#anyway good night and good news and all that jazz

[tiredassmage]

actually, fuck it, woe! wip wednesday be upon ye! [i'm. we're basting another hyrohtyr au. i'm being unwell.] i'm currently too tired to give the entire context and i have no idea if i'll finish the whole piece, but i had to do something to get blorbo feelies out of my braincase bc i'm. i'm having a time. anyway!

what i will give you is this is sometime after ziost, but before kotfe. bc that's like. that's important timeline detail. xD

“Did you get my message?” The shell is familiar, the outline of a stance, but that’s where it ends. His feet steady into an ingrained rhythm that suggests parade rest, save for his hands clasping in front around the datapad. There’s… something about it she hasn’t seen since… Yavin. The frown finally stirs upon her lips. Nine was not one about whom she often searched the Force for answers upon, having learned quickly it was much too akin to an infringement upon the agent’s boundaries and trust, but she didn’t need it now to feel caution cool her previously racing thoughts. What happened on Ziost… It would change everything. Everyone. Touched by Vitiate’s influence directly or not. It was changing everything, almost faster than she could fathom stamping down upon it. And they’ve never spoken about what’s in his files, handed over to her in the wake of Imperial Intelligence, in the aftermath of Revan. She had known enough, when they stood on Ziost. It had not spared them a violent, jagged reality. No matter her intentions on the matter. “I… admit I haven’t had time to read it in full,” she says carefully. “Good.” He nods, his eyes dropping to his hands. “I… This is.” He clears his throat again, more roughly this time. “I felt this would be better delivered in-person.” Her brow furrows as he hands over the datapad without so much as a hint of expectation. Just an offering and exhausted, hollowed, waiting eyes. She takes the datapad. “I thought I made myself clear, Commander,” she says, stern eyes still on him. “You were supposed to be off-duty.” For barely a moment, a ceding, knowing smile ghosts the corners of his lips before he merely nods again. “You did,” he says evenly. His hands settle in front of him - a bit more easily, more familiar now in full rest. A beat of silence between them before he draws in a slightly deeper breath quietly with a faint bracing of his shoulders and a firmer set in his jaw as he levels his gaze with hers. “I… would like to make that arrangement more… permanent, Minister.” He knows how much I hate that title-

bonus:

i want to shake him and lana's dynamic like a gumball machine.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[fushiguho]

The Homemaker & Her Husband ☆ Nanami Kento

☆ WORD COUNT – 7.3k ☆ SYNOPSIS – You’ve been a good wife, really. Fulfilling your role as a homemaker and completing your responsibilities of cooking and cleaning for your overworked husband so that he can provide for his beloved missus. But what happens when one evening after preparing a feast for Nanami, he arrives late and now dinner is ruined… will you let him make it up to you? ☆ CONTENT WARNINGS – Nanami x fem!reader, shameless smut, married couple, traditional gender roles, creampie, impregnation, mentions of femininity, reader is a housewife

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

A sigh of contentment fell from your lips as you placed a warm pan of rolls on the table, completing the feast you’ve prepared for you and your husband. It was the final—and most crucial—piece of the divine spread you’ve spent the last three hours prepping and crafting. You closed your eyes before inhaling once, reveling in the aroma of your hard work. You could nearly drool at the heavenly combination of piquant and saccharine flavors, all beautifully arranged on a frilly, sage green tablecloth. You had it all; smothered pork chops on a bed of fluffy mashed potatoes, roasted cauliflower with tahini, homemade buttered rolls, and a New York style cheesecake with strawberry sauce dribbling down the sides.

There was no occasion. No rhyme or reason. There doesn’t need to be. Some days you just wanted to wear a smooth, satin slip dress, paired with the most beautiful diamonds and a gracious heart. Some days you just wanted to prepare a fulfilling meal for your husband to come home to after a long, tiring day at work. And some days you wish that just maybe, society would stop frowning upon the women that take pride in their love for their husband.

When did it become a crime to be comfortable in your divine femininity?

What is so god awful about wanting to be a caregiver? What if it’s divine intuition or fate? What if it’s just the way it ought to be? You aren’t sure, not really. All you know was that you enjoy taking care of the people you love, you always have. Maybe it’s the swell of your heart when he thanks you for taking care of the house while he’s away. Or the smile that mars his face when he comes home to a spotless kitchen and a carefully constructed supper as you prance to embrace him in a hug. Or it could even be the way he really thanks you when the night is said and done and he’s splitting you apart with his cock and fingers.

Soft, bossa nova jazz thrummed through the speakers of the radio that sat atop the fridge. You hummed to yourself as you swayed your hips. The window just above the sink sat open, soft linen curtains dancing in a duet with the wind. It was warm and it smelled of healthy grass and memories to be had. And oh how you missed him dearly, you could die.

You smiled to yourself as you dusted your hands on the front of your plaid apron before swiping your pager off the counter. With quick, nimble fingers, you began to message your husband, letting him know that the door is unlocked and you’ll be waiting for him at the table. He always knows when you’re making a special dinner for him because it’s he who does the grocery shopping, so it isn't ever truly a surprise. Nanami hates surprises anyway.

You undid the bow at the back of your apron before peeling it off and hanging it on its designated hook. With two hands, you smoothed the satin of your cream colored dress, the one that Nanami swore hugged your hips a little too tightly. You washed your hands before skipping upstairs with a girlish smile, the soft hum of bossa nova ebbing as you neared your shared bedroom.

Diligently, you touched up your frazzled hair and makeup. With swaying feet, you smiled in the mirror of your vanity, patting your cheeks with blush just the way he likes. Nanami loves when you doll yourself up for him. He loves the sweet, gourmand perfume you’d put directly behind your ears, the one he swears smells like raspberries and vanilla. He also loves the pretty, sheer lipgloss that adorned your lips, accentuating the dip of your cupid's bow. And oh how he loves when you’d saunter toward him in that bewitched dress with a soft smile playing your glossed lips.

You could hardly wait as you rushed back downstairs, plopping yourself into a chair at the dining table. Impatiently, you waited. With your elbows on the table and your chin resting in the palms of your hands, you eyed the food before you. You flitted your eyes between the front door and the hardwick clock on the counter. Any second now, you thought.

You could no longer hear the thrum of music, far too engrossed in the passage of time. The clock’s golden pendulum swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And as time does, it went on. The pendulum continued to swing and time continued to pass and soon, seconds would turn into minutes and minutes into hours.

He’s late.

Now, you sat on the couch, your right knee bouncing restlessly as your arms sat crossed over your chest. You were upset, maybe even beyond it. Disappointed maybe. An irritated sigh fell from your lips. Slowly, you dragged your bare toes along the shag rug on the floor. It’s late and you’ve already paged Nanami four times in the last hour to no avail.

With a huff, you pushed yourself up from the couch before making your way to the kitchen. You began to clear the table of the room temperature food, angrily packing everything away into tupperwares. The sound of the front door opening then closing startled you, pausing your angered movements. The floorboards creaked with the familiar clomp of his leather penny loafers as he neared the kitchen.

“My love, I’m home. I’m so sorry I’m late.” He apologized as he emerged in the arched doorway of the kitchen while simultaneously slipping his suit jacket off his arms and hanging it from the coat rack.

You said nothing as you continued to clean the table, your shoulder cold as you ignored his presence.

Nanami sighed, “You cooked all this for me, baby?” His heart ached in his chest.

“What does it matter? It’s cold anyway.” You cut, your voice sharp and daggered.

Nanami nodded deservedly. Immediately, he sees your anger, acknowledges it, accepts it. He could almost feel the warmth of your seething rage. Warily, he stepped closer to you, his arms open in embrace, but you turned away, shuffling to the opposite end of the table to collect the remaining food.

“Baby,” He frowned, “forgive me. I stayed out late tonight to tie up some loose ends. Satoru called out and I lost track of time.” He explained.

Still, you scoffed.

“But I’m here now and this food looks delicious.” He commended, “Did you eat?”

“I paged you five fucking times. You could’ve called.” You huffed, ignoring his concern.

He dropped his head in shame. He truly was sorry and you knew it. Nanami is sincere. He’s genuine and unfeigned and candid, but he tends to throw himself at his work, muddling the line between it and home. You really can’t fault him for taking pride in what he does, but God, do you wish he’d find a healthy balance between the two.

“Baby, what can I do, hm?” He hummed, “To make it up to you?”

He followed you around the kitchen, his heavy footfalls not far behind. You could feel his warmth as he stood beside you and you could smell what’s left of the cologne he spritzed on his suit this morning. It was then that you finally looked up at him, silently registering his post-work mien. His tapered, blonde hair danced in every which way, loose strands adorning his forehead. His brows furrowed with remorse while his tired eyes pleaded for absolution, begging for your forgiveness like a sinner in church.

Slowly, he sank to his knees before you, his intense gaze never never faltering. You rolled your eyes in disbelief as you turned away. Nanami reached for your hand, pulling you back to him. Before you had the chance to pull away, Nanami dipped his head to plant a chaste kiss to the back of your hand before turning it over and kissing your palm. He continued, leaving several kisses along the expanse of your hand and wrist.

“Look baby, I’m on my knees for you.” He admitted. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll do anything… you know I will.”

Nanami was releasing your hand to kiss your legs instead. He trailed sweet, fleeting kisses up and down your shins before gently bunching up the hem of your dress to expose your thighs. He kissed there too, humming and inhaling your scent as he wrapped his arms around the back of your knees, pulling you closer.

His heart ached with contrition as he begged for your pardon, so distraught by his foolishness. Frankly, Nanami yearned not only for you, but your approval as well. It was something he’d go to great lengths to obtain. What is he worthy of if not your mercy? Your validation?

“What is it you want?” He mumbled between kisses, determined to rectify his wrongdoing and put a smile on his pretty girl’s face.

You could feel the slam of your heart against your chest as you looked down at him, his pleading eyes beckoning you to relinquish your anger and find reprieve in him instead. He whispered sweet nothings against your skin—small I love yous and honeyed words of praise. And surely, all the resolve you once had was long gone, swept up and blown out the window, never to be seen again.

The poor lace of your white panties cried in your arousal as your stomach flipped with excitement. The subtle clench of your thighs wouldn’t go unnoticed. You could feel the curl of an all-knowing grin against your skin. “I know you want something.” He whispered. It’s quiet, barely audible, but God, did you hear him.

You bit your inner cheek, contemplative in silence. If you know Nanami at all, you know he never allows you to go to bed angry. It’s one thing he won’t tolerate. He’s made it his personal mission to send you to bed with a smile on that pretty face of yours every night.

“Want me to take care of you tonight?” He breathed, his eyes searching for yours, “Show you how grateful I am for all that you do? Show you just how much I need you… how much you mean to me? Will you let me show you, my love?”

You can't stay mad at him nor could you deny yourself pleasure. How could you? He’s on his knees for you, begging at your feet for forgiveness like an atheist on judgment day. He loves you dearly and he won’t rest until he rights his wrongs. So you really can’t help it when you slowly nod to him, accepting his enticing offer.

A breathy laugh of relief fell from his lips, “Yeah? You’ll let me show you?” He grinned.

You nodded again, reaching out a hand for him. The gracious smile that marred his lips was peerless, almost as if his sole purpose in life is to demonstrate his love and appreciation for you. He eventually rose to his feet, towering above you before taking your hand and silently leading you to the living room. You followed closely as you desperately fought the grin trying to kiss your lips.

Nanami situated himself on the couch, his legs spreading naturally. The striped fabric of his trousers warped with the slow adjustment of his hips, the subtle bulge of his cock resting so prettily in his lap. He looked up at you as he sat quietly, the heat of his stare turning you into a puddle of nothingness before him. How could someone say so much, yet nothing at all? You understand him completely—his intentions, his determination, his carnal desire.

He jerked his head lightly, motioning you to him or rather on him.

Like a moth to flame, you were immensely drawn to him, deeply, uncontrollably. You hardly noticed the shuffle of your feet as you neared him before leaning down to fixate yourself on his lap. A shared breath of relief fell from your lips as they hovered mere centimeters apart. You couldn't hide the small grin that crept on your face. Nanami returned the smile, his much larger and dopey, but his eyes saddened.

“You even got all dolled up for me.” He commented, taking notice of your glossed lips and rosy cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby.” He frowned like before, as if he’s still haunted by his guilty conscience.

You shrugged, “It’s okay.” It comes out as a small whisper. You’re not even sure if you believe yourself. Nanami certainly doesn't, which is why he shook his head in disagreement.

“It’s not. I should have called,” He admitted as his hand reached for your face, cupping your warm cheek in his palm. You leaned into his touch, nodding slowly, wordlessly agreeing. “But m’gonna make it up to you.” He promised.

He was then leaning closer to push his lips onto yours, finally closing the aching distance. You kissed him back promptly, sighing against his mouth as you relaxed into his touch. He wasn’t modest as he kissed you hungrily, your nose pushing against his while you breathed into his mouth. Nanami hummed in satisfaction as he sloppily tasted your mouth. Your lips were so sweet and delicious, so perfectly shaped and carefully glossed.

Soon, you could feel the graze of his tongue along your bottom lip, silently begging for more to which you obliged, granting him access to your willing mouth. You allowed him to taste you from the inside, desperate to feel his tongue exploring your wet mouth. Even the subtle exchange of saliva had your hips stuttering as you sat on his lap.

Nanami’s hands were gripping the fat of your hips, his long fingers splayed along the flesh. The hem of your dress slowly bunched at your waist, exposing the pretty lace of your sheer panties. You couldn’t help the gape of your lips when you gasped at his cock pressing firmly against your clothed cunt. He pushed your hips against him, rocking you back and forth along his growing erection. The friction made you completely dizzy.

You couldn’t help the whiny moans that tumbled past your lips and into his mouth, your sweet voice going straight to his cock as he swallowed your saccharine whimpers. A cry left your lips at the feeling of him bucking his hips forward, further pushing himself against the lace of your underwear. And God, how you were so wet and bothered. Nanami fucking loved when you’d get like this. He swore he could feel your wetness seeping through the fabric of his trousers.

“Always been so sensitive.” He hummed.

His comment had your cheeks burning with crimson. It never took long for you to fall apart like this. He’s hardly touched you and you could already feel yourself unraveling like cheap thread. You crave him like you crave water and oxygen, as if you’d simply die from the sheer lack of him and he could tell. He could always tell.

“M’so grateful for you y’know.” He smiled drunkenly, reminding you of his gratitude, “So pretty ‘n sweet… always takin’ such good care of me.” He continued, dropping his head to kiss your neck softly.

You hummed in agreement, craning your head to the side, granting him more access to the receptive flesh. Nanami’s hands began to slide up your torso and beneath your dress. His warm grip was tight and familiar. He pulled you impossibly close, your chest pressed against his and now your dress was bunched up just below the curve of your breasts.

Nanami brought his gaze up to meet yours, silently begging to take off your dress to which you nodded. You held your arms up for him, allowing him to gather the cream fabric in his hands before pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. He smiled. Nanami loved when you’d opt for not wearing a bra, in fact, he encouraged it and wouldn't have it any other way. He loved that he could make out the shape of your breasts at any given moment. He even loved the prod of your nipples against the fabric of your blouses.

He wasted no time as he was bowing his head to slip one of your nipples into his mouth while his hands worked to push the fat of your breasts together. A trail of hot, openmouthed kisses littered your chest. He hummed in bliss as he tasted your skin. He was nothing but insatiable as he swapped back and forth between your tits, ran his tongue through the valley of your chest, and slipped both of your sweet nipples into his mouth.

Fuck, you could cum right here, just like this, and he knew it of course. The warm press of his cock against your poor pussy while his hot mouth drooled on your tits was pure torture. You were practically putty in his hands—beautiful and completely ruined by him and for him only. You lolled your head back as you bucked your hips, wanton moans falling from your parted lips.

“Grateful for this pretty little body.” He whispered as he felt you up greedily, squeezing and caressing just about any part of you he could reach.

“Na…namin,” You cried.

“I know, baby. I know.” He shushed, “I know you want more. Just wanna appreciate you is all.”

Nanami eventually willed himself away, but only to lift you off of him and set you down on the couch so that he could kneel on the rug in front of you. You sat upright with your back to the backrest of the couch, knees to your chest as they pressed together tightly. With one hand, Nanami was spreading your legs apart before tugging you closer to the edge of the cushion by your ankles.

You couldn’t bear the sight of him between your legs as he began to kiss you through the damp fabric of your panties, darting his tongue out to taste you just a little bit. It was awfully too much. You could hardly breathe as he beckoned for you to raise your hips so that he could pull your soiled panties down your legs, tossing them aside.

“Grateful for this sweet little pussy.” He breathed as he licked a long, ponderous strip, collecting your seeping arousal on the tip of his tongue.

You shuddered as he began to mouth your cunt. He kissed and drooled all over it, moaning and panting against it as if you were an oasis amidst a barren desert. As if he were a predator and you his prey. As if he’d simply die if didn’t devour you right here and now, whole, saving absolutely nothing for anybody.

As he sat on his knees between your legs, his hands gripped your inner thighs, keeping you spread nice and wide for him. You could hardly move, but that’s what he wanted. He wanted the entirety of your pussy on display for him. He needed you to be open and accessible and all for him.

He was still dressed in his business attire as he fucked you with his tongue. The first couple buttons of his blue dress shirt were undone and his spotted tie hung low from his neck. He even wore his loafers and his harness but none of that mattered to him. Maybe he liked the idea of you being completely bare and vulnerable and his only purpose is to be a vessel for your pleasure. Or it could just be the juxtaposition of it all.

“Fuuuck…” You drawled, “feels s’good.”

The swell of his cock was unbearable and you did nothing but push him further. Nanami wouldn't miss the subtle roll of your hips against his face, or the saccharine whimpers that tumbled from your mouth. He sure as hell wouldn’t miss the way you begged him to stuff you with his fingers. God, he could cream his fucking trousers.

He groaned as he slowly sunk his two middle fingers inside of you, “Oh, God, look at that.”

With hooded eyes and a lazy smirk, he watched as your greedy pussy sucked him in, kissing and coating his fingers in your essence. He couldn’t help but to shove those very fingers into his mouth, tasting you from the inside, only to return his fingers back to your pussy without missing a beat. He then dropped his head to wrap his lips around your clit. You whined as his fingers prodded your leaking hole while his tongue beckoned you to an inevitable release.

The obscene squelch of his fingers as he stuffed your drooling hole was sickening. You could only drape an arm over your eyes, shielding your face in embarrassment as he began to curl his fingers forward, pressing against your fluttering walls. With an open mouth you panted, and gasped, and moaned, and babbled, pleading for anything and everything.

And you’re just the sweetest thing ever to him. So pretty and delicious, he thought. Nanami couldn’t get enough of you. He lapped up everything you gave him, tonguing and sucking and slurping you up like a man starved. His groans and hums of pleasure as he ran his tongue through you were nothing but kindle to the ever-growing flame in the pit of your stomach.

His hands found purchase on your waist, gripping you tightly to pull you firmly onto his mouth. He let his jaw fall slack while lolling out his tongue, fully mouthing your cunt. Quite literally he stuffed his face with you, devouring you utterly and completely. He was obnoxious as he groaned and panted, deeply huffing and inhaling as if he were on the brink of death and you were his final breath, nursing him back to life.

How could someone be so pussywhipped? So drunk? So blinded by their own unceasing need to please? So much so that he doesn't even think twice when you cry for him to go lower, begging him to taste and appreciate you everywhere. He silently obliged, sharing a breath with you as he gathered your seeping arousal on the tips of his fingers so that he could drag them between the slit of your ass.

With both hands, he spread you further apart, warm palms on the fat of your ass, and his balls painfully swollen at the lewd sight of your holes throbbing and pulsing around nothing. Nanami gathered saliva in his mouth before puckering his lips and lolling out his tongue, messily drooling onto your pussy and asshole. He watched with a half-lidded stare as his saliva landed with a plap, slowly dripping from your cunt, to the space inbetween, until finally spilling onto your puckered hole.

Nanami dipped his head, quickly darting out his tongue to chase his spit so that he could push it into your ass. You gasped as his tongue probed and licked and tasted you. Fuck, you could cum just like that. You felt it—that deep, gnawing urge to release yourself with a buck of your hips and cry of his sweet name. God, you could fucking feel it.

“Yeeeah—my baby needs me everywhere, hmm?” He slurred drunkenly between drags of his tongue, “Needs me to appreciate her everywhere… even her pretty little asshole.”

You nodded dumbly with your pupils dilated and glazed over, your wet lips parted, and your eyebrows knitted. You could hardly recall how you ended up here… thighs pressed to your chest with your husband’s tongue and fingers delving in and out of your sloppy holes like some insatiable whore.

Is that what you are? Some insatiable whore whose only purpose in life is to be a slutty little housewife? It must be true though, right? It’s you who's getting your pussy and asshole slobbered on. You who’s feeling yourself up as you get devoured, groping and squeezing your breasts like a pornstar. And you who’s nodding off and choking over your words, begging to cum like your life depends on it. But maybe you end up like this in every life. Is it fate? Destiny? Is it just how it ought to be? Does it even matter?

You weren’t sure or maybe you just didn't care. How could you? Not with the way his thumb was slowly sinking into your asshole while his tongue licked through your sweet folds. Not with the way he was beginning to press his other thumb to your clit, beckoning you to cum in his mouth like the good girl he knows you are. And definitely not with the way your stomach was starting to tighten and coil with that all too familiar feeling.

“Nami!” You choked, your chest heaving as you panted and bucked.

You couldn’t fight your frown as he pulled away to smile up at you, the corners of his lips tugging into an all-knowing grin and his pussy drunk eyes boring holes into yours. You dripped down his face—the tip of his nose, his swollen lips and chin glistening in your arousal and his own saliva. It was debauched and lewd and entirely shameless but none of that mattered. It never mattered when he had you like this—so vulnerable, so helpless, so willing and meek. Maybe that’s the exact reason he craves you when he's away. Because he loses all sense of himself when he’s between your thighs. So lost in the objective of pleasuring you, in his need to satisfy.

“Want you to cum on my tongue so I can fuck all of my appreciation into you.” He whispered, his warm breath fanning your cunt, “You want that?”

You nodded hastily, humming and gasping in approval as you pushed your hips forward, chasing his hovering lips. Of course you want that and he knows it. He knows you’re unraveling at the seams, holding onto the fleeting semblance of sanity you grasp as you spiral toward an inevitable orgasm. He just knows it’ll tear you apart, sending you so far gone that he’s sure it’ll have tears threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks. If Nanami knows anything at all, he knows you—in and out like the back of his hand. He knows what your body needs, how much you can take, how deep he can go, and even how hard you’ll cum for him.

And it’s not just you. He too feels himself on the brink of orgasm, his poor cock threatening to spill into his Calvin Klein briefs, but not yet, not now. It was torture, his swollen balls pressed to the fat of his thigh and his heavy cock weeping precum all while being compressed by the restricting fabric of his trousers. God, it was absolute torture, but he would wait forever if it meant having his tongue and fingers inside of you.

“Nami, m’cumming… oh, God.” You cried.

It happened all too fast. Your poor brain couldn't register the orgasm that worked through your entire being. The feeling of your abdomen tightening and the flutter of your soft walls as his tongue helped you through it rendered you breathless. Your mind fell blank as he guided you through your orgasm, cooing words of praise and gratitude, leaving you a whimpering, stuttering mess.

Nanami moaned and panted as he drank you up, swallowing and enjoying everything you gave him. It’s almost animalistic the way he nearly unhinges his jaw to taste more of you if it were even possible. He’s a primal animal in his habitat, devouring his prey like it’s the last meal he’d ever have. It’s almost too good that it pains you, it’s too much.

You can’t stop your legs from closing around his head. “I can’t, baby...” You whine as you push him away with a little more force than intended.

Nanami drunkenly stumbles backwards onto the floor with a thud, his hands falling back to catch him and still, he smiles lazily. Well, it’s more of a crooked smirk. His usual ironed dress shirt now wore wrinkles and his normally manicured hair danced in a frenzy along his nape and forehead, blonde strands falling down to frame his face. He sat with his knees bent and his hands resting behind him to stabilize himself. His cheeks burned with crimson and his chest heaved.

“You really are so beautiful, my love,” He admired, “and I’m so grateful for you, your love, your compassion, your emotional complexity. I really am.” He breathed.

He’s babbling and you smile, heart swelling at his sentiment and vulnerability. His love is evident. It’s in your face, it’s overbearing, it’s real. “I love you more than you know.” You smile sweetly, holding your arms out for him to come to you.

Nanami pushed himself up from the floor to fall into your arms. “I love you with all that I am.” He admitted in a whisper, baring his soul.

His lips catch yours, pulling you into a tender kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “I want to make love to you.” He breathed. You nod to him, sealing your answering with another sloppy kiss. You hardly notice Nanami gently pulling you off the couch to carry you upstairs, nearly tripping as he attempts to slip his loafers off in the process.

Blindly, he stumbled through the doorway of your shared bedroom. He laid you on the perfectly done up bed and cursed to himself at the salacious side of you—your bare body on display for him, swollen cunt exposed between your legs, silently begging for more, your fucked-out face and tousled hair. Nanami fought the urge to cum as he undressed himself before you, finally ridding himself of his clothes.

As you waited, you couldn’t help the hand that snaked between your legs so that you could touch yourself. Your other hand found its way to your mouth, your fingers pushed past your lips and you sucked sweetly as you watched Nanami unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt.

As he undid the clasp of his brown leather belt, he shook his head and laughed to himself. It’s more of a breathy chuckle as he grins in disbelief. “You just might be the death of me.” He jested as he pushed his briefs down his thighs, baring his swollen cock. It jumped free, bouncing to kiss his navel.

Your stomach swirled in excitement as he neared the bed, kneeling onto the edge of the mattress. You crawled toward him, reaching for his cock so that you could pump him in your hand. It’s warm, heavy, desperate. It hurts. Nanami hissed at the contact, eyebrows furrowing and eyes fluttering shut. He couldn’t hide the throaty moans that tumbled past his lips nor did he want to. He needs you to know exactly how he feels.

“Can… can you spit on it? Fuuuck,” He gasped, his stomach caving as you immediately gathered saliva in your mouth, lolling out your tongue so that you could drool onto the swollen head of his cock. “God, I love you.” He gaped as a hand came up to cup your cheek.

You smiled up at him, your cheeks glowing as you stroked him sweetly. “I need you to fuck me, Nami.” You whispered. It’s quiet, benign, and sincere and you meant it so deeply.

Nanami nodded, watching like a hawk as you laid back for him, spreading your legs and showing him exactly how you wanted him. It didn’t take long for him to situate himself between your thighs, tucking your legs on either side of his hips. With his cock in his palm, he dragged the leaking tip along the expanse of your cunt, spreading and collecting your arousal. You writhed beneath him as you rolled your hips, searching for the relief you so desperately craved.

You shook your head, “Unh unh, just fuck me.” You blurted impatiently.

He smiled down at you, cocking his head to the right just a bit, laughing lightly before nodding in accordance. You braced yourself as he began to push the head of his cock inside of you with his thumb. The two of you sharing a gasp, your mouths agape as you both watched him slowly sink inside of you. Already, it was too much, and you weren’t even fully stuffed.

The moans that fell from your lips were nothing but needy, sultry whines and little gasps of air. Nanami groaned in response to your pretty little sounds, his voice low and guttural. There was nothing he loved more than your sweet voice, especially when you’d get all needy and whiny like this. He almost couldn’t help himself as he pushed his cock further inside of you, his hands reaching for the curve of your waist to pull you onto him, tucking himself as deep as he possibly could.

“Nanamin…” You breathed, your eyebrows knitting as your lips parted.

“I know,” He cooed, “but you can take it, yeah? You always do.”

He smiled sweetly as he drew his hips back, reveling in the way your arousal kissed him in a sheen layer. He held his breath as he pushed his hips forward like before, stuffing you to the brim. He gauged your expression, watching as your face contorted in pleasure, searching for your silent needs so that he can fuck you just how you like.

Slowly, he subconsciously nodded to himself as he pulled out of you. He nodded as if this was the answer to everything he’s ever questioned in life. “Yes, baby… fuck.” He stifled as he lolled his head back, “My sweet girl, always takin’ me so well.”

You are his sweet girl. His sweet girl that likes to get her pussy licked and fucked. His sweet girl that begs for all of her slutty holes to be stuffed and fingered. His sweet girl who pretends to be upset so that he’ll have to fuck her to put a smile on her face. And his sweet girl who is never satisfied, no matter how many times she cums.

“More.” You whispered.

He let you reach for his face and pull him close. You panted as you slotted lips against his, hooking your feet together behind him, encouraging him to fuck you like he’s meant to. You kissed him sloppily, your tongue lapping and sliding against his, licking and tasting him from the inside, remnants of your cum still lingering on his tongue.

Nanami pulled away, a gossamer of saliva connecting his bottom lip to yours, that same idle smirk playing his wet lips. “God, you need it don’t you?” He exhaled in a single breath, his eyes searching for yours in the dimly lit room.

You nodded eagerly, lifting your head to chase his fleeting lips. He kissed you back like before except this time, he was unhooking your legs to grip the back of your thighs, pinning them to the duvet and spreading you completely open for him. You want to get fucked? He’ll do just that. You deserve it after all.

The warm stretch of his cock as he split you open made your head spin. You sucked him in greedily, your wet walls kissing him so sweetly. He filled you so well, almost too perfectly, like he was hand tailored for you and you only. You could hardly breathe as he leaned forward, angling his hips slightly downward to lick at your neck. You whined as he licked a long, ponderous strip from your collar bone, to the shell of your ear, sealing it with a kiss, his thrusts still heavy and sharp, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix.

Each time his hips collided with yours, the sound of skin against skin was all that could be heard along with your choked whimpers and huffs of his breath against your neck, his thrusts heavy and deep. Nanami was losing himself as he fucked you, heavy balls slapping the thick of your ass, fat cock bullying its way deeper and deeper inside of you. Fuck, he wanted nothing more than to stuff his cum inside of you, tainting you with his seed, claiming you all for himself for eternity.

“My sweet girl needed me to fuck her like this, huh?” He cooed, his hand sliding up your stomach to grip your cheeks gingerly, forcing your lips into a pout. “Needed me to get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness like some kind of slut,” He kissed you sweetly, “I love it… makes me so hard… it hurts, baby. But I love it so much.” He babbled, kissing you sloppily between breaths.

It was a mess, all of it. Your cunt glistened in a sinful mixture of arousal while Nanami kissed you messily with his tongue lolled out, even the subtle exchange of saliva had you so aroused that you could cry, only adding to the wet mess the two of you created. You curled your toes as your eyes welled with tears, his thumb pressing against your clit, lips slotted against yours. It was all too much, your poor head was so empty and sore.

“I love when you turn me into this,” He confessed, his infatuation for you so ardently evident, “even think about you at work too y’know… get me so fuckin’ worked up… m’always so hard when I think about you. You make me crazy, I swear.” He inhaled a tight breath as he fought the gnawing urge to cum.

You gasped as he slipped out of you to lay down on the bed, pulling you with him. He put you on your side and tucked himself behind you, gripping the back of your thigh and hiking your leg to slip his cock back inside of you with a groan. Desperately, he fucked himself into you from the behind, his warm breaths lost in your neck, cock slipping in and out of you, wet balls kissing your ass with an obscene schlop.

“Think about you too, Nami.” You whispered, turning your head to meet his face, “M-missed you so much—fuck…”

Nanami grinned lazily, his nose brushing yours, “Yeah? You missed me baby? Do you touch yourself when I’m away? Thinkin’ ‘bout me fucking you just like this while you play with that pretty pussy?” His voice honeyed and sweet, thick with genuine curiosity and lust.

You hummed in agreement, huffing out short breaths in sync with the thrust of his hips. You could feel yourself slipping into a place of no return, a place so far gone, so depraved, that you were afraid you’d lose yourself and cream all over him, ruining the freshly washed sheets. Your walls squeezed the length of his cock, begging him to spill inside of you and Nanami was feral as he fucked you stupid, cresent-shaped nails digging into your thighs, his breath hitching with each inhale.

“Want your c-cum,” You slurred, your pretty face contouring in your own need to release, “want you to cum inside of me… show me how much you really love ‘n appreciate me with your babies. Need your babies, Nami… please?”

His cock twitched, “F-fuck, is that what you need? Will that make you happy, sweetheart?”

You mouthed a silent plea, nodding to him with parted lips. He gripped your face softly, bringing you close to taste your swollen lips for the umpteenth time tonight. There was nothing you needed more. Absolutely nothing on earth would satisfy you more than taking all of his cum like a good girl should. You dreamt of getting knocked up by Nanami, your stomach so cute and round as you waddled around the house with a gracious smile.

“Say it, baby, please, will you?” He begged softly, his hips stuttering as his thrusts grew sloppier, “Say you want me to breed you and make you a mommy… please, baby, fuck.” He gasped as his impending orgasm coiled in his abdomen, threatening to tear him apart.

“Need you to make me a mommy, Nanami… been such a good girl for you. I deserve it, please.” You brainlessly babbled.

​​“Fuck, fuck, fuck—okay, baby. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” He moaned, “Gonna give my good girl all of my cum, such a pretty fuckin’ girl… deserves all my cum—oh my God.”

He whined shamelessly, his erratic breaths soon turned into broken ones, each of them interrupted with a whimper or hiss. His chest heaved as his lower stomach began to tighten, his wet cock throbbing inside of you, the head weeping against your cervix. Eventually, that winding coil in the pit of his stomach snapped, releasing itself in several spurts of thick, milky cum, coating your walls in his viscous seed. Still, he bucked his hips into you, his cock accidently slipping out a few times and pushing against you clit from the force of his thrusts only for your greedy hand to reach down to tuck him back inside, allowing him to fuck his cum as deep as he could, none of it going to waste.

“You gonna cum for me, hm? Make a mess after you’ve just cleaned the house?” He cooed, reaching a hand down your body to play with your clit, tracing small, tight circles around the sensitive bud, encouraging your looming orgasm.

You squeaked a small yes in response, eyes falling shut as you felt your orgasm swelling. His voice only pushed you further, his encouraging words and sweet nothings coaxing you. He was sending you so far, stringing you along so thin, beckoning you to cum all over him and make a mess. His cum seeped from your pussy, dribbling onto the satin sheets in a sinful puddle beneath you and you could only whine as your soft walls fluttered around him.

He pressed his lips to your shoulder, kissing you sweetly, “Cum for me, my pretty baby, c’mon.” He encouraged, “Cum for me like I know you need to—yessss, baby, yes cum just like that… all over my cock, fuck.”

After ensuring you were thouroughly fucked through your orgasm, his thrusts slowed and eventually, his hips stilled completely. He slipped out of you, nearly cumming again as he watched your pulsing cunt push out his seed, his cock too dripping in a sweet layer of cum and arousal. He almost couldn’t help the hand that slipped between your legs, fingers finding your pussy to gather his cum on the tips, pummeling it deeper inside of you.

It was too much, too sensitive. You shook your head as you whined in overwhelming pleasure, pushing your thighs together and forcing his hand away. Nanami hushed you with a kiss, explaining that he would prefer his cum not to go to waste. He just wanted to make sure his seed was planted, make sure that you’d get pregnant and there was no doubt you’d end up plump and full with his baby. He turned you to face him, shuffling close so his nose could touch yours.

“You’d make the most beautiful mother.” He smiled gently, peeling the disheveled hair off of your face, baring your blushed cheeks and sweat-ridden forehead.

His heart swelled when you beamed in return, your eyes fluttering sheepishly as sleep loomed. Nanami thought you looked prettiest like this, so raw and exposed in your post-orgasmic state. He could see right through you like a glass house in broad daylight. There was almost an internal glow within you, a radiating brightness that consumed everything in its wake and he adored that about you. Possibly the reason he fell so hard all those years ago.

“You really are so beautiful to me.” He breathed as if coming to the realization all over again, “I love you and it hurts my heart when I disappoint you.” He frowned.

You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, “I love you too, Nami. Just don’t let it happen again, hm?” You partly joked as you squinted, shooting him playful daggers.

He kissed your nose too, “It won’t happen again.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

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[queenofthequillandink]

Steph's new roommate's little brother was absolutely a meta.

The two of them weren't really trying particularly hard to hide it, but they weren't mentioning it either, so Steph just... followed their lead. Especially because Jazz, while a little neurotic, was a pretty good roommate and new some truly innovative things to make in the microwave with whatever was in their dorm fridge.

But anyway, back to the meta thing. Steph could totally back it up.

Jazz was from the Midwest somewhere, one of the "I" states. (Indiana? Illinois? Iowa? Steph could never keep them straight.) From the way Jazz talked about her parents and the things she said to Danny, Steph could tell that the Fentons still lived there and Danny with them. Yet at least four nights out of seven, without fail, Steph would come home from a long night studying or vigilante-ing to find Danny in their dorm room, usually passed out on the futon. As though Gotham wasn't halfway across the country from Indiana or Illinois or Iowa.

"Our parents are pretty loud," Jazz explained with a quiet grimace, the first time it happened. "Like 'keep you awake at all hours of the night' loud. I told Danny he could sleep here when he needs to, is that okay? Tucker's parents are great, but they'll kick him out eventually."

"As a sleep-deprived college kid, I wholeheartedly support sleeping wherever you can get it," Steph whispered back. "As long as he doesn't eat my half of the food, I'm not gonna tattle to the RA."

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Jazz squealed, flapping her hands. Steph darted a glance at the teenager passed out on their futon, but he didn't even twitch. "Oh, don't worry, you have to be loud enough to wake the dead to get Danny up," Jazz said with a smirk.

"Alright. Makes things easier, I suppose," Steph said with a shrug, moving to sling her backpack onto her bunk. "He gonna be here in the morning?"

Jazz narrowed her eyes as though Elder Sister Glare could penetrate dreams. Hell, maybe it could. "He'll be at school before you wake up, if he knows what's good for him."

School. Which should be halfway across the country. Sure. Well, Steph could recognize a topic that Simply Wasn't Spoken About and unlike the rest of the Bats, she actually respected her roommate's personal privacy. "Cool."

So. Definitely a meta. Teleportation, maybe? Or superspeed or flying, she supposed. Whatever it was, the kid was clearly only using it to get a good night's rest in a safe space, so it wasn't really Steph's business.

At least neither of them had noticed she was a vigilante. It was an impressive secret to keep in such close quarters, if Steph did say so herself.

~*~

Jazz had clocked that Stephanie was Spoiler in a week and a half. And it only took her that long because she was distracted by orientation. The girl wasn't exactly subtle. Especially not with her injuries. Jazz had three years of experience watching someone come home injured and try to hide it, and while she was better than Danny, it still wasn't good enough.

Still, Steph wasn't making a big deal of Danny portalling into their dorm half of every week. And, like she had with Danny, Jazz wanted Steph to trust her enough to tell her herself.

And if this meant that Jazz spent a good portion of her first semester figuring out the rest of the Bats' identities based on Steph's friends and acquaintances, well. That was between her and Steph's scary-but-sweet girlfriend who read her like a book as soon as their eyes met.

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

Young Old Things

I like the thought of a deaged Dan causing a misunderstanding between Danny, Vlad, and the batfam.

TW: sexual assault hinted at

....

Danny, Dan, and Ellie go to see Jazz in Gotham. They've been waiting to "visit" her for weeks since she moved out. Only waiting for her to get a big enough place for all of them. Danny already said he'd share a room with Ellie and Dan, especially now that they found out if she is her true age she'll start to stabilize more permanently with Danny's ecto. Plus, having Dan be the same size helps, or so she says (he might be desperate for a new family and Ellie is trying to help, Danny and Jazz never bring it up in front of him).

The Fenton parents don't know about Danny being Phantom, instead believing that some big ghostly event caused Danny to have a ghost daughter.

And that he tried to clone himself mixed with a ghost to use that body to stabilize her. They may be proud of their scientist son, they are not proud that he won't let them experiment on his ghostly "creations".

Of course they are entirely wrong:

Ellie is one of Vlads' attempts to clone him, the only one that survived.

And Dan is an amalgamation of Danny and Vlad from an alternate timeline. He doesn't know why he's keeping that from his parents. He owes nothing to that scumbag, but Jazz says many victims try to keep their abusers safe from facing consequences. Before Dan was deaged, and much before he met the Fenton parents, he'd pointed out that he'd be scared who his parents would have chosen to believe too.

Jazz gets a full ride scholarship with Gotham U, the Wayne's new massive donation to the psychology department, as well as her well written letter about being the head of her home, helped immensely.

She felt bad using a slightly blurred version of their story to get a good scholarship, but Danny pushed her to go for it.

Hence her, Danny and his 3 year old "twins" were at a gala for the university.

It was being held in the museum after closing hours. The invitation she got had specified that her brother was invited, each with a plus one.

They couldn't exactly get a babysitter for two super-powered toddlers in the city known for hating metas. Besides it wasn't like they had time to get dates anyway.

The night started out fine. There were scholarship students, student council members, some Gotham U staff, and a few rich folk mingling and eating tiny foods that both Ellie and Dan adored.

Ellie fell asleep in Danny's arms almost the second she'd finished eating, and Dan was overly protective of the both of them as always. Of course the dense crowd and constant noise wasn't helping calm him down.

A Wayne, he wasn't sure which one exactly, had brought Danny a plate of food and sat with him as he tried to distract Dan. At first Dan didn't care for him at all, but he mentioned reading about the constellation on Dan's shirt and he loosened up. He never let go of Danny's pant leg though.

The night turned sour when all three's ghost sense went off. There was no immediate threat, but even the Wayne kid noticed them tense and turned to the hallway.

Dan was the first to spot him. "Vad."

"Bad?" The man mimicked.

"He has trouble with his Ls."

"No! I can say Ellie." Dan huffed, poking the side of her sparkly green shoe.

"Vlad, the guy that walked in." Danny said, decidedly looking down into his daughter's sleeping face, squished into his shirt and drooling.

"Vladimir Masters?"

He nodded, before he could continue however Dan spoke up.

"He is bad. He's the reason I was born. And Ellie too." Dan put himself in front of Danny, his little legs going over Danny's feet like a guard dog.

He could see the Wayne's hands tighten into fists, he tapped the inside of his wrist a bit and watched as he squirmed in his seat.

"Hey, Tim." Another dark haired light eyed Wayne and a girl came up to them. "Who's this?"

"Danny, these are my sibilings. Dick and Cass. Guys, this is Danny."

"Hi, nice to meet you Danny. I'd shake your hand but it looks busy." He gestured towards Ellie. As his hand swept nearer, Dan tried to swipe it away. "Oh, and who's this."

"I'm Dan. You can't touch Mommy." His little face contorted into his best toddler attempt at scaring them off.

"I would never do that. No one here would." Dick said as he crouched down to be eye level with his son.

"He would." Dan pointed at Vlad, all three turned to look at the man. Before anyone else noticed, specifically Vlad himself, Danny pushed his arm down.

"Don't point, it's rude."

"He's a rude butt." Danny laughed softly and Dan continued. "It doesn't mater that I'm half of him, I'll never be evil like him." He yawned and laid his face on Danny's leg.

"I think that's enough signs that we should head home. Thank you for talking with me, Tim."

"No problem, it was m-"

Dan grabbed around Danny's legs and whined "I don't wanna gooOOOooo. I want more of the tiny hot dogs."

Danny looked up to see Vlad infront of the food table. The Wayne sibilings followed his gaze "I'm sorry buddy, but-"

Tim stood up, "I'll get you guys a whole mountain of the tiny hot dogs. Why don't you guys wait for me at the door." Ever so softly he heard Tim whisper, "Go with them." To his brother.

"Where are your things? I'll help you get ready." Dick looked around like he didn't know where the coat closet was. He'd probably been to events like this hundreds of times, but Danny appreciated the sentiment.

"Their stroller is at the entrance, I have to get my sister though."

The girl who hadn't said a word hummed and went off, "Cass can find her, I'll help you and we can meet at the entrance."

"Alright, thank you."

It wasn't until they had both kids in the stroller with their coats on and Dan had a bottle of milk (with a lot of ectoplasm in it) that Danny realized he'd never mentioned who his sister was.

Dick waved towrds the end of the hall and saw his sister and the two Waynes he'd met walking with Brucie Wayne himself.

Jazz looked down and pat Cass' hand. "Thank you for getting me."

"Danger." Her voice was soft, but she didn't seem shy like he had expected.

"All four of you seemed to get along well with my kids. Would you like to come by for dinner next week?" Brucie asked as he looked between the four of them.

"I'd love to!" Jazz said enthusiastically. "Would Tuesday ight work?"

Danny could see the gears start to speed up in her head and he huffed a little. "Jazz, I need to get them in bed."

"Right, of course. Thank you again, for everything."

"Tuesday night works perfectly," Brucie Wayne said with a massive smile on his face, "we'll send someone to pick you up. Have a good night."

With that they walked down the ramp and down a few blocks to their two bed room apartment.

"Jazz," She looked over to Danny, "I think they know more than they are letting on."

She lent over the stroller a bit to check if the kids were asleep, before adding, "I agree, I think there is something up with them, but I don't think they're bad."

"Dan was okay with them mostly, and Ellie was fast asleep even with then around."

"I guess we'll just have to find out, then. Besides, it would be good for you to make friends your age and not at the car shop."

"Yeah, alright."

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.

Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.

Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.

Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.

---

Tim Drake is having a horrible day.

He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.

Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.

They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.

"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.

Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.

The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.

"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.

"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."

"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"

"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."

"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"

"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."

"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.

---

Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.

Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.

And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.

Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.

But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.

The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.

[sagaduwyrm]

DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are. 

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp. 

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic. 

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly.  The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific. 

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

[moonhoures]

Relax

🕷️ kinktober — day 3: bath sex 🕸️

pairing: yeosang (ateez) + reader (g/n)

genre: non-idol!au, fluff, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, established relationship, yeosang has a fractured ankle, reader gives yeosang a handjob in the bath, mentions of a blowjob but no actual blowjob (sorry 😣)

word count: ~2.6k

synopsis: after yeosang gets injured, you have no problem helping him in any way he needs ;)

a/n: i’m such a sucker for fics where one partner is injured and the other takes care of them ;-; so i had fun writing this ^_^

posted: october 3, 2023

kinktober masterlist

“Augh!”

Your boyfriend yelped out in pain, getting your attention all the way from the kitchen where you were loading the dishwasher. You quickly shut the dishwasher door and bolted to the living room to check on him. You huffed in disappointment, getting a sheepish look from your boyfriend in return.

“You’re not supposed to stand up without me to help you,” you chided him, gesturing for him to sit back down on the couch, “What were you trying to do anyways?”

He frowned, plopping back down onto the couch and wincing from the discomfort he felt in his ankle, “I was trying to get the TV remote.”

“You should’ve called me, Yeo, I’m literally in the next room,” you spoke to him with a softer tone now, grabbing the remote from the table on the opposite end of the room to hand it to him. You got a good look at him, noticing the bags under his eyes and the flushed tone in his cheeks. He was so tired and in so much pain. The medicine the doctor had given him for his fractured ankle could only help so much, but Yeosang had been taking it like a champ for the most part. He was just having trouble adjusting to the ‘relying on people’ part of his injury.

“How are you feeling?” you asked him when he didn’t reply to your first comment.

He sighed, slumping further into the cushions, “Just like every other day. Terrible.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you couldn’t recount how many times you had asked him that question this past week, but Yeosang was growing irritated from hearing it. He appreciated your help, he did, but he couldn’t help but feel so pitiful and useless in this condition. Not being able to move on his own without risking even further injury. He hated relying on you to do his daily tasks.

“No, I don’t want to bother you anymore than I already am,” he admitted, looking past you at the TV.

Now you were the one frowning, taking the empty spot beside him, “You’re not bothering me. I’m happy to help you with whatever you need. If there’s anything I can do to make you feel a little better, then I want to do it.”

He glanced at you with a hint of a smile on his lips, “You’re too nice.”

“I was thinking helpful would be a better word,” you joked, making him chuckle softly. Just then an idea popped into mind, “What about a bath? I could use the new bubble bath I got, and the salts you like.”

Yeosang was usually a shower kind of guy, but being that he wasn’t able to stand for long with his ankle and there was no room for him to sit in the shower, he had been enjoying the tub more. Some nights you let him use the lavender-scented salts you bought, and he seemed to relax more with those. When you would go in to help him out of the tub, he would comment how much nicer your stuff smells than the ‘manly’ stuff he used.

“And if you want a spa experience, I can pull up some jazz music and hot towels.”

Yeosang laughed at that, nodding, “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

You hopped up off the couch, glee apparent on your face as you did so, “Perfect. You stay right there while I go run the water. Don’t move a muscle!”

Yeosang watched with amusement as you ran off to the bedroom, and shortly after he could hear the faint sound of the bath water running. He didn’t realize, but he was grinning. He was wondering how he got so lucky to have someone in his life that cared about him the way you did. He thought he must’ve been a really great person in his past life, very charitable. He thought you must be his good karma returning to him.

“Okay,” you emerged from the bedroom several minutes later, “It’s ready for you.”

Your boyfriend waited until you got closer before he started to get up. You supported him with one arm, letting him rest some of his weight on you to keep it off of his left leg. He hissed as he took a step and felt the nerves firing in his ankle, making the limb below his calf ache.

“You okay?”

Yeosang nodded, and you helped him take the first step, then the next. A couple minutes later, he let out a sigh of relief as you both finally made it to the bathroom. You fixed him up sitting on the edge of the tub. He took a deep breath, a smile on his face as he took in the sweet smell of lavender and something else. That’s when he noticed the two eucalyptus candles that were lit on the counter across the room.

“Candles? Really?”

“I told you I was giving you the full spa experience,” you spoke nonchalantly, “Let’s get these off of you.”

He let you tug his shirt off of him, ruffling his hair up in the process. He pulled his shorts and boxers down to his knees, and you took them from there, cautious of his ankle while removing them. Then you stood by, body tense while you let him settle in the tub by himself, ready at any moment to help if he needed you. But luckily he didn’t need any help. He hummed in satisfaction, sinking further into the water, rippling the bubbles away from him.

“Is the temp okay?”

He merely nodded and hummed, looking as cozy as a baby in a snug blanket. You broke out into a smile, walking away to get a towel for him.

“Call me if you need anything,” you told him, leaving the towel off to the side where he could reach. His eyes widened, and he sat up a little.

“Wait- I want you to stay here with me.”

“For what?”

“I just- I don’t want to be by myself. Can you just stay here and talk to me?”

How could you say no?

“Of course I can.”

You sat down beside the bathtub, letting your left arm rest along the edge. You rested your chin on your arm, then tilted your head so your cheek was pressed against your skin.

“Have you talked to the guys recently?” you asked him, trying to find a conversation to start.

“Yunho texted me this morning,” he replied, “Said it doesn’t feel the same getting breakfast without me.”

Small, soft smiles widened on both your cheeks and his at the wholesomeness. You knew Yeosang’s injury was hard for him, but it was also hard on you and his friends. Not having the usual, happy Yeosang around was weird, but at least you lived with him. You could still hang out with him, and you slept in the same bed as him at night. His friends didn’t have the same fortune, and these days they were so busy they barely had time to visit him. At this point they were just counting down the days until he was clear to roam around on his own so they could resume as normal. The eight amigos.

“They all miss you, I’m sure,” you said. You let the fingers on your right arm dip into the water. Your fingertips grazed over the surface, twirling the suds, making them dance. You entertained yourself with them as Yeosang talked about taking things for granted before. How he wished he could do his day-to-day stuff like normal again.

“Like what?” you questioned him, “You can do all the same stuff, you just need help to do it. And like I said, that’s what I’m here for.”

“But-“ your boyfriend paused, then decided against what he was going to say. But now you were intrigued.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, ears turning pink. It seemed like he was a little ashamed or embarrassed of what he was thinking.

“No, tell me. What? Is my help not good enough?” you teased, “Because there’s no way you can say that after I did all this for you.” You gestured to the rest of the room.

He shook his head again, “No, you’ve been a big help. And I’m really thankful. It’s just- I need help with something that doesn’t have to do with my injury.”

The look he gave you was pointed, and at first you didn’t understand what he was implying. But it dawned on you after a moment. Of course, he was a human with needs and desires, and a body. Your eyes glanced down at the bubbles that were starting to dwindle down into suds, leaving empty patches of water on the surface. One patch just so happened to expose his half-erect penis in his lap.

When he first came home from the doctor’s, you were very strict about him taking it easy. You wanted him to recover as soon as possible. Sex was the last thing on your mind, and had been since. Your sole focus was taking care of him and making sure his needs were met, just not in that way. You weren’t even acknowledging your own needs in the process.

“Oh.”

“But it’s okay. I- I’ve been taking care of them, uh, when I get the chance,” his ears were red now, out of pure bashfulness. You found it cute. When he got like this, you loved teasing him, making him even more flustered.

“I’m sorry, my love. You should’ve told me,” you cooed, fingertips gliding across the water until they met his biceps. You grazed them, emerging from the water onto his wet skin. You felt him tense a bit under your touch, and it made your lips twitch.

“I was going to, but I felt bad. You’ve been helping me with so much. I don’t want to ask you for anything else,” he confessed.

“You’re not a burden, Yeo,” you assured him, making eye contact with him as your fingers came to rest on his shoulder. You drew lazy circles over his skin, making goosebumps appear on it, “I want to help you. With whatever you need.”

His eyes were hazy now, as if he was entranced by you. And honestly, he was. He had been thinking about fucking you for weeks now, but was unable to initiate anything in his state because he was nervous about furthering his injury in some way. And you weren’t initiating, so he resorted to suffering in silence. Eventually he got to the point that he couldn’t take it anymore, and he ended up fisting his cock furiously in the bathroom. But all he wanted was you.

He gulped when your hand moved to his chest, smoothing it over his pecs. Your fingertips pausing to squeeze his nipple lightly. He twitched, making you giggle. He was so sensitive. You loved it.

You trailed even further, breaking the water’s surface again to slip over his abs. The subtle terrain of muscles under skin that displayed how diligently he had worked out—well, up until he had fractured his ankle.

Then, you felt it. The sparse hair that grew along his V-line. The feeling of it had you drawing your lip between your teeth, because you knew what would soon follow.

The stretch of skin that led to what you really wanted. The base of his cock, now growing by the second. It was starting to throb in anticipation, turning red along the shaft. The thin veins were standing out. You wanted him in your mouth so bad, but you would have to make-do with your position right now.

You took him in your grasp, giving him the lightest squeeze, and yet he still let out a whimper. It was soft, so soft you almost missed it.

“How’s that, baby?”

“Good,” he squeaked out, “K-keep going. Please.”

The suds were almost non-existent by now, so you could see clearly everything you were doing below the water. You were both enjoying the show, eyes glued between his legs. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in pant-like bursts as you started to slowly drag your hand up and down his length. The friction was a little difficult to work through, but you were determined to make it work. You paused at the end of his dick, swiping your thumb over the slit. Precum floated through the water in little ribbons then disappeared. You couldn’t wait to have his cum do the same, and neither could he.

“Please,” he whined again, eyes closing for a moment. His hands were balling into fists at his side.

“Just relax, my love.”

He nodded, letting the back of his head rest against the edge of the tub. His eyes screwed shut even more as you continued to stroke him, a little faster this time. You saw his legs shift, moving the water in the tub. His body was preparing an orgasm all because of you. His chest moved up and down, and you could see his abs tensing. His fingernails were biting into his palms.

“________, it feels so good,” he whispered, “So much better than my hand.”

You bit back a smile, “I know, baby. Are you close? Can you cum for me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded eagerly, and as if on cue, his thighs tensed up.

You quickened your pace some more, an ache growing in your forearm, but you ignored it.

“What did you think about when you jerked off, Yeo? Me?”

“Yes,” he admitted it without hesitation.

“What about me?”

“Everything. Being inside you. In your mouth.”

“My mouth? You want to fuck my mouth, baby?”

“Yeah,” he moaned, eyes opening to look at you. You looked back at him with eyes full of allure, full of all the things he wanted and more. It drove him crazy, “Fuck, yes.”

“As soon as we get out of this bathroom, my mouth is all yours,” you said, watching his face twist into sexual agony. If it wasn’t for his godforsaken ankle, he would’ve had you bent over the bathroom counter already.

“Please,” he was desperate this time, and his body was getting closer to climaxing. He whined and his thighs thrashed, pushing the now-lukewarm water up along the tub’s edges.

Some of the water had managed to escape and roll down the outside of the bath, dripping down and falling to the floor. But you didn’t care, you ardently pumped his cock, choking up just below his tip. He loved when you did that, and it brought him even closer, until finally your name came out of his mouth in a whine.

His toes curled, and every part of his body clenched as rope upon rope of cum shot out of him and carried on the water over his lap. His cock twitched in your grip as your strokes slowed. Then you removed your hand from him completely, letting him recuperate. He melted into the water, sinking his shoulders below the surface. He sighed after a while of regaining his composure, but the tips of his ears remained a bright pink color.

“Best spa ever,” he breathed out, causing you both to laugh.

“I think if this was a real spa, I would be losing my job,” you joked, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

He turned his head to you, capturing your lips with his and deepening the kiss. He kissed you like he was hungry for you, teeth nipping at the skin of your lips. Your cheek was surprised to feel cool water when his hand reached up to hold it. The same, wet hand slid down from your face to your neck, fingertips digging into your skin the smallest amount. You groaned against his lips before he pulled away.

“Did you mean it? As soon as we leave the bathroom?” he asked, and you didn’t even have to think about it. You knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Yes, I meant it.”

“Then please help me get out of this tub.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @mrsdacherry @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite

[mystellenia]

giving ellie a hoodie full of kisses ୨ৎ

summary: you paint a hoodie with kisses for ellie, and the gesture flusters her.

content: nothing much, just ellie being shy

notes: answer to this req!! i'm trying a new format of posts. sometimes i see people do not quite hcs but also not quite a normal, paragraph-formatted fic. its this in between of bullet points????? idk lemme know if yall like it

(wc 0.6 k)

after spending an hour on painting your lips and pressing them to the cloth of the hoodie you'd gotten for ellie, you sat back and examined your work

you had to admit: the hoodie looked beautiful. but! you did not!!!! your lips were stained red from the paint, your back hurt from hunching over to kiss the hoodie, and you'd probably ingested about an ounce of red40!!! (i know red 40 is in food but let me be silly)

after washing the paint that had gotten on your skin off in the sink, you ironed the sweatshirt to seal the paint in (don't ask me how that works bc idk i just saw it on tiktok like 10 mins ago)

and now we wait for ellie to come home!!

when she finally comes in, she throws her keys on the table near the door and toes her dusty, disintegrating, been-to-bethlehem-and-back converse, bc have you seen them. one day she's gonna take a step and they're gonna turn into a cloud of dust i swear

anyway you're sitting on the couch with your phone in your lap, the painted sweatshirt folded into a square with the kisses hidden inside. she walks towards you and gives you a lil kissy kiss on the forehead like hiiii

you get all smiley because you're excited for her to see the sweatshirt and she gets all suspish.... like what's so funny....

sooooooo.... you tell her you made her something and unfold the hoodie and hold it up to your body so she can see the full thing. and she would soooo get all beet red, like, "...you made this for me?"

and you're like "yes of course do you like it queen" then she gets over the like flusteredness (????(actually i revoke my ???? bc i just made that a word)) and gets so happi like yayyy!!!!

then she looks all confused at your lips and is like "is that why your lips look so severely chapped and red?"

and you get mad so you take away kiss privileges so she does the only reasonable thing which is putting you in a headlock to force kiss you

would definitely immediately put it on and go look in the mirror at her with it on. she'll start geeking and thank you and all that jazz

she would wear that shit 24/7. sleeping working showering shitting ANYWHERE best believe she has that hoodie on. and you tell her its been like 2 weeks of her wearing it nonstop so she needs to wash it but she refuses bc she doesn't want the kisses to start fading. u wash it anyway bc its dirty and she cold shoulders you for about 30 mins before she sees some dumb reel she just has to show you (me fr).

i feel like she's a hot sleeper--like she gets too hot at night to wear the hoodie but she still wants it so she'll just hold it as a baby blanket of sorts and Whatnot.

wait very unrelated but does anyone have a baby blanket that they've had for so long its like basically just threads thats so funny

but overall she loves it. she likes to kiss the kiss prints you made on the sweatshirt bc it's "like kissing you."

there was one time she couldn't find it for like 2 days (because you'd washed it since she never does) and she tried to act all nonchalant and unaffected like she wasn't about to start tweaking and like twitching

then you gave it to her all calm because it was literally just in the wash and she was like "what😨😨😨 where did you find it😨😨😨" and you just tell her it was in the wash and shes like "oh that makes sense"

pls im so sorry. before i say anything i would like to formally apologize to the anon who submitted the ask for this bc this is so shit. you ask me for a product and this is how i repay you!! shame on me. please dilly dally on over to my asks and ask me something else so i can actually, i don't know, do a good job!! this ask was cute tho u ate with that

@picklesarenice69

wow i very strongly dislike this format so much this is the first and last time i will be doing this!!! i’m only posting this bc its been like a week since i last posted and the citizens will soon revolt, which the city's defenses cannot afford!! we're about to run out of wheat like times are getting tough. maybe i should just try just headcanons 🤔

can you tell i was fighting demons to not make this my normal vocab and format. like just look at this sentence and how it progresses: "when she finally comes in, she throws her keys on the table near the door and toes her dusty, disintegrating, been-to-bethlehem-and-back converse, bc have you seen them." the way that sentence progresses is just the silly demons taking over and also my coping mechanism for grimacing at how much i didnt mesh with this format

like i just couldnt take myself seriously. "yes of course do you like it queen" HELLO??? WHY DID I TYPE THAT but i will not be fixing and/or deleting it bc its making me giggle

dont get me wrong some of you ladies chew it up but i am made for unreasonably long and time consuming fics!!! i’m getting heated too bc not only is this so short and quick to do but it also takes less focus and brain power and ofc i had to make things hard for myself and hate it!!! i’m soooooooooooo silly

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

---

edit: wait i would like to clarify that i just hate this because perhaps i’m not used to it. if you guys like this maybe i'll do more bc i follow the clout always 💯

[lexosaurus]

Ghost Boy? In my college class? It's More Likely Than You Think

[ao3 link]

Warnings: None Words: 6,031

****

College was crazy. 

Okay?

There was absolutely no reason why college had to be as insane as it was.

Alright, maybe there was a reason. A reason called, "We have four years to make these students professionals in their chosen field, and some even less time than that."

Danny understood. He really, truly did. He knew that to work in his dream job at NASA, he needed to learn not just how to locate the constellations in the night sky, but also about subjects like chemistry, biology, calculus, physics—a lot of physics.

But seriously, when the hell was a guy supposed to sleep?

Last night's problem set only had five questions, theoretically. But it was run by a completely sadistic site that Vlad himself must have designed—that bastard—because while submitting a correct answer seemed to mark one of the five outlined stars in gold, the site also seemed to be more than happy to remove the gold star if he got a problem incorrect. 

Which meant that the theoretical five-questioned assignment ended up taking Danny many, many more questions than that. 

Just when he had thought the hell was over, he realized he still hadn't begun his paper for his mandatory freshman writing class. So then, he got the absolute pleasure of writing an essay about a stupid, Victorian-era play he didn't read regarding the symbolism of a hat as it related to...foreshadowing, or something. 

He didn't read it. He only signed up for this dumb writing seminar because the timing worked better on his schedule. He'd much rather be taking the writing class about horror novels. But unfortunately, that one happened during his mandatory physics course.

When it was all over and he finally caught sight of his pillow, he was pretty sure he’d shed a single tear. Did he remember sinking into the mattress? Closing his eyes, and drifting off?

No. He didn't. 

He was fucking tired.

But apparently, the universe did actually hate him because instead of being roused by his alarm the next morning, he was shaken by his ghost sense.

Oh yeah, apparently Skulker found his dorm.

Joy!

No seriously, fuck that guy. 

What the hell kind of sick weirdo wants to make a rug out of someone else's skin, anyway? Not to mention that Skulker had no conception of what a good time to hunt was, considering he seriously was trying to start chaos at five in the fucking morning.

Again, fuck that guy.

He only just barely had enough time to fly home, shower, hastily read over and submit his essay (he'd long since learned from high school that he couldn't trust himself that late at night to be coherent), and make a mad dash to his favorite bagel spot on the way to class.

However, the bagel guy—he had a name, Danny was almost sure—must have been under the weather today because, for some reason, he could not stop staring at Danny.

The instinct to run his hand over his face to check for post-fight ectoplasm splatters was a learned reaction at this point. But this time, he couldn't feel anything off. His skin was dry. Cold, like usual, but dry.

"Uh..." The bagel guy continued staring at him slack-jawed.

"Do I have something on my face?" 

That seemed to shake the bagel guy out of his stupor. He blinked, his eyes darting around to catch the eye of a few other customers who, for some reason, were giving Danny a really wide berth.

Did he smell or something? Had he forgotten to put his deodorant on?

Oh god, did his parents do something to make national news again? Did the news use a family photo when reporting the story or something? Why was everyone looking at him? Seriously, what the hell was going on today?

The bagel guy locked eyes with Danny once more, briefly, before darting back down to the register and handing Danny his change. "One everything bagel with cream cheese for the, uh—for—coming right up."

"Thanks," Danny said, trying to be as friendly as possible. Jazz always said that he shouldn't judge people for acting strange. That they could be going through something personal.

So, Danny shook it off. Maybe he missed a chunk of ectoplasm on his hair when he was showering. Skulker had nailed his shoulder pretty well. The green, ecto-infused smoothie he'd sipped that morning was working its magic to mend his skin, but who knew? Maybe a little bit of blood was leaking through his shirt. It wouldn't be the first time that happened, anyway.

Or the last.

Amazingly, he did get his bagel. But when the man handed it to Danny, his eyes were almost popping out of his skull. His heavily accented, "Ah, here is one—ah, your—your bagel," sounded especially halted today. 

But no. The big, gruff bagel guy wouldn't have stuttered. He wouldn't have been nervous to pass a bagel to a tired-looking college student either.

Danny must have misheard. 

He darted down the sidewalk. He was going to be late for class. And it was because of his internal panic that he didn't notice the girl with her nose buried in her cell phone at first. Not until she almost crashed into him, looked up, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"HOLY SHIT!" she yelled, her hands flailing beside her. Her phone flew out from her fingers and clattered on the pavement.

"Sorry!" Danny scooped up her phone from the ground and handed it to her.

She stared at him as if he were completely insane, making no move to take the phone until Danny leaned forward a little closer and pointedly said, "Here."

Whether or not this girl was hungover or still drunk from whatever party she'd been at the night before, Danny did not have time to work around her brain. He was going to be late for class!

"Fuck," she said, eyes still glued on Danny. She did, however, finally reach out and gently take the offered cell phone.

Which was all he needed.

Mission accomplished, he whirled back around intending on continuing his fast-walk-nearly-run pace to the science building, but caught the eye of a biker who seemed to go into a similar trance as the bagel guy and ended up crashing straight into a parked car.

"Oh my god!" Danny darted over to the strewn biker. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Stay back!" the man yelled, struggling up and holding his hand out to block Danny from seeing his face.

Was this guy...cowering at him? Like he was some sort of ghost?

No, no. This was silly. Now Danny was just being paranoid.

"Just stay back!"

An oddly phrased demand, and a little biting at that, but the biker did just crash into a parked car because of Danny and that other girl—who was currently holding her phone up at Danny—so he guessed he could forgive this random dude for being a little snappish.

Danny didn't have time to dwell on this stranger anyway, because holy shit his class was starting in ten minutes and if Danny didn't get his ass to the room right now he was going to be screwed.

So with one more apology to the biker, and one more glance to the strange phone-obsessed girl, Danny adjusted the strap of his bag back over his shoulder and took off down the road.

Not literally took off. Though, he really wanted to jet through the air today. He'd had these urges to duck out of sight and fly to class before, but it never felt so compelling as right now. 

Unfortunately, the street was crowded as shit, and in between classes as it was, the building would likely be crowded too. Finding a discreet place to transform would probably take just as long as running to the classroom like his half-life depended on it. And so, the latter option it was.

Somehow, he managed to make it to class with five minutes to spare. Okay, maybe not somehow. Maybe he did risk using his flight to propel him forward a little bit. Could anyone blame him? 

College was crazy. And anyone who thought they saw a guy not quite touching the ground when he walked could have just as easily been sleep-deprived and were almost certainly hallucinating. Humans couldn't fly! Only ghosts could fly, and Danny Fenton was clearly a human college student just running to class.

Gaslight, gatekeep, ghostboss—or whatever the saying was.

Energy was buzzing in Danny’s veins, and he found it a little difficult to stay in his seat. An aftereffect of only barely using his flight powers, he was sure. His body got a taste of being airborne, and now it didn't want to return to the laws of gravity.

Danny could forgive his ghost core for that. Gravity could be very exhausting sometimes. Especially when he was in the middle of a ghost fight and his enemy was hurling him to the ground.

But he was in a lecture, and it would look weird if this random college student was hovering over his seat, so Danny forced his butt onto the chair as he dropped his bag beside him.

Whispers fluttered around him, which wasn't too unusual. People often talked in pleading freak-out whispers to their friends after an especially grueling night of homework.

Danny was about to turn to his chemistry lecture buddy and do the same—because seriously, he was going to have nightmares over that damn assignment for weeks—when he realized that his chemistry buddy was not in his usual seat.

And then, a whisper caught the attention of his enhanced eardrum.

"...ghost..."

"...Phantom..."

Ah, that explained it. 

Oh yeah, it was all coming together now.

They must have been talking about the ghost fight from this morning, the one with Skulker. This city wasn't Amity Park, so the students here weren't exactly used to ghost attacks. Of course, the initial fight was probably very exciting for them.

And, well, his parents probably were on the news that morning, but likely only to be interviewed about the attack. Maybe they ended up rambling about ghostly habits and migration patterns or whatever other bullshit theories they’d been churning with recently.

So then, the bagel guy must have recognized Danny as a Fenton, a child of Jack and Maddie, the infamous, kooky ghost experts.

The effects of that realization were delayed, but when they finally hit, he felt like his brain was hit by a semi-truck. Because, shit. He didn't know if he could deal with his bagel guy knowing who he was. He was going to have to find a new bagel spot, wasn't he? 

Danny craned his neck over to the door. The lecture was supposed to be starting, but his chemistry buddy was nowhere to be found.

But then, to his immense relief that he wouldn't have to suffer through this lecture by himself, the door opened to reveal the tall, lanky form of Cameron, his chemistry buddy.

Danny eagerly moved his bag out of the way of Cam's seat, his woes of that fucking assignment hot on his lips, but before he could begin his trauma-dumping session, something strange happened.

Really, really strange.

As Cam began habitually walking over to his seat, he looked up, caught Danny's eye, and froze.

His mouth parted into a perfect 'o,' his eyes widened, and his eyebrows disappeared under his hairline. Then, he backed up, caught the bewildered expression of another student near him, and moved to another aisle.

Danny sat there too stunned to call out to Cam, though the intent was at the precipice of his being. Hurt stabbed his gut, and the social anxiety the A-List had trained his brain for in high school started creeping up his spine.

Did Danny do something wrong? 

Why had Cam moved away?

What did that look to the other kid mean?

He tried to think of a reason why Cam might have suddenly decided that Danny was a weirdo freak that should be avoided, but the only thing he remembered doing between yesterday and today was the two texts he'd sent at eleven last night complaining about the assignment. But surely, everyone had complained, right?

Or was the assignment genuinely effortless for everyone? And Danny was just an idiot who didn't understand some really simple concept, and now Cam had suddenly realized that he'd picked the wrong chemistry buddy to sit next to in class?

That must have been it.

Why else had he moved away?

Danny turned around, looking to the back of the lecture hall. But all he could see was a sea of faces all looking at him.

Okay, honestly, what the fuck was wrong with everyone today?

He whipped out his phone, paranoia striking through his gut like a spear. Maybe he'd accidentally revealed himself during the fight? But he checked Google, searching for Phantom's human identity, but all he got at the top of the search were old Reddit threads theorizing about which historical figure he could have been, and celebrity news sites spouting completely absurd clickbait-type theories about his past.

Is Danny Phantom Napoleon's son?

Could Danny Phantom be Related to George Washington?

New Theory Suggests Danny Phantom is Alexander the Great!

Yeah, like Danny was leading legions of ghosts around Europe anytime soon.

As Danny wracked his brain for what the hell he'd done to deserve the wrath of having his classmates stare at him like he was some sort of weird alien species and everyone was plotting on how to initiate first contact, the side door opened and the professor came darting in the hall with a stack of folders all but falling out of his hands and a muttering of breathy, "sorry, sorry," light on his lips.

The muttering broke out into jilted, uncomfortable laughter, and Danny still couldn't help the feeling that they were laughing at him. 

He tried to brush that off as just the remnants of his high school on him and keep his attention focused on his short, salt-and-pepper-haired professor who looked like he couldn't remember if he was going to a beach party or Burning Man today, and decided to dress for both. 

Yang put the manila folders down on the front table, miraculously without spilling any of the contents inside, set his bag down on the rolling chair beside him, and picked up a piece of chalk to face the board.

He held a hand up and began writing Chemistry 101 — Stoichiometry on the board.

Behind Danny, the snickers grew louder. 

Was there some inside joke that he just wasn't getting? Had his classmates prepared some sort of prank for the teacher today and Danny hadn't read the email? Was it April Fool's Day, even though logic and reasoning told Danny that it was only October?

"Sorry I was late, everyone," Yang began. "Now if you don't mind, I want to begin by going over a few problems from last night's assignment. I noticed a pattern in the problems everyone was getting wrong..."

Someone coughed rather obnoxiously behind him.

Danny felt ice begin to build in his stomach. 

"...so as you can see here, I noticed a lot of people forgot to calculate the used excess of iron to find the amount of excess reactants. Remember, guys, you can't just subtract the bigger and smaller masses in the problem..."

Another obnoxious cough. 

Yang didn't break stride. "...you have to actually convert it to moles and set up your mole ratio, and then convert back to grams. I mentioned this in class but it seemed like too many of you—"

"Professor Yang?" the impatient voice of Brittany, one of his classmates, said from behind.

The class broke out in a fit of whispers and giggles, this time not even trying to hide their restlessness.

"What is it?" Yang turned around, his chalk still hovering on the board.

And then he looked at Danny. His eyes bugged out like a cartoon, sticking out beyond the rims of his glasses. His jaw opened and closed like a fish, and he dropped the chalk on the floor.

Now, the class was roaring with noise.

Danny stared eye-to-eye with the professor for ten seconds or ten minutes. He didn't know which, and it didn't matter anyway, because then Yang's thin lips opened to exclaim a word that may as well have electrocuted him all over again:

"Phantom?" 

Confusion and panic hit Danny like a sledgehammer.

How did Yang know he was Phantom? Had he been revealed? Did everyone know he was Phantom?

And then he heard the whispers. 

"It's really him! It's Phantom!"

"Why is he here?"

"It's Phantom!"

No!

No!

How did everyone know his secret?

Danny had to stop this.

He had over four years of hiding his ghost half from his parents, the world, and most impressively, his parents. Over the years, he'd honed his ability at lying and using his silver tongue to smooth over situations with such practiced ease, he was expecting his Oscar in the mail any day now.

Which is why, like an utter pro, he jumped up from his seat and shouted, "It's a lie, I'm not a ghost!"

The room went silent, and then was launched into a frenzy.

"Phantom!"

"Is he delusional?"

"It's really him! It's Phantom!"

His panic was bordering on hysteria as it stampeded over him, beating his core so furiously that Danny thought it was going to jump through his ribcage.

He stood, his gloved hands held out in front of him as he began his best at pleading with the masses, but before he could grovel too much, Professor Yang's voice sliced through him like a knife, calling out, "Phantom! What are you doing in my class?"

Wait...

Gloved hand?

Danny looked at his hands again. They were gloved.

And glowing.

The relief was so heavy on his shoulders, his back, and every inch of his skin. It was also mortifying.

Because here he was, in his Chemistry 101 class not as Fenton, but as Phantom. 

"Holy shit," Danny muttered. 

What. The. Hell.

No, really.

What the hell?

How was this happening?

Had he really been so tired that he'd forgotten to change out of his Phantom form after Skulker's fight?

No, hang on—had he been walking around in his Phantom form all morning?

How had he not noticed?

Then all the memories came flying back to him at once. The bagel guy acting weird, staring at him like he wasn't sure if he should seriously give a ghost a bagel because "Do ghosts need to eat? Is human food poison?"

And then the girl. She hadn't screamed because she nearly crashed into a stranger, she screamed and threw her phone in the air because she'd nearly crashed into Phantom. And that's why she was recording him after, too. She was recording Phantom, a ghost that wasn't native to this college town.

Danny thought he'd die of cringe-fail right there because that meant she also recorded the biker crashing into a parked car and was probably uploading it to TikTok later. He was sure it would be trending in minutes.

That was, if she hadn't already uploaded it to Tiktok, and it wasn't already trending. His phone suddenly felt heavy in his pocket. 

He looked around at the faces of intrigue and excitement, feebly attempting to squash the anxiety that was currently tap dancing over his skin.  Okay, so his initial attempt at acting hadn't gone so well. That was okay; nobody could be perfect all the time. If he just channeled the inner cool and suave hero that he was, he could totally save the situation.

For sure.

He floated a few feet in the air. His legs felt awkward sprawled out, and he tried to form a ghost-tail, but somehow his sense of self was too strong for that today. No matter, to balance it out, he splayed his arms out wide and began doing jazz hands, saying, "It's me! Danny Phantom! Just here checking your classroom for ghosts!" 

There was a moment of collective pause before his brain caught up with what his mouth said, and then he scrambled, making a big show of ducking around the room to search for...ghosts, or something. He lowered to the floor to check under the auditorium chairs, flew to the front of the room to peek around the tables, and finally went up to the ceiling to glance around the four corners of the room.

Once he felt embarrassed enough, he stopped in the center of the room, puffed out his chest, and said, "Good news, citizens! There are no ghosts in this room!"

Whispers and mutters once again broke out from his classmates, along with a few giggles. In the front of the classroom, Yang's head was craned up to look at him, his expression showing pure bafflement. 

Okay, Danny was bombing this set. He was catching onto the vibe of the room, and had come to this very astute conclusion: there was no saving this. 

Time to abort the mission.

"Well, that will be all! Have a fun class learning about chemistry!" 

And then, without another word, he jetted through the wall and into the hallway of the building, turning invisible immediately. Fortunately, with classes having started several minutes ago, the corridors were mostly empty. Only a few stragglers remained, booking it down the halls and trying to duck inconspicuously into their classrooms. 

Danny cut around a corner of the hall where, thankfully, no one was standing. That didn't stop him from triple-checking over his shoulder (it was just the water fountain, Danny) before he let his ring wash over him.

Then, when he was sure he was human again this time, he ran down the hall and pushed open the auditorium door to his class which, by the looks of things, hadn't calmed down from their encounter yet.

The door hit the wall with a bang—oops, he thought he hadn't pushed so hard—and then every head was turned to him.

"Sorry!" Danny rubbed the back of his neck and gestured vaguely to the clock on the wall. "I lost track of time."

The room was...silent. Incredibly, confoundingly silent. 

That wasn't good.

On instinct, Danny glanced down again to make sure that he was wearing his red hoodie and blue jeans and not his Phantom black and white jumpsuit. He was, in fact, wearing the right clothes. And out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the glint of his black bangs.

So then, what the fuck?

Alright, there was no need to panic. He was human, his classmates were human, they'd just met Phantom, and now Danny was busting in the classroom late. It wouldn't be the first time he was late to class, anyway. Lots of students were late for chemistry! 

With his brain sufficiently pep-talked, he pointed as inconspicuously to his seat as he could and said, "I'll just...take my seat." 

No one responded, so he took that as his cue to begin his walk of shame up the steps of the auditorium aisles to his usual seat near the front, which was still amazingly void of students anywhere near it.

"Phantom?" a voice rang out from the spattering of students around the room.

Danny missed the next step and ate shit on the floor. His bag hit his back heavily, and he could have sworn his shoe nearly flew off his feet. He scrambled to stand, his hand missing the railing only once, before he managed to stand back proud and tall. Sort of. His backpack had slid off one shoulder, and his body was hunched forward and he tried to regain his breath because holy shit, it actually really hurt for his torso to land on the corner of the step.

He rubbed his sternum, sure it was going to bruise, and coughed out, "Uh—what?"

"Phantom!" the voice, now too familiar, repeated. "You're him. Phantom."

Danny glanced up, and dread not only slammed into him with the force of a semi, but also backed up and floored it into his soul again. And again.

Because that voice was none other than his Chem 101 buddy, Cam.

No, Danny was a magnificent actor. He surely could save this one.

What did people always say? Something about the third try being a charm?

He could really use a charm right now. Unfortunately, Murphy seemed keen on watching him suffer instead.

"No—no way! I'm not a ghost! I'm totally human, guys! See?" Danny said with quite a lot of conviction, waving his hands beside his body like some sort of circus display.

It was so conclusive of a performance, that Cam simply laughed. 

Shit. This was not how he wanted today to go at all.

"I can't believe I never put it together before! Did people really buy that in your hometown?" 

"What act? I'm not acting!" Danny insisted.

But his classmates, it seemed, were even less convinced. 

"Seriously, it's so obvious."

"How did no one notice?"

"They're literally the same person it's crazy."

"What? No! No we're not the same person!" Danny insisted, trying not to sound desperate and hopelessly failing. "He's my—uh—twin? Yeah, that. He's my twin."

"He's obviously not," a classmate said.

"He is. He died in the womb," Danny refuted.

"Okay, now you're just being ridiculous."

"Does it sound better or worse if I say that my mother drank ectoplasmic smoothies while she was pregnant and that's why he turned into a ghost?"

"Fenton!" Professor Yang called out.

Danny felt his blood turn so cold they started forming frost in his veins. 

And then, he refused to look down because he was pretty sure ice crystals were glueing his feet to the floor.

In his panic, he'd totally forgotten that this was, in fact, a classroom. With a professor. And not just any professor, his chemistry professor. As in, the guy that had the sole power of crushing all of Danny's dreams of working for NASA via the power of the curve.

Yang took a step back, colliding with the chalkboard behind him and smearing white dust all over his brightly-colored shirt. But he ignored this, instead finding it more pertinent to fold his arms and regard Danny with a look of pure incredulation. "Are you really Phantom?"

"What? No!" Danny said. However, as luck would have it, that gasping answer caused him to inhale the wrong way, and coughs shot up his throat to overtake his body.

And then like the valiant superhero he was, he began having a coughing fit. In front of his classmates.

He knew Sam and Tucker always called him a dork, but this was really unfair.

"You okay, Phantom?" one student asked.

Danny tried to argue, "I'm not Phantom," but unfortunately for him, he hadn't stopped coughing yet.

Taking his silence for a confirmation that he was in fact the elusive ghost known as Phantom, another classmate commented, "I didn't know Phantom breathed."

Not-so-quiet whispers and mutters broke out around the class at once discussing theories of his cardiovascular system.

All while Danny was doubled over, trying desperately to reclaim what little of his dignity was still left. As well as reclaim some of the oxygen that his body seemed more than willing to push away for some reason.

Seriously, was he out of karma yet? 

Okay, Universe, if this is your way getting back at me for reading the Cliffnotes of that book for the essay last night, I get it. Cheating is bad, blah blah blah. I'm very sorry in a deeply remorseful way, so can we please stop ruining my life now?

"...so he wouldn't need to breathe!" A classmate's voice had stepped above the rest.

"That's what I said!"

"Dude, he's literally fallen asleep on my floor once. I'm telling you he needs to breathe."

That voice must have been Cam's.

Danny took a deep breath, regaining control of his lungs. "Wait, guys!"

But it was too late. And, oh god, why were people now giggling over their phones? Had someone taken a video of him earlier? Was he trending online right now?

If this got back to Sam and Tucker, he was never going to live this down. 

"Okay, okay!" Yang's voice rose in volume. "Class, settle down!"

The class went silent.

"Alright, I know we are all curious to know about Fenton's secret double life—"

"I don't have a secret double life!"

"Sure you don't, Phantom," Cam said.

"—But please, we do actually have quite a bit of material to cover today, judging by the very impressive homework scores from last night. And, by the way, class, might I remind you all that my office hours are on Mondays and Wednesdays from two to four. I won't name names, but I'll just say that if you need to make it a point to come for some review, you know who you are."

Was Yang looking at him?

"Regardless, if Fenton is done screwing around with his ghost powers, we do need to get through the material sometime this year."

"But I'm not a ghost!" Danny protested.

"Dude, you're standing in a block of ice," a classmate argued. 

"Holy shit, he froze his legs to the floor!"

Danny felt frost on his cheeks. "The A/C system is broken! Everyone knows that!"

"The ice is glowing." 

"So? A lot of ice glows."

"Fenton, please." Yang had never sounded so disappointed in his life. "I'd expect anyone in this class to know that ice is made of which elements?"

Danny hated where this was going. "Hydrogen and oxygen."

"And please describe the bonds to me."

"The hydrogens have a double bond with the oxygen, and then there's two pairs of electrons leftover."

"What shape?" Yang pressed, pushing his wiry glasses up his nose.

"Bent."

"Good, thank you. So we have two hydrogen and one oxygen in an H20 molecule, yes? And so tell me, would that configuration with those two elements cause anything to glow?"

"Um, no." Danny had the sudden urge to die. "Water does not glow." 

"But, interestingly, ectoplasmic water does glow, correct? Because....?"

They'd touched over ecton science earlier in the semester. "Because ectons are larger and can sit closer to the nucleus which results in atoms fusing and due to the greater amounts of energy they emit, some this excess energy can be seen in our visible spectrum."

Yang smiled and then gestured to the seat devoid of any humans near it that Danny, previously Phantom, had been sitting in at the start of class. "Thank you, Mr. Phantom. Now, if we're all done dillydallying, we have some stoichiometry to go over."

It took Danny more than a second of the awkward silence that followed to realize that oh yeah, his feet were literally frozen in place.

"So..." He glanced around the room, meeting the expectant gazes of his classmates. "Just to be clear, none of you care that I might potentially be..."

A ghost?

Phantom?

Some sort of weird mutant hybrid thing?

"Danny, you're the only one making a big deal out of this," a classmate answered.

Danny guffawed.

"Yeah, it's whatever. You're dead, so what? We're all dead in college. You're not special."

"I have a biology lecture later right after this for my weed-out course and going to that is basically the same thing as dying, I'm pretty sure," Cam joined in.

Danny resisted the urge to smack his forehead with his open palm.

He turned back to Yang. "And if I were maybe the—uh—being that kind of has saved humanity from being invaded by ghosts give or take one or two times, would that maybe get me extra credit on the next test?"

"No."

Well, that was a brutally quick response.

Danny shrugged. "It was worth a shot." He reigned in on his core's fluttering, and the ice began to melt around his feet. 

He tried to ignore the obvious phone flipped his way as he did.

Shit, this was going to be all over social media later. How embarrassing. He could only hope that Tucker wouldn't find it. But who was he kidding? If he checked his phone, he bet he already had about sixteen messages from Tucker laughing at his misfortune.

Once he finished freeing himself from his ecto-ice like some ghost toddler, he began a very graceful and humiliating trek to his seat, complete with multiple instances of him bumping into chairs as he trudged down the row. When he finally reached his seat, it was just his luck that the rusty hinges let out an obnoxious creaking wail as he lowered himself down. He winced, hissing out apologies, but in the silent hall, the sounds of the withered metal were almost too much to bear.

It was for that reason that his entire body refused to unclench until the professor was well underway with his lecture about excess reactants and whatever else they were going to be quizzed on next week.

He tried his best to pay attention and not check his phone for the no doubt endless notifications. He'd already made his presence too obvious in this hall, anyway. Professor Yang would have been thoroughly annoyed if, after everything, Danny decided to spend the remainder of the class on his phone.

Miraculous as it was, he did manage to survive the lecture.  

After class when he finally was able to check his phone, he saw that the world was too focused on the viral posts about Phantom being spotted outside of Amity Park to give any attention to the little itty bitty post of Danny, in human form, frozen to his lecture hall floor.

As it turned out, that post only had two likes—one of them was Tucker—and one comment from a random user reading, "lol why phantom freeze that dweeby kid to the ground???"

Danny didn't resist the urge to facepalm this time, and in fact did it so hard he was surprised he didn't give himself a concussion.

Well.

At least his secret was safe.

****

"You really don't care that I'm Phantom, do you?" Danny asked, looking up from the barely clean dorm room floor that his back was currently stretched out against.

"No?" Cam glanced from his notebook. "Why?"

"Uh, I figured the whole part where I'm a part ghost would have been a little weird?"

Cam's thin brows shot up to his hairline. "You're only a part ghost?"

"Yeah? Why, what did you think?"

"Oh, I just figured you were legit dead or something."

Cam uttered those words with such nonchalance that Danny reacted immediately, shooting up from the floor so hard he accidentally switched into his Phantom form.

"You thought I was dead?" His voice echoed when he spoke, and his ghostly tail wiggled underneath him. 

Cam's pointed look and handwave were explanation enough.

"Okay, you know what? That's fair." Danny swiped his notebook off the floor and forced his adrenaline-spiked body back into human form. "That's actually super fair."

"Yeah I mean, being a ghost is sort of Phantom's whole shtick, anyway."

"Right but like...wait, you didn't even care that you thought I was a fully dead and deceased ghost taking college classes? And you still wanted to do homework with me tonight?"

Cam, once again, only gave a very lazy shrug. "Well, yeah. I just want to pass this class, dude, and we've already established that we should tag-team team this class instead of trying to rawdog it by ourselves."

"I mean...I guess?" Danny blinked at his friend, his mind reeling with astonishment. "You're weird, you know that?"

"Says the ghost-human person or whatever. Now, are we gonna finish this prelab assignment, or are you gonna keep having an existential crisis about your place in the Universe?" 

Danny slid back on the floor, propping his knees up to lay his notebook against. "No, you're right. We need to finish this prelab."

"Thank fucking god."

****

[read more of my stuff here]

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt # 12: Wanna Help Me Win a Bet?

So our scene opens with an older team Phantom (Everlasting trio, Jazz, Val, and Dani) at a bar/club of some sort in New York. They're all catching up on how their lives are going (college, work, internships, milestones, travels, wacky happenings, etc.). Somehow the topic shifts to romantic relationships and the gang begins ribbing Danny for his awkward teen romances. He was an absolute disaster at flirting even if his exes found it charming at the time. It's all good-natured and fun.

Then Danny's like "Hey well least I've improved now" which earns him an eyebrow raise or two. The gang goes "Oh yeah? Prove it. Bet you 100 bucks you can't get that person's number" *points to an attractive black-haired individual sitting at the bar*. And of course, since Danny isn't one to back down from a bet and has his pride to defend he goes off to flirt with a stranger.

On the flip side, we have a Batfam member (or other black-haired DC character) of your choosing (you already know my fav is Jason) sitting at the bar. Why are they there? Idk maybe it's for a case? Maybe they wanted to meet up with friends outside of Gotham? You decide. Anyways, the point is that their minding their own business when a fairly attractive twunk walks up and starts hitting on them awkwardly. And man, this guy is not smooth in the slightest but he's dorky and awkward and kinda cute. They talk to him a bit, teasing and doing some light flirting back. They aren't taking him too seriously, really they're more amused than anything else.

Finally, the guy kinda just gives up trying to be smooth and sighs. He looks at them with a serious look on his face and goes "Look I'll level with you, my friends over there bet me a 100 bucks I wouldn't be able to successfully flirt with you. I'm gonna lean over and whisper in your ear and if you could just agree laugh like I said something witty and give me your number then I'll split the cash with you."

Then he leans over and whispers "Whaddya say, wanna help me win a bet?"

And they let out a genuine laugh and go "You know what? Sure, why not. You're not half-bad and I won't say no to an easy 50" and they grab a napkin, pull a pen out of seemingly nowhere, and give Danny their number (and their Venmo/PayPal/cash app or whatever). They hang out a bit more that night before going their separate ways. A day or two later they get a notification that someone sent them $50 and a message "wanna get coffee/lunch/dinner sometime?"

[tiredassmage]

this feels like a good summary of his adventures in kotfe so far

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐚

Pairings: Jaemin Na x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Jaemin Na, the dashing yet ambitious magnate, is tired of playing the toll as a silent stakeholder. He wants your father's business. He wants the whole thing, even if it means seducing the boss's daughter to get it.

Warning: Business Rivals to Fwb to lovers, Toxic Family Relationship, Violence, Business politics, Businessman AU, Forbidden Relationship, Slight Angst, Male Manipulation, Manipulation tactics, Smut (+18) Minors dni, Daddy Kink, Degradation Kink, Rough Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Ownership Kink, DDLG, Fingering, Spitting, Marking, Bruises, Grinding, Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex.

A/N: My third NCT Dream fic! They're truly my favorite group, so I plan on writing more for them. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this. Excuse me while I project my daddy kink onto Jaemin. Im sorry, but my bias fuels it way too much. You all saw that live, right?... THAT one live. Iykyk. Anyway, he's so daddy coded, okay bye.

The moon is high, and the night is deep when you find yourself quite literally being paraded around a bustling open reception. Goldleaf and tinsel wrap around the off-white columns, veneering the room in a deep but faintly expensive sepia tone. Despite the hatred festering in your bones, you did have to admit that the clubhouse in the very center of a highly competitive Country Club did make for a good party reception indeed. Nestling all of 100 dapper guests, 100 partners, wives and mistresses, and 100 wallets, to sink their wrinkled hands into.

Your father did know how to throw a party, you'd certainly give the man that. That is all you give him, however. That is all the grace he deserves.

Despite the tempest of emotions in your veins, the laughter you emit to the group surrounding the small appetizer's table is static and robotic, and anything but genuine. It pitters politely out of your lips as you raise the flute of shampagne, hoping to disguise just how fucking annoyed you actually were.

"You'll do well to remember the name," your father proclaims before laying a hand on your back as he pushes you closer into the circle of suited men - a lamb to the proverbial slaughter.

"She's going to be running things once I retire," a Jazz number played by a live band is not enough to drown out the influx of chatter that spreads throughout the main hall of the Clubhouse at the news of your father's retirement. You could practically here the thinning lips salivate at the very sound of it: The emperor, stepping down, leaving his empire vulnerable to the raiders.

"I feel proud and so unbelievably lucky to have such a reliable line of succession." Says your father, "When I'm six foot under, I'll know that Neo Tech is safe in her hands-"

A snicker escapes, likely concocted by the decent amount of alcohol in your blood, "Although that time isn't coming soon enough!" Your statement allows for a grand chuckle to fall across the table where you all stood, nursing your deviled eggs and bacon-wrapped asparagus.

The display is that of good-natured jest between a father and daughter to the guests around you, clad in ambercrombie suits and Alexander Mcqueen gowns.

Your father, however, slithers a hand onto your shoulder, squeezing all too hard as he laughs statically.

You can feel the warning in his calloused grip. A stern threat...

Not too much, it cautioned.

The action, though seemingly innocent and fleeting to the rest of the table, draws the attention of a man whose countenance had been sparse and dismisive the entire evening. Despite this being a private gathering for your father's most trusted stakeholders and their partners, Jaemin had been far from interested in attending.

Once, he was made privy to the knowledge that this was a retirement celebration, however... that changed things, and Jaemin threw on his jet black Armani blazer over a silky unisex blouse that stretched across his chest.

He admits that he made his attendance out of greed. Having to save face and play the roll of the responsibile stakeholder before he was truly able to pillage your father's company right from underneath him. If that meant entertaining the degenerate conversation of greying white men with viagra prescriptions and a cocaine addiction, then so be it.

"It truly is a shame that I have to take something from someone as promising as yourself." He whispers to himself over the rim of his own champagne flute, his darkened eyes stationed on you. It was difficult not to stare, when you were being hounded by business associates, men and women alike, eager to ascertain how they might win the hand of the queen.

A silk gown drips like the liquidfied night sky down your curves, spilling on the floor around what Jaemin imagined to be ample, soft thighs - something he could sink his fingers into, sink his teeth into-

You're chuckling very fakely at something an investor said at a round cocktail table nearby. Although what really gets Jaemin's blood rushing through his arteries is the sight of your father dragging you away from the main hall, up a spiraling stair case. Jaemin prided himself on minding his business. This came second nature to him.

What he could not ignore, however, was the slight alarm, marring the scowl along your soft face. Nothing could spoil your perfect makeup, but the frown he caught a glimpse of before you disappeared was enough.

Jaemin almost immediately found his Hilfiger loafers leading him down the path you had just walked. He downed the golden liquid in his flute and, never breaking eye contact from the spiral staircase, placed the glass on the tray of a mobile waiter. He wiped the access champagne off his lips, quite barbarically, with the sleeves of his blazer as he emerged into the main foyer.

Immediately, a hiss of conversation could be heard from the mezzanine above.

"-the hands of the company! Do you understand how important this is?! How fucking ungrateful you are-"

"Not to interrupt," Jaemin speaks, slyly climbing the stairs as he stuffed his hand into the pocket of his dress pants. The look your father thows him is absolutely villanizing.

Instead of shying away, however, you swallow thickly to note a slow sick sort of smirk curling onto Jaemin's face.

"Who the fuck are you?" Instead of sparing your father any look at all, Jaemin's gaze is solidified on your father's violent grip on your forearm.

"You don't know who he is?" You ask your father, marginally shocked but not at all surprised as Jaemin neared the two of you.

"That's okay, that's okay," he says, letting the gleaming smirk stay solid across his face, "My father sends his greetings, by the way" Jaemin says, "I didn't wish for our 45% share not to be represented at such a monumental event."

Therein lies the very first signs of embarrassment around your father's face. He begrudgingly removes his grip from your forearm but does not leave before he quickly tacks on, "Excuse me, Mr Na, but this is a private conversation -"

Jaemin is already lifting his hand, his Rolex gleaming under the crystal chandelier as he casually says, "Important enough to miss an audience with your shareholders? Everyone is asking for you, big man." Jaemin replies smoothly, "You are still the boss, right?"

Then, and only then does Jaemin exchange the very first real bit if eye contact with you tnh entire evening, and God strike you dead if it did not release an influx of warm, sputtering butterflies with molten wings in the pit of your stomach. You're still glidd to his side. The successor cradled tightly to her Daddy's arm.

"We'll finish this later," Your father hisses in your ear before stepping back and giving Jaemin one final nod. His disappearance births an uncomfortable heat and even more uncomfortable silence in the mezzanine. Jaemin does nothing but watch you with a tilted head and a near constant smirk.

"Hi." He says cheekily, all of the seriousness in his voice gone as he begins to move closer to you. You only roll your eyes before turning around to scour for a free room in the clubhouse. He follows cooly and calmly.

"Stop staring at my ass," you chide, pushing open a heavy door before switching on the light.

"Nah," Jaemin follows you inside. "Don't tell me what to do,"

He turns to peer down the corridor with one raised eyebrow before effectively sealing the door shut. You had led the both of you into one of the very many guest suites peppered across the Clubhouse. Jaemin is remarkably pleased to notice how your inhibitions immediately melt away. Your shoulders relax as you kick off your red bottomed heels, letting them land lazily in a corner.

"You haven't told him have you?" His voice is stable but rumbles like a heavy cloud throughout the room.

You evade eye contact as you quickly walk up to him, beginning to splay tiny kisses around his exposed neck.

"No, Jaemin," Your breathe fans across his exposed skin as you undo thr little bow of the silk blouse, "I did not tell my father about your plans to rape his company," You push down his blazer and he lets you. Watching you with a piercing glare as a deep, warm, pool of lust begins to grow in your core at the very sight of how big he truly is.

"Would you rather he find out on the day?" He asks, still letting you undress him as if he was a lifeless piece of him. "I know you're evil but that evil-"

"Fuck, you're so hot," Jaemin's cock stirs, as it always did, when that needy sort of whine pushed itself out the confines of your throat. You knew what buttons to push, to get the reaction you wanted. Tonight, however, would prove to be a much different occasion.

"How long do you plan on waiting?" You're nails are dragging itself down the front of his muscled body. Before you can reach his cock, already causing a bulge in his dress pants, Jaemin roughly grabs at your wrist.

"I said. How long do you plan on waiting?" Despite the calmness in his voice, Jaemin's grip on your wrist is unrelenting. It is rough, and it is violent, and it makes your father's earlier grip on your forearm feel like a child's play.

"Fucking forever, Jaemin! Jesus!" You burst in a flurry of rage and lust and frustration. "I will wait until forever it means I won't get outed as a shit daughter and a fucking rat, Jaemin!"

He tilts his head as he smiles and cooly says, "Watch that tone."

But he's already got you going, and you're finally letting out the feelings that had only been building for the duration of an entire, hellish evening. "Can you even begin to understand how I feel?! I know you want this company, but -"

"But?" Jaemin asks in a sing-song voice before pulling you closer by your wrist. He dips his head down, folding his tall frame over as he tilts your head up. "There shouldn't be a but, baby." The words are veneered in a lustful whisper as he finally places his lips to your throat.

"With me, it's either all or nothing." Now it's Jaemin's turn to slowly drag his hands up the side of your curves. He lets the tips of his fingers tease the fabric as he smoothes his hand over your chest. Your resolve explodes, and you melt right into him, as his hand makes its way up your throat. His palm enclosing the spot where his lips have just been.

"I hate seeing you like that, baby. I hate seeing you glued to his side when you should be glued to mine."

You're faintly aware that you're both mobile now. Not knowing which way is up and which is down as your back presses against a wall.

"He's..." you swallow thickly as Jaemin slips down the soft fabric of your dress. Your exposed shoulder is immediately assaulted by his reign of wet and drunken kisses.

As he tongues at the skin, Jaemin makes sure to look up at you. Siren eyes under thick eyebrows as he pushes the fabric all the way down until your dress is pooling at your feet and you're left in nothing but your Fenty underwear.

"He's family." You applaud yourself mentally for having the brain capacity to formulate all of two words. That celebration, however, immediately falls short when Jaemin snickers. He pulls back, turning his head slightly as his tongue stabs the inside of his mouth before swinging his head back to you.

"You always tell me you only have one, Daddy, don't you?"

A deep, angry heat blossoms around your skin as you evade eye contact. "Jesus, Jaemin."

"Jaemin?" He mocks, before pushing you back further onto wall.

"Is that who I am to you?"

"That is your name, yes." Your confidence waver when his hands begin to push down the straps of bra. He undoes the clasps as he says, "Interesting. So then, i guess, my name wasnt Jaemin, when i fucked you on a nalcony in Mykonos? Got it."

He's quick to push your panties down far enough so that he's forcing his fingers between your legs. The gasp you emit is almost painful as you immediately buck your hips into his hand. “Fuck-”

“You cum on my hand, correct?”

“F-Fuck,” he lets you hump lazily into his palm and you all but whimper as your begin to yearn for him to fuck you with his long digits.

“You cum on my hand. You cum on my cock. Only I can do that for you, baby”

“God, yes, Daddy.”

Jaemin has to physically stop himself from not pulling his pants down and fucking your brains right right and there. Those words leaving your mouth did something animalistic to him- scratching a very archaic part of his monkey brain that let him know that you needed him. You needed him to reach orgasm, you needed him to fuck you to feel good. You needed him.

“You don't need anyone else, but me, right baby?”

You're so dangerously close to the edge, your vision blurring with your oncoming orgasm as you reply, “You, Daddy- only you.”

His cock is pushing painfully against dress pants and Jaemin swear as he pulls his blouse over his head. Your breathing grows even more precipitous when you see his torso in all its big and gleaming glory.

“need you so bad,” you mumble, still pushing your hips out even though his hand has disappeared and there's nothing there.

“Yeah?” He asks, pulling his cock out without breaking eye contact, “You need Daddy’s cock, don't you, sweetheart?”

“I need it,” you whisper and watch as your words affect him in ways you had not seen before.

Jaemin’s eyes are blown into saucers while the tips of his brown hair is drenched in sweat. Gone is the cockiness. Gone is the smirk. He only brings a cupped hand up to your mouth as he orders you to, “Spit.”

Almost without thinking about it, you do just that, and Jaemin watches with an open mouth as he begins to stroke his himself with your wetness. He throws his head back in a broken amalgamation of a moan and a gasp, and you're only left to watch while your hand almost subconsciously moves down your own body.

The sound of your wetness brings Jaemin back to the mission at hand as he lolls his head forward. The sight of you fucking yourself, knuckles deep, as your eyes zero in on his hand, has him immediately pushing you against the wall.

“You're such a fucking slut-” He hisses and you moan as he pulls your hand up to his mouth. “Did Daddy teach you to be a slut?” and when you fail to respond he only says, “Answer me,” he says cooly, “Did I teach you to be a slut, or a good girl?”

You have truly reached a stalemate. Not knowing what to say that might garner a favourable response. Dread pools in your tummy and Jaemin only watches as go to war with yourself. The conflict in your eye is present and raw.

All is quiet as Jaemin bends down slowly and that signature smirk curls at the end of his lips.

“Cute.” He whispers before crashing his lips against yours.

Your hands enclose around the back of Jaemin's hand as he effortlessly picks you up off the ground, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. He pushes you up against the wall and the immediate contact of your dripping pussy pressed against his skin has you both moaning and groaning into the kiss.

“So fucking cute...” He whispers before easing his cock right into you, “You're so fucking tight- fuck-” the wind sounds like it has been knocked clean out of him as he begins to fuck you with harsh, violent thrusts.

“That's it, pretty girl,”

You can hear the smile in his voice and you fight to open your eyes. If there was one thing that got you even wetter it was the sight of Jaemin just managing a lazy open-mouth smile as he forced his cock into your cunt. It stings and hurts but the pleasure in his hooded eyes make the experience all the more worth it.

Jaemin clenches his jaw together as he leans down until you're both forehead to forehead.

“That man downstairs isn't your Daddy, is he?” His eyes dare you to disagree with him but all you do us shake your head as you say, “You. You're my Da- oh God.”

“I'll take that title too,” he chuckles before pushing his face into the crook of your neck as he sped up his pace. Jaemin fucks hard and rough and you claw mindlessly at his back. He loves it. You know he does because his cock is twitching inside of you and you know he's close.

“Fuck-Daddy, please!”

Your begging nearly sends him over the edge but he still manages to keep his thrusts hard and unrelenting. “You gonna cum for me, Princess?”

“F-Fuck yes, Sir-”

“You're not gonna keep me a secret, are you? Promise me. ” You knew what he was doing, forcing you into a mental state of complete disrepair as he bullied his cock into your cunt.

“F-Fuck," he hisses, "Answer me, baby- ‘mgonna fill your cunt so fucking fast,” he breathes out, before throwing his head back again.

“Promise!” You grit out, “I promise-” almost immediately, your orgasm washes over you eliciting wave after wave of delicious pleasure that has your mind rumbling.

“F-Fuck you're so tight- Fuck, Fuck, fuck-!” He exclaims before he's emptying himself inside of you. He's fucking you with the stamina of a caveman as he forces his seed all the way inside. “God you're so sexy, you know that?” He says, with his eyes still clenched shut as his aftershocks pass through his body. “So fucking hot.”

While his mind soars on the wings of his orgasm, that post nut clarit crashes through gradually. You breathe out steadily as you stare into nothingness. “I can't believe I gave our family company away like that,”

A hand is quick to pull you by the chin until you're looking up at him. Even with his wet and matted hair, along with the beads of sweat growing pregnant on his brow, Jaemin remains ever handsome. His smile ever present.

“It's still the family business, Honey.” Jaemin smirks, “Our family.”

♡♡♡ if you made it this far, thanks for reading

[f4nd0m-fun]

DPxDC - Mafia Ties

Good parents Fenton and redeemed Vlad escaping to another universe with Danny, Jordan, Ellie, Jazz, Tucker, and Sam because of GIW chaos getting so bad they literally need to go to another world to get help, only for the portal to close, and they can't open it from this side. Jordan is Jazz's age maybe a year older and Ellie accidentally got deaged to her actual age give or take which is probably about a year and a half old. Yes it's the Family Breakfast ship.

@hallowsden

Cue Vlad doing his whole possession stuff to not only get them new identities but carefully accumulate a small amount of wealth, not enough to be suspicious in his opinion but still.

The Fenton parents start looking to see if/where this world has ectoplasm because the kids, and maybe Vlad, need it. Hel, maybe the parents accidentally need it too after all those years of exposure.

I know everyone chooses Gotham for this stuff, but also that's about the most I know about DC and it has a Lazarus pit underground so we're using it.

Vlad doesn't get back into the proper businessman profile, too many eyes for him to feel safe after the GIW disaster, but he does end up a Mafia boss, or at least tries. Also, Hood becomes a new 'son' obsession for him, yeah he has Danny and Jordan and Ellie but this kid is also ghosty and probably hungry or something, right?

Hood doesn't get what's up with this weird older man who always has a baby with him, let alone why he'd even bring a baby along to mafia stuff.

Vlad thinks it's safer to have Ellie in mafia meetings than be left with the Fentons during their research obsession periods because they will literally not pay attention to anything else unless it's an emergency, it's not their fault, they're learning to manage it though.

Speaking of Fentons, they work on clean energy manufacturing topside, but underground they deal with weapons. Mostly they supply them to Vlad's crew, since that's basically their testing grounds, but they also don't make anything that's actually lethal. Vlad isn't a fan of guns though but he isn't about to bring out his plasma blasts if there isn't a good reason. (He pretends anyone who sees him cackling like a maniac hit their head, he did say he hates using guns after all).

Jordan and Jazz are probably about 17/18 now. Jazz is going to college, while Jordan slips his way into the kid's mafia (yes he knows he's a kid now too, shut up, he used to be 24). This is half to annoy Vlad and half because he's curious. Jazz, of course, with a little help from both Vlad and Tucker in getting her grades moved between universes, is in college soon, and manages a full scholarship (not that Vlad wouldn't have paid if he still had his old money, in fact he might even be a little jealous that he wasn't the one to pay for her schooling).

Jordan looks a little more like Vlad than he does Jack, due to the way the ghost half fusion effects everything, but he also looks more like Jack than Maddie because Jack is what Danny would have grown into anyway.

Ellie of course just looks like a nearly carbon copy of Danny of course, just baby and female.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker are all going to Gotham Prep, if Vlad can't pay for Jazz's schooling then he's paying at just some for theirs (they might have partial scholarships but not full ride). Danny still sneaks out at night because he can't stand sitting still after a long time of being a vigilante and ends up running into the Bat. He promptly apologizes for invading his haunt and flees.

If any ships, I'm thinking Jazz/Jason and Jordan/Dick, but I'm a sucker for everlasting Trio and Tim also has a trio of his own.

Back to Ellie and Vlad. He of course is trying to keep any 'Meta' rumors on the downlow, but she's just a baby. The harness she's in is ghost proof mostly so she can't just phase out of it, but you try changing a baby's diaper and they just turn intangible, or put then down to nap when they start floating. Hel, imagine setting her down for two seconds, she accidentally makes a shield, and now she's crying because she wants to be held. Sure, Vlad and Danny both, Jordan and Ellie too, can go through shields in human form, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting or something. Eventually it gets figured out though.

I wonder how long it takes Jason to figure out that this Jordan fellow is related to Vlad. 😂

I also wonder what it would take for Vlad to actually use his ghost form outright, what kind of threat he'd expose himself to for the sake of his family. Just, shoving the kids at Jack - "Darling your aim is iced tea, let Maddie and myself handle this" - and doing what he has to.

And, yes, even as a Mafia boss he refuses to actually swear. Also, he probably still goes by Plasmius, the way his other form looks does NOT help the vampire rumors. Let alone the- well, I read a post on here a while ago where Ellie Danny and Jordan were deaged and needed his ectoplasm to survive. Imagine being a Plasmius goon in a meeting while he's trying to rock his baby to sleep and she's just sucking on his hand. You don't think much of it until you see he's bleeding and, even though it's technically red, your pretty sure it's glowing green and you're not sure if you want to ask (you won't but still). Plus, he's not even reacting to what must be a fair bit of pain, right?

Honestly, there's probably a betting pool about the whole weird family.

And of course I'm bringing in my Alfred Clockwork storyline. Flashpoint Thomas is Frighty, dead Thomas is Pariah, and Gotham is Martha. The moment Vlad finds out that Jason's grandparents are some of the most powerful ghosts in the realms (or at least this side of them in Gotham's case) he's like "okay I won't interfere, but maybe he'd like a friend? He doesn't seem to know a lot of ghosts.' (he tries to figure out which kid would be a better fit and that's when he finds out Jordan's been working for Hood this whole time. "You didn't tell me?" "You didn't know?!") 😂

Basically, give me a Mafia family who's major story plot isn't even the bats outright, it's just trying to survive after fleeing a world that may as well be destroyed at this point. Sure, they interact with the bats, cross paths, maybe even a couple relationships, but, overall, the Fenton-Masters are just outsiders in Gotham, learning to adjust to this new life.

[luckyfox3000]

DC X DP PROMT #14

Hello my friends! New Promt! Ps. Pick a dc character you want me to fit in a promt. (I like asking questions)

Dick Grayson had no idea what was going on.

Nor did he want to know.

It all started when Bruce informed the family that a recently orphaned Danial Fenton would be coming to stay with them.

Did it bother him? No! Dick was looking forward to having another sibling (dont say he's not Bruce, for God's sake, he has black hair and blue eyes), the only problem was with Damian.

Dick and the family had worked hard to show Damian that everyone was equally loved and that he wasn't getting sent back to the league for simple mistakes.

Dicks biggest achievement was getting Tim and Damian to get along, though they made a rather terrifying duo.

But anyway, that wasn't the point.

The thing was when the boy finally arrived, other then a scowling Damian, everything was fine.

The boy, Danial who liked to be called Danny, was shy and sweet in the beginning and quite nervous to be around the family, but once he warmed he was cracking jokes and puns like their was no tomorrow.

Dick thought it was a bit odd that Danny was so cheerful after just losing his family, but, everyone has their own coping mechanisms, and as long as he didnt decide to pick up a furry costume and prance into the night to fight crime, Dick would support.

Oddly enough, Tim, Damian, and Danny were the ones to get along best, and Dick found it absolutely adorable (at the time. Never mind, no matter their plans, their still cute), though he heard Jason mutter something along the lines of "God damn it, they've band together, we're all doomed."

Which Dick thought was a bit of an exaggeration.

So what if they smiled when news came of lexcorp blown up, and their funds and stocks drastically decreasing.

So what if they sat together laughing adorably (or in Damians case a small warm smile), while surrounded by sheets of paper detailing plans to destroy the league of assassins (Did Danny figure out their identities???)(they called somone named Jazz for advice, should he be concerned?)

So what if when Dick decided to surprise them and barged into their game room to find several assassins and Slade wilson on the floor, tied up masterfully, unable to move a muscle and knocked out while the boys played video games.

It didn't matter, they were adorable.

So why was Dick so frightened now?

Good question.

"Er... Damian why are you and Tim holding Ra's Al Ghul at knife point? And why the FUCK DOES DANNY LOOK LIKE A DAMN ELDRITCH MON- CREATURE!!! AND OH MY GOD, DANNY WHAT IN THE NAME OF DEMENTORS IS THAT, ARE YOU SUCKING OUT HIS SOUL?!?!?!"

Dick might have miscalculated.

Feel free to use or add on!

[rooksamoris]

Absolutely need to tell someone about this idk why it took me so long to figure it out but thanks to my job and having access to an Arabic textbook (In southeast asia where non-muslims dont use Arabic) i am bamboozled and flabberghasted to find out Jamil is the transliteration of beautiful in Arabic

i honestly adore his name because of it!! jamil <33 i can imagine him getting flustered when being called jamil, and it not being his name

"oh, ya jamil (oh, beautiful)~" he pulls his hood down over his face and averts his gaze, "you aren't as sly as you think," he mutters. his face and ears felt so warm all of a sudden.

sometimes i also wish they gave him an arabic or farsi last name too?? hanash means snake in arabic, and i literally know people with that last name.

on that topic, i do wanna mention that snakes being evil are a western concept. islamically, they have been used in various forms of art (such as in hospitals), but they are also depicted as stinging away evil spirits. the islamic tale of adam and hauwa(eve) does not have a snake that tempts them to eat from the tree, so snakes were never evil. islam also advises against killing animals, unless it is in an act of self-defense, such as during ancient times when they were used in assassination.

i could not find the article i read it from, but snakes are also used to symbolize motherhood and the divinity of mothers. the act of shedding skin is like bringing in a new life and all that jazz.

there's also the middle eastern story of shahmaran (i believe her name is 'queen of snakes' in farsi. shah = king, but her name is always translated to 'queen of snakes), a half-snake half-woman. in "one thousand and one nights" or 'alf layla wa layla', shahmaran is not portrayed as bad nor good. in some of the stories, she was respected and people wanted to earn her respect, or she was like an oracle who warned people of danger.

to this day, in kurdish folklore, shahmaran symbolizes good luck, and depictions of her can be found in some homes. even in the stories where she dies, she is more sympathetic.

anyways, i rambled a lot. here's some art of shahmaran by turkish artists, sibel dogan. dogan does a lot of traditional turkish and middle eastern artwork on saatchi art btw