#this bad boy can hold a lot of trauma

[aleiiii]

HOOOOHOOOO BOYYY

I just wanna see him go ape shit

I have my graduation ceremony in about an hour…. But I had to get this OUT

[hella1975]

it's been pointed out on here before that a lot of terf arguments are actually rooted in sexist idealology that feminists fought and died to unnormalise decades ago and that's its own kettle of fish but one thing i also find very frustrating about this so called 'radical' feminism is that it's so... defeatist? like the moment you categorically label an entire section of society as Bad and Inherently Evil then there's also the implication that nothing can be done about it, and it completely takes all accountability away. saying all men are evil is just another way of saying boys will be boys. he raped her because he's a man. he hit her because he's a man. he didn't listen because he's a man - it's almost offensively oversimplified. there's no point trying to fix this issue in society because men are just Like That, okay! so now what? it's not like they're going anywhere, so you just accept that 50% of the population are evil and will forever treat you terribly and there's nothing to be done about it bc they're biologically predisposed to it? like is that fr the argument here? you're soooo radical for that

[keto-keyes]

Slytherins with a non!Deatheater S/O

Imagine/preference

The Slytherins are down bad for their partners. So how do they rip off the band aid and break the news that secretly, they're all bad?

Mattheo Riddle:

We all know he's a bad boy with a bad attitude

...except around his S/O

He doesn't try to hide the blood on his hands, but uses the excuse "I was protecting you"

He does actually do it to protect you, don't worry

His dad threatens to end you if he refuses to do his Deatheater duties

So he makes sure to keep you around him whenever he can to make sure you can't get hurt

Our boy stresses the heck out whenever you get even the smallest bit injured

It might start fights sometimes between the two of you, but you KNOW this mamas boy would never lay a hand on you in the wrong way

If you try to join, he discourages it

He doesn't want to psychologically scar you

lots of time together whenever he can kick his dad outta his mind

Then he holds you tight like he's gonna lose you

Don't ever stop loving this man, alright?

Tom Riddle:

It's kinda impossible for you not to know about his...situation

It's all anybody talks about when you're around

But he only wants to protect you

So he makes sure to keep you distracted whenever he must get the job done

He'll take you dancing, or go shopping afterwards

sometimes you might need to clean him up after a scuffle

he lets you, but only if you promise not to ask how he got the injuries

His dad also threatens him with losing you and he could never be complete without his S/O safely in his arms

if somehow you get tangled in his mess of deatheater-ness, he will sacrifice EVERYTHING for you

his only thought is to keep you safe

Theodore Nott:

He doesn't tell you he's a Deatheater until you meet his friends

That's right, he didn't let you meet his friends

not at first

after you meet them, it's kinda like momentum until he finally tells you he's a deatheater

he definitely expects you to hate his ass, but you don't so he's hopeful

he smokes to forget all the horrible things he does.

he does it more once he finally confesses, but tries not to when you're around.

dw, his stoic attitude when you ask him about being a deatheater isn't him being uncaring

he just forgot how to feel remorse after being a human murder weapon for so long.

it's like torture for him, and he hates it

So care for him please, as best you possibly can

Draco Malfoy:

He's probably the most affected by the deatheater thing

If you're dating him, either you're younger than him or your families are close.

So you know all about the deatheater thing

he pretends having a dangerous father is a good thing

like, he can destroy draco's enemies in an instant,

but... he could also force you to join Voldemort, and that's something that can never happen.

you have to either be holding his hand or his cheek AT ALL TIMES,

otherwise his anxiety causes him to start shaking

he'll whisper all his worries as he weeps himself to sleep, and sometime you catch him doing it

his dad only protected him for so long, now it's your turn

Blaise Zabini:

He doesn't talk about it

ever

even when you two have been dating for a while, he doesn't mention it

it's not your problem, it's his

and he wants it to stay that way for as long as possible

he's afraid telling you will somehow lead to Voldemort knowing, and holding it against him

especially since the only thing Voldemort's actually threatening him with is death. extremely painful death.

so he doesn't even mention it.

you know though. you know how painful killing and torturing is for him.

it tears him apart, almost to the point where he wants to smoke with theo

sometimes he wishes desperately that he could tell you everything, but he's scared you would be in danger.

so he stays quiet and lets the anguish build

he doesn't crack. ever

he stays stoic and silent. caring

Pansy Parkinson:

she doesn't like to bother you with the gorey details,

but sometimes they slip out

she breaks down all the time. it's traumatising

but she can't really articulate what she feels

so she just cries as you hold her to your chest/side

yeah, idk i didn't really have any ideas for pansy

Lorenzo Berkshire:

he may be a little flouncy at times, but he cares about your wellbeing enough to protect you

its his main goal in life

so he tries to keep himself between you and the others for as long as possible. like theo

its less of a "you don't need to know them"

and more of a "what? other people? who needs people when I'm your cute bf?" while waving his hands in front of you so you focus on him

he lets you wash his cuts for him

and do his hair in consolidation for not being by your side for a few hours.

Voldemort really can't touch enzo without hurting you.

So he keeps his mouth shut about it a lot.

sweet boy livin in a cruel world, what can i say

[toshidou]

lighthouse for a lost comrade . . .

Pairing // Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word count // 4.9k

Tags // 18+ ONLY, AFAB reader, soft simon riley, written from simon's perspective, mild descriptions of injury and blood, hurt and comfort, aka simon finally allows himself to be looked after <3, he is a big boy with a heart that yearns to be loved you cannot convince me otherwise, the softest of smut, praise, you accidentally give ghost a 'sir' kink, reader calls ghost sir a couple of times because they're hot like that, unprotected sex (tut tut), creampie, a whole lot of swearing

AN // i love this man a ridiculous amount, so me writing nearly 5k about how much i love him was inevitable

AO3 link here

Simon Riley is not a man who cares about his own health. In fact, his wellbeing never has, and never will be a priority to him. He has work to do, gruelling, gritty, gruesome work, it is beyond pointless wasting time even thinking about when he last had more than 3 hours sleep, or how long it’s been since he consumed anything other than cold military rations. In his defence, he’s never really had a reason to give a shit, he sees the hourglass whenever he allows himself to close his eyes; watches the sand slip rapidly through the cracks, counting down until his inevitable, most likely painful death. He’s living life on a timer, and he’s never had a reason to change that.

Until he met you.

You were a wide-eyed rookie, Laswell bringing you into the fold as a technician, a skilled hacker and mechanic who despite your innocent doe eyes, held lethal talents. He remembers so vividly, the way your head had cocked to the side as Laswell introduced you to the peculiar members of task force 141, remembers the way your eyes stopped on him. You showed not a single ounce of fear or hesitance, just pure unbridled curiosity. That same curiosity led you to asking him far too many questions, relentlessly prying to see more of the man behind the mask, to see Simon Riley, rather than ‘Ghost’. It should have pissed him off, he should have reprimanded you for your callousness towards your Lieutenant, but somehow you knew exactly which questions to ask, knew exactly when to stop and move on to other subjects.

Contrary to popular belief, Simon doesn’t hide his past, doesn’t try to use it to fuel the mysterious and mythical reputation he’s unwittingly built. It’s just that no one ever asks. Maybe it’s something about the skull mask, or the egregiously high kill count he sits so casually on top of that has people wary of ever approaching him. But you—you had no hesitation. You read him like a goddamn book every single time, and it simultaneously terrified and relieved him.

One glance and every secret he shoved behind his balaclava is left bare before you, leaving him with a vulnerable, gaping wound in the shape of a lifetime of trauma and tales that Simon knows no person should ever have to experience. And yet, your eyes hold not an ounce of pity, no awkward silences attempting to be alleviated with an awkward pat on the back and a “that sounds rough, buddy”. You see his past, his pain, his suffering, his bad habits, without him ever having to explicitly say anything. And in return, you say nothing. You don’t try and mollify him about circumstances he’s moved on from long ago, you make no effort to coddle him, to sit him down and patronisingly ask him if he’s doing well, or when the last time he slept was.

Instead, you leave him cutely packaged leftovers on his doorstep, easy meals he can throw in the microwave when he’s too tired to even comprehend making food. You buy him a multitude of jigsaws and puzzles for when sleep evades him as it so often does. You never once try to change him, never force yourself into his life just so you can claim that you’re some selfless martyr. To Simon Riley, you are nothing short of a blessing, and falling in love with you was quite frankly the easiest thing he’s ever done.

He takes off the mask for the first time when neither of you were prepared, nor expecting it. The mission had been so fucking rough, camped out in the middle of nowhere on the hunt for someone he was sure had long since gone. Weeks spent trudging through thick mud, swimming upriver, tracking footprints that led nowhere, steered them to no one. His bone-deep exhaustion finally caught up with him after being shot in the leg and falling nearly 75 metres off of a cliff, plunging into the water below. Price had insisted he go straight to the medic tent back at basecamp, but then simply sighed and shook his head, resigned, as he watched Simon limp off the chopper, and in the exact opposite direction.

To most, this would be the latest example of Simon Riley once again disregarding his health for the sake of keeping up the stoic, strong mask he never let slip. Yet this time, Simon Riley was not disregarding his health, he was, for maybe the first time, trying to preserve what little of it he had left. His leg was near numb by the time he made it to your tent, his foggy mind quickly soothed by the sound of you humming along to the radio, accompanied by the rapid clicking of keys as you worked on some coding. It takes him hissing in discomfort as he attempts to remove his military boots for you to turn around, eyes going impossibly wide as you watch an alarmingly large pool of red grow at his feet.

“Jesus Christ Ghost, are you trying to redecorate my floor?” He kept his mouth shut, using the last dregs of his energy to keep his gaze pinned on you, dark brown irises following your every move as you usher him into the chair you occupied merely seconds before, gingerly hovering your hands over the drenched material that clings to his thigh, soaked in blood and water.

“I’m going to cut the material above the wound, okay? I need to see what I’m working with here.” Your eyes connect with his unwavering gaze, translating his silence into a language that has taken you an eerily short period of time to become fluent in. He watches you nod to yourself, can pinpoint the cogs turning in your mind, can practically see you write the list of how best to deal with this situation as you unpack your first aid kit. Somehow, despite his leg stinging like a bitch, despite how utterly worn he feels, so raw and rough around the edges, he feels at peace.

Price may think he was a stupid bastard for not seeing one of their trained medics, but Simon knows without a doubt that you will always be the best thing for him, you will always be the first port of call, the lighthouse that guides him oh so safely to shore, to home. Even when your stitches are a little uneven, even when you dab a little too much alcohol disinfectant onto his wound, even when you wince every time the muscle in his leg twitches involuntarily, he watches you pour every ounce of care and tenderness into every touch, watches you take care of him in a way no one else ever could, not that he’d let them.

You’re finishing off wrapping up the wound on his thigh when Simon realises he doesn’t want this moment to be over. He selfishly craves more of your delicate, gentle care, unsure if he could ever have this again after tonight, if he deserved it.

So, he waits. He waits for you to lean back on your haunches, bending back to check your handiwork with a satisfied smile tugging at your pretty lips. He waits for your eyes to drift to his, as they so often do, and then he speaks.

“I uh, I got hurt here too,” The words grate against his throat like sandpaper, rough and unsure as he lifts his hand to prod at his cheek, “think I hit a rock in the water after falling.” You stand immediately, eyebrows furrowed together as your fingers gently brush the small rip in his mask.

“I can’t see much with this in the way, Ghost, though I think you’ll live.”

Simon couldn't pinpoint exactly what had his fingers hooking under his mask, couldn’t single it down to any particular moment or word that had him pulling the black material over his chin, and up past his nose, he just knew it felt right. All he focused on was the way your lips fell agape, how your hands lifted automatically towards his wrists, whether to stop them or encourage them further he didn’t know, but he sure as fuck clocked the slight tilt to your head, taking him immediately back to when you first laid eyes on him.

You were looking at Simon in a way he can’t say he’s ever experienced. Like a complicated mixture of guilt and awe. But he feels no fear, no regret as he throws the skull balaclava unceremoniously onto the floor, and directly into the pool of blood he’d left by the door.

“Should be a little easier to see now, don’t you think?”

All he gets in return is a small huff of a laugh, the ghost of your breath fanning across his exposed face, he swears he’s never felt anything as sweet. That is until your hand comes to cup his face, shudders erupting down his spine when the pads of your impossibly soft fingers brush just under the superficial cut on his cheek.

“I don’t know Si, I think we might have to amputate.” You murmur, an overly dramatic lilt to your voice as you pretend to further examine the ‘wound’. And Jesus fucking Christ, if he isn’t so impossibly, incredibly fond of you.

“That bad, huh doc?” He leans forward, just enough to catch the way your pupils dilate, the slight hitch to your usually even breath, “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to save it? I’m particularly fond of that cheek.” He drinks in the soft hum you give in response, watches you with rapt attention as you lean further forward, and nearly passes the fuck out when you press your lips to his upper cheekbone, because what the fuck.

Before this, Simon Riley could say with absolute certainty that he’d never once blushed in his life, but now? He could feel the blood rushing to his face, knowing without a doubt that you could feel the heat radiating from where your fingers and lips remain connected to his skin. His wide eyes, blackened around the sockets from a mixture of paint and week-long exhaustion, remain firmly fixed on you, hardly hesitating before he secures your hand against his face the second he feels you pulling away.

There are no words exchanged, nothing but shallow breaths and searching eyes before Simon allows himself to be selfish just this once and pulls you onto his uninjured thigh, guiding you to sit with his other hand, fingers digging ever so slightly into the meat of your hip. And now he has you here, right where he’s always wanted you, there’s not a chance in hell he’s ever letting you go.

“Please kiss me, Simon.”

As if he could ever say no to you.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He removes his hand from your wrist, dragging his scarred knuckles as delicately as he possibly can across your cheek, fanning out his fingers around the side of your face, using the leverage to guide you impossibly closer. He allows himself one last look, tracing his gaze from your lidded eyes to your lips before he lets his eyelids fall shut, and loses himself in you. Loses every ounce of tension and exhaustion under the ministrations of your fingers as they tangle into his hair, and finally, fucking finally, he feels his once cold, dead heart thrum to life as you sigh contentedly against his lips. Kiss of life in-fucking-deed.

He's lost in every inch of you, can’t get over how soft and warm the plush of your waist is under his fingers, how responsive you are when he slides his hand ever so slightly under your oversized t-shirt. He wants more, he needs more, can’t help himself as he moves his kisses from your lips, down your jaw, until he reaches the base of your throat, sucking deep purple bruises into your supple skin.

“You taste like heaven,” He’s all too aware of how raspy his voice has become, desire only deepening his tone further as he drags his lips back up the expanse of your throat, a deep groan pulled from his throat when he feels you shift on his lap, highlighting the growing pressure of his cock straining against his pants. “Driving me fuckin’ wild already. Look what you’ve done to me, gorgeous.” His fingers come to curl under your jaw, directing your gaze down to the prominent tenting of his trousers, ensuring his eyes don’t dare drift away from your face as he watches you take in the view before you.

“Mine.”

The noise Simon makes in response is nothing short of primal, it wasn’t a sound he was even aware he could make, near guttural, but of course you would be the one to pull it out of him.

“That’s right baby, all yours, fucking hell,” he’s powerless to stop his eyes squeezing shut when he feels your fingers curl around his clothed cock, mustering every ounce of strength he has left not to cum in his pants there and then, because he’ll be fucking damned if he lets anything get in the way of giving you the pleasure you deserve.

“Come on Si, look at me.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he finally opens his eyes again, instantly zeroing in on your fingers as they begin to unfasten his pants, before flicking back up to meet your gaze, “Is this okay?”, your voice tentative.

“More than okay, Jesus,” Simon wastes little time after that, hands sliding under your shirt and shifting further up your torso, muscles freezing when his hand contacts nothing but bare skin, grazing the flesh of your breasts.

“No bra? Lucky me.” You laugh, arching your back further into his touch.

“More like lucky me, those things are basically torture devices, Simon, I’d like to see you try and work with metal wire and straps digging into your boobs and back,” He grins, pinching one of your nipples between two of his calloused fingers and revelling in the way your smirk twists into a moan, hips twitching against the rough material of his cargo pants.

“I think it’s about time you took these off,” He mutters, one hand dropping to thumb under the waistband of your sweatpants, “Can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought about how pretty you’d look getting yourself off on my lap.” Apparently, Simon doesn’t need to say anymore, watching with intense eyes as you pull away from his grip, and begin undressing. Your top joins his mask on the floor, soon followed by your pants and underwear until you’re stood in all your naked glory, mere inches away from him. Simon must be the luckiest son of a bitch on this entire fucking planet.

He takes advantage of your absence by lifting his hips, cocking an eyebrow at you as he gestures towards his trousers, “Give an injured soldier a hand, would you doll?” Truthfully, Simon knows he would have no issues removing them himself, but why would he do that when he can have this instead? When he can have your body pressed in between his thighs, your deft hands undoing his buttons and sliding the material of his military pants slowly over his wrapped-up leg, when he can watch your eyes drink in every inch of new skin revealed with barely contained desire. No, he would much rather have this, especially when your dainty hands peel away his boxers, leaving him only in his top and vest plate.

“Simon…” You whine, your lips so perfectly pouted, a cute little furrow between your brows as you pull and tug at various parts of his vest, “help me take this shit off. It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked here.” He hums, schools his face to show careful contemplation, reaching up a hand to rest on your bare upper thigh.

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?”

“Please, sir.”

Well fuck. That awakened something within him.

With military precision, he unsecured the armoured vest from his body, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head, joining the now large pile of clothes left scattered across the floor of your tent. For a brief second, Simon feels so incredibly vulnerable under your intense gaze, wondering if maybe this is how people feel when he fixes his stare upon them, bare and defenceless. But then you lower yourself back into his lap, settling across both his legs with such gentle care, wrapping both your arms around the back of his head and pinning him with a look he thinks most likely reflects his own.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” It’s almost too much, the sincerity in your voice mixed with the way the words were uttered so softly into the air, as though they were a secret only to be shared between the two of you.

“I’m nothing compared to you.” You shake your head, smiling, leaning forward until your nose brushes his.

“Just take the compliment, Lieutenant.” He tries his best not to shiver as he feels your hand trace down his spine, instead shifts his focus onto how close your lips are to his, or the quiet noise you make in the back of your throat as his hands come to grip the meat of your thighs.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Something in the air changes, as though the collective patience between the two of you could stretch no further, so taut it had no choice but to snap. His lips crash into yours, desperation surging through Simon’s veins like wildfire. Fuck, what are you doing to him?

“Can I touch you?” he mumbles against your lips, large hands aching from where they rest, yearning the feeling of your wet heat against his fingertips.

“God, yes, please.”

With newfound strength, he lifts you from his lap and twists you until your back is flush to his chest, uncaring of the twinge of pain he feels from his leg as he settles you fully on his lap. Now, Simon has full access to every inch of your perfect body, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck as he litters the skin with open mouthed kisses, humming contentedly at the way you arch into his hands as he cups your breasts with both hands, fingers toying with your nipples until they’re perked and firm under his touch.

“No teasing, please,” Your pleading breaks him from a momentary stupor, bringing his head up to watch as you place one of your hands over his, guiding it further down, sweeping over your sternum, past your belly button, until his palm rests over your cunt, “I need you here, Simon.”

Fucking hell.

He couldn't find the words, couldn’t articulate them even if he had any. So, instead of speaking, he presses his hand over the curve of your cunt, groans when he feels just how hot and wet you are, all for him.

“Mine.” He repeats your words from earlier into the shell of your ear, a smirk stretching onto his lips at the full body shiver you give in response, growing near predatory when he feels your pussy twitch under his hand. God, how the fuck are you so wet? His fingers glide over your folds with ease, teasing your clit on every upwards swipe of his fingers, and when he finally dips his index finger into your cunt, he’s rewarded with the sweetest symphony. Breathy whines and whispered pleas of “more”, “deeper, Simon, please”, every request he happily indulges, now curling two fingers against your velvet walls, searching for the spot he knows will have you keening against his body. It takes a shift of his palm, the angle changing just enough to have you choking on a gasp, his other hand remains fixed to your breasts, pushing your chest down until you’re pinned against his body.

“Atta girl, feels good huh?” He slips a third digit in, cursing under his breath as he feels your pussy clamp down, twitching helplessly around his fingers as they continue to stroke relentlessly at your g-spot, “Gonna need you to cum at least once on my fingers before I give you anything else, baby.” He dares to steal a glance at your face, and is met with closed eyes, your mouth agape, and head thrown back onto his shoulder, you’re nothing short of a masterpiece. Your hands desperately grip onto his arms, nails digging sweet red crescents into Simon’s inked skin, as though the hold you have on him is the only thing keeping you grounded, and he feels positively fucking drunk on it.

You’re close, that much he can tell, and as much as he could absolutely keep you like this on his lap for another good few hours, he takes pity on your furrowed eyebrows and soft whimpers, removing his hand from your chest and placing his thumb into your open mouth. He doesn’t even need to instruct you as you close your lips around his digit and suck, your tongue eagerly lapping at the rough pad of his finger. He doesn’t have the strength to leave it there for much longer, overly aware of the way his cock desperately twitches from where it’s trapped between your bodies, instead focusing on the way you react the second his spit slicked thumb begins to rub tight circles around your clit.

“Si-, fuck, Simon ‘m close, so close, wanna cum,” There was never any other option for him than to watch you fall apart on his lap, but if he somehow needed further encouragement, “Please Sir, please make me cum.” It would be entirely impossible for him to stop the moan your words drag from his throat, to think of anything other than giving you your release. It’s obvious when your orgasm hits, having to stop toying with your now engorged clit to instead pin your hips down, worried there was a chance you might fall to the side if he didn’t keep you grounded.

“Good girl, such a good fucking girl, made such a mess of my fingers baby,” Simon hums against the side of your head, slowing his ministrations until he’s lazily fingering your still spasming pussy, drawing out the sweet sounds of post-orgasm sensitivity from your spit-shining lips. He waits until you finally regain some form of lucidity, waits until your neck straightens, no longer lolled against his collarbone to finally withdraw his fingers, soothing your whines at his absence with kisses to your jaw. But he makes sure your eyes are locked with his when he brings his fingers to his own lips, ensures you’re watching with nothing less than rapt attention as he cleans every drop of your arousal from his skin.

“Taste fuckin’ divine, princess.” Your head tips forward into your hands with a groan, and Simon couldn’t hide his pleased grin even if he tried.

“You’re not allowed to be this hot,” Your words muffled into your palm, the Ghost’s heart rate spiking when you looked at him shyly through your fingers, affection surging through his bloodstream like a shot of pure adrenaline. “Especially when I can feel your cock pressed against my ass.” As if he needed the reminder, as if that singular thought hasn’t been plaguing him for the past 10 minutes.

“And what exactly are you going to do about that, darling?”

His words were meant to make you shy, were said to watch those sweet eyes of yours widen. Except, Simon realises, he must have awoken something within you, something bold, something utterly fucking debauched, because instead of shying away, you lock your eyes with his, rising to the challenge he set. You stand up, turn yourself around, climb back onto his lap and sink down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“Fucking-, shit, what the fuck,”

“I think that works for both of us, right, Simon?” You need to stop, or you at least need to give him some time to adjust to whatever the fuck it is you’re doing right now. He can tell you’re far from unaffected, however. The slight quiver to your voice, and the way the slick walls of your pussy clench greedily around him show at least that much. And yet, you’re pinning him with a fierce gaze, your fingers forming an iron grip on loose brown hair at the base of his skull, using him as leverage to grind your hips in circular motions. “Let me take care of you, handsome.” His response cut off by a groan as you begin to fuck yourself on his cock, his eyes frantically flicking from where your cunt swallows every inch of his shaft, back up to your heavy-lidded gaze, locked onto his as you effortlessly ride his cock.

So instead of trying to take the lead, to lift his hips to meet yours, for the first time ever, Simon Riley does as he’s told. He allows you to control the pace, lets you direct his hands to your waist, but doesn’t use it as a point of control. Instead he caresses your skin with rough fingers. He lets you take care of him. And God, does it feel good.

He lets his head fall back, lets his eyes slip closed, and allows himself to just exist in this moment with you. A luxury he hasn’t been able to afford for far too long. Instead, he focuses on the sounds dissipating into the air around your joined bodies, the soft pants and moans that spill from both his mouth and yours, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin combined with the slick noise of his cock fucking into your heat, and if he focuses hard enough, he swears he can hear the rapid beating of your heart where your chest is pressed flush to his.

“C’mon Simon, baby, look at me.” It takes an embarrassing amount of energy for Simon to lift his neck up, refocusing his gaze onto you, “You’re doing so well, letting me look after you like this.” And fuck, he doesn’t want to cry, can’t remember the last time he allowed himself the comfort of crying, but he feels so unequivocally safe around you. Still, the time for tears will come later, right now, Simon wants nothing more than to feel you lose yourself on his cock. He secures his hands on your ass, and stands, ignoring your surprised cries and worried scolding, and walks as best he can towards the mattress near your desk. He doesn’t want to admit that lowering you both down onto the cheap material nearly left him breathless, and he definitely won’t admit that you were right, he didn’t have the strength to do that. But now that he has you lying on top of him, cock still buried deep inside of you, he knows the pain was more than worth it. Because in this position, he can ground his feet into the mattress and focus on fucking you like you deserve.

He ignores the sting of pain in his thigh, no doubt ruining some of the stitching you had done earlier, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. Not when you’re mewling into his chest, nails scratching long, thin pink lines down the expanse of his chest as he fucks his hips ruthlessly up to meet yours. He knows he won’t last much longer, you feel too fucking good, and he has no strength to hold back, praying that you’re as close as he is as he snakes one hand down to toy with your clit once again. Relief washing over him when he feels your cunt clench like a vice around his length, allows himself one, two more thrusts of his hips before he finally reaches his peak, cock twitching like a heartbeat from where it’s buried within you, not moving until the last weak spurts of cum finish painting your cervix white.

“Fucking hell,” with his energy long since depleted, his body slumps into the mattress below, dragging you down with him, his arms still wrapped securely around your form.

“That good, huh?” You grin up at him, eyes glinting in the low light. You look positively stunning.

“You know it, sweetheart,” Simon pauses, looks down at where you’re still sprawled against his chest, and silently thanks the motherfucker who decided to shoot him in the first place, he’s not sure if he would have ever gathered the strength to have you like this, in the way he always craved. “C’mere, I want cuddles.” He grunts, choosing to ignore the surprised laugh you give in response, says nothing at your incessant teasing and light threats to tell Soap that “oh my god, Ghost likes cuddles”.

He does none of that, instead, he holds you close, stares up at the ceiling as you bury your face into his neck, whispering sweet confessions into his skin, words he soaks up and saves for a rainy day. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley has never been a man to care about his own health, even now he still sees that damn hourglass, unsure of how much sand remains. But now he has a reason to change that.

Now, he has you.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Come on, aren't you just in love with them?" Sophia asked her boyfriend, Matt.

"Jesus, how much do those things weigh now?"

Sophia shrugged casually. "I dunno. A lot? Probably thirty pounds each, wanna weigh them?"

"Sure..... maybe later. You know, you don't have to keep doing this, Sophia. They're plenty big."

"Awwww, don't pretend to feel bad for me! I'm your girlfriend, it's my job to please you!"

"I appreciate it..... but don't you think you're taking this a bit far?"

Sophia giggled in a way that made it seem like she took this as a challenge. "You get so timid when your boyish little fantasies get exposed..... I saw all that porn on your laptop. Every other girl you jerk it to is some Influencer who grew out their boobs so much their spines snapped and they legit end up paralyzed from the shoulders down. The girls wear it like a badge of honor. I was so shocked to hear them talk so casually about their bodies being numb, not feeling their pussies, not being able to cum all because they grew such colossal boobs..... They act like it's the pinnacle of sexual appeal to be completely helpless, buried under a gigantic pair of boobs they can't even feel, only able to watch as men fuck them, encouraging them to have fun with their paralyzed bodies and not hold back. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Sophie, you know I'd never ask that of you. Your career...."

"Being a therapist? Uh, duh, I can still do that over Zoom or Snapchat. Or my patients can come to me, trapped in bed, naked. I'll have to warn them not to mind my ponderous, 200lb-breasts. They're for my boyfriend, just try to ignore them! Or..... if men have pent up frustration, it might be a great way to get some of that anger and trauma out on what will amount to a pair of massive, fatty punching bags. I think that'll be an excellent option for my patients. Of course, I'll at least still be able to suck your cock and taste your cum, that'll be all I need--honest! And if you don't mind I can reward my clients by sucking their cocks, if they like...... this might be fun for the both of us after all!"

"Jesus, you're seriously committed to this?"

Sophia groped her oversized breasts, which were a D-Cup when they started dating only six months ago. "What gave it away? So, are you done pretending you don't want me to grow a pair of the biggest, heaviest, back-breaking tits you've ever seen?"

"Shit..... you are such a freak, I could marry a girl like you....."

"Down boy. Let's wait til my spine snaps! I'll look so much better getting wheeled down the aisle, my boobs well over 100lbs, wearing only a garter belt and veil, ooooo, maybe you can put huge hoops rings through my nipples at the altar? Not like I'll feel you piercing them. Won't that be fun?"

"Nothing would make me happier than to show your rich, snobby family what a good, obedient girl you turned out to be."

Sophia smiled, running over to kiss Matt, squishing her hefty breasts against his chest. Feeling that made both of them realize that although her breasts were absurdly large now, they were ultimately tiny compared to what they'd look like in another year or two.

[nor-4]

Nsfw Alphabet ft. Mike Schmidt

Bad writing

A = Aftercare

He got everything ready cause this boy don't know how strong he is especially if he fucks his frustration out so he gets every thing ready. He will definitely make you coffee or just get you some water is if you ask, then hug you until you guys fall asleep.

B = Body part

Although he loves every part of your body he has this favoritism for your thighs, like it's multipurpose he can hold it while fucking you on missionary andd can be a pillow when you guys go to picnic!

What he loves for him is his arms like something about it looks attractive for him, probably because you love to hold it and compliment it.

C = Cum

You can't tell me he don't cum a lot. Before bursting his seed he always ask where do you want it. If he's too lazy he'll just cum in your stomach. It's on his system to ask if it's hot or how does his seed feels.

D = Dirty secrets

To my previous headcannon, he wants to fuck the attitude out of you. Like it makes him feel cocky knowing he takes control. He wants to invite you to his work and fuck you in the table he doesn't know why but something about risking it turns him on.

E = Experience

Actually you both lost your virginity to each other. He isn't experienced but he knows everything about sex. He knows how to make you cum easily by just his fingers, this man doesn't joke when it comes to knowledge on sex. He can make your girl cum than your playboy ass

F = Favorite position

He lovesss missionary, he loves to see your face while fucking you. He loves kisses so.. Andd he loves back shot, he wants matching back tattoos with you it turns him on. Something about caressing your back makes him insane.

G = Goofy

Not really he's serious when it comes to making out. But sometimes he cracks a small joke when the mood get so tense up, he love it when he see you chuckle. Come on this man needs happiness in his life let him be.

H = Hair

Not that much hairy but he trims it when he thinks it needs a little bit of cutting. For you well he doesn't care about hair okay, it's natural if you want to keep it okay if your comfortable with it. He loves em bushes bae dw.

I = Intimacy

He loves to grip your hips or waist when he fuck you in missionary. This man fucks like there's no tomorrow he hugs your waist, he loves putting hickeys on you especially your breast. He is sooo good at praising like he coos in your ears on how he much loves you.

J = Jack off

Doesn't really have a time to do it. If he does he just imagines things with you. Just the thought of you turns him on. He does it too when you're not in the mood to do intimate things cause you know he doesn't wanna push you.

K = Kink

He's into edging he love to see you cry just because your orgasm is declined. He also loves size difference he can't believe the strength he has, he can fuck you in the wall nd he is still be surprised.

L = Location

Mostly on his bedroom because abby could be roaming around somewhere, well sometimes if abby's at school he loves to fuck you in the kitchen. He loves to eat you out at the kitchen it hits something for him.

M = Motivation

You. Everything bout you turns him on, especially when you motherly cares for abby. It's awaking something in him. He can be too distracted on his work and still think about fucking you. It's like a daily routine for him when he's bored.

N = No

Something that might hurt you, like he likes rough sex but not that rough like your about to scream from getting hurt. He don't like bdsm something about it turns him off plus he remembers all his trauma yk.

O = Oral

He is more on giving, but he loves to recieve like you giving him head. He still loves it when he is the one giving you head, something about you makes him addicted. Like he wants to drown from your pussy.

P = Pace

He's more on slow and gentle. If he's frustrated he fucks rough. His pace is up to the atmosphere, you have two boyfriend. One who make love to you touching caressing your body and praising you and one is fucking you like an animal. Sometimes he fucks you rough when he wants to sleep tightly.

Q = Quickie

Mehhh he doesn't really like quickie. He wants long sensual make out not like fucking you as if it's the end of the world. Plus it makes him want more.

R = Risk

If you just want it. But seeing someone watching him fuck you turns him on, it's like his adrenaline rush is rising. He just want to take the risk when he feels cocky.

S = Stamina

Can only go to 2 to 3 rounds because he's a beat up minimum wage worker who works 24/7 so he doesn't really have that much energy. But like i said when he's frustrated he can probably go for 5 rounds. If you can handle it.

T = Toys

I dont think he's really up to toys but a vibrator is enough. Since he loves edging he will probably have a vibrator especially those vibrator thay you put in your panty that can be controlled by phone. He will love those.

U = Unfair

He loves it when you beg for him. He can leave you without continuing your orgasm just for you to beg him. Sometimes when he is bored he tends to talk about how you are a mess for him.

V = Volume

He is whiny if you are the one who takes control. He is a bit vocal like he moans, but he often talk about how good you are for him.

W = Wild Card

He wants you to sit on his face. What if you crush him? He will be the happiest man alive. He wants you to dominate him especially when he is a whining mess, he just want to see you being a bossy then be a mess once you ride his dick.

X = X-ray

This man has a fat dick for aroundd 5'8 inches. Pretty pink mushroom tip. He's gifted i wanna rail him.

Z = Zzz

He's not a fast asleep he loves to spend the time with you. He only sleeps when you are already comfortable and clean. If he's tired he will fall asleep fast but he will do something for you tomorrow but tonight hug him to sleep.

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Hi, your last post about reader not knowing that it was sa, I saw that and I wanted to request something. What if reader knows that she have been through it but she mentions this as a joke, she says it and just keep going like she said something silly. How would the boys (141 + konig) react?

(I do this sometimes and I don’t like it, but it feels like some kind of copying mechanism)

I’m sorry if this was too much, do not feel that u need to write this.

Anyway, thank u so much and take care

Honestly I make out of pocket jokes about my own trauma all the time, so I feel this

tw: mentions of trauma, brief mentions of sexual assault- nothing graphic or descriptive, humor as a coping mechanism, comfort

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Whiplashed so hard his neck is broken

“You bein’ serious?”

You explain what happened but you’re a little too blasé about it, he understands humor as a coping mechanism but this is a little serious

And by ‘a little’ I mean very

“Love, you can’t just drop a bomb like that.” He tries to soften his tone but his rage at what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through

He doesn’t realize he’s being a little hypocritical, we’ve all heard his “army humor” so he really doesn’t have a lot of room to talk. But the fact that it happened to you has blinded him to that fact. It’s not that you can’t make jokes, it’s that you shouldn’t have to because it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He doesn’t even let you apologize before he’s pulling you into his arms, hands shaking, doing his best not to imagine what kind of sick fuck would do that to you

“Simon, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone is firm and he’s refusing to let you go, so instead of arguing, you opted to melt into his embrace. Hands running up and down his back and as he’s kissing the crown of your head he’s wondering how worthwhile it’d be to give the fucker a visit. Maybe teach him a lesson or two.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

Laughing with your joke at first but then it hits him like a ton of bricks

“Beg your pardon?”

You explain the joke and the context with a dismissive laugh before going back to what you were doing and he’s just frozen in place

Someone… hurt you… in one of the most awful ways imaginable, and you’re laughing it off?

He’s not sure if he should be in awe at your resilience or concerned at your choice of coping mechanism, so he takes a gentle approach

“Bonnie, you know you can talk to me, aye?”

“I know, I just… don’t want to burden you with it. I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault it happened.” He’s holding your hands in his, gently massaging the space between your thumb and your index finger,

“Aye that’s true, but it’s you. And I love you, good and bad included.” He gently held the back of your head and kissed your forehead,

“Anytime you feel like talkin’ I’m here. Copy?”

He doesn’t usually bring work jargon home but he knows it gets a laugh from you, and sure enough your little giggle proved him right

“Copy.”

John Price:

The whiplash also broke his neck

“Sorry, what?”

His heart broke when you explained yourself and whined that the explanation ruined the punchline

“Sweetheart, that’s no laughin’ matter.” His tone was gentle as he approached you, hands hesitantly coming to rest on your hips, suddenly unsure of himself

“Honey, I’m fine. It’s how I cope.”

“I know, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that. Just, maybe, talk to me about it instead, yeah?” One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes and leaned into the warmth of his palm, trapping it between your cheek and your shoulder

“I don’t wanna be a downer, John.”

“Never. I’m more concerned for your well-being than bloody mood. Am I clear?” As you looked in his eyes, you saw nothing but honesty and genuine concern, so you nodded

You closed your eyes and kissed his palm before he pulled you in to a tight embrace.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He heard you say it and weakly laughs before stopping as he chews on the words a little more

“Wait, what was that?”

And when you’re passively explaining it to him in the same way you’d talk about the weather he is in shock

He’s not sure if you’re trying to put on a brave face if you’re as nonchalant as you seem. He’s inclined to believe it’s the former.

“Babe that’s no joke. That’s kind of serious.”

“Don’t sweat it, Kyle. It’s how I’ve dealt with it. I’ve got it.”

He’s unsure but at the same time if it’s really worked for you so far then there’s no harm in letting it continue right? Wrong. He’s a little uncomfortable but it’s more so because it happened to you, someone he loves so deeply and he can’t fathom the idea

“Well yeah, I get that. But maybe we can talk about it when you feel like joking about it?” He shrugs, his words cautious and carefully chosen as he makes his suggestion

“I just want you to be alright. Ok?” His arms are rubbing yours before he’s pulling you into a hug, “I’ll always be here for you, babe.”

König:

Not a single chuckle from this man as he’s chewing over the words in his head

“Schatz, what’d you just say?”

When you explained what happened with a shrug and an all too casual tone, he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek

He doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, never in a million years, but jesus christ schatz, surely there’s no way?

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, he just can’t believe it happened to you, you’re the light of his life, his reason for existing, you’re the morning sun and the midnight moon, he’s truly in shock

“König?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and in two short steps he was in front of you, sinking to his knees and hugging your middle. He’s buried his face in your shoulder as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you run your fingers through his hair.

“Liebling, please don’t make those jokes anymore, ok?” His voice is so small and fragile, you almost felt like it was a child talking instead of the 6’ something behemoth at your feet, “I can’t stand to hear that you’ve been hurt like that.”

“König it’s ok, really. Humor is how I cope.” You kiss the crown of his head and your chin against it,

“I know, liebling, I know but I’d much rather you talk to me ok? Please? For me?”

[rotthepoet]

Need theo and lorenzo head cannons 😔

Good morning sweet pookie, i gotchu!! I needed a little break after that threesome so I did some random, some silly, some fluffy, and some smutty, kay? It’s really just a big brain dump on how I characterize the boys <3 Hope you enjoy, love ;)

P.s. if I have any reoccurring anon’s, if you want me to differentiate you, please feel free to assign yourself an emoji <3 unspoken rule i thought i’d say out loud

Theodore Nott

I agree with literally everyone on this app, he is a smarty pants, but i refuse to believe he sits down and studies

It’s not that he doesn’t care about his grades, he just doesn’t have to try to get good marks. Queen absorbs information like a sponge and retains that shit forever. Doesnt have to waste time with a boring textbook because he commits everything to memory.

That being said, he will remember everything about you. Your favorite movie you mentioned in passing, he saw you eat something particular multiple times he can infer its your favorite and will buy it for you often, he knows your habits, your aspirations, your desires. All of it. Does it for his close friends and lovers <3

Huge smoker. Like. Oral fixation final boss. Needs to have something to smoke or at least chew on at all times

I mentioned before how I think Mattheo and him laugh at people who vape, but Theodore Nott is a two faced LIAR and actually keeps a menthol alto with him at all times. For convenience sake. If you ask him, it’s different because its not a fun lil fruity flavor.

Speaking of Mattheo, those two are best friends. Like ride or die. Like. These two are bread and butter, inseparable and delicious.

Will internalize everything. This is why he gets so worked up and fights people. It may seem like him getting pissy over nothing, but this boy has some unresolved trauma and unmedicated issues.

Theo has ADHD prove me wrong and fuck you for trying(jk love you, but i will die on this hill.) severe anxiety issues, def some depression going on, hes working through some shit.

Theo can process a lot of stimulus at the same time. Watching him hold 3 steady conversations while reading a novel at the same time is a sight to behold.

Smokes weed a lot too. Mostly bud, but he’s smart and keeps a cart on him too for quick bathroom breaks when he needs to chill tf out. It slows down all the thoughts racing around his head. Lets him relax. Lets him feel peace. Let him feel comfortable. He’s been searching for that feeling his whole life.

Mommy and daddy issues check?

Anyways!

Theo is a player, and its not even because he tries to be.

Girls flock towards him, and he needs an outlet.

Sex is a good outlet.

Sex and drugs? Now we’re cooking

He doesn’t care much for the dating scene, didn’t think he was cut out for it. Bad home life. No mom. Depressed and emotionally distant evil dad. Friends and his family are all death eaters? Causes some bad views on relationships as a whole.

Omg but when he falls in love it takes forever but its so hard. Its so devastatingly hard.

It goes from “wow they really make me happy” to “omfg i need to marry them they make me feel complete and comfortable and it feels like i can finally be myself around someone this is the feeling i have been searching for my whole life” really fast when he falls

He’d never love at first sight. Refuse it. He might think someone is pretty or handsome, but he won’t ever describe it as love at first sight.

100% friends to lovers

He’s a quality time kinda guy i think

Just likes co-existing really

Stay in the room with him in silence as he reads and hes so golden

But that will bump up several notches and enjoy every other love language too

He wants to make you love him. He’ll do anything for you. Buy anything for you. Tell you everyday how wonderful you are

He’s being so genuine too

His friends would know

He never shuts up about you

If you had never spoken to his friends, never met them, they’d be able to come up to you in a grocery store and say “oh. You’re <you>, right?”

And dear god he genuinely cries a little in relief when you finally say yes

He’s buried his face in your hair and hugging you so tightly and he tries not to cry because he finally has everything he needs in his arms

He’s such a good boyfriend

Will never question you(at least not at first or without good reason)

Literally worships the ground you walk on

Will apologize first immediately after every meaningless petty fight

Thats different about real fighting though. Stubborn ass bitch

Anyways

Dotes on you everyday

Calls you so many sweet names in Italian

Has an Italian accent but sometimes tries a British accent to throw everyone off.

Argues in italian

Lowkey hates snow

Runs super cold so loves lovvesss hot weather

Will take you to Italy over the summer

Demands you go

Fucks you on the balcony of his family home

Fucks you stupid on the beach

Sorry where was I going with this

Ah yes anyways

Runs super cold so like is a big fan of cuddles. Lots of sweaters for you to steal

He likes turning cuddles into more slow and intimate things

Slowly fingering you as you spoon

Cockwarming in the morning or late at night<3

So much worship.

So much

Just adores you.

Loves fast rough sex but honestly could go on about slow love making for hours

Literally cant stand American reality tv

The biggest kardashian hater

Knows all the gossip because he’s quiet and listens

Doesnt care to share it though

Lorenzo Berkshire

Bitchboy extraordinaire

If I met Lorenzo Berkshire he would become #1 on my shitlist so fast

I called theo a two faced liar as a joke

But Enzo actually is one

Literally puts on the nicest mask for pretty girls, but every ex, and every guy in hogwarts knows he’s a conniving bitch behind closed doors

One of the richest in the group and it shows

Flaunts his money everywhere he goes

His ears are pieced

Also he likes having his ears bitten it can make him hard as a rock in seconds

Dates, but it usually only lasts a month and Hes the worst boyfriend ever

Dumps them whenever he gets bored

But omg when a person gives him his attitude back

Well first he gets even meaner

But also he likes you so much like… that was hot

And if you ignore his existence? On you like a moth to a flame

Craves attention

Such an attention seeker

Still will fight, isn’t very good, but will try

100% a prefect

Showers his pookie with so much love and attention

When he finally gets the person he wants, hes on top of them 24/7

Never a hand straying to far

Literally obsessed

Big fan of exhibitionism

Will fuck uou on the train, the bathrooms, the common room, the classroom

Its all fair game

Would love to see you all tied up in pretty ribbons for his birthday

Ass man 100%

Likes to just get a fistfull while you hug or cuddle

Mattheo and him are the biggest gossipers

Has like 4k followers on instagram because hes so pretty

Father and mother are hirh death eaters. Does anyone know Berkshire lore because i def dont

Like fr can someone explain him to me

Pairs well with anyone in the grouo, really

Gets along especially with Theo or Mattheo

Amazing at card games, and says he’s amazing at chess too. Hes not.

Literally refuses to snack, says it’ll ruin his physique

On the quidditch team much like everyone else he’s friends with

Slays at herbology

Maybe a bit of a smoker? Not often, and def more weed than tobacco

Light weight for reals

Like severely light weight

He’s the laughingstock of the friend group for it

Him and Mattheo have a running bet on who can fuck the most women

Omg omg omg because they so do the alphabet challenge im so sorry but its factual

Lorenzo is currently winning with 15/26 letters in the alphabet but Mattheo isnt too far behind

Its because Lorenzo is so charming and Mattheo…. Is himself.

Anyways back to being his significant other

Will spoil you

Relentlessly

Lowkey expects head in return but that will wear ofd eventually

109% more likely to start a fwb situation than anything else

Treats you like a girlfriend this whole time

Kisses you sweetly, holds uou close when you sleep, mumbles about how special you are

Just being a girlfriend without the title because then it gets too weird

Loses his shit if you get tired of trying and break it off

Genuinely ballistic if he loses you

Will pull as many favors and as many strings as he can to get yiu back

Seriously considers murder for a while

Anyways he gets you back baby<3

Speaking of babies hes super good with kids

Look at that face

Amazing dad face

Scared of marriage lmao

Bad parents. Fucked up views on relationships

Its a thing for all of them tbh

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

We got each other (and that's a lot)

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

Rated: M

CW: Violent imagery; aftermath of injury

Tags: Steve got vecna'd (he's okay, though); Angst; Trauma; Fluff

Notes: Continued from day 3. They'll be fine, they just need to kiss some and get a lot of therapy, probably.

Wanna see these soft, broken boys sleeping? Check out the heartwrenching art by @house-of-the-moving-image

Eddie drifts.

Inky blackness surrounds him like cotton, every sound, every thought muffled. His neck and fingers and arms still hurt, but it's the dull kind that comes with exhaustion, the tingle of adrenaline finally rushing from his body. Some distant part of him is still stirring, demanding that they stay alert … but the darkness is warm and soft and alluring as it pulls him under. 

Something cold touches his hand. 

Eddie flinches awake, heart kickstarting in his chest, fear zapping into his limbs like an electric current.

He fell asleep, he realizes, and the terror of it claws its way up his throat like a slimy, rotten tangle of vines. He fell asleep and when he opens his eyes it'll be to find Steve floating under the ceiling again, to find Steve's mangled corpse on the bed, eyes sucked from their sockets, face twisted in an eternal, grotesque scream, it's too late and he fell asleep, he fucking fell asleep while- 

Steve is awake. 

Steve is awake and he's looking at him and he's alive and his hand is lying on top of Eddie’s. It's cold and there's a needle in it from the IV cord and he's ghastly pale against the sheets, but he's smiling softly and he's alive, he's alive and Eddie wants to scream, to cry, to kiss him and never stop, to hold him and never let go-

"Hey," Steve whispers. 

"Hey," Eddie croaks. "You look like shit, man."

"Aw," says Steve, and the corners of his mouth twitch and Eddie thought he'd never see his smile again and shitshitshit don't cry, Munson, don't cry. "Thought I was pulling it off real well." 

He jerks his head in the general direction of the cast on his right leg, the one on his left arm. Eddie thinks he'll hear the sound of the bones breaking in his nightmares for the rest of his life.

"Typical," is what he says. "Half dead and still worried about your looks." 

Steve hums a not-quite-laugh. His fingers caress the back of Eddie’s hand. 

"Is he …?" 

"Dead," Eddie blurts. "For real this time. It's over." 

"The kids?" Steve's fingers twitch.

"Fine," Eddie says, watches how Steve's entire form sags with relief. "Buckley and Wheeler, too. And everyone else. It's over." 

"I- good." Steve screws his eyes shut, gulps. Draws a shuddering breath. "That's good." 

Eddie watches how his shoulders start shaking. Following a sudden impulse, he flips his hand and tangles his hand with Steve's, careful not to upset the needle. Steve blinks down at their entwined fingers. 

Eddie forces himself to smile and rambles on before either of them can question the gesture. 

"El was so fucking metal, you should've seen her. Like, the way she obliterated that douchebag? Remind me to never get on that girl's bad side! Seriously, man, I don't think any of us would be here if she hadn't-" 

"Well, I don't think I would be here …" says Steve. "... if it hadn't been for you." 

Eddie’s words barrel to a stop. Steve’s fingers tighten against his, trace the callouses on his hands. Steve’s smile is small and soft, but his eyes are serious, trained stubbornly on the ugly pattern of his hospital gown. 

"I thought you hated Bon Jovi." 

Eddie huffs. "Fuck, yeah, I do. Forcing me to besmirch my Sweetheart's strings with that mainstream shit? You owe me big time, man. Better start thinking of ways to pay me back."

"Yeah?" Steve raises their tangled hands lightly. "How's this for a start?" 

And then, before Eddie can even wonder what he's about to do, he ducks his head and presses a kiss to his knuckles. His lips are soft and warm. 

Eddie blinks. Waits for the world to stop spinning. 

"For … a start?" he repeats dumbly. 

Steve's eyebrow quirks. 

"Dude, I'd like to do so much more, but I'm glad I managed to lift your hand, to be honest. We should also first talk about stuff, I guess." 

"Oh," Eddie says intelligently. "You mean … like that thing you wanted to tell me?" 

"Yeah, like tha- … that thing." Steve needs to interrupt himself for a huge yawn halfway through. Since one of his arms is in a cast and the other hand is refusing to let go of Eddie’s, it ends up open-mouthed and adorable. "Probably'll have to sleep some more b'fore that, though …"

"Sure thing," Eddie is out of his chair and fussing with the pillow before he realizes what he's doing. Steve's eyes are already drooping as he helps him settle down. "I'll … I'll be outside, tell the others you're-" 

"Eddie?" Steve's grip around his wrist is light as a feather, but he still stops like he's been tethered in place. When he turns, there's fear swimming in those pretty eyes. "Stay? I don't … I'd rather not be alone." 

Eddie is back in his chair before Steve can finish the sentence. 

"Can you…" Steve's eyes are slipping shut again and his words are slurred, so that Eddie must lean closer to catch them. "D’you think you can sing? So I can find my way back, if- … Your voice is like light."

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know if there's anything he could possibly say to that. So he says nothing. Just swallows around the lump in his throat and takes Steve's hand and starts singing softly. 

By the time Steve's breath evens out and his fingers go limp, Eddie’s other hand has found its way into his hair. 

Eddie keeps singing for a long while.

For as long as he's here, Steve will always have someone to guide him back.

Part 3

All my holiday drabbles

[papercorgiworld]

Pansy’s potion

Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, Enzo and Theo

When Pansy gives you something to relax at a party all innocence leaves you and you get a little naughty. The slytherin boys try to keep you from doing anything stupid, but you’re making it quite hard.

Warning: very suggestive! And if your shady friends offers you a shady drink say no

A/N: Look dear followers I feel the need to apologise, because I’m less active. I still write and post, but I read less and I’m just less active. So if I miss out on your stories, moodboards, tags, comments or reblogs I’m sorry. Just know that my heart is with you 💛

While I was working on requests I also wrote this little side project of my own. The next request is gonna be very angsty so before the trauma I’m sending you some fun. Since I wrote this in between other works, you'll notice that it's a bit rushed, apologies. Also, It's kinda short, but still Happy readings!

Read part two here: Pansy's Prediction

“You are always so stressed. Here, have this. It will help take the edge off, so you can have some fun tonight.” You take the small glass Pansy offers you and study it for a moment. “What is it?” Pansy smirks. “Nothing too bad.” 

Understatement. It was bad. 

The next moment you’re dancing with Draco. You wrap your arms around his neck as you seduce him with your eyes, all while your body moves perfectly in Draco’s hands. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” He whispers against your ear and you brush your lips over his cheek as your mouth moves to his ear to answer. “I just wanna have a little fun. You don’t mind, do you?” Draco swallows hard and he feels his whole body heat up, next you turn around, pressing your back against Draco’s chest and slowly grinding against him. 

Draco was seriously confused, you were always the first to blush and now you were confident and flirty making him blush. Blaise frowns as he approaches you and Draco. “What’s going on here?” He asks, smiling awkwardly. Your teasing eyes land on his, before moving away from Draco. You sling your arms around Blaise’s neck and Draco clenches his jaw at the sight. Blaise only laughs and looks at you. “How much did you drink?” You move closer to him pressing your chest against his. “Not enough. I’m still thirsty.” You whisper and Blaise’s eyes go wide at the way that last word comes out. He stops moving and his hands move to your hips, holding you still. “Are you okay?” You bite your lip, while your eyes focus on his lips. You go stand on your tiptoes and Blaise quickly pushes your head in the crook of his neck to keep you from kissing him. You're disappointed with the hug, since you really wanted that kiss. “Okay, let’s not do anything silly.” Blaise shushes and strokes your hair gently. It demands every piece of self control to not just let you devour his lips as he could see you wanted to, but he knew better than to take advantage of you.

Blaise lets go of you for one moment to ask Draco for an explanation, but the next moment you’re gone and both guys panic. They quickly spread the word to Theodore, Lorenzo and Mattheo and the lot of them decide to search for you before you do anything stupid. 

“You’re not just the chosen one, you’re also my chosen one.” You say licking your lips as Harry gawks at you, but before you get the chance to move closer Mattheo’s strong arms snake around you. “Don’t even think about it Potter.” Mattheo growls at Harry. You turn around in Mattheo’s arms, so you’re now facing him. “Matty!” You sing, before moving your lips to his ear. “Glad you decided to join the party, I was getting kinda bored.” Mattheo smiled nervously, now discovering first hand what Draco and Blaise were talking about. “Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you out of here.” You lean into Mattheo. “Taking me to your room? I knew you were the man I could count on.” Mattheo stares at you with wide eyes and feels his member twitch in his pants as your hand moves over his chest and down until he grabs your wrist. A nervous chuckle leaving his lips as he watches your eyes filled with mischief. He needed to get you out of here and keep you from doing anything stupid, but he also needed to keep himself in check. How can someone so innocent suddenly be such a tease?

“Thank Merlin. You found her.” Enzo said as he joined you and Mattheo in the hallway. “Yeah, but she’s-” You don’t let Mattheo finish his warning and tug on Enzo’s shirt, pulling him into you, so you’re now sandwiched between Enzo and Mattheo. Enzo parts his lips to say something, but you don’t let him and seize the opportunity to kiss him. Mattheo immediately pulls you away from a shocked Lorenzo. “Did she just kiss me?” Mattheo groans. “Be careful around her, Berkshire. She’s wild, she almost unzipped my pants in the middle of the crowd.” You roll your eyes. “Well, maybe Enzo isn’t such a prude like you, Matty.” You pout at Mattheo who still firmly holds on to your wrists. “Let’s get her to the common room.” Enzo says with an urgent voice and Mattheo nods.

Enzo holds both your hands as he moves you to the couch, while Mattheo writes a note that flies off to find Theodore. “Theodore will know what to do. The right potion will get her back to normal.” Mattheo breathes and looks around to find Enzo struggling as you try to make him fall onto the couch with you. “No, (y/n).” Mattheo says with a stern voice and you stop to look at him innocently, but there’s obvious teasing in your eyes. “Yes, daddy.” Your seductive voice has both guys sigh. “She’s drugged right?” Enzo looks over to Mattheo who takes a seat next to you. “What do you think, Berkshire?” Mattheo snaps. 

You move your hand over Mattheo’s thigh. “No need to be so be so stressed, Matty.” You whisper with hungry eyes. Enzo tries to intervene by tugging your other hand, but you look at him with those same intense eyes. “I have to hands so no need to get jealous, Enz.” You grab Enzo’s shirt and bring him closer to your lips. Just then Theo enters and he instantly frowns as he sees you. “Well, they say three’s a party, but four...” You spread your legs as a clear suggestion to Theodore. Enzo gulps at your action, while Mattheo throws his head back. Theodore raises his eyebrows as he realizes how bad this is. “Okay let’s just tie her hands up for every one’s safety.” Theodore suggests and you smile. “Kinky.” Mattheo’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your teasing voice.

After some reading Theodore finds an easy antidote and cooks it up in a few minutes. When Theodore offers you a glass filled with the gooey potion you shake your head. “I’ll only do body shots.” You say moving your tongue over your lips. The three guys seriously feel their self control is being tested. “No, just drink it love.” Mattheo urges and you bite your lip staring at his brown eyes. “If you drink this you can do whatever you want… to us.” Enzo tries to convince you and you sensually lean over to Enzo. “So I can-s” Mattheo interrupts you before you say something unholy again. “Yes, just please drink it, please.” The guys are pleased when you nod, since they were worried they would get even hornier than you if this continued for long. You drink it and immediately fall asleep.

“Okay, she’s asleep, so you guys watch, I need a moment.” Enzo says already moving in the direction of their dorm. “Yeah, Theo, you watch her. I need a moment as well.” Mattheo adds and Theodore rolls his eyes. “Guys, I’m at my limits as well.” Just then Draco, Blaise and Pansy enter the common room. “You guys watch (y/n). I’ve got business.” Theodore says and the three arrivals look confused for a moment. 

“Maybe, I overdosed a bit.” Pansy admits watching your sleeping figure, making everyone look at her. “You did this?” Draco snares and Pansy shrugs. “I just gave her something to take the edge off.” Mattheo’s eyes fill with anger. “Take the edge off? Take the edge off?! She was ready to take everyone’s clothes off, including her own!” Pansy rolls her eyes. “How was I supposed to know that beneath all that innocence was a desperately horny girl. Maybe one of you should volunteer to help the poor girl out? Help her relax, give her what she needs but doesn’t dare ask for?” At Pansy’s suggestion the slytherin common room went quiet as the guys felt their hormones peak. Give you what you need, but don’t dare ask for… 

***

“I am never leaving my room.” You say with a pillow over your head and Pansy rolls her eyes at your dramatics. “It wasn’t that bad.” Hermione judges Pansy. “She almost jumped Malfoy, Zabini, Riddle, Berkshire and Nott. In that exact order!” Pansy frowns. “Don’t slut shame, Granger. If a girl wants dick, there’s no shame in that.” Hermione narrows her eyes at Pansy. “One dick fine, but-“ Hermione is interrupted when you throw a pillow at her. “I’ve made up my mind I’m transfer to another school.” Pansy huffs. “And why would you do that? I mean you have several handsome fellas lining up for you… especially now that they know what’s behind all that prudish and innocent facade of yours.” You groan. 

This is a nightmare! But… are they really lining up for me?

Word count: 1484

Did you spot a weird phrase? A typo? Let me know! Feedback is always welcome.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

need a scene where Charlie's visiting Carmilla looking to convince her into doing more active support, and Vaggie's in the background checking out a new angelic weapon drop, piping up occasionally like-

Vaggie: “This one's also fake”

Carmilla: “(sigh) I'll need to get an explanation for that.”

Vaggie: “Can i watch?”

Carmilla: “You can do the honors if you like.”

Charlie: “NO killing.”

Vaggie: “Aww sweetie of course no killing. We wanna see the weapon drops improve, not die off.”

Charlie: “Good! That’s good. Jussst checking.”

Carmilla: “A sharp spear and a mind for business. I can see why you made her your hotel manager.”

Charlie: “Oh she's a lot less stabby back at the hotel!”

Vaggie: (tries and fails to look like this is true)

Carmilla: "Really."

Charlie: “....She's, SLIGHTLY less stabby back at the hotel…?”

Vaggie: (Can'tEvenDenyIt.jpeg)

Carmilla: “Then I’m impressed you have any guests still living there.”

Charlie: “We’ve had some close calls.”

Vaggie: “HA! They wouldn’t have just been ��close’ if I’d had a few of THESE bad boys on me.”

Charlie: "...."

Charllie: “… you know what? Maybe we should hold off on the whole weapons deal for now. Maybe we’re good on weapons.”

Vaggie: “Wh- but- Charlie!"

Carmilla: “Are you sure? You’ve been pushing for this deal all week.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie noooo, LOOK AT THIS THING! Think of the range I’d have- the blunt force trauma- the blood loss-”

Charlie: “I’m thinking one former exorcist in the hotel is weapons enough, actually.”

Vaggie: “-and I have WINGS again now! Can you imagine slinging a spiked ball and chain around while airborne-”

Carmilla: “Yes. I see your point.”

Vaggie, being lovely led out of the weapons storeroom by Charlie, making sad puppy eyes at all the angel slaying weapons she's leaving behind, hurriedly whispering "save the ball and chain for me Miss Carmine? please??" to a mildly amused Carmilla as she sees them out

[rboooks]

The bakery is a front....right? PART 4

Dedicated to @foxy-tea. Thank you for your lovely words!

Danny didn't want to do it, but he had to admit that his mating season peak had arrived and could not work in that condition. It wasn't that Danny was like a cat in heat, wanting to engage in intercourse all the time.

No, his body craved a life partner and a child to smother in fierce paternal love. It was a bit worse if you asked him. If he just manwhore his way through the city over three months, well, they would just whisper about how easy he was.

A bit embarrassing but not uncommon for someone with Danny's good looks.

Instead, his mating season made him a would-be kidnapper.

He had to physically slam a hot pot of coffee on his hand a week ago when a customer had walked in with a baby, and Phantom had tried to leap over the counter to take the babbling bundle of joy as his own.

Not to mention how Phantom reacted to some of his youngest delivery employees. He hadn't realized he was mumbling "Mine. mine. mine. mine. mine" while approaching Manolo for his latest delivery until Peter had stepped into his path with the dirtiest glare Danny had ever seen.

The punch to his throat hadn't knocked the wind out of him- since Phantom had stopped his breathing three days prior - but it was enough to get Danny out of the daydreams of tucking Manolo into bed after a cup of tea and a bedtime story.

We could teach him to bake. We can teach him to ride a bike. We can sit through all his school performances, no matter how bad they are. We could be his dad. Phantom had cried as Manolo had thrown himself between Peter and Danny, his little arms spread wide to protect him. Let me have the child! Manolo is mine! He's mine to love, mine to protect!

Danny had never had such trouble getting Phantom to settle.

In seconds, Peter was quickly surrounded by Andres' friends and the rest of Danny's staff. He had taken a fighter position, looking around like an animal about to maul its victims while Danny wrestled with himself to get control.

He and Phantom are not two separate personalities fighting for control but one person with conflicting instincts.

One of a human's most basic instincts is self-preservation. A ghost's most basic instinct is self-fulfillment.

Danny did not want things to become a free-for-all where someone could get hurt. Phantom tried to fight them all to claim the kids under his protection.

Thankfully, everything was deescalated by Jazz's timely arrival. Danny couldn't really remember what she had done (too busy struggling to hold himself as a human and not go ghost to become the most excellent dad to ever dad). Still, if there was one gift Jazz had, it was being able to reason with spirits about their obsessions.

If she could convince beings whose entire existence depended on being stubborn about a particular subject, she could persuade humans of anything.

Peter had been allowed to leave with no injuries, and even two days paid off, while the rest had realized that the man had just acted out of PTSD due to what Jazz called "projecting trauma in safe settings."

There were a lot of people in this area that understood what PTSD episodes did to them and had not faulted Petter. Manolo even gave Peter a small crocheted fox to help him overcome the fear.

(Danny had given the small fox plushy to Manolo when the kid first arrived at his bakery, proclaiming it had a protective spell to keep fear away. He had yet to be aware the boy carried around with him.)

Jazz had then taken Danny to his apartment, where she had placed him in quarantine. She had been informed by Frost Bite during their bi-weekly mentor/protegee meetings- Jazz was studying under the Yeti in Ghost Psychology- that Danny's Peak had arrived. Danny would jack up his "I need to be a dad" and "I need to be a husband" urges to Fruitloop levels.

Danny would try to force someone into that role if he was around humans or ghosts, even if it was against their will. Ugh, he would be a Vlad 2.0 for a full two weeks!

He could not risk himself around others. So with a heavy heart, he informed his employees he would be stepping away for a two-week long vacation and had made it seem like he left on a plane to visit Jazz overseas.

His staff would take care of the bakery for him, but it saddened Danny he could not be there to help with things. He then sealed off all entries to his apartment and informed the residents of the Ghost zone he was in, "Mating Peak retreat," so no one would bother him past a few already mated servants of the Ghost King.

They would bring him supplies and requests through a no-contact portal once he ordered them through a magical catalog. It was like online shopping for ghosts.

Danny now had to wait two weeks for this to finally go away, and he could go about his ordinary daily life of being perfectly dead and alive. Until it happened again the following year.

Elli told him to be grateful it was only a yearly thing, not a monthly deal. He shuddered at the mere thought of experiencing this every month.

Done! Phantom cheers snapping Danny back to reality. In his hands are a pair of freshly crocheted booties. He hadn't even been aware he was making them.

They look great, Danny tells Phantom, turning them in his hands to smile at the giant sunflowers on each side. A button was used as the center of the flowers, and Phantom even included a few lace designs around them to look like leaf vines.

They are based on the park's flowers.

The park?

Yes, the park where you promised to take me today! Phantom goes from calmly talking to screaming, and Danny winces.

You know I can't go outside. You'll just try to steal a child from the park.

I would never forget to also steal a wife or husband!

Danny sighs, rubbing his face knowing he was telling himself that forgetting a spouse was worse than the idea of kidnapping people. He places the booties on top of an ever-growing pile. Since his quarantine has begun, Danny has made about two hundred pairs of various styles, sizes, and colors.

Danny looks around at the piles and piles of other of his crocheting projects. He's got sweaters, scarves, gloves, socks, hats, beanies, and even blazers for various genders, ages, and styles meant to help with the coldest winter. He could adequately dress his whole street and still have some left over.

All prepared for his nonexisting family.

He has been making them at the same speed he can fly, i.e., 200 mph. He's made some yarn dealers in the zone extremely wealthy. He can't help it, though. Danny has frozen every inch of his apartment too far too cold levels for an average human without proper wear.

He's been working fast because his human mind knew that the cold was terrible for his lover and children, so it wanted to keep them nice and warm. While his ghost side added layers of snow to the floor and ice to the walls, he even made decorative ice sculptures that he desperately reorganized again and again to find the perfect balance of the cold. Only his electronics were not frozen over, so even his furniture had layers of ice- some with designs to make them look fancier.

He's also cooked up a storm in preparation for feeding his family. Only to realize a spouse and kids were not coming, thus forcing him to donate his meals to the ghost delivery people. They were ever so happy to have five-course meals shoved at them just for bringing the king more yarn.

Danny throws himself face-first into the pile of snow from his couch, allowing the softness to cushion his fall. There is a terrible itch under the skin. It's begging him to leave to find someone to kiss and worship. Unwillingly, Alvin's face appears in his mind before he turns over and stares at his ceiling. He's made all the constellations into small carvings on the ice. I can't go outside. I can watch another movie or make more bagels instead.

Watching another romance movie won't bring me a mate! Phantom hisses.

I know but-

Suddenly Danny senses flair as someone crosses over his wards. Sitting up in alarm, Danny makes a break for his room as even more people join the first and break into his guest room through a window. Not that he can't take whoever they are, but if he comes face to face with them-well, Danny thinks he may keep them.

That's not something he's willing to risk.

Phantom is already throwing out some severe pheromones that would likely infatuate them to Danny, babbling about this being their chance. Four adults- spouses!- and a child- a son or daughter!- have entered their main haunt. They had to give them food and warm clothes and cuddle them until they never left!

No!

He can't force them to stay!

He had to make them stay even if it meant chaining them!

No, they would be miserable!

Phantom could make them happy forever!

The effort to stay in his human control took so much effort Danny started to aggressively twitch as he fumbled with the hidden room in the back of an old wardrobe. He's breathing heavily, trying to get his blurry vision to focus so he can open the darn thing and get in. Finally, it does, and Danny just barely closes it when a figure bursts through the door.

He watches through a small crack as the figure carefully looks over his frozen domain. It's one of the vigilantes. Red Robin.

What is he doing here?

The man walks into his room, leaving behind disruptive snow that goes up his ankles.

Thank the Ancients, his footprints do not appear in his own snow. Otherwise, a perfect trail would lead the hero straight to him. Instead, he watches with a hand over his mouth as Red Robin carefully searches his room.

Danny cuts off his need to breathe as the sound would give him away. Still, he's twitching so much that he's practically shaking as the hero carefully breaks the ice over his drawers and pulls out his clothes in quick, careful movements.

Go away. Go away. Go away. Danny thinks desperately. He should have tried calling someone. Jazz. Ellie. Even his parents or Vlad!

None of them would cause his instincts to want to force them to play house- though he would likely still try to imprison them since he would like to protect them non the less.

But they could at least do something and get the poor vigilante somewhere safe!

Never leave. Never leave. Never leave. Phantom purrs, and oh no, an intense burst of pheromones is sent through the room. Red Robin freezes; from what little Danny can see of his face, it's flushed red, and gosh, he wants to smother that man in so much love-

"Guys, I think I came in contact with the drug," Red Robin pants after pressing his hand to his ear. "I don't know how, but I am definitely feeling something. Think it's airborne, but not sure."

He doesn't finish his sentence before Redhood and Nightwing are suddenly in his room. Nightwing has a gas mask over his face while Red Hood swings a gun around the room, looking for a target.

Danny almost whines at the gentle way Nightwing helps Red Robin into a sitting position. He's looking him over with such loving protection that he- that Danny- Phantom wants him- wants a husband-!

"Shit," Red Hood hisses, body pushing back as if some strong wind had hit him. "Yeah, it's definitely in this room. Felt a bit of it, even with my built-in filters. Wing?"

"Did the room get colder?" Nightwing asks as he helps Red Robbin to his feet. The other man seems to be feeling better with his gas mask, but he must still be effect by Phantom's pheromones.

"The wardrobe." Red Robin gasps, pointing unknowingly right at Danny. "The ice around it is getting bigger. And...it's leaking."

What? Danny looks down only to see in horror a knocked-over jar of fresh ectoplasm. He hadn't even been aware he had broken the thing when he crawled here.

The jars were the ones that he gathered with Jazz and Ellie after a three-day foraging trip. All ghosts were made of Ecoplasim, but just like you couldn't stick blood into someone without being comparable, you couldn't use any random ectoplasm for other people- humans or ghosts.

It had to be some of the purest natural kind, not linked to any type of beings, like a river of ectoplasm or the frozen pillars in the farthest parts of the Far Frozen. Giving someone ectoplasm from one's body could taint them in the donator's obsession.

Yes, Danny could make more people protective of each other, but it would likely cause them to be Fruitloop-level protective. They just didn't have the filter like he did to not go mad.

That pure kind was now leaking out of his hiding place and into the white snow of his main lair.

Danny only has a second to panic before the door is wrenched open, and he falls into a stunned Red Robin.

He goes limp from the shock as Phantom purrs, settling in his mind now that he's pressed against a possible mate. Like Danny said, it's not intercourse his ghost side is after, it's close contact, and this is enough to satisfy it.

"Shit, it's Danny. He-he's not breathing, and he's ice cold. I think he's de-dead." Red Robin says in what sounds like tears.

No. My husband is sad. Danny and Phantom think, a terrible pulse of pain bursting across his chest. He can't get his body to move to offer comfort, though. It's been a whole week since he last saw someone in person, and this is so nice. Why did he ever fight this instinct? It felt so good to give in.

He could stay in Red Robin's arms forever.

Red Robin was never going to see the clear sky again. He was never leaving this apartment.

"I found something," Red Hood's voice is behind him. "It looks like it is Lazarus' water, but it's clearer. I think this is our drug. Danny must have ODed."

"No! He can't- we have to do something!" Red Robin cries, and Danny slumps further against him like a broken doll. He's not blinking. Blinking is for humans. Danny isn't a human.

His unfocused eyes stare at wherever Red Robin has him positioned to look.

"There is nothing we can do, Red Robin," A new voice says though not unkindly. Phantom doesn't turn his head but can see Batman walk up behind Red Robin, wearing his gas mask. He places his hand on the trembling vigilante. "You need to put him down."

"No!" Phantom purs as the arms around his shoulders bring them closer to his husband's body.

"It's too late for him, Drake. We can only honor his death."

That....that was a voice of a child. A child is in his main haunt.

Phantom wails in joy.

He gets out of his husband's arms, leaping over Batman, and his arms are around a boy in red, green, and yellow. Phantom smothers his face against the hood covering the boy's head, and short sobs rank his body. "My baby! You're my baby!"

"Unhand me!" His little grunts slamming a knife into Phantom's side, but that doesn't matter because Phantom has his son and his husband in his nest.

A bullet harmlessly passes through his forehead after a loud bang, creating a hole in Phantom's wall. He'll take care of that after he smothers his baby in cuddles.

Nightwing swings a baton at Phantom, but that, too, passes through his body without harm.

"Shit! Danny put him down!"

Huh, was that Sam?

"Danny, I mean it. Drop him!"

Oh, Tucker too!

"Daniel Fenton, you let that boy go right now!" Jazz sounded upset. Maybe she should hold his baby. "Are you listening to me?"

"Danny is not here right now." He hears his body say.

"Ohhhhh. That's not good. Okay, Danny time for a nap!" Ellie flies into his face, her hand glowing green and he has a moment to gasp at the betrayal before she blasts him.

He drops, knowing no more.

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 5)

[podcastenthusiast]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Mostly payneland <3 I will update as I find more fics.

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

The Things We Can, and Cannot, Do by MDJensen

Paul Rowland is dead. It's not just that, though.

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? by DontOffendTheBees

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.   In which a very, very old case is re-opened.

Mom Says It's My Turn to Jump on the Grenade by RoseGanymede95

Charles tried to pay attention, because Edwin was really upset, and Charles still didn’t understand why, and it seemed like this might be important. It was just, they’d been at this for a while, and Edwin kept asking him the same questions and not leaving him time to answer, so. His mind may have wandered a bit to how he would reinforce the next cricket bat. His attention snapped back to the present when Edwin said, “This can’t happen. You can’t risk this, I can’t be the reason you risk it. You have to move on.” “Move on?” Charles repeated blankly. “Move on from what?” “From here, Charles!” Edwin shouted, suddenly furious again, suddenly shouting even though his eyes were filled with tears. “You have to go with Death! You have to leave!” “I don’t want to go with Her,” Charles said, nonplussed. “Fine, that’s your business, but you can’t keep hanging around me!” Edwin snapped. Charles’ world suddenly tilted on its axis, sending everything askew. “I can’t?” he asked, his voice small, his heart wide open and exposed.

Let me bleed instead of you by mellxncollie

The question rang like a cracked bell in what had only just become someplace Edwin had started to contemplate calling home. “What was Hell like?” - Charles and Edwin keep secrets from one another. The list isn't long, but it's not empty. Eventually, they start tumbling out in soft whispers, in tear-reddened eyes, in shocked expressions, in choked up phrases.

Or, 40 years and 8 secrets.

Indelible by Arisprite

Charles is feeling a lot and also not much at all in the immediate aftermath of returning from Hell. He also can tell Edwin is wearing thin from holding himself together. Who wouldn't be, after that? It's okay, though. Charles can take care of him, and he always always will.

Done Running by Asidian

Charles has gone a peculiar off color, all the blood blanched from his cheeks. He glances to the arm, and then back up to Edwin's face. "Any break's a bad break, innit?"

"Some have more drawbacks than others," says Edwin, detached and scholarly. "For instance, unless the nerves are compromised, it is possible to make use of the injured arm in cases of extreme –"

"Bloody hell," breathes Charles.

Joi de Vivre by olympus_mons

Edwin Payne crawls out of Hell twice. Somehow, his problems begin in the aftermath.

so many ways to give in by piilu

“I think there’s something really wrong with me, mate,” Charles sobs, the remains of the bat falling from his hand. ---- Charles struggles with his anger issues. Again.

A Room of One's Own by DarkStars (Worlds_Okayest_Goalie)

Crystal is so tired of watching Charles and Edwin stare longingly at each other. OR 5 times Crystal tells Charles and Edwin to get a room and 1 time they do.

Shape Me by dearheartdont

At least twice a year Charles and his mum packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware.

Charles Rowland and his relationship with his extended family and heritage.

(Part of a series of snapshots of Charles’ life in the 1980s.)

half of my soul, as the poets say by thegirlofthorns

Edwin existed, just as Charles had. Charles, who occupied a space in loving memory. A much-deserved space – Edwin would have wanted it no other way – but the core of him wanted to scream that he had been here, too. He never would be again, but he had lived, and he had breathed and laughed and moved with too much frippery and frill to continue on breathing, and he had been a whole person, once. And it had not mattered. So looked at CHARLES ROWLAND through tears, allowed himself to. Even Charles's hammer on metal on stone was not enough to dull the pain, but it was enough to remind him that he was still here, even if he was no longer living. It was an awful sound, a jarring sound, and tears shone in Charles’s eyes as he focused intently on carving out the A in his surname, but it was something. They were there, together, and they were feeling.

- Or, Charles finds Edwin's unmarked grave and will, in the lightest of terms, not be having it.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, and Very Bad by hibye

It was about the torture. The torture he was experiencing presently, and also every minute of every hour of every day, standing alongside Edwin Payne and saying nothing out of the ordinary at all.

O Spirit From The Great Beyond! by InTwainFiction

Edwin is ignoring Charles.

They haven't spoken in almost twelve hours, and all because of a little incident involving some puppies. Yes, said incident may have been Charles' fault, but he has apologised a million times.

Charles is getting desperate to find a way to get Edwin to talk to him again, and a little walk away from the office provides just the thing Charles needs.

He hopes it will get Edwin to talk to him, but at the very least it will be a laugh.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

“The house is… sad,” the client responds.

“Again, we can’t help with selling the house. Maybe try some decorations. That’ll brighten the old place up,” Charles suggests.

“No, you misunderstand. The house doesn’t look sad. The house is sad. It is depressed.”

“How do you figure?” Edwin says, sitting up in his chair now that the client has said something potentially interesting.

or A new case brings up old feelings, and maybe something more.

A Heaven Like They Talk About by LikeMmCookies

After managing to piss off yet another witch, Edwin and Charles are cursed as punishment. Bewildered, powerless, and lacking answers, they face their greatest challenge yet: being human again.

With Edwin doing novel things like picking out shampoo and wearing different pants, Charles finds his body reacting in strange ways to his best friend. He questions if these are new feelings, or if they'd been there all along.

But the biggest question remains - do they stay alive or do they find a way to go back?

being unknown by The_IPRE

Edwin does know Charles, or at least he likes to think that he does. He knows that Charles is far better with the clients than he is, quick to offer a smile or extend sympathy while Edwin is far more interested in delving deeper into the details of the case. He knows that Charles has a wicked swing with his cricket bat, but prefers to leave that as a second resort when he believes there's a way for them to come to a compromise. He knows that Charles chooses to hope for the best from people, even after having seen the worst they have to offer–and in fact, having been killed by it.

As Charles sits in front of him, the strain in his shoulders at odds with the easy grin on his face, Edwin wonders how much of his friend he is failing to see. -- 5 times Edwin didn't press the issue, and one time he did.

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me) by DontOffendTheBees

“Charles,” Edwin admonished, gently closing his book with a finger tucked between the pages to hold his place. “I have asked you to stop fooling around with that contraption and get some work done.”

“I have been!” Charles defended, gesturing broadly at the higgledy-piggledy array of items around him. Evidently, taking stock of the contents of his bag of tricks was an expansive task. “Taking a break.” He snatched the small square of paper from the Polaroid camera and began to shake it with abandon.   In which Charles partakes in some amateur ghost photography, and Edwin (fondly) bemoans the futility of the exercise.

The Good Left Undone by plutosheaven

Help comes from unlikely places when Edwin is once again faced with a threat worse than death.

the phantoms here will never have their fill by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)

Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them.

Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist.

XXX

“Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.”

“You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy.

“Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

At the top of a small pile of papers was a copy of Form 239, Schedule L, filled out with achingly familiar handwriting. At the top, the word "Approved" was stamped in large red letters.

This Darkness, Enduring by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone,” they tell her. “It was… an Act of God.”

She cannot think of a single thing to say for a very long moment. And then she has many things to say, most of which are not at all appropriate for polite company. --- Edwin Payne's mother, before and after.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone," they tell her. "He ran away." She doesn't say anything. --- Charles Rowland's mother, afterwards.

dreaming of the things you said / hoping that it's meant by ohmyfuckinggod420

Edwin turns away with a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. His non-existent, ghostly stomach. It seems so ridiculously cruel and on theme for his current situation. Not only is he in love with his best friend, and not only does his best friend not love him back, but he’s feeling things that he shouldn’t be feeling on top of things that he physically should not be able to feel. or

The gang is back in London. Niko is gone, Crystal is on the cusp of a breakdown, Charles is still a flirt, and Edwin is... trying his best.

Oh, and he keeps feeling his pulse. As a ghost. A very dead ghost.

The trouble really never ends.

the ghost of the past that you live in by ObsessedWithFandom

It didn’t start as much. As anything, really. Charles noticed him in the hallways only because he was new, which was rare in Year 11, and because he smiled shyly whenever Charles said hi. Aysar, he’d introduced himself, and Charles liked the way the syllables formed in his mouth. He wanted to be Aysar’s friend.

Or: five boys Charles didn't date, and one he did.

Aftermath by sophisticatedyet

“What are you humming?”

Charles’ polo muffled his question, and the pause before Charles answered was so long that Edwin wondered if he hadn’t heard him at all. But then he said, "A lullaby.”

The answer made Edwin smile bemusedly. “Why? I can't fall asleep.”

“Yeah, duh, I know. It's just meant to soothing.”

“Oh.” Edwin rested his head back against Charles’ chest. “I suppose I do feel quite soothed.”

Dance the Night by Gruoch

“What is that?” Crystal asks, looking Edwin up and down with an expression of abject befuddlement that borders on disgust.

“It is my disguise,” Edwin replies a little stiffly in response to her tone. “You told me to wear a disguise.”

“You look like Margaret Thatcher,” Crystal says flatly. “You’re going undercover at a nightclub, not a library. This—“ she plucks at Edwin’s long tweed skirt, her lip curling— “is not appropriate nightclub attire. You’re gonna attract too much attention.”

“I thought attracting attention was the point of this ludicrous exercise,” Edwin snaps back.

“Yes, the right kind of attention,” Crystal stresses. “This—” she waves a hand broadly at him—“will get the wrong kind of attention.”

~~

In which the gang returns home to discover something sinister stalking London’s party scene after dark, Edwin lets his hair down, Charles’ confidence is shaken, and Crystal pursues a new lease on life (and hopefully doesn’t die in the process).

Everywhere, Everything (wanna love you) by WildCookieKeef

Freedom, as it seems, is suffocating. Decades spent running away from death herself and yet now more than ever does Edwin feel restless. Hell is behind him for the second time. He might’ve escaped his fate of eternal torture, but rabidly approaching are revelations he would’ve kept buried for far longer.

He’d never be so flustered and disorganized if it hadn’t been for Crystal or the Cat King or Monty or the Night Nurse or that horrible witch Esther or Simon, god not Simon, or practically reenacting old Greek tales with his best mate or. . .

No. It’s no one’s fault but his own. If he could sleep he’s sure he’d have nightmares.

Of what? There’s lots to choose from, but he can just feel it. Maybe some spirit malady has taken root in his body. He can sense the tension under his skin. Aches of pain that he knows aren’t physical.

He never should’ve told Charles. What was he thinking?

or After the end of S1, Edwin reasons that Charles rejected his confession and fears the worst while trying to suffer silently. Charles is very bad at letting Edwin suffer in peace.

the eight layers of hell, reversed by Zairielon

There's a lot that Edwin and Charles don't talk about. Frankly, after 30 years together, you don't have to say much for the other person to get the point. But Port Townsend and Crystal and Niko knocked their dynamic off-kilter, and by the time they return to London and finally get back to "normal," "normal" has changed. "Normal" is now Crystal's bright laughter, Niko's earnest affection, and Edwin's faint smiles. "Normal" is an unnameable ball of emotions tangled up in Charles' chest. "Normal" is Edwin looking at him, and Charles hearing those words all over again.

Charles, I'm in love with you.

OR, Charles figures out what it means that Edwin is the only person in the world he'd run into Hell for.

When We Walk Together We Tend To Walk Alone by UneducatedAuthor

She’s never unexpected, but she’s always a surprise. And when Charles meets her, it's nothing like the nightmare he's built up in his own head, being split away from Edwin and cursed to an afterlife without him. She's kind and gentle and familiar, and she gives him a chance to say goodbye to his mother.

Or, the one where Charles meets Death. They have a lot to talk about. But it's okay. They have time.

it's you that i hold on to by lrvzender

A pair of lips press shakily on his temple. Charles Rowland’s blood definitely runs hot, Edwin decides, definitely.

“You’re not asking anything, mate. But you have to understand that you are worth saving, a thousand times over. You are worth knowing, Edwin.”

Something bigger than the whole, wide sky. Something bigger than death, perhaps.

(where Edwin does not ask to be known, but Charles knows anyway)

and your song, it haunts me like hunger does the crow by kay_cricketed

After they return to London, Charles notices an escalation in people approaching Edwin with their attentions. Which is fine! It's not that Charles is jealous. He wants Edwin to be happy and to have a chance at a fulfilling relationship, yeah? The problem is, Charles is aware that Edwin is unpracticed with these kinds of emotions and other people, and it would be very easy for someone to take advantage. And that’s not going to happen, not on Charles’ watch.

To make matters worse, the admirers are getting a little too intense. And Charles is starting to suspect there's more at work than everyone realizing his best mate is brills.

(Or: In which the damage to Edwin's soul across years of torture has had an unusual effect, and Charles needs to fix it before he's compelled to violence. Again.)

trína chéile, le chéile, claochlaithe / entangled, together, transformed by theroyalsavage

Edwin Payne and Charles Roland are not Orpheus and Eurydice. They are not tragic figures of myth, children of gods and spirits, immortalized in verse by the poets of old. They’re nothing special at all – just two boys too stubborn to move on. With that said, however… Edwin must admit that there are certain similarities.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

"Are you a zombie?” Niko peers into Edwin’s eyes. “Because the Night Nurse told me zombies exist. Do you hunger for brains, Edwin?”

“Hardly.” Remembering being splattered with gray matter in the not-so-distant past, Edwin shudders. He cannot imagine consuming it. “I’m not a zombie.”

“What about a vampire?” She almost looks excited by the prospect. “We’re only a couple of hours from Forks. It would be perfect!””   When they’re caught during their escape from Hell, Charles and Edwin have no choice but to make a deal: they have one hundred days to find and entrap a powerful, malevolent spirit, or both of their souls are forfeit. But when they’re both temporarily restored to living bodies to aid in their search, being alive brings with it a host of new feelings, which neither of them know how to cope with, especially as their deadline looms closer and their quarry proves increasingly dangerous.

Unbreakable by Asexual_Enjolras

Edwin feels as though he owes Charles an apology because he cannot offer support to his best friend in the same way that Crystal can. And Charles tells him exactly where to stick that apology the moment he does.

Or, Edwin feels like he is broken and Charles does not agree.

after the insects have laid their claim by lolotr

“Where are you buried, do you’ve any idea?”

“My body was never found,” he replies softly. “There is a memorial marker next to my parents’ graves, but my remains are not there.”

The idea is so horrifying that it stuns Charles into silence for a couple seconds. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?”

Edwin’s shoulders tense. “The whole thing is bloody tragic enough as it is.”

Grabbing his wrist, Charles begins marching them back in the direction of the pond they used to get here. Edwin doesn’t resist, but he does argue, because of course he does. “Charles, where are we going?”

“St. Hilarion’s. We’ve got a new case, don’t we?”

Hold This by RoseGanymede95

“Alright, listen,” Charles said, after trying not to think at all for at least five minutes. “Hear me out.”

“Any ideas?” Edwin asked, not looking up from his page.

“It’s just. What would actually happen if you cut my hand off?”

Edwin jerked his head up so fast, Charles wondered that he didn’t brain himself against the stone wall. He looked more offended than he had when he found out about the live snake in Charles’ bag.

“What the hell kind of a question is that?” He hissed.

“I’m not saying we should do it!” Charles backpedaled. “I’m just curious! These cuffs make us proper solid, don’t they? We could probably lop it off and get me out.”

“No,” said Edwin emphatically. “We are not discussing this. I don’t want you getting any ideas and chewing your own arm off like a trapped weasel.”

“Not my whole arm, just my hand.”

the start of something beautiful (the spoiler-free remix) by KiaraSayre

Four cases from the Dead Boy Detectives casebook, featuring amnesia, corporeality, a time loop, and a chill hang sesh.

If I'm Batman, You're Robin by ahyperactivehero

Charles misses a lot of things from life. One of those is the movies. Edwin volunteers to go with him.

XXX

“Batman Returns?” Edwin asked, reading the title. “What sort of creature is a Batman?”

Charles couldn’t help the bark of a laugh he let out. “No, he’s not a creature, mate. He’s a superhero.” At the totally blank look on Edwin’s face he tried again. “He’s like a detective. But he fights crime with his fists, too.”

“Ah,” Edwin said with a knowing look. “One of your heroes, I see.”

offer me that deathless death by websters_lieb

It takes the better part of two days for Charles’s body to even be found, and in the end, Edwin is forced to turn on all the lights in the gymnasium attic where Charles had died in order to get a janitor to come upstairs. No one had even been looking for him, yet. - or Edwin and Charles attend a funeral, look for a gravestone, and decide to become detectives.

Edwin's Payne tolerance by RabidWatermelon

Charles knew Edwin had a high pain tolerance. How could he not, having endured the tortures of hell? He just didn’t expect it to be so… useful.

AKA I want to write drabbles about Edwin's pain tolerance because I think it's something that would come up over thirty years together and be mildly concerning to someone who went through abuse in life. No fixed plot or posting schedule. Will update tags as chapter come out w new content.

The Case of Edwin's Missing Notebook by thewalkingstone

Edwin forgot his notebook at the office.

Not a problem. He prided himself on having an excellent memory. He certainly liked to jot down notes as he worked, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t work without it. He would just have to remember things until they returned to the office.

It was fine. He was a professional, and professionals did not delay an investigation because they forgot their notebook. OR Just months after escaping Hell, Edwin accidentally forgets his notebook on a case. He does not handle it well. Luckily, his new best mate is there to help him out.

The Scenic Route by DontOffendTheBees

"Cheer up, Edwin," said Charles, brightly. "Might never happen."

Edwin gave Charles a look so haughty it had its own title. "It very much has happened, Charles." He sniffed and straightened out his newspaper with attitude, the rustle of it loud and sharp as a whip crack. "I don't see why we couldn't have simply hopped through the mirror and met Crystal there."

"At this point, Edwin, I'm in total fucking agreement," said Crystal, not opening her eyes. She was burrowed under her coat like a blanket, doing her best to make the uncomfortable upright seat look like a cosy bed. Fortunately this train car was basically empty, so she had space to stretch across two seats – and no one close by to comment on the floating newspaper across the table and the fact she was having a barney with it. "You're like, the worst person to travel with."   In which the agency takes the scenic route to their next case; and Edwin finally receives some answers he's been waiting for.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

For a magic-user intent on siphoning pain for power, both Hob Gadling and Edwin Payne represent unique opportunities. United in dire circumstances, a man incapable of dying and a boy long dead forge an unusual friendship--and try to survive the experience. --- “When you died,” Hob said. “How old were you?” “Sixteen.” “That,” Hob said, “Is awful.” Edwin shrugged. “Life is, I’m afraid,” he said. “Can be wonderful, too,” Hob said. “I promise.”

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓: 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

God Isn't Here

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Bad Boy Hongjoong wanted to change for you. Be the better man you deserved, but what if you ended up changing more than him?

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 :  3.70k

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Slice of Life. Toxic family. Smut. ANGST. Sad Stuff.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: BadBoy!Hongjoong x Religious!GoodGirl!Reader

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Heavy religious background. Mention of a cult like life. Lots of trauma. Pet names. Swearing. Corruption and slight manipulation. Thigh riding. Dry humping. Oral. Crying turned to sobbing. (I'm sorry this is a shit show). Fingering. Sight sir kink (I can't help myself). When I say this is messy....this is MESSY, FILTHY, DIRTY. Breast play. Clothing is literally being ripped apart. Slight ass play and mention of anal. Hickies. Mention of sex toys. There is way too much dirty talk cause Hongjoong has a filthy mouth. Use of the name slut. So much sobbing please forgive me I was in a mood. Cowgirl. Unprotected sex. Loss of virginity. Spanking.

Thank you, @historyinmybed , for requesting Hongjoong. Also, thank you to my anony for requesting the plot ♡♡♡

Note: I want to point out that this fic this is no way hating on any type of religion. I came from a very religious household, so I get the idea of internal hatred to yourself and 'god'. But please take this fic with a grain of salt. Believe what you want to believe and practise what you wish to practise. No one should tell you what you can or can not worship. That's your life. Not there's.

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

Perfection. That was what your family described you as. Their perfect little daughter. Naturally pretty, above-average smarts and a people person. Well, that was what your parents dressed you as. They weren't half wrong to be fair. You wanted nothing more than to be the sweet daughter that your parents wanted. But once your heart fell for the mysterious man that stumbled in the back of your bookshop one day. Perfect was no longer the description to view you as.

Rough, mysterious, heartbreaking bad boy. He looked like he jumped straight out of a dark romance novel. He was everything you were not and when he laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted to know you, have you, hold you. To fuck the innocence out of you. But he proceeded with caution. Not wanting to scare you away. He was known as a player, someone that fucked around and partied most weekends…

Yet he changed.

Changed for you. He dotted on you. Followed you around like a loving puppy that found his favourite thing in the world. Which he had. You were his everything and the love of his life and he would do anything for you. And he made sure you knew that every chance he could. Bringing you flowers to your work or gifting you with a home-cooked meal even though he wasn’t the greatest cook. He wanted you to know that he loves you. Forever and always. And when you were cuddling on the couch in your shared apartment―the apartment your parents didn’t know you had―one night, Hongjoong couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. He tried not to do something you didn’t want but fucking his fist to the thought of you was no longer working. He needed the real deal. And tonight he tried his luck. His touches were slow, sensual. You almost didn’t notice them while you were so focused on the new show Fionna and Cake in front of you. But when his fingertips grazed the end of your sleep shorts, your head snapped to him seeing he was completely focused on you, not even paying attention to the TV.

You gulped looking at him with such wide innocent eyes. The tingle in your gut made you confused but it also intrigued you, wanting to know what it was but you were also scared it might be considered unholy. You see, you were fighting an inner battle. Yes, you had left your family's practice and ran away with Hongjoong after he convinced you of your family's toxic lifestyle. You wouldn’t ever consider your life being involved around a cult-like community but yet it was all you knew. And when you opened a bookshop in your hometown your parents made sure to monitor the shop like hawks but neither of them would have thought someone like Hongjoong would stumble into the doors of the sweet establishment. Without even realizing, that day you starting losing your faith in god, if you even had any. It was just a way of life to you and you didn’t know any better back then but now you explore the world day by day with your sweet lover boy and god definitely didn’t have anything to do with that.

“W-what are you doing?”  As if you couldn’t sound any more cute than you did right this minute. His eyes darkened, sucking in a breath as he watched you squirm. Your doe eyes watched him intensely, your hand snaking down to grab his, holding him still. Did you really not know what teasing was? Then again you didn’t know most things until he came along. When he first kissed you, he still remembers the shocked expression you made and how you slapped his chest slightly saying ‘We aren’t supposed to do that.’ But now all you do is kiss him. Morning kisses, hello and goodbye kisses. If you walked into the room he would grab you for a smooch. He loved kissing you and even though you would not admit it, you craved them too.

“I’m just wanting to touch you, Darling.” His soft voice sent shivers down your spine. You gulped, not knowing what exactly he meant. You gave him a confused expression, and it finally clicked in his head that you didn’t know what was going on. “Can I touch you, baby?”

You smiled letting his hand slip into your own, tilting your head “But you are touching me Joongie.”

Oh fuck, you look so goddamn cute and it made him want to pin you to the couch and fuck you into next week. He wanted, needed to teach you this side of life you didn’t know about. Take it slow, Hongjoong repeated to himself, placing his hand free hand on top of yours. He closed the distance between your lips but just kept enough space to let you pick whether or not to actually kiss him. And when you gave him a simple smile before sealing your soft lips on his, he took it as a green light to push you further.

“I mean touch sensually...” He peaked your lips again. “Touch you where the ache it.” He kissed the corner of your mouth as both of his hands got free, letting his finger graze your top thigh before slowly slipping towards your inner thigh. Your eyes never left his, eyebrows knotting in anticipation. Your brain was screaming at you, saying what you were about to do was sinful and bad. But your body craved to see what he could do. Could he really help take that ache that pulses in your stomach? The idea of giving yourself to Hongjoong more than frightened you… it excited you.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You didn’t mean to sound so seductive but Hongjoong drank every word you spoke. And the way you said it would have any man eating out of your hand, yet you didn’t even notice. Merely thinking you were simply asking an innocent question.

“Oh, Darling.” He dipped his fingers further up your thigh helping you open your legs without a thought, too focused on what Hongjoong might say. And he thought, for maybe two point five seconds on what he might say. Does he ease in and take it slow like his brain has been repeating for the past month or does he just drop his filter and see how you react?

He chose to fuck around and find out….

“I want to put my fingers deep inside your pussy.” Your eyes widened at the lewd words that spilled off your lover's tongue. “I want to know what it feels like to fuck you, make love to you.” His fingertips graze your covered core and it makes you jump, whimpering out. You gripped his wrist trying to stop him but you didn’t move him away, too curious to see what he’d do. “Would you let me see what your cunt feels like angel?”

“Y-you can't make l-love to me yet. We aren't married.” That was what you took out of his whole confession, man has got his work cut out for him. He had to laugh a low deep grumble making you shiver. His fingers were still playing with your covered core, trying to pull at the buttons of your pants. “We haven't decided if we want kids yet.”

“Kids?” Okay, now he was the one confused, “Who said anything about kids, darling?”

“Y-you know…” damn now you feel stupid, of course, this was another thing your parents taught you wrong. You tried to learn things on your own, only just recently finding out what a male privates were called. You felt so small in this outside world and you tried your hardest not to let Hongjoong see just how closed off you were growing up but sometimes it slips out, just like now. And the only way to get out of this was to explain yourself. “You only mate to have bare children. No pleasure or love… it’s a ritual that a married couple preform to conceive kids.”

Hongjoong tried to not look shocked but then again he really wasn't. When he found out you were living in cult-like conditions he did everything in his power to get you out of that situation whether you liked him to or not. He couldn’t just leave such a sweet thing like you to be devoured by the jaws of a sick bastard who played a so-called god. “My sweet, sweet baby. There is so much more to love-making than bearing children. Do you want me to show you?”

He gave you one last slow kiss, holding your cheek with his free hand keeping you in place. You sigh in the kiss, feeling a kind of relief and safety. All he wanted to do was keep you comfortable and not do anything you were unsure of. But now you wanted to give back. Give back to his kindness and understanding. You wanted to know, to know what it felt like to be with someone completely. But your mind kept playing the idea that you were betraying your god. You were fighting an inner battle and you didn’t know what to do. “Y-You can s-show me Joongie.”

He shifted his weight, turning to look at you straight on. He placed both hands on either side of your face before asking again. “I need you to say yes baby. Do you want this? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You might have said that a little too quickly for your liking but Joong. Oh, he’d been waiting for this moment and it couldn’t be any more perfect. Grabbing your hips he pulls you up onto his lap. Your face was flustered a bright red. Your hands instantly gripped onto his shoulders as his own snakes under your loose top, feeling your bare tummy. He kisses you on your lips, then a peck on your cheek, then jaw. Before moving down to your neck. His hot tongue licked a long strip against your skin making you shiver, digging your fingers into his shirt. He chuckled feeling your hips wiggle, trying to subconsciously relieve the ache.  He held your hip with his right hand, helping you move slowly, letting you take control, for the moment. He wanted to ease you in, let you find your rhythm. “J-joongie I f-feel.”

“Feel what baby? What do you feel?” He pulled away to look at you, using his free hand to slowly move down your navel before landing just above your core. Your eyes stayed closed, rocking your hips slowly. Your clit was brushing against your jeans just right and it was sending your head into a spin. You didn’t know how to describe the feeling but it felt, good. Right, almost. And then he cupped your pussy making you jump.

“I feel hot… I think I-I’m sweating d-down….” You looked down, seeing his hand holding your core. He looked down to, knowing exactly what you were saying. Chuckling against he rubbed his two middle fingers along your covered slit.

“It’s not sweat Darling. It’s called cum. It comes out of you when you’re feeling good.” he continued to rub you making your mouth fall agape slightly. He leaned towards your ear kissing the top of your neck before whispering. “and it tastes delicious too. Can you give me a taste baby?”

You hesitantly nodded, “Yes, but is…” He looks at you in your wide eyes. “ W-what about g-gods way…”

“Fuck god. He doesn’t know a good thing if it was staring at him in the face.” His voice was laced with aggression. But his lips against your neck were soft, gentle. “Forget god, baby. It’s just you and me.”

You and me…. Something he has said to you since you met. Sneaking out he always said it was you and him against the world and the day you had packed your bag―with what little you had―and left while your parents were out you knew he’d be there for you. You still wonder if your parents even read the note you left them. But then again they most likely would have thrown it away, not caring for a sinner like you anymore. “I don’t know if I c-can…Hongjoong…”

He stopped. For a moment. Anger was surging through him. Your family fucked you up so much and all he wanted to was find each and every one of those preachers and kill them where they stood. He wanted to protect you, hold you. Love you. “Yes you can angel. You can do anything you want. You are so strong.”

And with that you kiss him, taking in a big breath in through your nose. He pulled away first making you chase his lips but as his body sinks onto the floor, you watch with curiosity. He sat on his knees, never breaking eye contact with you. His hands find the buttons on your jean shorts, helping you loosen them before ultimately slipping them off. Everything was happening so fast yet so slowly as well. your body was shaking, feeling exposed without your pants but as his gaze switched from yours to your core between your legs, you couldn’t help but whimper. “Hongjoong…”

“It’s okay baby I’m going to make you feel good. I promise.” He lent in pushing your panties to the sides and finally getting a good view of your soaked cunt. “Fuck, you are so pretty baby.” he wasted no time in licking a long strip along your folds making you make a high-pitched noise that was music to Hongjoong’s ears. He got to work, suckling, biting and tending to your core. You had thrown your head back against the couch, grabbing your lover's thick dark hair and spreading your legs wider for him without realizing. A strange feeling was brewing in your lower tummy and you couldn’t find the words to explain it. You were feeling all types of emotions, happiness, guilt, hatred, lust and everything in between. And then Hongjoong took his fingers against your core making you jump.

“Hongjoong, w-wait…” But your lover didn’t listen cause he knew you’d just start talking about god again. He needed you to listen to him and if words weren't going to work. Maybe a demonstration would. His mouth cages your clit while his finger begins to sink into you slowly and you felt electricity surge through you. Everything you did for your parents. The little girl that “raised right” was slowly slipping away and it was terrifying you. Tears started prickling down your face, feeling so good but so guilty at the same time. Why did your parents have to do what they did to you? Why couldn’t they have raised you normally? Were you could make your own mistakes. You hated them. You hated everything. Everything except Hongjoong. “G-god…”

You didn’t know what you wanted to say but you knew he wasn’t going to listen, in fact, he snapped instead making a chill pool inside you. “God isn’t her baby, now let me have my meal. Got that?”

“Yes sir…” You cried, feeling him put another finger inside you.

“Fuck say that again…” He groan against your clit.

“S-Sir…” You obeyed, feeling his fingers thrusted in a harsh pace making you scream out, tears pouring out of you more and more with your mouth spilling out saliva onto your chin.

“That’s right baby. This is my pussy yeah? I get to play with her―Fuck her whenever I want. Do you understand?” He chuckled, nibbling on your puffy nub.

“Y-yes sir. Please, have me whenever you’d like. I’ll be good. I promise. Fffuuck!!” You’ve never sworn before but it felt like a word needed for this occasion. A band in you snapped, feeling yourself clench around Joong’s fingers. He slowed down until he came to a stop, but not pulling his fingers out just yet. He had to see your face, the way your nose scrunched up when his thumb pressed firmly on your clit and fingers slowly slipping from inside you helping your ride out. Hearing you swear was single-handedly the sexiest thing you could do. He stood up quickly, grabbing your wrist so he could pull you up making you stand. But your legs didn’t want to work so he hand to hold you up.

“Don’t worry baby. You’re always good baby. My sweet girl.” he pecked your nose making you smile. He rubbed away some of your tears with his left thumb. You both stood there for a moment letting you catch your breath. But without you noticing he undid his belt and jean buttons, shaking his jeans off. You only then noticed when a hard object poked your tummy. Looking down you see his appendage under his boxers. You had to gulp worried as to how it might fit inside you. He licked his lips watching you inspect him, he had no shame, slipping his thumb under the band of his boxer before pulling it down, letting his cock spring free.

You gasped seeing his dick whack his navel. Its red angry tip leaking out some pre-cum and twitching just at the thought you’d touch it. You looked back at his eyes with wide doe eyes, almost silently asking what was going to happen next. He swung you both around so his back was facing the couch before taking a seat on it. He pulled you along letting you take a seat on his lap. The feeling of his hot cock against your pussy made you clench around nothing. Your nerves were shot and you were shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“Ready?” He simply asked, snaking his hands under your top tugging on the fabric slightly. You nodded, answering with a small yes before he took the end of your shirt and ripped it down the middle. You gasped, moaning without thinking. Your chest was suddenly exposed to him, leaving you completely bare for him. He had a sadistic smirk painting his features, leaning down he licked your left nipple making you whimper out his name. Your hands found his shoulders, letting him attack your chest with harsh red and purple marks. His hands that layed on your hips moved behind you. One grabbed a hand full of your ass while the other one glided toward your asshole. He put pressure against your hole and it made you wiggle in his grasp. He lived for your reaction.

“Sensitive Doll? I wonder what I would feel like to fuck this tight little ass too? Hmm.” His dirty words made you feel filthy in the best way. His thumb slipped into your puckered hole for a moment sending a new feeling through your system. Anything he did was pushing your buttons correctly. It was like he knew your body better than you did. “You’re just a dirty girl, aren’t you? Wanting to be fucking in the ass? Bet I could fuck this pussy while I have a pretty dildo up your ass. Hmm. Would you like that? You want to be my little slut?”

“I-I’m not dirty…I..I..” You didn’t know what to say feeling conflicted in his words. But he couldn’t care, your body was reacting perfectly to his words and that’s all he needed.

“Don’t worry baby. I’ll fuck you nice and full. And then we can go shopping. I plan on showing you all the pleasure you’d been missing out on.” his laugh was lewd, almost cruel sounding and you couldn’t help but moan in response. He lifted you up slowly without you taking much notice, only focusing on his finger thrusting in your asshole softly. It was only when a sharp pain started forming in your front you snapped your eyes open looking down.

“F-fuck…Hongjoong!!” he helped you sink down slowly until you had him completely nestled inside your aching cunt. You were crying again. But it was different this time. The pain was only slight, you actually didn’t mind the pain. But it was the value of what you had just done. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you sobbed. Crying from all the frustration. All the anger you had against your parents. Against your community. You had now completely turned your back on the god you once worshipped. All your life learning certain things was for nothing.

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” he rubbed your back, feeling a tingle in his gut. God, you felt so good, your pussy was clenching him perfectly but he felt sorry for you. You had lived only one way and he came in and changed your life in a blink of an eye and it wouldn't had been easy one bit for you.

He had made a promise to himself that night. While his hips started to move and your body started to stutter with him. While his lips were on yours or sucking sharply on your neck. While his hands smacked your plump ass helping you ride his cock at a desperate pace. And when he bent you over the edge of the couch so he could fuck you from behind while you creamed all over his cock for the fourth time. He was going to love you, now and forever. He was going to teach you new things every day and always make sure you were the best version of yourself. And he was going to also fuck you in every room of this house…

That last part might of just been more for his sake but it’s the thought that counts.

- ♥︎

[bigblab-talktotalk1]

I feel a lot of people misunderstand Portia in why she ask about Colin's love

One thing I find really disheartening about reactions/opinions on this episode is the conceptual clap backs of "Did Debling love her?!?!"

🙄😮‍💨

Because that response makes me feel someone is missing something in the storytelling. As a response, it has never made sense to me, because.... he never had to!

'Lord Debling was a reasonable match." This guy has acted in every single way The Gentleman. This guy has money, this guy came to Lady Featherington like a respectable adult and asked for Penelope's hand, this guy will be absent, and so THIS guy also Won't Hurt Her! She laid this out in episode 4, To Portia he is an IDEAL catch.

Then comes this news of Bitch-boy Colin (painting from a Portia-esque perspective), that she read IN WHISTLEDOWN!! He does not hold water with her 🚫 This Season, all she has seen of this dude is that he is a flirt. "The most desired man of the season." Regardless of what she thinks Penelope's feelings likely are, she only sees that Colin is NOT serious about her. Freshly back from galavanting across the sea, she does see Colin as serious PERIOD. All the letters Pen wrote, All the teas at Bridgerton house....for years Portia has watched him NEVER WANTING HER! Yet somehow an engagement occurred some time between her daughter leaving a party and family breakfast the next morning... 🤨🧐 Chat shit right?? Her mind must be screaming: HELP ME UNDERSTAND! (In a snarky, passive aggressive way - because she's the one)

---

Portia has a right to feel awful disrespected that Colin "I'm a gentleman" Bridgerton didn't come to her first. Like they don't have beef!! 😳 He's been engaged to someone from the Featherington household before, yet... there was no wedding. But Pen (who she thinks of is having less attractions than Marina) somehow is different?

You know who extended the olive branch to the Featherington name to help saved them from drowning in the social ruin of the reveal of Marina's pregnancy? DAPHNE! He was mad at Marina sure, but you know who he showed he didn't care what happened to while he turned his back? You Penelope!! 🤷🏻‍♂️He could have helped soften the blow like Kate, Edwina, and Anthony tried to do after their failed wedding. But he didn't. And that's who Pen threw away an entire future to gamble on?? 🫨😣

---

And while Portia doesn't know it yet, the fault for them being in that super precarious social is the SAME EXACT fucking person who is standing in front of her like she don't smell her own shit!! (personal mad when sitting in Portia's perspective)

---

THAT 'S the guy Pen wants Portia to celebrate, who Pen believes is a better choice. Portia's looking for the better. "What more can you ask for?" she says an episode 4. The only thing Penelope seemed to believe held her back from commiting to Debling as her husband is this 'Love' nonsense. So if Colin is the Superior choice, he must be giving her what she thought was missing from a marriage, something she thought Debling couldn't provide!

"You have it?" - Portia.

Penelope says she's SURE he CARES about her. But 'care' wasn't the exceptional parameter? To be so certain that you just threw away a good 90% qualification-meeting gentleman, you must have heard this truth that gives you that 10% to match the fantasy were "LOVE"(which Big P don't believe in) is. Right? You thought, you know, but what did he say it??? Has he told you he's giving you what makes choosing him over Debling worth it? Are you getting what you gambled for?!

Portia looks DEFEATED because Pen is betting on fantasies and wishes, without even the vocalized proof of Colin's feelings!!!!!!

"Oh Penelope"= "Girl I feel bad for you", "you sweet summer child." She's repulsed that Pen was SO short-sighted.

I feel like while her reaction is extreme and harsh, it really isn't too difficult to imagine a semi-reasonable parent (with Portia's trauma) may be distraught hearing that their daughter chose to follow a career in ..... like the Arts, that she loves (Colin), when she already had a place at Yale law School (Debby). Without Colin's declaration it's like she mailed in her withdrawal letter and is packing to move into an artist collective commune -- without a lease! Not even guaranteed a spot, setting fire to your previous life plans! It is not right, and it is not okay to treat your children as if they need to live their life as you would. However, for someone who holds security above all Pen has thrown away her last chance at a good life. Pen has shattered a chance at bedrock that Portia knows Pen don't even understand how much she should value! Portia has shielded her from how it feels to watch the ground you've built your life on crumble from underneath her. The fear of having no husband, no son, and no money. Which I think adds to the anger in her tone.

Debling never NEEDED to love Penelope. Why he was a better, more secure match than Colin was everything BESIDES love. What makes Debling a valuable prospect has a very little overlap with what makes Colin Penelope's first choice. Therefore trying to grade them on the same standard..... it doesn't matter if Portia cares about love, it doesn't matter if Debling would EVER say he loves Penelope. So while it matters if Colin has told her that he loves her, he's the only one who has to.

---

I do not think she is right all the time, or even often. But one can likely tell from the above that I'm a Portia Featherington fan. I'm a fan of food in tummies and shoes on feet. Did she decide she needed big bucks to eat and dress the way she wanted.......👀🙄

---

As someone who looks at Colin as an insecure 23-year-old male... He is my baby. I defend all his big emotions. When he's having a temper-tantrum, I let him kick himself tired. I'm never villainizing him for basically anything he says or does because..... I know he's really a soft boy. And I know Pen doesn't mind. But that doesn't mean we can blame Portia (without having the audience view) for seeing him differently.

[slut4thebroken]

bite me

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x vampire!reader

Summary | Jason is an annoying little shit who likes to tease you.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, cutting? (barely), blood drinking, oral (male receiving), face fucking, vaginal fingering, hand job, praise, degradation w a sprinkle of humiliation, flirting, kissing, grinding, bad puns.

Words | 4.7 k

Notes | Idk I had a vision one day and this is what came of it. (Also this is part 29373928 of me not being able to find a good gif/pic for Jay 😔)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You’ve never been an optimist. Ever since you can remember, you’ve had a glass half empty view of the world. There’s no specific reason why, that’s just how you are. Which is why if someone told you you’d be working with crime fighting vigilantes, you would’ve laughed in their face. 

People are bad. That’s what you’ve learned so far in your 40 years of life. People are bad and there’s no saving them. “That doesn’t mean we can’t save the good ones from the bad.” He had said. “What good ones?” You asked, but the more you thought about it, the more you understood what he meant. 

That’s how you found yourself working with the bat. Or more specifically, the bat boys. Mostly Dick and Jason though. 

Mostly Jason. 

You tried not to think too hard about that. When you first met, you just clicked. His energy was a near perfect match for yours. That’s not to say you don’t like the other bat boys… Jason’s just different. He’s Jason.  

“So you like- drink people’s blood? Or…” That was the first thing he said to you. 

“I try not to. But stealing blood bags is a hassle and I love animals too much to do that. I mostly try to hold off for as long as possible so I don’t have to feed as often. That makes me weaker though.” And Bruce couldn't have a weak vigilante underling, so he arranged for you to have a fully stocked fridge of blood bags. You didn’t ask where or how he got them. You can get anything if you have enough money. 

“How old are you?” You didn’t mind his curiosity, it’s a natural reaction. After all, it's not everyday people meet a vampire. But you’ve always hated this question in particular. It’s embarrassing. When people think of vampires they think of 100+ year olds. Not someone who’s literally younger than their parents. 

“40.” 

“How old were you when you turned?” 

“20.” 

Another reason you and Jason click so well is because of shared trauma. Kind of… You both died. His death was a lot worse than yours and at least you came out of it with abilities, rather than enhancements, but it was nice finally knowing someone who gets it. Most people can’t fathom what it would be like to die and come back to life so they don’t understand how bad it can actually be. 

And then there was the flirting. It was less flirting and more just him driving you up the wall to be honest. But either way you loved it. You’d never tell him that though. 

It started with more casual jokes like “Are those fangs or are you just happy to see me” and asking if you wanted to “get a bite to eat.” But obviously, because it’s Jason, the more comfortable you got with each other, the more sexual they became. 

“What kind of sex do vampires like?” He was trying to hide his smirk and you just rolled your eyes, not acknowledging him. “Vein-illa.” You scoffed and his smirk widened. “What, you don’t like it?” 

“No, Jason. I don’t. You’re not funny.” You feigned seriousness but you knew he knew you didn’t mean it. 

Another time, he walked into the living room where you were sitting, sipping on a blood bag and reading a book. He sat down next to you and you could feel his eyes on you. 

“Is it true what they say about lady vampires?” He asked and you raised your brows as you looked at him with a deadpan expression. “That they really know how to suck.” 

Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “Bite me.” Which instantly proved to be a mistake as it gave him another way to tease you. 

“I thought that was your thing?” He smirked and you considered moving your foot to kick him in the head. “Come on, don’t be such a sucker. It’s just a joke.” 

“Jason,” Your voice was eerily calm, “if you say one more vampire pun, I will rip your throat out so you can’t talk anymore.” 

“Not even just one more? To really hit the nail on the coffin.” You slammed your book shut and glared at him as you stood up. 

“Come on, babe. I’m just teasing.” He smirked and you started walking away, but he grabbed your wrist and yanked you backwards, making you fall on top of him with your back pressed to his front. “Don’t be mad. Please?” He said lowly, against your ear, making you shiver. 

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” You mumbled, settling into your position. He let out a low chuckle and moved his hands to run up and down your thighs. 

“Yeah but you love it.” 

“Do I now?” Against your will, your voice was turning breathless because of the prolonged proximity. 

“Oh definitely.” His hands gravitated toward your inner thighs, but he kept up the motions. “Just like you love me. It was love at first bite.” You groaned in annoyance and moved to stand, but his grip on your thighs tightened and he pulled you back onto his lap. 

“Jason,” You warned, trying to sound threatening, “if you don’t let me go, I will rip your throat out.” 

“Why? You don’t like being in my lap?” He teased and you huffed. 

“No.” You gritted, trying to ignore the way you could smell his arousal and how that made you want to grind your ass back against his dick. 

“I think you’re lying, babe.” 

“Stop calling me babe. That’s like the worst pet name you could pick.”  

Only a week later, you were standing in front of the fridge as you chugged a blood bag. You didn’t really need one yesterday, but today you did so much training that you felt like you were going to collapse any second now. 

“I'll let you suck me dry.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he walked in. 

“Shut up.” You muttered, just barely pulling away long enough to get the words out. He chuckled and moved toward you, making you step back the closer he got. When you hit the counter, he placed both hands on either side of your body, caging you in. 

You finally finished the blood bag and pulled it away from your mouth, wiping the blood that had dripped onto your bottom lip. When you looked up at him, you found his gaze on your lips for only a second before it moved up to your eyes. 

“That’s not very nice, princess. I’m just making a proposal, no need to be so rude.” He said, making you raise your brows. 

“A proposal? To what, suck your dick? Hard pass.” You scoffed and tried to push past him, but his grip was unmoving on the counter. You could move him… technically. But… you’re enjoying the game. 

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing.” He grinned, making you roll your eyes. 

“And why would I do that?” Your confidence never wavered, even as your cheeks started to grow warm. 

“Because you like sucking. It’s not all that different, really.” 

“No?”

“Nope.” 

“What, so anyone who drinks with a straw automatically likes sucking dick? How do you even know I’m not lesbian.” That made him chuckle lowly. 

“Princess, you’re not lesbian.” He condescended

“Fuck off.” You groaned, pushing his chest lightly. He retaliated by moving his body forward until he was completely flush against you. 

“One of these days I’m gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.” He growled and you swallowed thickly as you watched his eyes darken. 

“I’d like to see you try.” You said through a breath. 

“I’m sure I will soon.” He smirked, then just walked away from you. 

“Do you even like the blood bags?” 

“I don’t know how to explain it. They’re not bad… they’re just- it’s like a freshly made pizza versus reheated pizza, you know?” 

“Do you want the fresh stuff?” 

“Obviously,” You laughed dryly, “but the first and only time I did that, I killed them. So it’s not worth it.” You tried not to focus too much on the memory. 

“What if you drank from me?” Your eyes widened as you replayed his words in your head, making sure you heard him right. 

“What? No- did you not hear what I just said?” 

“You won’t kill me.” He scoffed a laugh and you just stared at him. 

“Jason, I’m serious. I can’t control it. And plus, it’s… a lot more- um… erotic, than media makes it out to be.” 

“Even better.” His lips curled into a smirk and you felt your cheeks grow warm. 

“I still can’t control myself.” 

“I think you can. You need to give yourself more credit. What were the circumstances of the last time you drank from someone?” 

“It was a few hours after I… woke up, so to speak.” 

“That’s completely different. You were starving and barely even knew what was happening. You had a blood bag yesterday and have spent 20 years controlling yourself. Here, I’ll prove it.” 

“What?” Before you even finished asking, he was taking a small knife out of his pants. “What are you doing?” You asked nervously, watching as the knife flipped open and he presented his arm. 

“Relax, babe.” He brought the blade down to his arm and you stiffened. 

“Jason, don’t-“ You cut yourself off with a sharp breath when the scent immediately engulfed you. He removed the knife and you watched a drop of red trail down his arm. 

You could feel yourself turning- your eyes changing color and fangs coming out. You squeezed your eyes shut and dug your nails into the palms of your hands. 

“Jason…” Your voice was a strained whisper, then you felt his thumb on your lips. Your eyes snapped open as your chest heaved at the scent of his blood right in front of your face. 

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, his gaze moving between your eyes and mouth. You couldn’t help it anymore when your lips closed around the digit. Letting out a low groan, your eyes fluttered shut as you sucked his thumb into your mouth more, careful to avoid your fangs. 

“How’re you feeling?” His voice broke you from your haze and he removed his thumb, making you whimper. 

“More.” You whined, reaching for his arm. He let you take it and watched as your mouth closed around the small cut. 

You’d forgotten what fresh blood tastes like. It’s like a cold glass of water when you wake up in the middle of the night. Or a dessert that’s so good, it makes it feel like your mouth it’s having an orgasm. 

Your grip on his arm tightened considerably and distantly you heard him wince but he didn’t pull away. The cut was small enough that the amount of blood you got was basically like a shot. And you wanted a full glass. 

Your fangs grazed his skin as you panted, getting ready for more. But before you could bite, his free hand grabbed a fistful of hair and he roughly pulled your head away. You whined and sat up on your knees as you tried moving his arm to your mouth but he just tightened his grip and pulled your head back until you were almost looking at the ceiling. 

“Please.” If you weren’t so blood drunk, you would've been embarrassed about how whiny your voice sounds. He said your name in a warning and you finally looked at his eyes. The color was almost completely gone because of how dilated his pupils were. 

“Don’t be greedy.” The way he reprimanded you was infantilizing. But god if it didn’t make you even needier. 

“I need more.” You whimpered. Your mouth was still watering as you panted, desperate to get your mouth back on him. “Please, Jay. You taste so good, please I- I need more.” 

“What did I just say?” You let out a choked sob as your hunger rivaled your need for his praise and approval. 

“I- I promise I won’t take too much. Just- I just… please.” You cried, practically on top of him now. He removed his hand from your hair and helped you settle on his lap, then placed it on your neck. Your head felt even lighter as he tightened his grip and you couldn’t deny that not only were you drunk on blood but you were drunk on him too. 

“Baby… Look at you. So fucking desperate for just a drop. I bet you’d do anything for it, wouldn’t you?” He cooed, the condescending tone flying right over your head. You nodded eagerly and he let out a low chuckle.  

“You poor thing. If only there was something I wanted in return…” He pretended to think and you whined once you caught on to what he meant. 

“I’ll- I’ll do it.”

“Don’t just say that because you want more blood.” 

“No I- I want to. I have wanted to.” His smirk returned. 

“Yeah? You were just playing hard to get, is that it?” You hummed in agreement and nodded. 

“God I want to so bad.” You groaned. “I can- I can smell you and it’s making me so fucking wet.” 

“The smell of my blood makes you wet?” He was teasing you, but there was still a hint of surprise in his voice. 

“No- no… I can smell how-“ You let out an embarrassed whine and closed your eyes. 

“Tell me, baby.” 

“I can smell how turned on you are. And it’s driving me fucking crazy— I can barely think.” He stiffened and you opened your eyes to find him looking at you in shock with pink cheeks. 

“Have you always been able to smell that?” He asked quietly and you bit your lip as you nodded. 

“It always smells so fucking good. You smell good normally but that just— god I think it’s my favorite scent.” You don’t know why you’re saying all of this. You’d normally be too shy, but something is just making you want to confess everything to him. 

“That’s so fucking hot.” He groaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. The sight of his neck bared to you made your hips buck forward into his as your mouth watered and your mind went blank. He opened his eyes to find your gaze on his neck and you watched as he swallowed thickly. You could practically hear the blood rushing through his veins. 

“You look like you want to eat me.” He chuckled nervously. 

“I do.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to drag a finger over his pulse. His breathing grew heavier the longer he watched you. When you subconsciously started leaning toward him, his hand tightened on your neck and he pushed you back a little. 

You could overpower him. You know you could. Sure he’s a far better fighter than you, but you’re ten times stronger than he is. When you looked into his eyes though, all fight just evaporated from your body. The only thing you wanted was him. In any form you could have him. 

You slowly started moving your hips, grinding your cunt on his length over the far too many layers of clothing. He let out a low groan and took his bottom lip between his teeth as he eyed you. 

“What do you wanna suck first?” He gruffed, bringing both hands to your hips to guide your movements. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get rid of the fangs in my current state to be honest.” You said through a breath, placing your hands on his shoulders and grinding harder against him as you grew more desperate. “It might be better to do that last anyway cause I wasn’t lying when I said blood drinking is more erotic than what everyone thinks.” 

“Okay, princess. Have at it.” He leaned his head back on the couch, baring his throat to you.

“You have to stop me though. I don’t want to take too much.” Despite your desperation, you were still terrified of killing him. He agreed and you slowly moved forward. The closer you got, the stronger the scent became. When your nose brushed the delicate skin, you inhaled deeply and closed your eyes. His grip tightened on your hips and his already fast heart rate increased slightly. 

“Your heart’s beating really fast.” You whispered, trying to hold off at least until he replied. 

“That’s kind of what happens when I have a hot girl on my lap breathing against my neck.” He chuckled breathlessly, but abruptly cut off with a sharp inhale when your fangs brushed his throat. 

Your patience finally ran out and you tried to be as gentle as possible when you bit him, but the second the blood rushed into your mouth, all thoughts of that disappeared. You felt the vibrations against your lips as he let out a deep moan when your teeth pierced his skin. You started sucking now and his grip turned bruising on your hips, but after only a second or two, he thrusted up, meeting your movements halfway. 

You whimpered at the constant grinding of his bulge against your clit and the taste of him. God you wanted to taste him forever. 

“Fuck…” He said through a moan. You snaked a hand up to his hair and gripped it tightly, holding him against your mouth- not that he was trying to move away. 

“God- I feel like I’m about to come.” He whined. By now, he was basically using your body to get himself off, you weren’t moving your hips on your own at all anymore. You moaned in acknowledgement but never removed your mouth, wanting to get as much as he’d let you have. 

“Fuck- princess, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.” While a distant part of you wanted him to come in your mouth instead, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Unfortunately, he made that choice for you. He grabbed your hair again and pulled you away from him, making you whine loudly. 

“As hot as this is, I’d rather come in your mouth.” He rasped, trying to catch his breath. You nodded absentmindedly, but never removed your gaze from his neck. The sight of a drop of blood trailing down had you moving forward before he could stop you. You licked a stripe up his neck, doing your best to control yourself and not dive back in for more. When you reluctantly pulled back again, he gave you a proud smile, making your stomach flutter. 

“Think you can get rid of ‘em now?” You nodded and closed your eyes, trying to focus. It took a moment, but once you started focusing on the scent of his arousal rather than his blood, it was pretty easy. Opening your eyes, you gave him a small smile and he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours. You gasped but quickly recovered and kissed him back, melting into him and pulling on his hair, trailing your other hand up to rest on his shoulder. His kiss was bruising, but you loved it all the same. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead against yours, both of your breaths fanning across the other’s face. 

“Why the fuck does that feel so good?” He finally asked, both of you releasing breathy laughs. 

“I have no clue but I’m glad it does.” You pulled back a few inches so you could look at him. “Now if you don’t mind, I believe you promised me something else to suck on.” You smirked and he raised his brows. 

“Wow, a little blood straight from the source and now you’re eager for it, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.” He smirked, making your cheeks heat up. “How ‘bout you show me just how eager you are?” You looked at him with furrowed brows, trying to understand what he meant, even though you were pretty sure you already knew. “Go on, baby. Beg for it.” Your entire face and neck flushed at that. 

“You’re pushing your luck.” You narrowed your eyes, playfully. 

“See, I don’t think I am.” He raised his brows again, as if he was waiting for a protest that you both knew would never come. “Go ahead, then I’ll give you what you want.” You bit your lip, your pride and neediness waging a war inside you.  

“Please.” You muttered, bored. 

“Not convinced.” He shrugged, making you glare at him. 

“You’re the one who wanted me to do this in the first place!” 

“Really? Because I remember you saying you’re the one who “wants it” and “has wanted it.’” He smirked and you clenched your jaw with a huff. 

“Please can I suck you off.” You tried to put a little more emotion into it. 

“Suck what?” You let out an annoyed groan and rolled your eyes.  

“Your cock. I wanna suck your cock… please.” You mumbled, not being able to meet his gaze. 

“There we go,” He cooed mockingly, “that wasn’t so hard was it?” You scowled, making him chuckle. Sliding off of him, you landed on your knees between his legs. You eyed his bulge and bit your lip, not being able to control your thighs squeezing together. He placed his hands behind his head and settled into the couch with a smirk. 

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll bite it.” You growled, making his smirk widen. 

“Just admiring the view.” Ignoring him, you reached up to undo his pants, then tentatively freed his cock. He really did look like he was about to come any second now. The tip was so red it almost looked painful and you watched as it twitched in your grip, desperate for more stimulation. 

Slowly leaning down, you licked the bead of precum on the top as you looked up at him through your lashes, making him let out a low groan. 

“Fuck my face.” You whispered, breath fanning his cock. 

“Fuck- are you sure?” Even though you didn’t answer yet, his hand was still making its way to your hair, running his fingers through it before gripping lightly. 

“Yes.” He didn’t need any more convincing. Wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, you swirled your tongue around it as you waited for him to start. He all but whimpered as he slowly pushed you down his length, not stopping until your lips reached the base. You watched his chest heave as he moved his other hand to join the one already in your hair. He adjusted his grip, then started moving you up and down his length. 

When he threw his head back with a low moan, you eyed the remaining blood that was starting to drip down his neck. Even though you wanted nothing more than to taste him again, you had to force your thoughts elsewhere before your fangs reappeared. 

He started moving your head faster now, still pushing you all the way down, despite your light gagging and choking. It wasn’t long before he was holding your head still and thrusting up into your mouth, bucking his hips wildly as he chased his orgasm. 

“Shit- I’m not gonna last,” He said through a moan, only thrusting a few more times before pushing your head all the way down and holding you there. You felt hot come hitting the back of your throat and you let out a garbled moan, making him whimper. 

Fucking whimper. 

That made you push a hand down your underwear and start rubbing fast circles on your clit. Which he seemed to appreciate, since it made you moan around his length again. His sounds died down until he sagged into the couch, chest heaving. His grip on your hair relaxed and you slowly pulled off of him, making sure to swallow any remaining come that didn’t immediately make its way down your throat. 

“Jay,” You whined, voice raspy and needy. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, then trailed his gaze down your body. Even though him watching was making you nervous, you couldn’t stop touching yourself. “Please.” 

“What are you begging for, princess?” He gave you a sleepy smile and stroked your hair gently. 

“Wanna come.” You whimpered, leaning into his touch. 

“Yeah?” All you could do was nod. “You poor thing.” He cooed, cupping your cheek before pulling you up to straddle his legs. His hands rubbed up and down your thighs teasingly, making you whine. 

“Please.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes and it wasn’t long before he folded. He brought his hand to the apex of your thighs and lightly brushed his fingers over your clothed heat. Your breath hitched as your hips bucked into his touch and you were about to tell him to hurry up but his hand was already making its way inside your pants and underwear. When he ran two fingers through your dripping folds, he cursed under his breath. 

“Sucking my cock did this?” He asked breathlessly. All you could do was whine and nod. “Or was it sucking my blood…” His fingers just barely brushed over your hole and your clit, teasing you. 

“Both.” You whined, hips squirming. “Jay, c’mon.” Before you could even finish those two words, he was inserting a finger. You choked on a gasp and brought your hands up to hold on to his shoulders. He moved it fast inside you as the heel of his hand stimulated your clit and you could already feel yourself nearing your orgasm. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, head falling forward as you panted and moaned. When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of his cock, still wet from your mouth, getting hard again. So you moved your hand down and grasped it, immediately stroking to bring him back to full hardness.  

“Shit— fuck, princess… Sensitive,” He gasped out, hips bucking up into your hand despite his words. You raised your head to look at his face and almost moaned at his expression. His brows were furrowed, mouth open in a silent moan, eyes dark and half lidded. 

“I wanna come…” You whispered, biting your bottom lip and stroking his cock faster. When he pushed a second finger inside, you whimpered, grinding down on his hand. 

“I bet you do.” He said, trying and failing to hide the smirk growing on his lips. 

“Jay,” you whined, almost obnoxiously, “please.” 

“I dunno… doesn’t really seem like you want it that bad.” He shrugged, fingers picking up the pace. 

“I do! Please let me come, I need it.” He let out a low chuckle and raised his brows. 

“You need it, huh?” You replied with a whimper and a nod. “Okay, princess. Since you need it so bad, go ahead.” He smirked. You all but breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, closing your eyes to ready yourself. 

“Look at me.” Your eyes opened, wondering why he was prolonging it. “Good girl. I want you to keep your eyes on me as you come, understand?” You clenched around his fingers at the praise and agreed. You did your best to focus on stroking his cock so he could maybe come with you, but as you neared the edge, it became increasingly more difficult. Your eyes flickered between his face and his cock, and when you saw the precum beading at the tip, you dragged your thumb over it and lifted it to your mouth, moaning at the taste. He cursed under his breath and moved his fingers even faster inside you. 

When you finally fell over the edge, you squeezed your eyes shut, but quickly opened them again when you remembered his words. His fingers never even faltered as your walls fluttered around them. When you started unconsciously humping his hand to get the most of your orgasm, you felt his cock twitch in your hand and you looked down, finding spurts of come shooting out, landing on his shirt and your hand. You whimpered at the sound of his moans, feeling your fading arousal start to return. 

When his fingers slowed to a stop, you did the same with your hand, then let go of his softening length. You winced when he slid his fingers out, but your lips parted when he sucked your arousal off of them, letting out an exaggerated moan at the taste. 

“Stop being a tease.” You frowned, making him smirk.

“You love it.” 

You just rolled your eyes, biting your lip to hide your smile.