured him with a little huff. “Early grey, to be specific. You like it with honey and milk.”

Danny smiled slightly. “I do. And thank you for having me over for it. I needed to just not… be busy with tests and people worrying and… just not there. Does that make me horrible?”

“Of course not!” Mine said. She set the honey pot down a bit forcefully. “Danny, you’ve been away from home for weeks and weeks now. You had to drop out of your classes this semester. I know there’s probably a new job or two you missed. It’s totally understandable that you need a break from that.”

“Okay, okay good,” Danny sighed. “I was just worried? I mean, I’ve basically been doted on by my boyfriends for weeks now, that should be good.”

“Boyfriends who you started dating under extreme stress.” Mina passed Danny his cup and a hard look at the same time. “Besides, you’re not Penny, you don’t fall for someone and become inseparable. You still need your own space.”

“They’re both so cuddly, Mina,” Danny whined. “And I love it! But also sometimes I just need a little bit of space.”

“You’re allowed to be overwhelmed, especially after dying.”

“Again,” Danny added.

“Again,” Mina agreed. “Since you’re half ghost! And never told me!”

“Oddly, does not come up much in normal conversation,” Danny said.

“As if we’re normal,” Mina pointed out.

“Never,” Danny agreed. He took a long sip of the tea. It was good, even if maybe he had tea trauma. “But I could maybe use a little bit of normalcy.”

“Go back to your own place,” Mina said, “get used to your hearing aids, and take some time to breathe. Read a book or something.”

Danny arched his brow over a pointed sip of his tea.

Mina rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, play a video game. Point is, relax and just let yourself recenter. I’ll send you home with a crystal.”

“You know those don’t do anything,” Danny pointed out.

“Yeah, but they’re pretty,” Mina said with a little sigh.

Chuckling, Danny shook his head. “Okay, fine. But before I go to find my zen or whatever, tell me about the latest fortune telling drama.”

Mina leaned forward with an eager smile that promised a good story. “Oh my gods, Danny, you’re going to love this…”

[nicksolemnlyswears]

JUST TEASIN’

summary: you call joel an old man…amongst other names

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 4.4k [i need to learn how to keep things concise]

warnings: 18+, cursing, spanking, p in v, fingering, oral (male receiving), age gap? totally legal though, joel's in his early 40s and reader is in her early 30s, joel is an ass guy which is strange cause i always make my men boob guys, idk i guess this is pretty tame

a/n: as a joke i tend to call pedro and joel peepaw cause he’s older and a total dilf but i love these men so fucking much. i'll be the first to get on my knees

thought i’d make a sweet oneshot about how they’d react to you calling them old. it’s a mix of fluff and smut. a little something for everyone!

also don’t judge me, this is my first time writing for joel 🥺

there’s a little nudge to another favorite fictional men of mine

i want to thank @yxtkiwiyxt for providing me with all the pedro pascal pictures and gifs and movie trailers and for ranting with me all day every day about how amazing this human is… if anyone is to blame about this oneshot it’s her ❤️

It’s one of those lazy Sunday mornings where everyone sleeps in, leaving the Miller household at complete ease. There are no responsibilities to tend to and nowhere to go.

You’re the only one awake, singing quietly under your breath and flipping pancakes until they’re nice and golden. Joel will come seeking you out soon, missing the warmth of your body and Sarah will follow when Joel cracks her door open to let the sweet smell of batter waft into her room.

No matter how hard you try you’re always the first one up. Sometimes you stay in bed with your husband, tracing figures on his bare skin until he pulls you into him and kisses your head good morning, raspy voice begging you for five more minutes.

But most of the time you decide on getting up and having an early start to your day, which includes making breakfast and sorting through your work emails.

The puppy Sarah adopted a couple weeks ago, sits on your feet, licking your legs as if begging for the fluffy sweetness of the pancakes. He had a taste of it when batter dripped on the floor, he licked it up before you had the chance of cleaning it.

Lost in your little world, singing to the tune of Lana del Rey you fail to notice your husband coming down the stairs. Joel leans against the kitchen island admiring you in your distracted state. The loose brown curls in a disarray at the top of his head.

His eyes scan you from head to toe, noting your messy hair pulled up to a half ponytail half bun thing he can’t begin to explain. Down they go to the cropped tshirt with his company’s logo on the back. The frayed edges are the byproduct of your use of kitchen scissors to crop it yourself.

Joel bites his lip as he ogles at your ass and thick thighs framed by the tiniest cotton shorts he’s ever seen. They fail to cover the bottom of your butt cheeks, exposing a sliver of the indigo panties and the crease where thighs meet butt.

Unable to stay away, Joel wraps his warm arms around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. He squeezes you to him, bodies pressed flushed to reveal the stiffness in his pajama pants.

The puppy wags his tail in the presence of his favorite human, standing on two legs to call his attention. The man didn’t want him in the first place but was out voted by the females in the household.

“Morning,” Joel murmurs, placing kisses all over your cheeks and down your neck until he finally presses a warm kiss on your shoulder where he rests his chin to look over at the stovetop.

“Morning old man,” you say with a giggle as his scruffy beard tickles your skin. Your lips press against his in a quick kiss, muffling his sigh of disappointment.

“Don’t start, sweetheart,” he warns. His lips brushing against your ear. Joel’s hands find themselves under your tshirt, his thumbs ghosting over your underboob. At the same time the fingertips of his other hand teasingly dip on the waistband of your shorts.

“Or what?” You say with a bite to your lip, flipping over the last batch of pancakes. Couple more seconds and they would’ve burned—that’s how much he distracts you.

“It’s too early for this!” Sarah’s high pitched voice yells. “Not in the kitchen and not in front of the baby, please!”

The puppy scrambles over to Sarah, jumping into her arms. He recognizes she’s the one who will cave and give him scraps of food.

Joel, startled, takes his hands off of you, facing Sarah with an apologetic smile, not that she sees it as she covers her eyes with a hand. “Are you decent? Can I look now? I’m really hungry if you don’t mind.”

You laugh loudly, shaking your head at Sarah’s dramatics. She takes after Joel and is well on her way to beat him at his own game.

“We’re not doin’ anythin’,” Joel mumbles, sitting on one of the kitchen island stools and petting the pups fluffy head, and the ear that flipped over cutely.

“Not yet,” you whisper to him as you place his stack of pancakes in front of him.

“I heard that!” Sarah yells, covering her ears this time. Joel laughs, nudging her shoulder and telling her to pass the syrup.

You lean across from them, grabbing a sliced strawberry to plop into your mouth. Sarah takes over the conversation as you and Joel share a glance. This is far from over.

Later on the day you head outside with a tray of lemonade and pie in your hands. You’ve gotta take care of your dear husband before the Texas heat gets the best of him.

You nudge Joel’s leg with your foot. He’s under the beat up truck, fixing some odd part. He has the means to replace the old thing but he likes to remind you that ‘Betsy,’ as he’s named his truck, is a part of the family and will never be replaced.

“Thanks, darlin,‘“ he drawls, wiping his dirty hands on a random rag he found on the bed of the truck.

Joel takes a second too long to get up from the floor. You see the hesitance in his eyes as he tries to think the best way to stand without hurting or pulling a muscle.

This is your chance. “Need help there, grandpa?” You pipe up, resting the tray on the portable table scattered with tools.

Joel openly glares at you while you smile broadly at him. It’s not often you make fun of his age, or rather, the age gap between the two of you. It’s only when you’re feeling a particular sort of way.

The age gap between the two of you isn’t the craziest but it’s large enough for people to notice. Joel is easily through the first half of his fourth decade, while you are barely entering your third.

“Watch your mouth,” Joel warns you, standing up quickly despite the cracking of his knees and the ache on his lower back.

Your eyes spark when he grabs the glass of cool lemonade and begins chugging it. The drops of sweat sliding down his neck and into the damp collar of his shirt stealing your attention and any innocent thought you’ve might’ve had about him. They weren’t many to begin with.

You clench your thighs together as you imagine licking that same trail, tasting his salty skin. Say what you want but you love a man that works with his hands and gets all dirty and grimy.

Joel catches onto the glazed look covering your eyes and grasps your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His body gravitating towards yours as if nature demanded it.

You’re overly conscious of the motor oil covering his hands if not you would’ve sucked his thumb into your mouth, reminding him just exactly you can do with your tongue.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, darlin’?”

Him. It’s all about him. He’s always interrupting whatever sane thought you have. Scenarios of you being bent over the hood of the truck as he sinks his aching length from behind. You riding him in the front seat as you’ve done on more than one occasion, fogging up the windows. The time he was knuckles deep inside of you, teasing fingers drenched during his lunch break.

“How good gray looks on you,” you reply, diverting the conversation somewhere else entirely. A delicate fingers wraps around the charming curl that constantly falls over his forehead, twirling it around.

Joel doesn’t take kindly to your comment, rolling his eyes and clicking his jaw as he lets go of you to return to the truck. Your hand which had been playing with his curl drops to your side as you cock your hip to assess him.

He’s much too aware of the age gap, it makes him insecure. Like you’ll one day realize you’re with an old man and leave him for someone younger.

Except in your eyes he’s the most perfect man alive. The grey streaks of hair that mix with the typical brown of his curls give him an air of authority, making him look dashing in all ways. A silver fox. Strong muscles from working manual labor most of his life are now covered with a healthy layer of fat but remain strong nonetheless. Warm brown eyes that sweep you off your feet every morning as soon as they open.

That man is aging like fine wine and he doesn’t begin to realize it. You feel extremely lucky to be the only one to enjoy it…squeaky joints and all.

Joel is experienced and mature and loyal. He simply wants to have a nice life with his family. A family you’re now a part of. It’s all a woman could ask for.

“You know I love you,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around him as he leans over the hood.

“Love to torture me,” he scoffs, taking hold of one of your hands affectionately. He can never stay mad at you.

“I don’t know what you mean? I brought you lemonade and even that apple pie you love so much,” you feign innocence, pressing a kiss to the middle of his back.

Facing you with a sigh, he lets his heavy hands fall on your hips, “What’re you playing at?”

“Me? Nothing,” you say with a wicked smile, “I’m gonna go with Sarah to the mall to get her homecoming dress. Will you be alright here with Ghost?”

He’s quickly distracted by the words Sarah and Homecoming. His babygirl is growing too fast, starting High School and going on dances with boys. She hasn’t told him yet if she’s been invited by someone and he hopes it stays that way.

There’s no way he’s letting her go with a date and you can’t convince him other wise. If she wants a date she can take the puppy she adopted, Ghost. Joel is determined to teach the ball of fur how to defend his daughter.

“Here,” he says, pulling out his wallet to hand you his credit card.

“No, it’s my treat!” You say, pushing his hand away.

“Take it,” Joel insists, trying to slip it into the tight pair of jeans you’re wearing. Fuck. How didn’t he notice until now.

It should be illegal to wear jeans that make you look THAT good. The blue material hugs your thighs tightly and lifts your perky ass to heaven—not that you other wise need it.

He doesn’t hold back and slides his palms on your back pockets, giving you a firm squeeze. You stumble, falling onto him with a weak protest.

“‘M so fucking lucky you’re my woman,” he groans, taking another feel. Temporarily forgetting the conversation at hand, yet another comment directed at his age snaps Joel back to reality.

“Honey, I know I married an older man but it wasn’t for your money,” you tease again, patting his cheek and removing his hands from your pockets—credit card and all.

A sharp slap to your ass, startles you, eliciting a cheeky giggle. All this teasing and you’re leaving him home alone with the mutt.

You don’t apologize, you’ll never apologize for teasing him. Unless it’s in the right circumstances…in his bed.

Towards the end of the night you finish pushing him to the edge of no return. Remember, opportunities are always around when you’re determined.

“Dad, can you sign this for school?” Sarah comes into the living room where you and Joel are watching a movie. Ghost’s head is plopped on his lap, where Joel had been ‘forced’ to pet him.

“What’s this for?” Joel tries to read the paper but has to keep it at arms reach to be able to read it. Failing, he searches for his glasses until Sarah points at his head where they’ve been resting for half the night, nestled between his curls.

You stifle a laugh as you think of what to say. “Sorry Sarah, good old peepaw needs his glasses to read.”

It’s clear you’re pushing it far as Joel freezes only to glare at you. If looks could kill you’d be six feet underground. Sarah laughs until her belly hurts, repeating the word peepaw between breaths.

“You two are bullies,” Joel shakes his head in disbelief, signing the permit and handing it to Sarah who is wiping her tears away.

“I’m heading to bed, goodnight old man,” Sarah tells a pouting Joel, kissing his cheek and running up the stairs. “Come on, Ghost. Bedtime!”

“Peepaw? Really?” Joel raises his eyebrows at you when both Sarah and Ghost are gone.

You shrug feigning innocence, hiding your smile with the edge of the blanket. ”Yeah, peepaw. It’s cute.”

“It ain’t cute,” Joel kisses his teeth before turning off the TV and standing from the couch, leaving you behind.

“Where are you going?” You call after him.

“To bed,” he dryly responds, shutting off the lights and climbing the stairs. He only leaves the lamp by the couch on. How considerate of him.

“What? Joel it’s barely 10!” Hiding your satisfaction is difficult. Joel’s ticked off, a day of calling him old will do that. It’s exactly what you hoped for.

“Guess that’s what old men do, darlin,’” Joel says sarcastically half way up the stairs.

With a hand over your mouth, you follow him, “Honey, come on. Don’t be angry, it’s harmless teasing. Are you really heading to bed?”

Joel turns at the top of the stairs, glaring down at you, “You really think I’m an old man?”

“Technically speaking you are an older man,” you quip, scrunching your nose cutely.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Joel crosses his arms, reprimanding you for your cheekiness.

“I dunno why you get like this, you should know I love my older men,” you say sultrily, although it falls on deaf ears as Joel retreats to the bedroom.

When you step into the bedroom you’re instantly pressed against the door, slamming it shut. Joel’s sneaky hands lock it. “You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin.’ Don’t make me bend you over my knee and give you a spanking.”

The thought alone makes you shudder in delight. Wetness instantly seeping into your underwear. You’ve finally succeeded. You have him right where you want him.

With your hands braced on his chest you deliver the final blow. “You sure your knees can take it?”

Disbelief flashes in Joel’s eyes, “That’s it!”

Grabbing your arms Joel leads you to the bed where he sits on the edge. He roughly pull down on your jeans, panties and all, leaving them pooled on your knees, limiting your mobility.

With another tug he lays you face down on his lap, holding your wrists behind you in a tight grip. Joel shakes his head at your upturned ass that’s waiting a little too eagerly for his touch.

Delight bubbles out of you and Joel is determined to take you down a notch or two. Let’s see how you handle this after fucking with him all damn day.

The first swat comes without warning, eliciting a gasp from you. It’s sharp and borderline painful. A red handprint magically appearing on your left butt cheek.

Joel massages and paws at the skin, getting ready to deliver another one. “Cat got your tongue?” He questions at your sudden silence.

You try to look over your shoulder and say, “Is that all you got?”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Joel’s mouth. Then, three fast slaps are delivered, successfully earning him a whine from your pretty lips. He rubs on the sweltering flesh, easing some of the sting.

Finding their way to your thighs his fingers dig between them to cup your pussy. It’s no surprise that it’s warm, messy and slick. Clear strands extending from it to the inside of your thighs and covering his digits.

You’re a fucking vixen who loves to torture him for your own fucking pleasure and he’s the damn fool who falls for it each and every time.

“Touch me,” you huff, wiggling on his lap to grind on his hand, hoping to gain more contact with his coated digits.

“Touch you? Oh, darlin’ you’re not getting off the hook so easily,” Joel mentions darkly, retrieving his hand and landing yet another smack to your ass, making it ripple from the impact.

“Ow!” You flinch yet remain in the same position, expecting more. You fucking love when Joel gets rough with you. It’s a shame you have to gauge it out of him like this.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted? Hm?” Joel’s asks and when he doesn’t get a response his hand flies down once more. “What was it you called me?”

There’s a beat of silence before his hand strikes, this time aiming towards the middle. “Gra-grandpa,” you stutter at the small burst of pleasure.

“Mhm, what else darlin’?” He prompts again. His middle finger tracing the slit of your pussy, feeling you grow impossibly wetter. His pretty little wife is always so reactive to his touch.

“Old man.”

The stinging in your skin grows warmer, no doubt turning a considerable shade of cherry red. Yet the ache in your cunt obscures it all. The scraps of attention only makes your arousal worse.

“I think there was one more,” Joel hums, urging you on. His slick finger teasing your weeping entrance.

“P-peepaw,” you gasp when Joel pushes it in until his knuckle meets your delicate skin.

“That’s right, peepaw,” Joel repeats absentmindedly, pushing his middle finger in and out. Listening intently to the squishing sound your pussy makes.

He’ll have you calling him something else by the end of the night.

Tight walls grip his finger like a vice, refusing to let go. Soft puffs of air tumble out of your mouth and he knows your eyes are closed as you concentrate on the minimal pleasure he’s providing you with. It’ll never be enough to make you cum but it’ll keep you bothered.

“Get up,” Joel orders with a softer smack to your bottom, wiping his slick covered finger on your skin. He helps you up from the restrained position he kept you in and makes work of taking off your clothes.

Joel pulls and tugs on your shirt roughly, throwing it mindlessly across the room. He palms your tits briefly, pinching one of your nipples to make you whine his name. With cracking knees he kneels on the floor to help you out your jeans and underwear, kneading your thighs with his big strong hands.

He catches a glance of your reddening skin and feels a prickle of pride at the mark he left. Most of it will fade by morning but you’ll feel it nonetheless.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed he wordlessly motions you to get on your knees. A wicked smile spreads on your cheeks as you do as you’re told, kneeling between his spread legs.

Eager hands grasp his belt, undoing the worn leather to get to the button of his jeans. He provides no help, leaning back on his hands and simply watching you with hooded and expecting eyes.

You pull down on his jeans and underwear, revealing the happy trail that comes down his navel to the patch of brown at his pelvis.

His hard cock springs free once you’ve worked his pants down enough. A throaty groan coming from above you at the release of tension.

“Mmm,” you hum, grasping his length in your fist. His eyes meet yours when you look up to press a kiss to the tip, your hand pulling the thin skin back to reveal it.

“Stop with the teasin,’” Joel growls audibly, chastising you.

You rolls your eyes obnoxiosuly, “You’re no fun, g-“

A hand flies to your hair, gripping the roots tightly. Your eyes fly open, starting up at Joel. “You sure you want to finish that sentence, babygirl?”

“Maybe not,” you shrug with a pout, your hand mindlessly pumping his length.

“That’s what I thought.” Joel keeps his grip on your hair, pulling it back to see every detail of you taking his cock into your pretty mouth.

Your tongue goes flat against the underside of his shaft, tracing the vein that runs along his length and letting saliva drip all down and into your fisted hand. Joel watches intently as your lips wrap around the angry red tip of his cock.

You start off slow taking more of his length with each bob of your head. Your eyes never leaves his face, observing every small reaction he makes. The sharp intake of breath when your tongue grazes his tip, the furrowing of his eyebrows, the bobbing of his adam’s apple as he fails to keep his moans in.

The sudden jerk of Joel’s hips causes your eyes to water and screw shut. The initial intrusion of his cockhead unexpected yet welcome. Joel throws his head back, “That’s a fucking good girl.”

Those magic words make everything worth it as you messily continue to suck and lick every inch of his cock. Neither the tears in the corner of your eyes nor the saliva dripping down his length stop you from tasting him.

You swear you’re dripping on the floor as your pussy flutters at his pleased words. You could touch yourself but all your energy and attention goes to pleasing the man above you.

The pain of kneeling hard wood floor for an extended period of time doesn’t bother you and the ache on your jaw is barely noticeable because all your concentration is on Joel and making him feel good.

Joel continues to set the pace, his grip tight on your scalp. “Fuck, just like that,” he moans when you tease the crown of his cock expertly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Joel’s voice lilts in a reprimanding voice.

A string of saliva connects you to the tip of him as your hand continuing to work on the rest of his length.

Joel takes note of your red rimmed eyes and flushed nose as well as in your swollen lips and moussed hair. The picture of you completely filthy and sexy.

Joel cups the back of your neck, bringing you up to his height. He brings you into a sloppy kiss consisting of teeth and tongue and saliva. Joel loves that can taste himself in your mouth. A job well done.

You straddle his lap so his cock grazes your dripping pussy, tugging needily at his tshirt. “Take it off,” you beg. Your lips separate for a brief second as the shirt comes off before they smash back together.

He complies but quickly reminds himself that this all started because you were calling him old. He can’t be quick to reward you.

You foolishly believe that’s it and you get to have him. Eagerly you try to sink into his cock but he holds you still, not letting you take him to the hilt.

“Who’s the tease now?” You pant against his lips, stealing another long kiss before whispering in his ear begging him to take you, to use you.

“I like to see you begging for it.” That’s Joel’s response as he pushes you off of him.

You protest but fall silent when he removes his remaining clothes. God you’re like a teenager desperate to fuck with clothes and all.

It drives Joel nuts the way you look at him with lust filled eyes. You bite your lip as you take him in all his glory, hands reaching to touch his chest.

He pulls you back to him, his cock wedged between the two of you. The saliva covering it, sticking to your skin. He cups your face, “You have something to say?”

“Nope.”

Joel to cos his head in disappointment, pushing you into bed and maneuvering you till your head is buried in the pillows and your ass is high in the air. It’s tinged a dozen shades of pink and red from his hands.

You wiggle your hips offering yourself to him. Air hits your pussy, giving you an idea of how aroused you are. That’s what happens whenever you have the pleasure of going down in Joel.

Joel grips himself, spreading his pre before pumping his hand. Smack. His hand flies down to strike your ass once more. Your back arches when Joel teases your entrance with the tip. He runs it up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. He lightly pushes into you so only the tip is inside before he pulls out again.

“Please fuck me,” you plead breathlessly, attempting to rock back to get more of him inside you.

Joel laughs. “Now you’re nice and polite. Is there something else you want to tell me?” He asks expecting an apology.

“No,” you repeat stubbornly.

He’ll get you soon enough. There’s no way you’ll resist.

Joel’s cock brushes against your clit, making you jump and moan. He does it again and again. Your pussy clenches desperately wanting him inside of you.

“You sure? You don’t want to apologize?” He gives you another chance. Sinking his cock deeper into you to give you a taste before he pulls out.

You huff and pout but you can’t take it anymore. You need him. “I’m sorry!”

“Now, was that so hard,” Joel grunts, pushing his length all the way in, rewarding you.

You bury your head into the pillow, stifling the guttural moan that rips from your throat. You could die like this suffocated and blissfully impaled on Joel’s cock and be happy.

With a tight grip on your waist Joel fucks into you at his own pace, watching how easily you accept him, covering him with your essence. It feels fucking fantastic.

His skin slaps against yours rhythmically. You swear you can cum at that moment but Joel knows all your tells and he slows his pace, pushing into you only when the tip remains. Long, slow strokes keeping you from cumming.

“I wanna cum,” you cry out frustrated but he ignores you, edging you.

“If you want to cum tonight you have to stop calling me old,” Joel grits. This is torture for him as much as it is for you.

“I said I’m sorry,” you sob into the pillow, your back arching as you try and take matters into your own hands. Smack, another spank, warning you to stop.

“Will you stop calling me grandpa?”

You have the audacity to fucking hesitate. He’s serious about not letting you cum but he’s confident he’ll get you to cave in.

Joel pulls out his cock when you refuse to answer. He instantly misses the warmth and tightness of your walls. His cock is soaked with your slick, a creamy white substance covering him from root to tip.

Licking his middle and ring fingers he replaces his cock, feeling your walls clench around them. He pumps them angling them downward to reach that spot inside of you, his other hand pressing on your lower back so you arch more.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp when this thumb presses on your bud. An orgasm quickly building. “Please Joel.” You wanted to cum around his cock not his fingers but at this point you’ll take anything you can get. Your mind is completely clouded and years for release.

“Did you reconsider what you wanted to call me?” Joel curves his fingers, quickening the pace.

“Yes,” you whine as your hips grind against his hand.

“And what’s that?” His fingers are sticky, your essence dripping down his hand.

“Please, daddy,” you cry abashedly, hiding your reddening face in the pillows.

“I didn’t hear ya’ darlin’. How about you look at me when you speak?” Joel dares to say while his fingers continue to drive into you.

Fuck, your legs are shaking and the knot continues to tighten in your belly. You have to say it or Joel will stop. You turn your head to meet his eyes, “Please, daddy.”

“That’s more like it,” Joel’s raspy voice says, removing his fingers when you’re at the cusp once more.

You audibly groan in frustration but it’s interrupted when Joel eases his cock back into you Fucking you just as you want it, hard and fast.

The bed sheets are fisted in your hands as you hold on. Your nipples brushing against the bed with each thrust. It doesn’t take long at all for you both to titer over the edge. Your pussy squeezing tightly around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

When Joel pulls out you fall to lie on your stomach, catching your breath. He lies beside you doing the same. Sharing a glance you both start laughing.

“Next time you want it rough just tell me,” Joel shakes his head at you. He knew all along and yet it still pissed him off.

“It’s not the same, honey,” you sigh, kissing his shoulder. The nearest part of him you can reach without moving too much.

The following morning you wake up with a kink in your back and Joel being the ever loving husband brings you painkillers to bed where you’re lying still, “Take these grandma. They’ll make you feel better.”

He won’t ever call you ‘grandma’ again. The daggers you sent him were fucking terrifying.

listen...typically i'm not the biggest fan of the daddy kink...but when it works, it works

[astroyongie]

Ateez: When You Are Feeling Self Conscious About Your Body

Note: I figure that with Easter here and many of us having big meetings and often they are related to food, that this post could help some of you who are self conscious about these things <3 remember to take it easy and to be indulgent with yourself. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Hongjoong

It was evening, and you were in your bedroom, trying to find something to wear to a dinner with your friends and Hongjoong. The world outside has quieted, but your mind hasn’t no matter how hard you tried. You’re standing in front of the mirror, wearing a simple black tank top and shorts. nothing fancy, nothing done-up since the dinner would be something rather chill between friends and not something classy. You hadn't noticed how Hongjoong was in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching you silently. He notices the way your fingers tug at the hem of your shirt. The way your eyes flick away from your own reflection like it hurts to look at yourself.

“You’re doing it again.” Hongjoong says softly, from behind you

You flinch just slightly, half because you’re startled but also because you know exactly what he means. You don’t answer. instead you shake your head a little before you spoke, your voice coming out quieter than intended.

“It’s just… I look like this. And you look like you. It doesn’t feel fair.” There was a silence, before you added, looking away from him,“I don’t want people to look at us and think you settled. Or that I’m… staining you.”

There’s a long pause. You don’t hear footsteps, but you eventually feel Hongjoong behind you, his warmth ghosting your back before his arms wrap slowly around your waist. Not tight. Just present. Just there.

“Staining me?” Hongjoong murmurs, his lips brushing your shoulder, “Is that what you think you’re doing when I can’t keep my hands off you?” he asked, his voice lowering, “When I see you walk into a room and I forget what I was saying? When your voice is the one I listen for even in silence?”

You feel him breathe in against your back, as if inhaling you makes the air steadier in his lungs.

“You want to know what ruins me?” Hongjoong asked, gently turning you to face him, cupping your jaw so tenderly it makes your throat ache, “Watching you shrink yourself because someone, somewhere, made you think your worth had anything to do with numbers, shapes,” He doesn’t say you’re beautiful like it’s a defense. He says it like it’s law. “Wear whatever you want. Let me be proud of you the way you won’t be of yourself. I’ll do it until you can.”

Mingi

Today was supposed to be chill, just a shopping spree with Mingi after a long week of work. And god, you really were trying to be casual about it, pretending to enjoy the process, but you’ve been stuck in the dressing room a little too long now and you hated how each time this was the same. Mingi had picked up this dress for you and he was so excited so of course you had to try it on.

But fuck why did you felt so disgusted by the mere sight of yourself?

The new outfit hugs you in a way you’re not ready to see. All of these flaws, jumping straight to your eyes and you hated it. Why couldn't you just shop in peace like all those pretty girls? You step out of the dressing room hesitantly, tugging at the fabric.

Mingi's sitting just outside in one of whose small couches, phone down, eyes up as soon as he noticed your presence. He looks at you for a full second. Not a polite glance, but a full, slow look. He sighed quietly

“You’re already bracing for me to lie, aren’t you?” Mingi asked

You swallowed. “It just… doesn’t fit right.”

He stood up, stepping closer to you before he suddenly tugged the mirror curtain closed behind you both so no one else could see what you both were on about.

“It fits like it was made for you. The only thing not fitting here is the idea that you’re anything less than stunning.” Mingi whispered, brushing your hair away, fingers grazing your neck, his voice a low whisper, “They don’t make mirrors that show you what I see. That’s the problem.”

And you felt your eyes teary up as he pulled you into a hug. Maybe, just in this moment, he had helped you fix something you never thought was needed to fix

San

You were laying down with San in your share bed, legs tangled as you were scrolling Instagram after an evening out with the whole group and their partners. It was something that has become an habit and tonight, Hongjoong had posted a few group photos that you all take throughout the night together. You clicked on the notifications, only to see this picture of yourself from an unflattering angle, and your heart sank.

You knew, or at least believed, that you weren't very pretty and this pictures and how you looked truly sent you down a dissociative and body dismorphia spiral. You locked your phone and quietly pulled the blanket up, turning your face away.

San was lying next to you, playing some phone games. after a few moments, he finally sensed that there was a shift in your behavior, which made him look over at you

“What happened?”

You didn't answer him, pretending you were asleep which made him sighed since this was a typical scene for him. San gently tugs the blanket down and rests his forehead against yours, trying to get your attention

"What's up?"

".. the picture Hongjoong posted" you murmured ever so quietly

“You saw a version of yourself that doesn’t match the one in your head, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly, eyes stinging with stubborn tears which made him sigh and pull you into a tight hug.

“I saw that picture too. You looked real. Warm. Beautiful. Like the only person in the frame I wanted to kiss.” He said, kissing your cheek in a comforting way. Then your jaw and neck, his lips lingering at your collarbone “and if anyone else couldn’t see it… their eyes weren’t meant for you anyway.”

Seonghwa

You just got out of the shower after a very long day of work. Your skin was flushed, hair damp, body wrapped in a towel while the stubborn fog in the bathroom clung into the walls of your shared bathroom with Seonghwa.

To be honest with yourself you were avoiding the mirror ever since last week. You hated how it seemed like your body was unflattering, how you couldn't help but notice the weight clinging unto your hips. You were so self absorbed in your negative thoughts that you didn't notice Seonghwa walked in. He caught the way your arms are crossed, not from cold, but self-consciousness as you looked at the figged mirror, only to advert your eyes and to repeat the process.

Seonghwa paused in the doorway, waiting to see if you noticed him. when he noticed that you didn't, he finally came closer.

“You look like a painting when you’re like this.”

You scoffed, your eyes going to him as you tried to push the towel more securely around yourself. "Stop lying to me"

"I am not lying."

"I look fucking disgusting" you snapped and Seonghwa went quiet for a moment.

Once you looked away, eyes stinging with tears, Seonghwa stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he kissed your head before leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“No makeup. No posing. Just skin and warmth and you.” he murmured. "That's enough"

"You don't understand. I have to try to be more beautiful, try to be--"

You were cut off by his fingers tracing the edge of the towel at your back. “You don’t have to try. You never did.” he whispered the reassurance, pulling you into a soft hug, his heart aching. hoping that one way you would understand that you didn't needed to change to be loved. just to be yourself.

Wooyoung

You swore you were going to just cancel it out because there was no way you would go out looking like a piglet ham. you were halfway into getting dressed for an event with Wooyoung, knowing you needed to look extra fancy tonight. You had chose a dress you loved at first when you bought it, but now, in the mirror of your shared bedroom with your boyfriend, it felt “too much.” Too tight. Too revealing.

A ham. You were about to take it off, curse it out, cry and just tell Wooyoung that you weren't going no where when he entered the room, still buttoning his shirt. He saw the look on your face, frowning.

"What?"

"I look like a piglet"

"uh?" Wooyoung asked confused as he looked at you not understanding, "what are you on about?"

"I am taking this off." You said your hands ready to get rid of the dress

“Don’t." Wooyoung's voice almost sounded like an order, "Please don’t take it off yet.”

You froze, giving him a confused look as he walked over you slowly. Wooyoung brushed his knuckles against your bare shoulders, sighing

“You were made to wear softness like armor. Look at you.. You look beautiful” he reassured you and you sighed, feeling the tears rolling down your cheek

"I feel disgusting Woo"

“That's on your head love. You look like a goddess, so please don't take it off.. I will be the one taking it off for you tonight. and I promise I will show you how much you are beautiful”

and Wooyoung did.

Yeosang

To be honest, you hated summer time. It was always hot, you would sweat bunches and the mosquitoes were your biggest enemy. Or perhaps the second, the first being the way it was too hot to wear sweaters and you had to wear summer clothing, which meant to show more of your skin and body.

And that terrorized you deeply, and it was partially why you didn't understood how Yeosang could love you. you and him were out for a walk, and you had decided to wear a tank top out in the sun for the first time in a while, and every step felt like too many eyes were on your arms, your chest, your thighs.

you hated it.

Yeosang had noticesd the way your hand hovers near your stomach, the way you keep adjusting your shirt. He first tried to ignore, thinking you were just itchy but then it became clear that you were uncomfortable.

Yeosang leaned in, murmuring in your ear, "What's wrong?"

"I feel awful thats what's wrong... I hate summer.. I feel so uncomfortable" you said and Yeosang nodded. he knew how much you struggled with your body and he had always been supportive of you.

“If you’re worried about how they see you… just walk closer to me.”

You glance up at him, "closer to you?" you asked and he nodded

“I’ll absorb their gaze. Shield you." Yeosang said with a smile, "Don't worry love, I will make sure to be there.”

And Yeosang does. throughout the walk, he had rested his hand on your lower back like a promise. He would hold your hand when you felt nervous, or used his body as a shield whenever he felt you umconfortable. Kiss you, whenever he felt you spiraling.

You didn't know but, to Yeosang, you were his favorite sight in the world.

Yunho

You hated mornings after a night out for dinner, usually because you always indulged yourself in the food which resulted by you feeling heavy in the next morning. You were in bed, wearing an oversized shirt from Yunho, no makeup, hair wild from sleep. You felt messy. Bloated. Unsexy. You figured that maybe if you tried to slip away before Yunho wakes up, you could at least try to put some make up and do something about your bloated self--

Too late.

Yunho rolled over the moment you were getting up from bed. He scoffed, one big hand going to your wrist and pulling you in again which made you yelp.

“You trying to sneak away from me?” Yunho asked, voice still husky with sleep

You offer a sheepish shrug. "I try. but you are playing against me"

"Hm. why do you look uncomfortable?"

"because I am huge. I lack discipline" you complained and he clicked his tongue. He tugged you once again so you would be under him, resting his forehead on yours.

“You’re always running from your reflection"

"I hate it"

"it’s the only thing I want to chase.” Yunho murmured, his arms wrapping themselves around you as he gently caressed your body to prove his point. He kissds the hollow of your throat, sighing happily.

"Yunho.."

“shh.. Let me show you how good you already are.”

Jongho

You and Jongho were in a small café patio, in the early afternoon that he was able to take off from work. you were seated at a little round table laughing, sharing food, sun on your skin. You had been nervous to order dessert, but Jongho had nudged you softly

“If you want it, have it. Don’t let shame win.”

So you did.

You were halfway through a slice of this sweet cake when one of your co workers walked by. Out of politeness, you greeted them, doing small talk with a tight smile as they had decided to comment on your food.

“Wow, you’re really indulging today, huh? I wish I had that kind of confidence.” they had say in a laughing tone.

It’s a joke. A joke. But it lands like a brick to your chest. You freeze for just a second, your spoon midair. Your smile doesn’t falter, not fully as you’ve trained yourself too well. You laugh it off, murmuring a polite answer.

But Jongho watches you.

Watches the way your hand pauses. Watches the flicker of shame pass through your eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just turns his gaze to the person who spoke, tilts his head with that slow, unreadable calm of his. The silence stretches, heavy, pointed.

“You know what’s wild?” he asked the coworker, his voice quiet but clear

The person raises a brow. “What?”

“That you thought you could say something like that and still be welcome in this moment.”

There’s a pause. You feel your heart pound, your eyes widening at Jongho's comment .

“If her dessert makes you uncomfortable, maybe it’s your own reflection you should be questioning.” Jungho added, still calm and gently but not backing down

Your coworker sputters a quick apology, an awkward, fake, and fleeing one before they disappeared inside the cafe shop. Jongho waited until they were gone before he turned to you. Not with pity but with devotion.

“Don’t let them make you question something you earned. You wanted it. You enjoyed it. You deserve it.”

Jongho then picked up your spoon and feed you the next bite himself. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever touched

“You’re not too much. Not too full. Not too anything. You’re mine. And that means they don’t get to touch you. not even with their words.”

[codnasties]

141 mechanic shop. 👻🧼🧢🚬 (🌽 link)

your car breaks down in a town in the middle of nowhere and it needs fixing asap so you can resume your trip. good thing that the closes town has a trusty mechanic shop ;)

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price 🚬- the tow truck driver

price is the tow truck driver, responding to a call about a car that suddenly stopper running in the middle of a highway. much to his surprise, when he pulls up on site, he sees you. pretty little thing, distressed about the state of your car. he doesn't know what it is - maybe loneliness hitting him, the tears in your eyes or your sweet body and face - but it awakes something in him.

he's unable to keep his eyes out of your body, soft legs shining under the blazzing summer sum, as he's winching your car onto the truck. he find himself oogling a bit too much and too hard for it to be considered genletmanly. the minutes spent driving, your delightful perfume filling the space, taking you to the shop, he had to figh the urge of touching you. hands tingling with need to see if your sking is as soft as it looks - and also get to know if that pussy is as delicious as he's imaging -. but he won't do that.

he will settle for a cheeky wank in a hidden part of the parking lot in the shop, his hand running up and down his aching cock at a fast speed at the thought of a body that won't be leaving his mind any time soon.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

ghost 👻- the mechanic

ghost in one of the two mechanics the shop has. while soap is working on fixing your car as fast as he can so you can resume your journey, ghost sees your tear-streaked face and decides to chat you up, offer you some kind of comfort - or at the very least, a way of getting your mind away from your problem and how hard it's going to hit your finances -.

but with a man this hot - and mysterious, rugged and slighty dirty -, simple chatting soon turns into flirting, subtle touches to get closer to him and feel how hard are those muscles hiddind under his clothes. one thing leads to another and then this scary man ends up fucking you. making you take a seat in one of the stools they have in the shop, you ass pushed out to give him aceess to your needy holes. his cock deep inside your ass as your car gets fixed. plucked hole stretched around the leaking mess his thick cock is. the moans he's pulling out of you reverberating all over the shop. and the way he's going to make sure to fill your ass nicely with his cum, just a little souvenir so you remember him ;)

if you ask me, i would say this is peak customer service, and the perfect way of keeping the customer happy and entertained

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

soap 🧼- the other mechanic

soap in the other mechanic, the one actually doing his job and working on your car - no shade being thrown here -. but when some pretty lasses' sweet sounds reach his ears, he pushed himself from underneath the car only to get the perfect view of you, getting fucked by ghost. tits on full display for him, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back with each and every one of simon's thrusts.

just from your whines and moans he was already half chubbed up, but that view did it for him. he couldn't stop his cock from getting fully hard. he already didn't have a shirt on - blame it on the heat or this man loving to show off -, so it was easy to pull his pants off in one swift motion - no underpants, very on brand -. his dick hitting his stomach as it gets feed from it confines. he's supposed to be working in fixing your car but god... can't concentrate with a boner, can't he? his hand, covered in grease, wrapping around his meaty shaft, slowly stoking up and down, rubbing one out until he cums all over himself to you getting your ass fucked.

he really wished it was his cock fucking you, or that he could step in and join ghost, but he knows if he does that he's either going to get reprimanded or hit for interrumptng

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

gaz 🧢- the admin

gaz is the admin, he does all the paperwork. he was the one that picked up the call, heard you though your stressed out half sobbed words and reassured you that whatever was going on with your car could be fixed. he's also the last one you get to interact with in the shop, becasue he sorts out your documents and the one you have to pay an obnoxiously high price to for the work done on your car.

good thing that this pretty admin guy, clad in some dress pants and a shirt that pulled taut around his bulging arms, is willing to bargain with you, finding a way to lower your price - or even going as far as paying for you, since you've been such a good motivation to all the shop workers -. but getting rid of your little debt to them does not mean he's doind it for free. maybe a little hand with the problem that boner in his slacks is. he's been watching the havoc you've been causing on the floor though the security cameras. can't blame him. your puffy lips from trying to bite back your moans earliers now enveloping his mushroom tip.

but he's a hungry fucker, so just your mouth isn't enough. so why not let him have a taste of that neglected soaking wet pussy, dripping with both your own arousal and ghost's cum that keeps uncontrolably dripping out?

[gothghostiie]

@pricegotmedickmatized my turn, the promised second brain worms i got regarding poly!141 and Price punishing his boys

also based on what she had to say about this

cw: fingering, anal, overstimulation, toys (cockrings/buttplug), threesome, degrading, brief/mild cbt, praise, manhandling, hairpulling, crying, hatefucking, creampie, abrupt ending

they truly dont learn. they never do. why would they? price will always deal with them. he feels like he's talking to a brick wall, but unfortunately its his brickwall and he loves it with his whole heart. even if his brickwall is three goddamn brats - or rather one stupid, reckless brat, one pretty boy who has too much fun to say no and one looming shadow who's too good at keeping quiet. they drive him up the wall sometimes, especially on days like these. he just can't throw the heat, can't get himself to get hard and fuck the idiots like they deserve - but that doesn't mean he wont find a way to fuck them back in line. not when each of them has a perfectly good cock each.

hes sat in his armchair that he keeps in the big bedroom he assigned for all of them; for after scenes, to hang out or to just all sleep in the same room or even bed if they feel like it. soap lovingly calls it the cuck chair, kyle snickers every time he hears it, ghost likes the thought a little too much (but that's a story for another day). watches johnny and kyle grope and push each other playfully while trying to stay serious, simon sits with his head down, waiting for price to speak; but he doesn't. not yet. lights himself a cigar silently, taking a deep puff followed by a mild cough, before he sits up with a grunt. "you lot don't fucking learn. you don't wanna learn, do you?" he sighs. "it's like you like pissing me off. like you like being disrespectful and insubordinate brats. like you enjoy making me angry and getting yourselves punished." he takes another puff, the boys finally pipe down. kyle looks a little guilty, johnny is still grinning - he knows price is absolutely right - and simon is unmoved.

"tried so many things to get you to behave. good old fashioned spanking, denying you your orgasms, taking away privileges, denying you things you want - I've tried to fuck you straight, for fucks sake. but you truly don't learn. nothing takes fruit." he shakes his head with a scowl. "got me thinking what else I can do to make you be good. been overworking my poor head." he takes yet another long puff, leaving the words hang in the air for a moment before speaking again. "but I think I might have something that'll help." the boys all look at him, curious, a bit scared, excited. price looks around silently to keep them on edge.

"what is it?" Gaz finally asks, his leg jumping nervously, swatting aways soaps hand from his lower back, soap pouts.

price looks around again. "I don't have it in me today to fuck you straight tonight, just for you lot to be back to being stupid brats tomorrow. im too old to deal with naughty little boys." he chuckles dryly, taking another puff. the boys wanna laugh, but they know it'll just fuel whatever price has planned; even soap's piped down. for now. "but what do I have three young, healthy cocks for if not to use them, hm?" he chuckles again, the boys get more confused, a bit flustered.

"Sir?"

"Take your clothes off." he says, glancing around. "you too, simon." they all quietly do, soap immediately rocking a boner - christ 3 of his favourite people are naked and he gets to stare and drool like a slut. "get here. at attention." the military language immediately strikes a cord in all of them, they all scramble to get up and stand in a half circle around price, hands behind them, backs straight and feer slightly apart. the sight makes price laugh, shaking his head while reaching into his pocket.

"good soldiers." he chuckles, unpacking what he had brought - cockrings. three different ones: a regular one, a vibrating one and one that fits around cock and balls. each of them knows who's getting what. price looks around briefly, waiting for protest that never comes. "you know the deal." he says, putting them in his lap and picking up the regular one, lubing it up as he speaks. "tell me if it hurts too bad, if it feels numb or cold." the boys nod and simon closes his eyes, whimpering as price slides the cockring onto his flaccid cock, setting it snugly at the very base of it. Kyle is next, price grabs the vibrating one and lubes it up, turning it on and off to make sure it works before sliding it onto the younger man's cock. Kyle shivers, a soft moan falling from his lips as his cock twitches.

then its soaps turn. the slut is beaming as price lubes up the last ring whike shaking his head. "don't look so happy." Price scolds. "God damn slut. can't even keep your pathetic cock under control so I can put the ring on. have to make it hard for me." he gently slaps the hard dick, drawing a yelp and a flinch from soap - that's a first. and price loves it. he does it again, a bit harder to test the waters, then again to hear the shriek again. finally slides the ring on while laughing, squeezing the heavy, full balls through the silicone and giving them a smack too, for good measure. he leans back again and eyes the three over while taking yet another puff off his cigar, blowing the smoke at the three of them.

"look at that." he hums. "all of you standing at attention for me. takes you back, doesnt it?" he laughs at his own words, shaking his head. "back when you still fucking listened to me." he adds. "lets see if you can still listen, hm?" he gestures towards the bed, silently telling them to get on. they all do, waiting for their next order, like dogs. price truly does wish he had a camera on hand. "now, for your punishment.." he hums. "you're gonna fuck each other. under my command, under my direction. if I see any of you doing anything I'm not telling you too, you'll regret it. got it?'

they all collectively nod, so does price. "good. Simon, lie down, on your stomach." simon winces. once again he hadn't done anything but not tell on the others, and once again he regrets it now. price throws them a bottle of lube. "Kyle, prep him a bit. be nice." The man nods quickly, spreading the lube on his long, slender fingers and works them into the tight hole splayed out in front of him, gently working simon open while he buries his bare face in the pillow he put his head on. John let's them have at it for a while, watching gaz softly soothe simon with gentle whispers, his other hand massaging the tight back of his neck. "That's it." Price hums after a few minutes. "Thats enough. good boy, kyle." he praises gently, watching him pull out. "dont clean your fingers. sit back and turn the ring on low, then finger yourself too. got it?"

"Got it, Captain." Price hums in approvement, watching as kyle follows his orders. he then turns his attention to soap.

"go boy. have at it." soap freezes. this has to be a trap, right?

"what?" price tilts his head.

"have at it. fuck him how you like. go on." Soap hesitates as he climbs over the big guy, straddling his muscular thighs. pulls apart the fat cheeks hiding the slicked up hole, simon just takes it quietly; even when soap slides his chubby tip into the prepped hole. he throws his head back, starts thrusting slowly as price watches closely. but soap wouldn't be soap if he had any ounce of self control, so it doesnt take long before hes slamming down into him, making simon let out pathetic, high pitched whimpers. that's when Price stands up, walking over. "keep going." he orders firmly, as if soap would ever stop if he wasn't being physically ripped away. he kneels down by si's head, running a gentle hand through his hair as he leans in.

"feel that? that's the cock that keeps gutting you into trouble. that keeps getting you punished for no reason at all." he croons, the soft voice a stark difference. "and now he's ruining your hole too. youre a fucking doormat, aren't you? letting the little brat walk all over you." ghost tenses, price has him hooked now. the fingers gently carding through his blond hair suddenly tighten and pull the head up. "look at me when I'm fucking talking to you." simon winces. "you're a god damn pussy for letting him do that." he drops the hair and steps back, letting simon brood while soap keeps rutting into him like a madman. he's chasing his own high like a cat chases a mouse, he doesn't get to fuck this tight hole often, he has to make most of it. and he does, at least he tries. the ring makes it hard, feeling like some kind of barrier is cutting off his cum, making sure it wont come out any time soon, but that doesn't stop him. it never does. his rutting gets more aggressive, more agitated, his grunts louder and more laboured. it takes him longer than both of them would like before he's pumping his load deep into ghost, thrusting some more to make sure it's really all in there, all messy, before pulling out and slapping the red, angry tip against the stretched hole. the laugh that leaves his lips is cold and nasty, ghost tenses more.

"sit back. Kyle, your turn." Kyle gulps. he knows what price is doing and hes praying he won't get the short end of the stick. he climbs up and takes soaps place, price gestures for him to go ahead. kyle does, slowly pushing in, giving him a gentle fuck in hope to soothe what price started, rubbing his back and kissing his shoulders. but price isnt having that. he laughs. "look at that. all sweet n gentle to make up for getting you into trouble too. isn't that nice, simon?" he says sarcastically. "at least kyle cares a little, hm? how kind of him. really, really sweet." ghost tenses up again, kyle gulps. he keeps the gentle demeanour up, despite his cock aching and begging for more stimulation.

"he's holding back so hard to not anger you. he's scared of you. maybe we should help him, hm?" Price grins, it makes him shiver. "Johnny, get behind him." Kyle's eyes widen, as does Soaps grin. he places himself behind Gaz and presses his dick against the taller mans hole, filling in the banks of what price wants him to do. he rubs it teasingly, making kyle shiver in anticipation, thrusting into ghost deeper to get away from soap; unfortunately for him this backfires.

"go, boy." the simple words send soap into a frenzy, almost lunging himself forward to press kyle down onto ghosts back - despite being the shortest he's still a goddamn tank - forcing his already hard again cock into the tight hole. Kyle gasps loudly, forced into the big guy to the hilt, praying that ghost won't tear him to shreds later. Soap once again starts rutting down, this time into kyle instead of ghost - more or less, since he's forcing kyle to fuck him in the same rhythm. both of them are whining and moaning, gaz is louder, soap grunts with effort and pleasure.

Kyle looks up with teary eyes, looking at price for help - to his surprise he actually stands up and walks over; but not to help. the opposite, really. poor naive kyle sobs out when price reaches down between them to put the cockring on its highest setting, then stands up straight again to watch. "look at that. not even sweet kyle can help when the brat gets his hands in, huh?" he's talking to ghost again, riling him back up. "what a shame, thought you were better than.. that." his voice drips with disdain - and kyle finally realises what's happening. his eyes widen and he glances up at the older man, who smirks down at him with a wink. he knows this is happening, no matter how much he'd beg or plead, this was happening. lucky for him he wouldn't get the short end of the stick, so why stop it? the worst that will happen to him will be getting overstimulated, and that's worth the show - so he puts his head down, relaxing his body as soap keeps plowing into him.

soap is far too sunken into the pleasure to notice the exchange, far too busy with the feeling of the pilant hole around his cock and the feeling of power that comes with forcing someone to fuck another person. he gets drunk on the power quickly, digging his short nails into Kyle's ass as he chases another high - but not without making sure to angle his thrusts against the other mans prostate, forcing him to cum into Ghosts hole too, mixing with the mess already in there. only when he hears the squelching noises get sticky he allows himself to finish again, pulling out right away to watch his sperm dribble out of Kyle's gaping hole. smacks his ass for good measure before sitting back, exhausted and happy.

Kyle follows suit, pulling out slowly and carefully, leaving ghost wide open, price grins. "look at that.." he whispers, pulling the cheeks apart to have a clear view. "what a fucking mess. disgusting. you really let him do that to you?" he rummages through the nightstand, fishing out a rather big buttplug. he gently, slowly pushes it into Ghosts hole, sealing it shut with the mixed cum inside it, a constant reminder of what just happened. price now bends down, mouth right by his ear.

"you won't let him get away with that, are you, ghost?"

his eyes fly open, he's frozen for a moment. price grins and steps back. he doesn't even have to give the command, ghost is already hauling himself up with a grunt, grabbing johnny by the hair and pulling him onto his back on the mattress, a shocked look crossing the other mans face. his cocky demeanor is gone as he finally realises what price had been planning all along, that he wasn't going easy with the punishment, no. he made soap fuck him on purpose. got him angry, not at being punished, but at soap for getting him punished. and it worked, because ghost is forcing soaps knees to his ears, fat, drooling cock resting on his ass, rubbing back and forth. the only thing holding him back is the lack price's command to start, and soap knows it. he looks up, baffled. price bends down again, looking into his eyes.

"go on." Soap looks at price as if he had just signed his death contract, like he just sent him on death row with no chance for trial. Ghost doesnt hesitate, he forces his whole lenght in I'm one deep thrust, making the smaller man cry out, air forced out of his lungs.

"fuck-!" Soap cusses but is quickly silenced, not by Price, but by ghost, shoving his thick fingers down his throat, making his eyes water.

"shut the fuck up, you pathetic whore.." ghosts voice is low, angry. soap gets butterflies and he's not sure whether its fear or arousal. "your fucking fault I keep getting into trouble.. your fucking fault I'm fucked full of cum.. your fucking fault I'm stuffed now.." he growls, showing his fingers deeper as he thrusts harder. its short, deep thrusts with a painful force behind them, soaps tears soon flow freely. "gonna make you fucking regret what you did to me.." soaps eyes roll back as ghost hits his good spot, deep, deep inside him. he swears he can feel ghost all the way in his tummy, swears it bulges from the sheer size, but his hands cant feel for it, digging into the sheets as ghost ruins him, like he ruined ghost.

"holy shit.." Kyle whispers shakily, cockring still buzzing away around his cock, lazily stroking his semi as he watches soap get brutalised. "Captain.." he mumbles quietly. "he's crying.."

"that he is." Price nods, kneeling down. he cups the back of his head, surprisingly gentle. Ghost pulls his fingers out, making space for price, wiping his fingers on his face. "does that hurt?" he coos, soap nods. "he's really deep, ain't he?" soap nods again. "got you all teary, hm? that bad?" soap nods again, a glimmer of hope as ghost tears into his hole, but it's snuffed as quickly as it was lit. "good." price says firmly, sadistically. "it's a god damn punishment. maybe being made to cry like a fucking baby will make you behave."

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 3

Masterpost - Ao3

Content warning: This chapter involves depiction of a train derailment and subsequent fire throughout. There is also brief mention of death. I will be putting a brief summary in the description if you prefer not to read this part.

Danny jolts up from his fitful sleep. He’s intangible and invisible before he’s even fully sitting up and he’s in the air before he registers the loud boom that woke him. Any concerns about his bright transformation are made totally irrelevant by the warning sirens blaring in his head.

Wait, no. Those are real sirens.

In the distance, lights are now accompanying the sirens; flashing as they speed down what looks like main street. It’s pretty clear where they’re going too, from the violent orange glow cascading over the tops of the nearby buildings.

I knew it, Danny thinks, flying towards whatever disaster is unfolding. probably it’s stupid to get involved, when he still knows so little about this place, but- well, old habits die hard. It doesn’t take long for the problem to become obvious, and Danny freezes as he struggles to process the scene before him.

The metal carnage is nothing like Danny’s ever seen before; what looks to be a freight train has derailed at the worst possible location, sending its cars careening into the various apartment buildings and stores on the east side of town, and to make matters worse, one of them has clearly crashed straight into the gas station by the freeway, and fire is spreading faster than Danny could have imagined.

Danny can already see two buildings blazing, but he quickly focuses his attention towards the carnage of the train itself. Luckily it’s fairly obvious what direction it was headed, and Danny moves fast, looking for the engine. In ghost form, physical sensations always feel a little more distant but even through that, Danny can feel his heart rabbiting in his chest. Luckily it takes less than a minute to find the engine, but as he approaches it, the presence of death catches in his throat, and he immediately knows it’s a lost cause.

He can’t sense any actual ghosts, though, so instead Danny whips around to stare at the derailed cars. He’s far more used to fighting than he is rescues, but he can hardly just ignore the possibility of people trapped, so he carefully begins phasing through the wreckage, searching and listening for signs of anyone. Already, people are starting to gather outside; both those who were nearby and those who have managed to escape on their own, and Danny is careful to maintain his invisibility as he works. 

Danny’s made it through about half the wreck by the time he spots the firetrucks arriving, he’s pretty certain that nobody’s trapped under any of the cars, and he’s also thinking more clearly. The fire has also gotten worse now, and Danny watches as fully equipped firefighters spill out onto the street, already jumping to work as the fire chief shouts out orders. Some rush to start battling the flames, but others head towards the crowd.

They’re getting headcounts, Danny realizes. It seems so obvious in retrospect, but of course, Danny would have to be visible to check with anyone. And now that they’re here, anything he tries to do in secret would probably just make things harder. There is, of course, an easy solution to that, but- Danny has yet to find any evidence that all the meta stuff is anything but propaganda.

Even as Danny considers the dilemma, he knows what he’s going to do. He’s survived danger before, after all, and if he can keep people from assuming ghost, then he’ll have an advantage on them even if it comes to the worst. Besides, there’s that whole great powers-great responsibility thing, so in a way, it’s kind of his responsibility...

Danny floats out of the wreckage before shifting into visibility, figuring it’s probably polite to approach in their field of sight.

“What can I do to help?” Danny asks, causing most of the crowd to stare in shock. Belatedly he realizes he’s still floating, but actually that’s probably a good thing. Makes it clear he’s a meta right off the bat, at least

“New hero, huh? Powerset?” The man responds promptly, leveling Danny with an even gaze. Probably the lack of shock is a good thing. Probably.

“Uh, flight obviously, enhanced strength as well, and um... The ability to turn people and things intangible?” Danny responds promptly. It’s far from his full set, but he figures those are the most relevant, and keeping most of his tricks under his sleeve makes him feel better about what he’s doing.

“Is the fire gonna hurt you? I’m not sending some kid in there to die of third degree burns or smoke inhalation.” The man frowns, giving Danny the distinct feeling he’s not particularly impressed with Danny’s answer.

“Oh! Yeah, no, I’ll be fine! I like, don’t exactly need to breathe? And I’m fine in extreme heat too, so it shouldn’t be a problem...” Danny trails off and the head firefighter narrows his eyes as he tries not to flinch at the assessing look. To Danny’s right, someone shouts and when he turns to look, he sees a firefighter wave their arm and plant some kind of flag before moving on. No longer paying attention to Danny, the chief walks over and speaks to another firefighter. Danny wonders if he’s been dismissed, but before he can do anything, the chief calls out to him.

“Alright kid, you’re up, I guess,” he says, when Danny walks over. “We don’t know how injured he is, so do not move him, but if you’re strong enough to move this stuff fast and safe, that’ll be a damn good help.” He gestures to the twisted mess that Danny’s pretty sure was the edge of a building. 

Danny nods, stepping forward to examine the rubble. The firefighter that spotted the man points to a couple beams.

“Those beams are protecting him from the worst of it right now, but we’ll need to move them in order to get him out, so you gotta make sure that there’s nothing that’ll fall on him him when you move them.” 

“Righty-o,” Danny says, stepping forward to grab the two support beams he’d pointed too. He carefully examines the rubble collapsed around and over it. It’s sort of like a puzzle, he realizes - not quite the same as fixing his parents tech; certainly nothing here is supposed to be smashed together like that, but-

Danny blinks and refocuses. If he  just moves a few things first, he thinks he can get enough cleared away and just intange the beams. He tries to be fast as he does, without forgetting the emphasis the chief had put on safety, and after a few moments, he’s ready to move the beams. He gets into a good position, and then carefully makes them intangible, ready to react if anything bad happens. When nothing does, he carefully pulls them up and away, watching as the waiting firefighters rush in and start to work on actually extracting the guy.

He watches for a bit as a backboard appears and they begin a very slow and careful process of getting the guy onto it.

“Kid,” the chief calls, pulling Danny’s attention away.The chief guides him towards one of the buildings that’s on fire. “Got two people trapped on the third floor here. The stairs are unsafe, so if you can, get yourself up there, locate them, and get them out.”

Danny nods, not waiting for further instruction. He flies up two floors, and goes straight through the wall with his intangibility. The majority of this building isn’t terribly damaged, but one side has collapsed in on itself so if that’s where the stairs were, he can understand the difficulty. The air inside is already thick with smoke, and he quickly stops breathing, belatedly remembering that he’s supposed to not get smoke inhalation. Luckily, it doesn’t take long to catch the sound of voices, and Danny follows it to a room where two people are huddled next to an open window. Right, that’s a smart way to limit the danger of the smoke.

“Rides here!” Danny announces cheerfully, dropping his intangibility. Both people startle as they spot him, but one recovers relatively quickly.

“Him first,” they say, nodding towards their companion, who definitely looks more dazed.

“Right, here we go!” Danny says, stepping forward, and scooping the person up, and wasting no time flying directly through the building, and down to the waiting paramedics. There’s no stretcher currently available, so Danny gently sets them on the ground away from the worst of the smoke, before flying back to get the other person. They’re already standing up, and waste no time in wrapping their arms around his neck as he picks them up and flies them out to the medics as well.

Danny hardly has time to set the person down, before the chief is pulling him away again. They send him in to save a couple other trapped people, but after that, it sounds like everybody is accounted for, because the chief starts focusing all their energy on putting out the fire, rather than just containing it.

Danny is surprised to find himself pulled into helping with this part too. He gets assigned to a fire attack team, and Danny trails along after the two firefighters as the enter the building and begin to fight the fire from the inside.Occasionally, one of them will point at some piece of wall or ceiling and ask him to check what’s on the other side. He goes where they say, looking for signs of the fire, and when he does spot flames, occasionally tearing stuff down so they can get to it with their fire hose. It’s honestly a fascinating process. Danny’s never been anywhere near a major fire and the fact that the firefighters actually do more damage to the building as they work echoes in Danny’s brain as a morbid refrain.

What they’re doing is clearly working though, because he can actually feel the ambient temperature going down as time goes on. He briefly wonders if he should be trying to use his ice powers when one of his teammates complains about how hot it is, but they have protection, and he doesn’t want to risk any more info on him getting out. And anyways, he’s busy enough just doing his job. By the time they leave the building, Danny is exhausted. The interrupted night’s sleep is making itself known, alongside the surprising realization that Danny has actually worked harder tonight than he ever has before.

He lets himself half-collapse against a wall beside one of the fire trucks, once they finish their work putting out the fire. Beside him, his teammates are divesting themselves of their gear. it’s funny, Danny was anxious about revealing himself at first, but this whole night - and Danny belatedly realizes the sun is beginning to drift above the horizon now - he’s not been scared at all. Sure he’s been worried; with people in danger he’s hardly going to feel good, but in the last few hours he’s both worked harder than he has in any of his fights, and he’s done it without feeling terrible. Now, with just everyone accounted for and just about all of them either fine or in the hands of doctors, he feels odd.

It’s not a bad feeling or anything, kind of like when he successfully beats a hard level in a video game, or how he used to feel when he finished science projects in middle school.

Satisfaction, he realizes. And that’s what it is, though it’s far stronger than any version of it that he’s ever felt before. He does have a lot to feel proud of too. He  helped, even though he wasn’t sure it was safe to, and he might’ve actually saved somebody’s life tonight.

“You did good, kid.” One of his teammates says, echoing Danny’s thoughts. He startles a bit, feels himself flushing, and then in his embarrassment, he feels himself tumble over into a full blush. It’s always felt more embarrassing blushing in his ghost form. The way his skin actually glows with the green tinge is just so obviously inhuman, and he tries to avoid, tries his best to seem normal and alive, even when he’s a ghost.

Of course, these people don’t know he’s a ghost, but from what he’s seen, most of the heroes out there at least look functionally human, and he waits for the firefighters around him to freak out at the reminder that he isn’t even remotely one of them.

“Damn,” one whistles. Green glow is a new one. Makes your freckles real cute though.” The others laugh, and the other of his teammates steps forward to pat him gently on the back.

“Stop embarrassing my new favorite hero,” the chief says, walking up to join them. “You gotta name?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Danny answers, desperate for a distraction from this line of conversation. “I’m Danny!”

“Danny,” the chief responds flatly. he almost sounds exasperated, though Danny can’t imagine why, unless...

Unless that absolutely sounds like he just introduced himself normal and they think he’s a hero and he sounds like a dumbass without a secret identity, which- technically isn’t exactly wrong. 

“Yup!” Danny says, trying to make it sound intentional. “Danny Phantom at your service! Y’know cause of the intangibility and like. It just sounded good?” There. That sounds plausible. If he actually does end up having to be a hero, though, he’ll probably need a different first name. If he gets a civilian identity, that is.

“Well, Phantom,” the chief grins, that same assessing look from before back, but noticeably more relaxed now that there’s no immediate danger. “We’re damn grateful for all your help, and if you need anything you come let us know, alright?”

“Yeah, one of his teammates echoes. “You’re an honorary firefighter now, you should come hang out at the station sometime!” A couple of the others echo the sentiment. It’s surprisingly kind, and Danny smiles at the unrelenting wave of welcome.

“I’ll think about it,” he offers uncertainly. “For now, I think I ought to go back to sleep for a few more hours.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Danny,” the chief says. “Just make sure to get something to eat first. You’ve burned a lot of calories today.”

“Yeah, will do,” Danny offers an awkward salute to the man, and then, before he can actually fall asleep standing up, he takes off to hunt down a good spot for a nap.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Change (John Walker)

Description: 2 years of John tried to kill Y/N with the shield she sees him again after being sent to kill Ghost and things don’t go as planned.

Word Count: 3,196

Seeing John Walker again wasn’t ideal after the events that took place years ago. Val hadn’t known about this, nor did anyone really besides Sam and Bucky. John was crazy in this moment and struggled a lot but that did not excuse his awful behavior and him almost killing her. She would give her life for Sam and Bucky, they were the only people that she will truly ever trust.

John to her was the worst person she’s ever met and she hoped that she would never have to see him again. But as she stood in the vault with him, Yelena, Ava and now a dead Taskmaster, her worst fear came true. She was sent to kill Ghost but now after finding out that Val all played them pretty much, her gun was aimed at John.

Yelena and Ava saw the look in her eyes the second she saw him, it was fear and anger, they definitely had a past. The gun went off a few times, bullets hitting his shield. John didn’t yell at her to stop, in fact he wanted to do that himself. Y/N stopped shooting at him and looked at the other two, “We should find a way out.” Her voice was soft.

She put the gun back and that’s when Bob appeared. John was a complete asshole to Bob and that made the entire group hate him a little. But unfortunately they had to work together to get out of this place after realizing that Val played them. Bob was nice and if they got out of here alive, Y/N would be thankful to have Bob in her life. “You said you’re Captain America?” Bob laughed, John nodded. “Why's that so funny?” If Y/N wasn’t the type of person she was, she would have answered for Bob but he seemed to have it all covered, “You’re an asshole.” Y/N gave a small smile as John faked a laugh at him.

He didn’t know the half of it, Y/N thought. John threw Bob against the wall, “John.” Yelena yelled and Y/N held up her gun. Yelena looked at her and shrugged, that was one way of doing it. John didn’t believe Bob at all and since he didn’t, John proved his point on being an asshole. Bob’s idea wasn’t bad, climbing the walls, it was interesting and a challenge but they made it work.

That was until they reached the pathway, “Now what?” Bob didn’t think this through but it got them somewhere at least. “Great plan, Bobby.” John said, annoyance laced in his voice. It was even funnier when nobody trusted John to get up there, “CUCUMBER.” “What the hell is happening?” Yelena exclaimed as Bob tried to hold in a sneeze. His sneeze wasn’t what made them nearly die, it was John who also saved them.

It was crazier because he grabbed onto Y/N to make sure she didn’t fall, which had her shaking in fear. John managed to help everyone up and when he looked into Bob’s eyes he saw what Y/N was scared of. It was the memory that neither of them wanted to relive. John held up the shield ready to kill Sam or hurt him badly. Y/N was there trying to stop him but she wasn’t as strong as him and ended up below him.

The look in his eyes, dangerous and deadly as he growled at her. His shield was above his head as he got ready to kill her, he could never forget the look in her eyes as she stared up at him. She was scared for her life, the fear in her eyes was all he could remember and in her head she accepted her fate. The shield was so close to her face before Sam and Bucky pushed him off her.

She was sobbing as Sam held her, John still had the look of rage in his eyes. She cried so hard that day that her eyes hurt. John watched the scene with tears in his eyes before Yelena pulled him out of it. John was near the edge about to step off and he looked into Bob’s eyes. What did he know? Y/N was curious as to what happened to John as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m fine.” He lied and Y/N couldn’t ignore it. What did he see? 

“I’m not an expert in this stuff but you and John seem to have tension.” Bob tells her as they sit in the back of the car. She didn’t know what to say, what to make of what Bob said. They had a history but it wasn’t what Bob was thinking. Y/N shook her head, wanting to avoid the conversation all together. “How’d it end?” She looked up at him, confused.

“What?” She asked and he repeated himself, “The relationship.” Y/N wanted to laugh or cry, she couldn’t decide at that moment. “No relationship, nothing like that.” She trusted Bob, for some strange reason and wanted to tell him but before she could the car stopped and people surrounded it. Bob looked at the gun, “Now’s my time to help.” He mumbled and jumped out of the car, Y/N yelled his name as he began shooting, drawing the attention away from them.

“Yelena.” Y/N yelled as she got to them, “Bob’s out there.” “He’s the one helping.” Yelena said and turned to look, they surrounded Bob who had his hands up. They started shooting and Y/N covered her mouth, “Stop shooting!” Val yelled at them. Y/N looked at Yelena who definitely didn’t look happy, she tried her best to protect him. “We need to go.” Her voice filled with devastation but John drove off. 

When they realized that Bob was alive and part of a sick plan Val had created, Y/N felt the need to go back but it wasn’t possible. John offered her some cactus and if it was anyone else she would have laughed, “Thanks.” It was the first word she spoke to him since before he tried to kill her. It was small and soft, no eye contact but her face didn’t give away anything. Alexei was something else and apparently Yelena’s dad.

Y/N wanted to curse sitting near John but she had no choice, “Y/S/N it’s a pleasure.” Alexei started, “You have badass techniques to kill people.” She smiled and thanked him, unlike the others who were still being assholes. It wasn’t a terrible car ride up until the point that 3 cars were chasing and shooting at them. Y/N rolled down the window and sat on it to shoot with Yelena. Both of them took out a car. The other one was hard to get but it seemed someone else had it. Y/N got back in the car and gasped, “Bucky.” John was a little excited but it turned south and he made the car flip.

“Bucky, when do I lie to you?” She asked as the others were tied up. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in over a year!” He exclaimed as they tried telling him about sentry and Bob. “Come on Bucky you know me.” John said and Bucky nodded, calling out his problems and the one thing nobody else knew, “You tried to kill her or does everyone already know that?” Bucky could be an asshole but Y/N didn’t want that being brought to life again.

Everyone glanced at John, none really shocked but John’s eyes held a look that Y/N had never seen before, sadness and regret? She had to be imagining it. “Bucky please.” She whispered and looked at her friend. “They had to be curious.” He told her and it was true. “We have bigger issues.” She told him and that’s when his phone rang, Mel confirming everything they said. “Can we keep him tied up?” She asked Bucky and he shook his head, “you’re safe with me here.” He promised. 

Y/N sat as far away from John as she could, the others talking about their weapons. “So what weapon did you try to kill her with?” Yelena asked him, noticing how Y/N was trying to be as far away from him. Y/N wanted to get as far away as possible from this conversation. John hesitated but looked down, “The Shield.” Ava looked over at Y/N who wasn’t even looking at them. “Hey, let's not talk about it.” She suggested and John looked at her, she was shaking her legs a little.

She nearly fell over as Bucky drove into the tower, “What the?” She opened the door and they all got out and started fighting. They nearly had everyone until Val’s voice came over the speaking letting them come up. Bucky made sure that John wasn’t near her in the elevator. Val was getting a drink as they entered and she greeted everyone, “Y/N, you look like your depression really hit the ball.” Bucky had to hold her back.

Her eyes widened when she saw Bob, who had blonde hair now and was in a suit. “I don’t wanna hurt you guys.” He tells them. “We don’t want to hurt you either.” Y/N said and that made him chuckle. He used his powers and pulled her closer to him, “It’s funny cuz I don’t think you can.” He said and flung her back, Bucky catching her. John ran up to him and tried to hit him with the shield, but that didn’t work. Nobody could really hurt him.

Y/N took her gun and tried to shoot at him but he turned to bullets on her. John saved her with his shield as they slammed against the wall, her body shaking as they looked up at him, “You’re okay.” He said softly and they all kept trying to fight Sentry. Y/N gasped when he turned John’s shield into a Taco and ripped Bucky’s arm off. She stumbled back into John who placed his hand on her shoulder as they all made it to the elevator.

John had to help carry Bucky and Y/N had his arm. The elevator ride was awkward as everyone tried to recover. Y/N didn’t even realize how close she was to John as they stumbled out of the elevator. Yelena was annoyed and done with everyone, she was convinced that they would lose against him if they tried again.

She started getting on everyone and John had to be the defender, “Oh so you’re nice now?” Yelena asked, “I’m next?” He asked and she shook her head, “No you know you’re a piece of trash Walker and so does your family. You also tried to kill her with the shield, you’ll never be worth it.” Y/N bit her lip as Yelena said that. Y/N hated him, sure but she wouldn’t stoop that low. Yelena walked away from them and they all split up, John wanted to follow Y/N but Bucky was with her. 

The Void was in the sky and making things disappear and made a helicopter hit a building. Bucky and Y/N ran to save people alongside the others. It was their hero movement, to prove themselves. It felt right when they were all pushing that piece of concrete so it wouldn’t land on anyone. The blackness was taking over the city, the void was coming and Yelena was going to be the first to see what it was.

“Yelena.” Alexei yelled her name as she stepped closer to the void. Y/N looked at John before running up to her. They looked at each other before walking into the void, John yelling her name. Everyone had to hold Alexei back from going after them. “I think we should go there as well.” Ava said as they all talked. Alexei was sad and he tried not to cry, “And get ourselves killed?” John asked but truthfully he wanted to go in after Y/N.

“What if they aren’t dead?” John shook his head, “She’s not gonna want to be in there with me after everything.” Ava huffed out a laugh, “You know what the crazy thing is? She doesn’t hate you, I can see it in her eyes. Sure maybe before you saved her but she has no issue with you now it seems. She should still hate your guts but she doesn’t so if you wanna cry and whine about something you did then go ahead. I’m going in there to save them.” She told him and walked towards the void. Alexei and Bucky followed, John sighed but also followed them. 

“Yelena.” Y/N yelled, she wasn’t sure where she was but there was no sign of her. She was in a house, someone’s house but she wasn’t sure or she didn’t remember. She heard voices and stopped, “what the hell?” She breathed out as she walked into the kitchen. She was at the dinner table with her mom, her dad and her brother. Y/N was stunned by this, coming to forget all about this.

Her dad was abusive and always yelled at her mom for something and her little brother always stuck up for their mom. “Bobby.” That name, a nickname that she remembered her brother hated. It was used against him all the time, “Y/N!” The scene had switched and it was her leaving, leaving her poor brother and mom because she couldn’t take the abuse anymore and she had a way out.

She promised that she would find a way and come back for him but she never did. She sniffled as she held tears in her eyes, she hated herself for that. “Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you.” She turned towards the voice and saw Bob on the floor, the room had changed. “Bob?” She asked walking over to him. The same scene she just watched o was playing on the IPad he had. “Oh that? It just keeps going.” He says to her.

She looks at him and it’s like she was hit with a train, “Y-You-“ “Yes I uh I was waiting for you to notice.” He tells her and she nearly crushes him with a hug. “Bob.” She whispered and he giggles, “I’ve missed you.” She got sad again at what she did and he could tell. “You did your best.” He tells her and she only wished that was enough. Yelena showed up not long after that along with the others.

They went through many different rooms until they arrived at one that was a lab. “Was this where you were tested on?” Y/N asked him and he nodded, “I’ve been here before.” Yelena said. It looked like Bob was sitting on the table but it turned out to be Void. Things started flying and everyone got trapped, John grabbed Y/N and pulled her to him so she didn’t get hurt, Y/N was basically hugging him.

John had gotten stabbed in the shoulder and Y/N got stabbed in the side causing her to cry out. John looked down at her, “Are you okay?” He asked and she shook her head, “I got stabbed.” She grunted out. Meanwhile, Bob was beating the void up. Y/N opened her eyes to see her brother trying to kill the void as darkness overtook her body, “Bob No.” she groaned. She couldn’t lose her brother again.

“Bob, that’s what he wants!” Yelena yelled at him and tried to get free. Once Yelena got free she ran to Bob and held him back, Y/N grunted pushing herself off John running to them, everyone following. When they all fell back they were back in the city. Everyone got up except Y/N who was groaning in pain.

Everyone gathered around her as John held her, “Hey you’re gonna be okay.” He tells her. “We need a doctor!” He yelled and she grabbed his hand, “John, I forgive you.” She managed out. He stared at her and her eyes no longer held the fear they once did when he was near. She was even letting him hold her, “And I lo-“ her eyes closed as she trailed off. John had tears in his eyes as Bob had to pull him off her. The medics came and took her. 

Y/N groaned as she opened her eyes, the light making her squint. Her eyes widened as she realized where she was, a hospital. She looked over and John was asleep in the chair next to her. “He hasn’t left since you arrived.” She looked over and saw Bob with a small smile. “Water.” She croaked out and he nodded, giving her a cup. She chugged it down, “How long was I out?” She asked.

“1 week. You had to have surgery.” Her eyes widened at that, “jeez I thought I would be dead.” She joked and looked at John. He looked so peaceful asleep but his eyebrows were furrowed like he was worried about something. “I’ll let you talk to him.” Bob said as he went to walk out the room but before he did he turned to her, “Glad you’re okay!” She smiled at him and looked back at John.

She threw the empty cup at him and he sat up, “Hey what the-“ he turned and saw Y/N awake. “Oh my god!” He got up and went to her side, trying to be gentle. “Bob says that you’ve been in here since my surgery.” Before that, he thought. “W-what No I-“ “It’s sweet. Thank you.” She interrupts him. She grabs his hand, “What were you gonna say to me before you passed out?” He asked and she looked confused. She remembered but thought it was too soon.

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head and he looked down. “You told me you forgave me.” He whispered and she nodded. She squeezed his hand, “I do. I no longer see the guy I saw that day.” He gave her a sad smile, “I’m not much better.” She shook her head, “But you are and I’m glad that I got to see you again.” He was surprised by her words. He looked up at her and she pulled on his hand, he leaned down and she kissed him. His eyes widened as her lips touched his, he kissed back until they needed air. She pulled away with a love sick smile on her face, “Will you make me dinner after I’m out of here?” She asked and he chuckled, “Yeah.” “ Just us.” His face softened and he nodded.

“Glad to see you’re up!” Bucky exclaimed, scaring the two. He laughed as they jumped, “You missed out.” Bucky told her. So did I, he thought as he saw just how close they were. He never would have thought that Y/N would ever forgive John for that but he was glad. “What did I miss?” She asked him and John chuckled. It was the type of chuckle that was given before you reveal something crazy, “We are the new avengers!” Bucky reveals and Y/N’s jaw drops. She looks at John who confirms what he said. “Shit.” She said, not sure if she was happy or not. “This could be a good thing?” John questioned, unsure himself and she shrugged, “Possibly.” But only time will tell.

[lushrve]

hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader

cause who doesn't want the image of these boys all sweaty and bloody in hockey gear (also i haven't mastered writing in a scottish or manchester accent yet so don't come for me)

you’re a figure skater, something you’ve devoted your whole life since childhood to. over the years, you’ve honed your craft, becoming one of the best in your area. you do well enough at competitions; not olympic material, but skilled enough to bring home a state title every now and again. you take pride in the way your body glides across the ice, painting pretty pictures with each scrape of the blade of your skate. it’s methodical, structured, clean. if you close your eyes, you can almost pretend you’re dancing on clouds.

it’s a small town and there’s only one ice rink for miles, so of course you run into the local hockey team practicing and warming up for matches. you don’t know most of them (don’t care to, frankly), but some are more notorious than others.

the team captain and center, price, the tactical mind behind their victories. from the few games you’ve watched them play, you can tell that he calls the shots. you watch as he sits on the bench, watching his teammates rush back and forth across the ice. it’s like he sees beyond the game. sometimes, you see him close his eyes, like he’s seeing a play take shape in his head, before calling out to the others and making it happen. they always listen, his booming baritone too compelling to disregard. (that voice made you feel something too, but you didn’t want to admit it.)

then there was a defenseman, simon. you just knew him as “riley” by the last name emblazoned on the back of his jersey. but if you listened closely (and you did), his teammates called him ghost. it didn’t take you very long to find out why. ghost was a large man, all broad shoulders and hard lines. he preferred the silent approach to taking down an opponent, slamming them against the boards before they could even register the sound of his skates scraping the ice. he played dirty, your eyes often meeting his when the referee threw him in the penalty box. (he winked at you once as he cleaned some blood from his lip, fresh from a fight. you pretended not to notice.)

left wing belonged to johnny, a scottish man they called soap. he got his nickname from his assist record, always coming in to clean up what price or ghost or another teammate had fumbled to lead his team to victory. he was quick on his feet, but brutal. while ghost was the primary muscle, soap wasn’t afraid to get physical if someone was coming between him and a goal. soap was also mouthy, chirping in his thick accent across the ice to get in the other team’s head. half the things he said, you don’t understand. hell, the other team probably didn’t either. but the tone was what mattered. (he leaned over the plexiglass after a solid win, personally inviting you back to their next home game. you blushed crimson.)

right wing was kyle. by far the prettiest one on the team, you thought. he’d take his helmet off as he skated back to the bench, running a hand through his sweat-soaked curls. the sight of him was like a work of art, a canvas brutalized by the nature of an aggressive team sport. he wasn’t as quick to get physical as the others were, but the moment everyone dogpiled on the ice, he was right there in the fray, throwing punches that landed just as loud and hard as the rest of them. the way he moved on the ice almost reminds you of your routines, careful and choreographed. he knew exactly where he was going, and he always hit his marks. (you wondered if he always moved like that, wondered if he danced through life.)

ghost and soap approached you after a win, coming up into the stands after they’d stripped themselves of their gear. while soap looked a bit smaller after shedding the heavy padding, ghost didn’t. still a hulking wall of muscle. “oughta sit in the stands mo’ often, birdie,” soap chirped, a smug smile on his face as he leaned on his hockey stick. “y’r like a good luck charm fer us.” you blushed pretty, averting your eyes and missing the way the two men looked at each other. you’d do just nicely, they thought. ghost cleared his throat, your eyes snapping up to him like he’d commanded it. (he could’ve. you would’ve obeyed.) “when d’you skate again?” he asked, arms crossed over his expansive chest.

“y’ve seen us in our element. now we wanna see you in y’rs.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Snatching Snitches 5

masterpost

Raven contemplated the hole she was digging and decided that the only way out was further down. Things had escalated rapidly. Helping Robin get his ugly cat back had seemed like a nice deed, and then when she learned it was actually a ghost, it had seemed funny to register it as Dick’s cat. It was a harmless prank to saddle him with the cat he didn’t seem to like much.

And then it turned out to be the ghost of a human child who, so far as she could tell online, appeared to actually still be going to school. What the fuck was going on with that? Was the carboy dead or not?

‘I’m a terrible person for thinking that’s even funnier. This is literally a Schrödinger bit’

Raven smirked to herself as she waited for Robin to get back with the super-secret adoption paperwork that Bruce kept in his study to cry over whenever he and Dick had a fight. He was definitely going to notice that it was missing, but she was willing to bet that Bruce would think that Dick had done it himself. Those idiots couldn’t communicate about feelings if their lives depended on it. She was going to get away with this, no sweat. She just had to keep going until the end. Sure, the consequences would get worse the more she did, but that wouldn’t matter if she pulled it off.

“I might be going down, but Dick is going to be planted,” she muttered to herself, stretching out her hands and then rotating her wrists. She cracked her neck. That had been a lot of paperwork. 

The air buzzed to let her know that Robin wanted to come back. Raven opened up a portal and he slipped through, much like a cat himself. Granted, it would be hard to convince a cat into one of those preppy blazers. It was a real flashback to Dick’s mathlete days. Raven choked down a laugh as Robin lifted his face to confront her directly with a crisp envelope in hand.

“Here.” He looked like a combat accountant and he only came up to her collarbone. God, she loved working with the trainees. It was a perpetual joke that no one else was in on.

Raven took the envelope with a smirk and a flick of the wrist. “Thank you.” She hadn’t been willing to steal from Batman personally. “I’ll take this to get filed.” She held the paper up a little higher and marveled at how light it was. This little paper was going to be so goddamn funny.

The little boy looked like a half-scale doll of a businessman with his hair slicked back. It was difficult not to laugh when Robin nodded gravely. “You are an admirable colleague.” Beneath the tightly-leashed exterior, Robin was awash with sincere gratitude and warmth, with a hint of admiration. It was a significant improvement on the resigned scorn he had for the other kids in the tower.

‘His diction is just like Dick’s. I’m gonna have a war flashback to infiltrating that museum internship program to find magical forgeries.’ 

His crisp little businessman tone aside, that was… sort of touching feedback. She nodded back at him. “Your professionalism is also appreciated. I’ll file a personnel request in a few minutes..” Raven had been thinking it over while she waited. “We need to move quickly. I’m going to have a field trip to train one or two of the new kids. You’ll be my assistant.”

Robin’s nose flared, but he otherwise did not react to the, as he would see it, unfortunate need to have tagalongs. “That will suffice,” he agreed, the pompous little pussycat. The air around him soured with regret.

She sent him back in another portal and then sat at her laptop to file a request for him on a mission. Someone in the Batcave approved and filed the request within minutes. Pretty typical for them. The next request was for Suzie, and then the last member of the group… Robin’s little Superboy friend, actually. If there were a lot of ghost fights, it would be a good chance for him to see more aerial combat. Supers were a little overly confident if you didn’t deliberately let them get their asses handed to them by someone else who could fly. 

When she was done with administration work Raven spun around on her chair and stretched out her shoulders before she got up to do a little magical research into Amity Park. The human world wasn’t generally very safe for non-life, so there might be some relevant background information. She wanted to know the magical landscape before she brought Secret there. Sure, she was already dead, but she was still basically an elementary schooler. She was learning a lot and maturing, but she would never actually hit 10 years old. Raven had a significant duty of care.

Unfortunately, she hit a dead end with that line way too early and had to look into the online resources. It looked like nothing of note had really happened in Amity Park history, so it had to be a modern era problem.

“Who the…” Raven furrowed her brows and scowled at the screen. “Who are these losers?” She sneered at the government website. They had an inventory of their weaponry on their private server that seemed ridiculous and unnecessary.  “Good thing I asked for a Super, we might need a shield,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t know if this would harm Suzie if it hit her…”

The tiny girl herself drifted through the wall not an hour later, blonde hair floating in an invisible breeze. “Hi, Raven.” Her blue eyes were bright with interest. “You have a mission for me?”

Raven tried not to sneeze on the smoke. “Secret,” she said evenly. It always sort of fucked her up to see dead kids, even if they were still wandering around and having a better afterlife than their life had been. “Yes, I do. We are looking into a custody situation for another ghost. There’s something really strange in this place– it is full of ghosts. There’s nothing in the history to justify this level of spiritual saturation.”

It was really bothering her, actually. This type of thing usually took a long time to accumulate.

Suzie’s mouth dropped open for a moment. “So you need me to act as a warder?” She beamed. “Guide someone to the afterlife?” Her smoky sleeves floated around her body in a mock embrace and then billowed out like wings. She was adorable.

…She should probably not suggest that around Robin. He might make her cry and undo all of Raven’s work to engender confidence.

Raven kept her tone even. “I don’t think that’s what we want to do, but it would be foolish not to bring you along to get your expert opinion.”

As expected, the child puffed up with pleasure at being trusted. Nurturing that confidence had been a trial, and Raven wasn’t going to let a chance pass by. 

“This is Danny,” she said, and beckoned Suzie over to look at her screen. “He died a few months ago, but on the official record? He’s alive and well and attending school, although his grades have dropped.” 

Damian was going to have to dig into his allowance to get tutoring for his new kid.

Suzie hummed, fascinated. “He’s a big kid,” she said, cocking her head. “Like fourteen?”

Raven hid a wince. “That’s right, he died at 14,” she agreed. “He was caught up in a summoning and taken to Gotham two months ago in a secondary form.” She kept a subtle eye on Suzie, watching her emotional state. This was probably a sensitive topic. “If possible, we are going to transfer custody to one of the Gotham vigilantes. I’ve already contacted an afterlife young ghost protective center.”

‘Had no idea that existed until this morning, but whatever.’

The little ghost went silent for a long moment and considered that, bobbing faintly in the air. “I suppose if they think the placement is fine,” Suzie said slowly. “I would feel better seeing the ghost. Danny. What was the secondary form?”

She didn’t smile, because she was a hardass bitch. “A housecat.”

Suzie giggled. “That’s cute,” she said, and then hummed as she tipped her face up to think. “It sounds like he was vulnerable. Becoming something cute and small is a way to be safe. I’m glad that we are looking into it.”

“Yes,” Raven said, and switched her tabs. “There are two factions of ghost hunters in this city, one of which is actually Danny’s parents. So I will be doing a home check with Robin while you and Superboy do recon of the general area. Depending on how good they are, you may or may not catch their attention.”

Suzie stared. “His parents.”

“His parents.”

Suzie’s eyes darkened. “I wonder how he died.”

Given that she had been murdered by her adoptive brother, the odds were good she was thinking the same thing that Raven was.

It was an effort to keep her voice neutral. “That’s my first question,” Raven agreed. “I don’t like it. It’s very convenient that these ghost hunters suddenly have ghosts in their vicinity after years of failure.” She pulled up their neon website. “They have to be complicit in hiding the death, at the very least.”

“Or seriously negligent.” Suzie crossed her legs in the air and hugged her ankles, bent over into a tiny shape to peer at the screen.

Raven inclined her head, but she couldn’t quite buy that anyone would fail to notice their child had died in the house a few months back. “I want you to look at these images of suspected ghosts off the GIW servers and tell me if you know anything about any of them.”

“Right!” Suzie nodded in determination. Her emotions spilled out in the air, wholesome and sincere. “I’ll do what I can.”

Raven’s answering smile was real. “I know you will.” She hit print. 

Not an hour later, Raven gave up on her books for the day and rolled her neck out. “I’m going to run an errand,” she announced. “What do you want to do?”

Suzie looked up from the folder she had made to mark up entity photos with her questions and comments. “I’m fine here, I’ll leave when I‘m done,” she said vaguely, and then immediately went back to what she was doing.

Raven nodded and went to her closet to pull out a suit. She styled herself to be as boring as possible and then took herself to Gotham city hall. 

The receptionist looked up at the clack of Raven’s heels approaching. “Good evening,” she greeted, radiating the overwhelming impression of normality and reasonability. “I need to file a certificate of adoption on behalf of a client.”

“I can take that.” The clerk indicated the sign in sheet. “Would you put your name and time of visitation down?”

“It’s better if I don’t.” Raven leaned her elbow on the counter and flourished the envelope, smiling faintly. “Here you go.”

The clerk paused, but Raven’s general aura was too powerful for her to protest that it was irregular. “Thank you.” She opened it and pulled out the paperwork. Her eyes widened and brows went up when she read the names. “That’s…”

“Overdue?” Raven asked dryly.

“All in order,” came the correction. A stamp came out and was pressed firmly on the bottom of the paper. “I’ll have this filed before the end of the day. Will there be an announcement in the newspaper?”

“No, it’s better not to,” Raven said, really coaxing.

The clerk took a deep breath. The exhalation where she would have told anyone else “It is a requirement” came out silent. “I can see why,” she said instead. “Thank you. Will that be all?”

It really felt like there should be more fanfare. But Raven shook her head. “No, that’s all– Actually, can I get more of those papers, blank forms?” 

Maybe she wouldn’t need them! But something was very odd with little Danny Fenton. If he was somehow passing for living… She might have to have him adopted via the human court system as well to avoid compromising his education.

…How the fuck was she going to pull that off?

Raven worried over the problem on her way back to the tower, scowling up a storm cloud of negativity that sparked rain. She slammed her way back into her room and was faintly grateful that Suzie had already cleared out. Raven pulled up her stub of a file on Danny Fenton and started adding more biographical information. She’d seen there was a sister in the same school, but Raven found the first photo.

“...Hm.” She added the photo and went looking for photos of the parents. Danny had blue eyes and black hair, which really wasn’t a common combination. It was weird that his sister had red hair. She didn’t get it from their dad, it turned out, who was a black-haired brickhouse of a man. Raven’s heart rate picked up with excitement as she searched up images of Madeline Fenton. Her university affiliation photo showed a beaming middle aged woman with subtle white in her red hair who apparently lectured on occasion. Bit premature, those white hairs, since she was only 39. Not much older than Raven’s Teen Titan’s cohort, as a matter of fact. Oh, fuck. A delicious timeline came together.

“And 14 years ago…” Raven mumbled to herself, feeling a wicked idea come together. Oh, fuck yes. She full-on villain cackled at the throwback photo of Madeline Fenton at age 25, when Dick had been 22 and in love with any redhead with a pulse. “She’s hot,” Raven said with relish, and slapped her hands on the desk in delight. It was the first full body photo she had found online, and Madeline Fenton was a goddamn fox. “Oh, Dick would have. He would have.” She cracked her knuckles and set in to do something truly heinous as a backup plan. “Now I just need someone to help me falsify DNA results.”

It was a late night, but it was going to be so worth it.

The adoption hit squad landed in Amity Park at 9 am local time on Sunday, ready to investigate Danny Fenton's unliving situation. 

[clockwayswrites]

Bird NOPE, no thank you. Part 12

masterpost

“So, what’s the verdict, doc?” Danny asked. He was trying really hard to keep his tone light and not fidget. Mostly because when he fidgeted the wings moved and then he remembered that he had wings.

He really, really wanted an answer to the wings thing.

“Well, Phantom,” Frostbite said as he continued to look at the data, “your status as a halfa continues to bring about most interesting developments at the most interesting pacing!”

Danny groaned. He didn’t want to be interesting. There had been enough of being interesting in his lifetime already. Couldn’t he just have a calm rest of his life? Couldn’t this all of these ‘interesting developments’ wait until he was properly dead?

Danny took a deep breath so that he didn’t end up snapping at Frostbite. “Okay, right. What sort of developments are we talking about here? Because wings seem pretty unusual to me, even among ghosts.”

“Oh, yes, certainly. Fundamentally such a change, if one is to change, shouldn’t come so early and certainly not before other more common physical developments,” Frostbite said, rubbing at his chin with his icy claws. “At least not based on what we know of human ghosts.”

Danny rubbed at his face. The wings shifted. “Frostbite, I get that this is all very interesting to you, but I need you to explain things, please.”

Frostbite gave a little huff of air. “If you had attended the lectures as I recommended—”

“I can do that when I’m dead.” It was an old discussion between them at this point.

“Phantom,” Frostbite said kindly, “you are already dead.”

“And I am still alive!” Danny snapped, his patience frayed. The wings flaring out The tips brushed the edges of the walls. “I am still alive! I have eternity to learn about being dead but I only have one life. I only have one life, Frostbite, and I’m already spending half of it dead. Just… just let me try and live it as much as I can, please?”

“… of course, Phantom. I am sorry, friend. I forget what it’s like to have things be… fleeting.”

“I know, Frostbite,” Danny said, deflating as his anger extinguished. The wings folded tight against his back, a heavy weight pulling his shoulders down. “I know. Just, break it down for me, okay? I’ll sit in on all the lectures you want when I’m fully dead, I promise. Just for right now, explain to me what you can? I need to know why I have these things on my back.”

Frostbite gave a solemn nod and pulled up a stool to sit down on. “Human ghosts especially are very mutable. This is little surprise, really, with how mutable living humans are. Even though as dead we are largely stagnant, humans still often find their way to change. Personally I suspect that even as ghost, humans need the change to avoid Fading. You’ve seen these features in many of your friends and rivals: colored skin, fiery hair, exaggerated features. These are all things that you halfas seem to lack. My assumption has always been that it is your living half that keeps your features grounded in, while not reality, a more fixed visage.”

“Plasmius’ hair smolders some these days,” Danny pointed out.

“It does. The hair is often one of the first changes and Plasmius is both an older ghost than you, but also a much older human.” Frostbite paused before adding with a wry smile. “He is also much more fiery in nature than you are.”

That made Danny give a soft snort of amusement. “Okay so changes are expected, got it. I guess some go further? Like Skulker?”

“He is certainly an example of that. Spectra another. By all reason these changes can range from wish fulfillment to the effects of one’s insecurities. The longer one has been dead and the larger part those feelings play in someone’s making, the more likely changes are,” Frostbite explained. “Though there has yet to be any clear rhyme or reason to much of it. I personally believe the less fulfilled a ghost is, the more that they will change in an attempt to bring that part of themselves to peace.”

“Skulker needing to kill big game to soothe over feeling little and insignificant made him actually tiny and at the same time into a literal killing machine, right, got it,” Danny said. “And I guess that’s why Plasmius still looks like he’s just brushing forty. He was always vain. But Frostbite, I don’t want wings.”

“No, but you have always been… exceptional, Danny Phantom,” Frostbite said somberly. “Other ghosts master one or two skills, you master any you are exposed to. Other ghosts grow slowly, you grow by leaps and bounds. At first I thought this might be part of being a halfa, but we do not see the same growth in Plasmius and Dani. Plasmius is changing at a relatively normal rate and Dani, while advanced at first due to her creation, has stagnated quickly.”

Danny kept his eyes on his hands. He felt like he was fourteen again, scared and uncertain. “Why am I different?”

“I do not have the why, but I believe that the because is that you are destined, in time, to become an Ancient, or at least something akin to one.”

It was good that Danny didn’t need to breathe right then, as he was very sure he couldn’t if he tried.

“…an Ancient?”

Frostbite nodded. “Or something akin to one.”

Danny bowed over and buried his face in his hands. The wings responded and came up to curl around him as if trying to shield him from the world behind the oil slick feathers.

It made Danny want to rip them off.

“If nothing else, Ghosts are beholden to symbolism,” Frostbite said, his words a grounding rumble. “Ancients more so than the rest. The wings mean something, Phantom, even if you are unsure what. Answers will come.”

“I hate waiting,” Danny said, mostly just to be pedantic. He was allowed. He’d grown new limbs for fuck’s sake.

Frostbite rested a gentle hand on Danny’s back, right between the wings.

---

AN: Danny is having a hard time of it this post! Things will get better though. I am also having a bit of a hard time of it, so I'm sure there are many mistakes, but that's okay.

Stay delightful, darlings!

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[starsomens]

hi star!!

thinking about a really sloppy make out session rn. Like just sitting on his lap grinding on him, him getting hard underneath you running his hands all over your body. Then just leading to the nastiest sex and just being such a good girl for him :((

A/N: OH MY ANON- (i tired my best muah!)

Warning: language, dirty talk, messy-ish sex, recording studio sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), WE ARE JUST DIVING RIGHT INTO IT!

You both had a day off finally! So of course it was spent cuddled in bed, sleeping in and some homemade breakfast, you were even able to get some chores done around the house! However, that also meant you were finding a lot of old stuff and misplaced things as well. Noah was currently in the top cupboard going through some old things that had been pushed to the back.

"Old pasta sauce?" his voice echoed in the wooden space

"Mmm what's the date?"

"Last month," he hands it to you for you to toss "uh...old chocolate bar still in the wrapper?"

"really? Let me see?" he comes out of the space and hands you the bar of chocolate still in mint condition

"What you gonna eat it?" he chuckled "What brand is it anyway?" he asks looking at the item with you

"I can't remember," you flip it around and see the label had instructions? You read them out loud "Split the chocolate in half with you partner, and allow up to 20 minutes to take effect-OH OKAY! I know what this is," you could FEEL the blush creeping already remembering what this was

"Hey wait what do you mean you know? What is it?" Noah said as he tried getting the candy back from you

"It's nothing!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa wait minute," he stops recalling what the label said "is it...sex chocolate? The one that gets you horny and shit?"

"NO!"

"so.....yes?" he smirks at you finally swiping the chocolate from your hands and unwrapping it

"Noooaaahhhh" you whine

"Come on babe, you act like we haven't done worst shit than this," he pulls out the 3 sets of split chocolate "remember why I got a video camera?" he wiggled his eyebrows at you

"That's different...." you pout

"sure it is babe. Here," he opens a set and breaks off his half and popped it in his mouth passing you yours, "say ah princess,"

You sigh while he holds the chocolate aphrodisiac, you slowly open your mouth and he gently slips the piece on to your tongue as he drags your lips down a bit

"Such a good girl" he teased with the signature grin of his.

"shut up," you giggle shaking your head "now come on we still have one more cupboard to go through"

about 30 minutes later you in fact did not move to the next cupboard. It started with Noah taking his shirt off because he was feeling hot, which only made you stare at his back more. Those tattoos....and wide shoulders...and those arms.....

When he had caught you he stepped closer to you. He was practically looming over you with a deep and hungry stare. One that burned into your soul. His hand ghosts over your stomach and up between your breasts and to your neck. Sending a deep shiver down you spine that ended as a dull ache in your very core. He hoists you on to the counter and slots himself between your legs. His lips were fierce and hungry against yours as his hands claw at your to bring you impossibly closer.

It felt like you were hot and cold at the same time, you were anxious and impatient and you just NEEDED him. Luckily for Noah you were wearing an old tank top...old and flimsy enough for him to see your nipples peak when it got cold, and old enough for him to... *riiiiipp*

You breasts feel free from the cloth as it falls on to the counter

"No bra? Were you planning to get fucked princess?" His large hand cupped one of your breasts and took your nipple into his mouth.

"Mmm Noah," you shudder as he lets go with a pop

"tell me what you want...what you need pretty girl," he voice was low and deep. His pupils were blown and deep and with pure lust. Like a predator that had finally cornered it's pray. Noah lift you from the counter and carries you over to the sofa. His lips crashing down on yours with me and fever. First, he was doubting that that chocolate had even worked, but now he felt like he was ready to take you over and over again in every part of the house.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip as it slips inside your mouth. Your tongues dance around in an erotic kiss. While his hands were busy, stripping you of your bottoms. He can feel his cock straining against his pants. The more he tasted you the more he wanted to taste and feel. And then need to fuck you senseless only piled on itself.

"need you Noah...so fucking bad...please," which each gap between your mouths you get out exactly what you wanted from him

"need little slut...need me deep in that pussy huh?" he teased, his lips moving to your ear to nibble it just a bit making a shaky breath escape from your lips. One of his favorite things to hear

"p-please..." oh and the begging how he loved it. Thank god he was only wearing his shorts, pushing them down and positioning himself between your legs. His fingers coming down to feel the wetness of your core. You were more slick than usual

"fuck you're so wet," he growls lowly, his middle and ring finger coated in your juices as he brings it back up to his mouth and licked it off his fingers. You couldn't help the deep blush that floods your cheeks as you watch him.

"alright pretty girl, keep those eyes on me...." he hoists your legs on to his shoulders, his lips kiss your left calf. A playful yet sly grin decorated his face as he rubs the tip of his cock up and down your slit, and god you needed him so badly. His eyes bore into yours as he finally positions himself and slowly pushes himself in , inch by inch. You feel that wonderful stretch and full feeling and you were already seeing stars. He pushes all the way in until the hilt with a deep groan as he watches your mouth fall open in pleasure.

"Fuck! So fucking..." he pulls out just a bit and thrusts back in "tight! Damn princess" he picks up a steady rhythm as he starts to steadily fuck you. You usually lasted so much longer but you already felt like you were going to cum, you eyes were dazed and unfocused, completely engulfed in the sensation of pleasure.

"F-fuck Noah...right there," you pant as he leans his weight down on your legs slightly to get in deeper

"here princess? Like it nice and deep huh?" he smirks as he starts to move his hips harder, faster and deeper

"Oh fuck! Y-yes!" you nails start to claw at his arms feeling that knot starting form in the pit of your stomach

"pussy so tight...and wet just for me..." he pants "Good fucking girl....taking my dick so good..." you could feel his cock starting to pound you to the verge of your orgasm

"N-noah...Noah! Oh god~"

"Gonna cum already? Gonna cum on this dick baby?"

"Y-Yea--oh fuck!"

"Cum....cum for me princess," his next 3 thrusts were enough to push you off the edge and finally cum around his cock. The chocolate completely enhancing your orgasm, as you tighten around his cock, your juices coating him. He keeps moving in and out at a slower pace. The sound of your cum as he thrusts into you filling in the silence of the home

"holy shit babe..... came so much just for me, like a good little slut....my good little slut," he sits back on his heels as he spreads your legs and watches as you drip down on to the couch, coating the entire length of his cock. He watches as his cock pumps in and out of your pussy. "look at that...taking it so fucking good...how about another baby? Gonna fill this pussy up so good,"

His grunts and groans only become deeper as he picks up his pace again. Your walls clenching around him, still sensitive from the last orgasm. Your continuous whines were filled with pleasure and ecstasy as your eyes roll back and your head falls limp. Completely lost in the pleasure, feeling every aching inch that he pumped into you.

"Fuck look at that....so fucking-ugh...."he huffs as he watches intently feeling himself edging closer and closer "Tell me where baby...where do you want it?"

"I-inside please...please Noah fuck!"

"Cum for me again baby.....gonna fill up this pussy....just cum for me again..."

You could feel him twitch inside, as he the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room. He starts to moan as he comes closer and closer.

"Com-coming! FUCK!," he hips give sloppy but strong pumps as he empties himself inside of you, he cock still pumping in and out, fucking his cum deeper into you. You cum again around his cock, your essence mixing with his, flooding on to you and him and the couch below

"Fuck! take it!...t-take it!" he growls as his thrusts slow down as he rides out both of your highs. His hips come to a halt, his body coming down to collapse on top of yours. The room was filled with your pants as you tried to catch your breath be very intense sex that just occurred. One thing was for sure you need to wash the couch before you have anyone come over, or before you even sit on it again as Noah’s head rests on your collarbone, he says between breaths.

“We…need….to buy…..more those….”

“More?” You ask in a half chuckle now believing what you had just heard. You still had another two sets that you could use and he was already thinking about buying more. “You.,.are something else” 

“You’re the one who bought them,” he answers with a chuckle as he kisses the skin of your shoulder. Making a mental note to find any local stores with the same or similar chocolate.

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