#a witch and her ghost cats | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smileysuh · 1 month

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ghost house

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric. It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh. Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties. You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

tw/cw. Voyeurism, unprotected sex with a ghost, Hyuck is a repressed perv, he’s not a virgin but he’s not experienced either, pantie sniffer Hyuck, Hyuck watching y/n masturbate using ghost powers, Hyuck using y/n’s panties to cum in, weird ghost cum, Hyuck is a switch but leans more submissive at parts, self asphyxiation/choking, y/n punishes Hyuck for being a naughty ghostie, making Hyuck watch her masturbate without touching himself, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk/addict hyuck, overstimulation, hair pulling, hyuck cums and y/n decides to keep riding him, hyuck likes to be choked, dirty talk, hyuck has a good boy kink, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, finger sucking, face riding, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (Haechan’s) ghostie, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.3k

🍭 aus. ghost!hyuck, witch!reader, supernatural au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've never written Hyuck this subby/switchy, but I think it worked, he still has his dom moments, but this man is a near virgin, little, repressed for 20 years ghost shit head who wants to be told he's a good boy, and I'm not even mad about it

Prologue:

“It’s a little unusual for prospective tenants to bring a pet along,” the shy man showing you the house murmurs, watching the way your cat follows you through the halls of the old building.

“Well, it’s important that Pluto likes it here,” you muse, casting your gaze down to your little dark shadow as he darts here and there, chasing orbs and specks of dust that illuminate in the rays of sun streaming through the murky windows. “How long has it been since you had a renter?”

“Too long,” Mark Lee sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “In all honesty, I’m sure you know the reputation this place has.”

“It’s the Ghost House,” you respond, turning to stare at the relative of a man who’d lost his life in this location twenty or so years ago.

“My family hasn’t even tried to rent it out in recent years, but then you found me on Facebook and asked for a showing, I figured, what could it hurt?”

“I guess you don’t believe that this place is haunted?” you inquire, studying the tired, mundane man while Pluto curls around your feet.

“I haven’t spent enough time here to decide what I think,” Mark admits. “My family needs income, and if you’re willing to rent this place out, for half of what you could find anywhere else, we’d love for you to take it. Ghosts, or no ghosts.”

“I’m betting on the ghost aspect,” you tease, looking down at Pluto and following his gaze to a shadowy form at the end of the hall. “I’ll take it.”

One

You’ve been in your new Ghost House for over a month, and in that time, Hyuck has realized you’re no ordinary tenant.

It had started with the way your cat reacted to him, following him around, not scared in the slightest. And then, Hyuck had noticed the way you’d tracked your black cat Pluto with your own eyes, using the animal to try to focus in on Hyuck himself.

At first, he’d thought you were some sort of clairvoyant or wanna-be ghost hunter, but then, you’d pulled out a Grimoire and a cauldron and Hyuck had realized you were more along the lines of a witch.

When you’d first moved in, Hyuck had relished the idea of haunting you out of the house, but now he finds himself to be the one that’s haunted.

He can’t get a moment's peace without your cat following him all over the place, and where your cat goes, you quickly follow. Hyuck has taken to going to the attic, where the door can’t be pushed open by a determined kitty. He fucking hates the attic.

He’s sitting amidst some cobwebs, contemplating how badly he’d fucked up in life to get to this situation, when the attic door creaks on its hinges.

Your head pops through the hole. Your gaze shifts around, and Hyuck could swear your irises look exceptionally feline-esque when they land on him. “Why are you hiding?”

You can’t actually be talking to him. You can’t actually be seeing him- it shouldn’t be possible, and yet, here it is, happening.

“Come now, Donghyuck, are you skulking?”

“Fuck off,” he mutters.

“Is that any way to speak to a witch who’s here to help you?” you laugh.

You’d definitely heard him, and the realization makes a cold shiver run up his spine. Hyuck stands up, approaching you. He waits for you to flinch or pull away, but you don’t, you simply watch him until he’s a few feet away.

“How are you seeing me right now?” he asks.

“I’ve been testing out spells with personal objects of yours that I’ve stumbled upon in the house, nothing works quite like a photo, I’ve found,” you explain. “It’s good to finally see you. I’d hoped to meet you properly within the first week, but it’s been a whole month now of us living together, which feels awfully rude of me.”

“What’s rude is your stupid cat following me around everywhere.” When Hyuck takes a peek down the attic entry manhole, he finds your feline friend at the foot of the ladder, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes.

“Pluto is just doing his job, he was raised to see spirits. The Roman God of the Dead is his namesake after all.”

“The Roman God of the Dead?” Hyuck’s nose scrunches up in distaste. He flunked grade twelve, not that Roman deities were on the learning agenda.

“Forget about it, would you like to come down and talk with me for a while? Now that I can see you and communicate, I think we should have a chat.” You study him carefully. “Although, I will note that until I find a better spell, I’ll only be able to see you like this until your photo stops burning, which could be ten minutes or twenty.”

The pathological demand avoidance in Hyuck makes him want to refuse you, but at the same time, he hasn’t spoken to anyone in over twenty years, not since that night when everything had gone so wrong-

It helps that you’re a cute girl.

With a sigh, Hyuck agrees, following you down to the living room where he finds a makeshift alter, his picture in the center of it, its edges charred. The space smells like some sort of incense, Hyuck can’t pin it, and for the first time in twenty years, Hyuck actually feels something akin to fear.

As the Ghost of the House, Hyuck has always been the one with the power. He’s been the one who scared off the first few tenants with knocks late at night, phone calls in the early hours, and even wearing a sheet to scare off the children young enough to be susceptible to seeing him.

But in this situation, sitting on the nicest chair in the room, your cat lounging on your lap, Hyuck realizes that the power of a ghost is no match to that of a witch. You look like a Goddess, or a queen- energy radiating off of you now that you’re near your alter, and it makes Hyuck’s skin tingle.

“So?” Hyuck asks after sitting in uncomfortable silence for what felt like ages.

“So?” you echo, quirking a brow.

“Why are you here?” he clarifies with a huff of frustration. “Why are you trying so hard to communicate with me?”

“I’m mostly here because the rent is less than half of what I could get anywhere else, and it’s a whole house, so that felt like a no-brainer in this economy,” you laugh. “Although, seeing as you’ve been dead for over twenty years, I’m not going to give you a lesson on rent increase and the cost of living in this day and age. As a witch, I thought this would be a very interesting house to live in, and I’ve been trying to communicate with you, because the way I see it, you’re practically my roommate. We share this house, and I’d like for things to go smoothly.”

“Smoothly,” Hyuck lets out a laugh.

“If you’d rather I exhume your remains and send you to Hell, that can be arranged too.”

Hyuck feels his throat go dry.

“That’s what I thought,” you grin. “So what do you say, roommates?”

“Fine. But I’m tired of the attic.”

“You put yourself there,” you point out.

“Look, you be nice to me, I be nice to you,” Hyuck suggests. “Fair?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Ghost boy.”

Two

Living with you actually isn’t so bad. Hyuck’s gotten used to Pluto following him around, but you generally keep to yourself, and he appreciates that trait.

Sure, you get up to witch mojo, and the house smells like all sorts of herbs and shit half the time, but Hyuck has taken to living mostly in the room that used to be his own. He prefers the south-facing space to the dark attic, and although life is boring most of the time, it’s still better than whatever afterlife Hyuck could expect as a man who accidentally took his own life at the ripe age of twenty-three.

Sometimes he likes to come see what you’re up to. He’s taken to watching you cook breakfast and dinner for yourself. You play music he’s never heard before, and the way you shake your hips always has his heart racing.

Pluto notifies you of his presence, but without an alter burning, he’s pretty sure you can only see his outline at best. You clearly don’t mind an audience, and Hyuck spends hours every week simply enjoying you.

It’s interesting to have a roommate that acknowledges him, a roommate that keeps the peace. But at the same time, part of Hyuck misses his old poltergeist ways.

You’ve reformed him. He’s a reformed ghost now, and Hyuck isn’t quite sure what to make of this peaceful living arrangement. It’s much more peaceful than things had been when he’d been alive.

He’d never had a girlfriend. Never had someone to create a sense of belonging, and somehow, he finds that much-needed peace with you. He wonders what life could have been like if he hadn’t taken those drugs that fateful night, if he hadn’t been so lonely that it hurt everywhere, if he hadn’t tried to dull the ache with pills.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” your voice draws him out of his pining thoughts, and you turn from the soup you’re making to stare in his general direction. “I can see your outline, dance with me. You always just stand there and stare, be a good Ghostie Boy, and shake your ass a little.”

Your words make Hyuck’s skin heat. He’s a ghost for Christ's sake, you can't go around objectifying him like this-

“Just a lil swivel,” you grin, showing him with your own hips.

Fuck. You’re hot. You’re so fucking hot, and Hyuck is tired of pretending you’re not.

He begins to shimmy, and he’s rewarded by a melodic giggle that escapes you and fills the kitchen. “That’s it,” you encourage him. “I know you’re not used to this kind of music, but it’s fun!”

Hyuck has to admit that he’s been enjoying the crash course in new media you’ve been giving him. From music to movies to books he haphazardly reads over your shoulders- this new age is something else, and it’s full of uncensored raunchy sex that makes him hornier than he’d ever been when he was alive.

The music you’re listening to is full of explicit lyrics, lyrics about eating pussy, and a pretty girl riding a man’s face- it’s been driving him wild, and in the late night hours, when you’re peacefully asleep one room over, Hyuck hasn’t been able to help himself.

He’s been stroking himself to the thought of you lately. He’s wondered what you’d taste like, what your body would feel like under his hands- He wonders what faces you’d make, the sounds-

This life is a little bit of Heaven, but a little bit of Hell too.

He can’t touch you, can’t taste you, can’t fuck you the way he’s been wanting to-

Leave it to him to fall in love with a sexy witch and add to his own torment.

Three

Hyuck can hear your whimpers through the wall. The sound makes his entire body tingle, and before he can stop himself, he’s shrugging his jeans down and wrapping his hand around his aching cock.

Your sex drive hasn’t been as… intense as his, in fact, he’s not sure if you’ve ever touched yourself since you moved in. Or maybe, you’ve just been quiet, it’s hard to tell.

When you’re in your room, Hyuck gives you privacy. Pluto would probably alert you to his presence if he ever did try to get a look at you naked, and Hyuck doesn’t want to risk your witchy wrath.

But tonight? Fuck, hearing your sounds makes him want to risk everything.

Going to Hell would be worth it for a look at your form.

The ghost shuffles closer to the wall, taking deep breaths as he strokes his aching cock.

One peak won’t hurt, will it?

Hyuck doesn’t often walk through walls or make use of his ghostly powers, but it’s simple enough for him to push his head through the wall. He just goes as far as his face, keeping himself half-suspended in the barrier between rooms.

Your space is dark aside from a few candles burning, and it takes Hyuck a moment for his eyes to adjust. His gaze lands on you, tangled amidst your bedsheets.

You’re naked, head dipped back against the pillows, one hand between your thighs while the other pinches at your nipples.

Fuck, Hyuck almost busts then and there. He has to stop the motions on his cock, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Pluto is nowhere to be seen, and with your eyes closed, the room mostly dark, Hyuck doubts you’d see his outline even if you did look directly at the one space along your wall that he’s watching from.

This is the perfect scenario for him, and he licks his lips as he watches the way you tease your clit, letting out soft whimpers.

You’re wet, Hyuck can see how wet you are, and it makes his mouth water with need. His cock throbs as he begins to slowly stroke it again, teasing his thumb along the tip.

The way you’re pinching at your nipples is making the ghost want to mark you up with his teeth. He wants to bury his face in your chest and lick you, sucking your perky-looking buds until you’re begging for him-

A movement of your other hand captures his attention, and Hyuck watches as you slide one finger into your core, releasing a moan that has his entire body shaking.

One digit quickly becomes two, and as you stroke your inner walls, the sound of your wet heat becomes audible to the fly on the wall, who pumps his shaft even harder.

Your hips begin to wiggle against your own touch, and Hyuck wonders how good you’d look on top of him, writhing against his cock-

You release your breast in favor of playing with your clit, both hands now between your beautiful thighs. From the sounds escaping you, Hyuck thinks you’re close, and his entire body aches. He tries to slow himself down, he wants to match your speed, wants to reach that climax with you-

Something brushes by Hyuck’s leg and he jumps, tearing himself out of your room to look down at the cat who’s appeared by his foot. “Fuck, not now, Pluto,” he hisses.

Pluto purs in response, and with an exasperated sigh, Hyuck decides to ignore your cat. Fuck it, he needs to cum, and he needs to be watching you cum-

Pushing his face back into your room, Hyuck manages to catch you just in time to see your back arch. A soft gasp of contentment leaves your lips, your hands shaking as your orgasm rushes over you-

Hyuck can’t help himself, his own body simply reacts, his cock throbbing intensely as his own release hits him. He bites down on his lip, pumping his shaft with his eyes glued to your form.

You ride out your orgasms together, and yet, apart.

You’re a scary witch, but you’re none the wiser about the ghost voyeur committing every one of your movements to memory.

Finally, Hyuck can’t take the sensation anymore, and he stops, pulling his head out of your room. He’s no stranger to ghost cum, it’s this odd, translucent goo-

When he looks down after pulling up his pants, Hyuck realizes he’s sprayed the wall, and narrowly missed Pluto, but the cat is looking at his spunk as if he can see it-

Hyuck’s never had an animal in the house before. He knows that usually, his ghost jizz disappears after a while, but if the cat were to try to touch it-

“Pluto, no!” Hyuck whispers, trying to block the animal with his hands.

The cat has brushed by Hyuck before, so Hyuck’s pretty sure the cat won’t go through his hands-

Instead, Pluto tries to go around Hyuck’s hands, and the ghost’s heart lurches in his cold chest.

“Fuck, stop!” he says, voice getting louder.

The cat meows obnoxiously, and Hyuck hears a sound in your room-

Hyuck doesn’t have time for this, he’s not about to get caught one room over after you’ve just orgasmed. The ghost does the only thing he can think of doing, he jumps down to the ground to hide behind the bed.

Luckily, Pluto seems more interested in him than his ghost cum on the wall, and begins to follow. The bedroom door is pushed open, drawing Pluto’s attention from following Hyuck.

“Pluto?” you call. “What are you doing in here?”

Hyuck can feel his heart in his throat, and he cowers further under the bed, afraid that if you see any of his shadowy figure, you’ll exorcize him or something.

There’s a few moments of tight tension, and then Pluto pads away from Hyuck to join you at the door.

“Silly kitty,” you coo, picking up your pet. “Let’s go make you some dinner.”

The door closes behind you and Hyuck lets out a deep breath.

That had been much too close for him.

Four

It’s been about a week since Hyuck watched you finger fuck yourself to completion, and he’s doing his best to avoid you. He gets a half-chub every time he looks at you for Christ’s sake, and while part of him feels justified in his voyeurism - he is a ghost after all - another part of him feels dirty about it.

Hyuck feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders every time you leave the house, and today, he watches you get into your car and drive off before he heads to your room. He’s been curious about a few things, but you hardly ever leave the property, so he hasn’t had the time and the balls to follow his wishes until now.

Your bedroom door is closed, and it’s as easy as stepping through it for Hyuck to invade your space.

He tries to calm himself, tries to take his time looking at items you’ve collected. There’s a stack of books that thrum with power, he stays away from them. Jewels and crystals litter a vanity table also covered in various perfume bottles, and Hyuck bends down to smell one, overcome by the scent of florals that always follows you through the house. Lastly, Hyuck goes over to the laundry hamper.

The ghost is overjoyed by what greets him. Sitting on top of a pile of sweaters, is a lacy thong. Hyuck sinks to his knees, bending over the hamper and bringing his nose as close to the panties as possible. He takes a deep breath, eyes closing as the scent overwhelms him: this is so much better than florals.

Now he really feels dirty, but there’s something so freeing in it. He’s a dirty little ghostie, and Hyuck is beginning to revel in it.

He’s been a spirit for so many years, and he’s gotten adept at poltergeist-type activity. Sure, he’s usually only ever used it to throw books around, or open cupboards, or… you know, wear bedsheets to scare the shit out of the kids who show up and trespass around Halloween, but… grabbing a pair of panties shouldn’t be that hard.

With a shaky hand, Hyuck reaches into the hamper. He focuses his energy to his fingertips, and after a deep breath, when he touches your panties, he can feel the lace. Hyuck lifts the fabric out of the hamper, collapsing onto his knees next to it and shimmying his pants down.

Then, he wraps his panty-clad hand around his cock, throwing his head back to let out a sigh of relief. There’s something so sexy about jacking off using your underwear as friction- there’s a small, juicy spot along the fabric, and Hyuck’s majorly tempted to lick at it, but he feels like that’s a line he shouldn’t cross.

Instead, he pumps his cock harder, letting out soft whimpers. Hyuck’s head lolls forward again, chin tucked down to his chest. His eyes open so he can stare at your cute panties as he strokes himself off with them, and the sight alone has his dick twitching.

Hyuck grits his teeth, his abdominal muscles flexing with effort. He can’t help but rut toward his hand now, and each stroke of your lacey thong against his aching cock has him closer and closer-

There’s a sound downstairs, and it makes Hyuck’s heart leap in his chest. You’re home again already?

He tightens his grip on his length, determined to cum before he gets caught. He can’t stop now, not when he’s so close to a much-needed release-

As the sound of you coming up the stairs limits his time more and more, the idea of getting caught actually adds to Hyuck’s pleasure. Before he knows what he’s doing, one of Hyuck’s hands is raising to his throat. He throws his head back, applying just a bit of pressure- it’s enough to have him grunting, the cord in his stomach snapping as his orgasm takes over.

Waves of pleasure wash through his entire body, his grip tightening on his throat and making it all the more intense. He can feel his spunk shooting onto your panties, which he holds over his tip as he pumps his aching cock, getting out every last drop-

He can hear you humming as you come down the hall, and in Hyuck’s post-orgasmic haze, he doesn’t have time to think. He simply drops your panties on the floor and stumbles to his feet, stepping through the wall just as your door opens.

He collapses again in the other room, pulling up his pants and trying to catch his breath.

Five

It had been a quick run to get cat food for Pluto, and when you arrive back at your room, you hardly even notice that something is out of place. First, you open your blinds, peaking out at the evening setting sun. Then you go to sit on your bed to take off your socks, as you’re about to toss them to your hamper, you notice something on the floor.

It’s a pair of your lacy panties, and you’re a hundred percent sure they hadn’t been on the floor when you’d left.

With your bedroom door closed, Pluto couldn’t have gotten into your things, which leaves one culprit.

Hyuck.

You’ve suspected the ghost has had a growing crush on you for a while, after all, he is a man who’s been alone in this house for years, but this is your first real evidence of it.

You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric.

It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh.

Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties.

You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

For a moment, you simply stare at your panties, and then, you decide to do something about it. Going to your Grimoire, you open to a page bookmarked by multiple photos. They’re pictures of Hyuck that you’d found in the attic. You’d saved them for a rainy day when you’d need to contact him with a full-body apparition again, and it looks like today is the day.

Grabbing the largest one, you take the photo and your Grimoire down to the alter in the living room. While you have an alter of sorts in your bedroom, the one powered by the direct sun on your table by the south-facing window is the most appropriate for something like this.

You make quick work of a spell to bind the ghost to the waking world, and with a last few sprinkles of spices and some dried herbs, you place the photo in the center, using a lighter along the bottom edge.

“Hyuck?” you call, turning toward the room. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

You hear someone whisper, “Fuck,” and you turn to see Hyuck scampering toward the staircase.

“Are you seriously going to make me chase you?”

“Don’t exorcize me!” he screams, taking the stairs two at a time.

His words make you laugh. “I have a different type of exercise planned,” you retort, but it doesn’t do anything to slow him down. “Seriously, Hyuck, calm down!”

You make it to the second level, and you know where he’s snuck into. He may have closed the door quietly, but you’ve lived with the ghost long enough to know which room he’s staked a claim over.

Taking an amused breath, you knock gently. “Hyuck,” you sing-song, “I’m not mad. Just let me in.”

“You’re gonna exorcize me.”

You sigh again. “Hyuck, open this door, right now.”

You hate to use your dommy-mommy voice on him, but he’s trying your patience, and you only have as long as it takes for his photo to burn, which, due to your magic, probably gives you about half an hour, give or take.

“If you do not open this door, I will open it for you, and your punishment will be worse,” you warn him.

A moment later, the door creaks open ajar, and you push it the rest of the way.

“I’m sorry,” Hyuck tells you, standing there with his shoulders hunched.

“For what?” you enquire, leaning on the frame and crossing your arms over your chest.

“For running.”

“And?” you prompt.

“For uh…” you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, bowing his head, “for uh… using your panties.”

“Using them how?” You’re kind of enjoying watching him like this. He might have his own weird kinks, but this might just be one of your own.

“Well, you know…” his skin is turning pink.

“I don’t know. I want you to tell me what you did with them. Don’t leave out a single detail you bad ghost boy.”

Hyuck’s gaze lifts to meet yours, but he’s quick to look away again. “Well, I mean, I was just looking at them at first.”

“At first. And then what?”

“Well, I just wanted to touch them.”

“Liar,” you scoff. “I bet you wrapped them around your cock and jerked off with them, didn’t you?”

Hyuck’s ears have turned pink now, and when his hands go in front of his body, you realize he’s trying to hide a half-chub that’s growing in his pants.

The little freak is into this.

God, he’s endearing.

“Admit it,” you instruct. “If you admit it, I’ll go easy on you.”

Hyuck takes a breath. “Yes, I used your panties to cum.”

You study the ghost.

“Good boy,” you say finally. His eyes lift to meet yours, his lips parting. “Come to my room.”

You don’t wait for him to respond, you simply turn and expect him to follow. When you get to your room, you collapse onto the bed.

“Close the door,” you instruct next. “Be a good boy and light my candles for me too.”

As he begins to follow through with your commands, you stretch, letting out a sigh from the feeling of your tight muscles. Then, you lift off your shirt, tossing it at Hyuck while his back is to you, his fingers fumbling with a lighter.

Hyuck freezes, then turns to look at you.

“Have you watched me before, dirty ghostie?” you ask, going to remove your pants next.

The way he swallows tells you everything you need to know.

“Well, you are a bad, naughty, dirty, little ghostie, aren’t you, Hyuck?” you grin, tossing your jeans at him.

Laying in your bra and panties, you watch him finish lighting your candles, then he comes to stand at the foot of the bed, clearly waiting on instruction. He’s trying to cover the front of his pants again, and it makes you laugh.

“Move your hands,” you tell him. “You know, honestly, I’m a little surprised at how easy it was for you to get hard again. You came, what? Ten minutes ago? Fifteen?”

He’s so bashful he can hardly answer, and it’s an adorable sight.

“Here are the rules,” you say, “I’m going to make myself cum. After that, I’ll let you make me cum. And if you can get through all of that teasing without touching yourself, if you can prove to me you’re a good ghostie who can follow instructions, I’ll fuck you. How does that sound?”

Hyuck’s gaze watches your hand slip between your thighs, your legs opening wider, and he unconsciously licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay… mistress?”

You laugh at his attempt to please you. “I was looking for a thank you.”

“Right, yeah, thank you, I can follow instructions,” he fumbles to correct himself.

“Then be a good boy and put your hands behind yourself. I don’t want you touching anything. Don’t want you covering anything either, got it?” Your words come out breathy as you begin to stroke your core through your panties. “I especially don’t want to see your hands all shaky, that’s just embarrassing, ghost boy.”

Why are you enjoying this so much? Why are you enjoying the degradation of a man who died over twenty years ago?

From Hyuck’s reactions it’s clear he’s never been spoken to like this. Sure, domination and submission were things back in the day, but there must be something about your specific 2020’s brand of degradation-

Hyuck slots his hands behind his back, letting out a deep breath.

“Good boy,” you coo, pushing your panties to the side so you can touch your pussy directly. Teasing him like this has already made you extremely wet, and it’s easy for you to glide your digits up and down your soaked slit, drawing soft circles on your clit.

“Can you see from there, ghost boy?” you sigh, spreading your legs even wider.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I don’t like Mistress or Ma’am,” you admit.

“I’m sorry.”

If you got him to call you Goddess you’d risk hubris, so instead, you tell him, “Call me princess.”

You’d considered ‘Angel’ as a term of endearment, but with the deities you pay tribute to, even that had felt like a step too far. No, Princess works- You feel like a royal girlie who’s having fun with a servant boy, abusing the power you hold over him, for mutual benefit.

“Okay, princess,” Hyuck breathes, and you can tell from his reaction that he enjoys the feeling of the word on his tongue.

You like the sound of it coming from him too, and you throw your head back, getting more comfortable against the pillows. You tease one of your fingers into your wet hole, stroking your sensitive inner walls.

Hyuck lets out a shaky gasp, and you grin to yourself, keeping your eyes closed so you can enjoy the sensation. Although that doesn’t stop you from saying in a sing-song voice, “You better not be touching yourself, ghost boy.”

“I’m not, princess, I promise.”

“Good ghostie,” you coo slipping another finger into your pussy. You open your eyes to look at him. His gaze is fixed on your core, and he’s got his bottom lip pinned between his teeth. “Is it a nice view?”

“The best view in the whole world,” Hyuck breathes, almost panting.

“Should I make myself cum so you can finally touch me?”

“Fuck, yes please, fuck, yes-” Hyuck’s eyes meet yours, and you see the desperation, it’s practically throbbing off of him in waves. “Please, princess, I wanna watch you cum.”

“You’re being such a good ghostie for me,” you muse, pulling your fingers from your core and holding them out for him, “Come here, have a taste.”

Hyuck falls onto his knees on the foot of your mattress, grabbing your hand with both of his and drawing your digits to his mouth. He sucks on them, his eyes fixed on yours as his tongue licks and strokes your skin, cleaning up every drop of your juices.

“Now back to your spot,” you prompt, pulling your hand away. “The moment I cum, you can join.”

You watch him swallow thickly, and while he doesn’t talk back, Hyuck is clearly reluctant to get back to his feet, standing at the edge of the bed and watching you.

His hands go behind his back, and when he’s in proper form, you slowly slip your panties down your legs. Then, you throw them directly at him. They land on his shoulder, and Hyuck turns to look at them, breathing deeply.

He’s rock hard in his pants now, and the sight turns you on as you bring both hands to your core. You begin to finger yourself while you rub tight circles on your clit, your toes curling at the sensation.

“Hyuck,” you whimper, arching your back, building the pressure deep in the pit of your abdomen.

“Princess-” he echoes, sounding even more desperate than you are.

You open your eyes, staring directly at Hyuck as you work yourself closer and closer-

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him. “Fuck, I’m almost there, almost there, baby-”

Hyuck releases a moan at the new pet name, and you can see him twitching. He’s doing his best to follow your instruction about not moving until you’ve cum, but you can see it’s getting harder and harder-

You let out a gasp, your orgasm slamming into you, and that’s when Hyuck finally pounces.

He wastes no time jumping onto the bed, burying his face between your legs while his hands grab at the flesh of your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. His mouth devours your core as your orgasm surges through you, and each lick and suck has you crying out, muscles tensing as Hyuck intensifies your high.

Your fingers thread in his hair, and he groans when you tug on him, unrelenting in his task of eating you through your orgasm. The ghost is eating you like a man who’s been starved of pussy for twenty years, and you suppose that’s accurate, so can you really hold the whole pantie-sniffing thing against him?

You’re not sure how he does it, but one orgasm that you’d given yourself quickly becomes a second orgasm that Hyuck has coaxed out of you by sucking on your clit, and you gasp loudly as it slams into you, riding the tail end of the first high.

“Fuck, I’m cumming-” you whimper, thighs tensing around Hyuck’s head-

He simply pushes them apart, tongue diving into your hole to stroke your walls as they spasm around him. Hyuck groans, and the feeling of the vibration on your clit has you whimpering even louder, your grip tightening in his hair.

“Hyuck-” you moan, pushing at his head, “I’m done, that was two-”

“I want three,” he tells you, taking his mouth from your pussy so he can suck marks along your inner thighs. “Can I have three? I’ve been a good ghostie for you.”

“You can have three when you bury your cock inside of me,” you tell him with a laugh, your body still buzzing in the after-effects of two orgasms that had happened in quick succession.

“I want three now, and four when I’m fucking you stupid, princess.”

Well, this is a switch-up.

He’d been so subby before, but one taste of your pussy has him trying to be more dominant? Fuck it, you don’t even mind, the words that have just come out of his mouth are too hot to even handle, so you let out a small, whimpered, “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” he prompts, teeth grazing your inner thigh.

“Make me cum one more time with your mouth before you fuck me.”

Hyuck doesn’t waste any time swiping his tongue along your slit again. He flicks at your clit and your thighs shake around his head, your nails dragging softly against his scalp.

Your hips begin to wiggle, and Hyuck looks up at you, holding out his tongue and staying still so you can grind against him. You toss your head back, closing your eyes as you ride his tongue, using him for your own pleasure.

Hyuck groans, tilting forward just enough for his nose to bump your clit, and your muscles clench at the stimulus. You’re sensitive after two orgasms, but fuck, Hyuck feels so good.

“I just want you to fuck me,” you confess, relaxing back against the bed again while Hyuck takes the cue to begin to lick your pussy. “Make me cum so you can fuck me.”

Hyuck practically growls in response, his lips suctioning around your clit. Your legs quiver around his head, thighs squishing in on him- this time, instead of pushing you away and spreading you open, Hyuck allows you to practically crush his skull, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, body beginning to shake as he focuses all his attention on your clit.

There’s no pushing the ghost away, no crushing his head with your thighs- he’s locked in on his target, and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

Your moans fill the space, your back arching as he sucks your clit closer and closer to another high-

Then, out of the blue, one of his hands snakes up to your throat. Hyuck adjusts so he can squeeze your neck, his tongue flicking at your clit, his breath hot against your skin-

The pressure on your throat makes your entire body freeze for a moment, mind short-circuiting- and when you’re able to think again, all you can think about is the pulsing between your thighs as your orgasm crashes into you like a bullet train.

You whimper, the sound obstructed in part by the hand still gripping your throat. Your own hands fly to Hyuck’s wrist, encouraging him to apply even more pressure as you begin to thrash under his touch. Your hips are bucking toward his face, your pussy throbbing like it’s never throbbed before- and there’s not even anything filling you.

Your clit feels amazing, but your poor inner walls have been neglected, you’re aching for something to throb around, aching for an intrusion in your sinfully wet hole-

“Hyuck, please,” you gasp, letting out a shuddery breath when he pulls his mouth from your core, looking up at you. “I need-”

He squeezes your throat tighter, cutting off your words. Then he begins to kiss up your body, finally making it to your lips. He stops just a millimeter away, looking down at you as he releases your neck. It’s as if - even after all of this - he’s asking for permission.

You throw your arms around the back of his throat, tugging him the final distance to your mouth. His tongue clashes against your own, and you can taste your pussy there. Your core throbs, and Hyuck begins to grind down against you, rolling his hips expertly.

“Fuck,” you groan, breaking the kiss so you can shove your hands between your bodies, pushing at his pants.

Hyuck, meanwhile, begins to mark up your neck in love bites, his fingers slipping under your back so he can unclasp your bra and tear it off.

You’re naked for him now, and you make quick work of his pants, briefs, and shirt. You’re caught in a whirlwind of need, kisses, and touches. Finally, he’s slotting himself between your thighs again. This time, when he grinds against you, his bare cock glides past your clit, and your legs shake, your fingers clawing at him.

“Do it,” you encourage him, gasping as he kisses your throat. One of your hands snakes into his hair, massaging his scalp. “Fuck me.”

Hyuck reaches between your bodies, grabbing the base of his cock. He begins to tease his head along your pussy lips and you both groan at the feeling. “Princess-” he moans.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I’m ready, I can take it. You’ve been such a good ghostie being patient for me and making me cum- it’s your turn. Use me, baby, fill me up.”

He’s panting against your neck, and he pulls back to look down at you. You can tell there’s hesitancy, but a need too, and when you grab the nape of his neck to draw his lips to yours, you feel his body immediately relax.

He presses the tip of his cock to your tight hole, and as he kisses you, he begins to push into your pussy.

You groan at the feeling of him. For an average-sized man, his cock is no laughing matter. He’s thick, stretching out your inner walls with each inch that sinks into you.

Your thighs quake around his hips, and Hyuck licks at your tongue, moaning and kissing you until his front is flush with your own.

Only then does he break the kiss, rubbing his forehead against yours. “Princess-”

“I know, baby, it feels good for me too,” you assure him.

He grabs at the pillow next to your head, squeezing it roughly while letting out a shuddery breath.

Your pussy is still throbbing, trying to accommodate his large size, and when he buries his face against your throat, beginning to thrust, your entire body lights up with pleasurable energy.

“Fuck,” you groan, closing your eyes and stroking his shoulders, “Just like that.”

He picks up his pace, fucking you harder and harder until your bed begins to rock against the wall with each rough motion from his hips.

Hyuck continues his barrage on your throat, licking your sweet spot while you mewl into his ear, holding him tight. One of his hands sneaks up between your bodies, grabbing at your breast. He pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it and panting against your skin.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, pussy throbbing around him, earning a deep groan.

“I don’t know if I can hold it,” he admits, pulling away to look down at you with beautiful chocolate eyes.

“Then don’t hold it,” you tell him. “Just don’t assume we’re done when you’re done.”

His gaze darkens, his plump lips parting in a silent question. Instead of saying anything else, you draw him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs tight around his hips.

The hand that had been on your breast finds your free hand, fingers lacing as he presses you down into the mattress, fucking you even harder.

Each thrust has him hitting perfect spots, and the way he’s rolling your hips adds stimulus to your clit, which throbs with sensitivity.

The throaty moans escaping him are driving you mental, and the way his tongue strokes your own has you dizzy with lust.

Your other hand tangles in his pretty hair, tugging gently, dragging his mouth away from yours so you can begin to speckle his throat with kisses.

Hyuck lets out an absolutely sinful moan, and you realize he’s very sensitive in this area. It makes you want to make it even more, so you begin to suck small purple marks into his flesh while he shakes above you, bicep muscles flinching with effort.

“Keep fucking me,” you remind him. “Want you to cum.”

Hyuck squeezes your hand, his pace picking up again.

“That’s it, ghost boy,” you coo, licking his throat. “Cum for your princess.”

He lets out a strangled gasp, thrusts faltering. A moment later you can feel his cum filling you up, and it makes you moan, your core throbbing with desperation. You need one more high, and you’re sure he’ll help you get it.

Hyuck rides out his orgasm, and then he collapses on top of you, his lips seeking out your own.

You allow him to kiss you for a while, cock still buried deep inside of you. Then, you begin to stroke his body again, making him shiver.

“Can you roll onto your back for me, ghost boy?” you prompt, looking up into his eyes.

Hyuck is quick to comply, and you can tell from the way his lips part, that he’s not expecting you to mount him as soon as he’s on his back. You put his cock back inside of you before any cum can drip out, and you sit there, staring down at him with your hands on his chest.

“Your recharge time is pretty good, isn’t it, ghost boy?” you tease, gently rolling your hips while he whines, grabbing your thighs from the sensitivity. “I bet I could just kiss you for a few minutes, and you’d be rock hard again in no time.”

“Princess-”

“You want to please me, don’t you, baby?” You trail a finger down his chest, teasing your nails across his abdomen and watching the muscles jump there under your touch.

“Yes,” he admits.

“And I think we both deserve to cum one more time, don’t you?”

He nods again.

You lean over him, pretending you’re about to kiss him, as his eyes flutter shut, lips parting in anticipation- you push his face to the side, attacking his neck instead.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, grabbing at your hips, squeezing you.

“Such a sensitive neck,” you muse, lips moving to his ear where you lick the shell, enjoying the way he shudders. “I wonder if I just…” you slip one hand up his chest, and Hyuck immediately arches his head, giving you full access to wrap your fingers around his throat. “That’s what I thought.”

Hyuck whimpers below you, hips pushing up, looking for friction-

“Did that make you hard, ghostie?” you laugh, sitting up and looking down at him. “Just a little choking and you’re already good to go again?”

This poor man has been repressed- you’re happy you’re the one who gets to free him.

You begin to slowly move your hips, and Hyuck lets out a desperate moan, arching his head back even more. You tighten your grip on his throat and he responds by digging his fingers into your hips, urging you to ride him faster.

He looks so good like this.

Then, one of his hands moves, his thumb finding your clit. Your core throbs around him and you both moan loudly. Hyuck opens his eyes, looking up at you.

“You’re being so good for me,” you tell him, rutting faster on his cock. “Make your princess cum.”

He rubs your clit harder, beginning to buck up to meet you while you ride him.

Then, Hyuck pushes your hand from his neck, sitting up so he can latch his mouth onto your breast. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around your lower back and moving you on his cock. His teeth skim your nipple and you cry out, threading your hands in his hair and moaning in his ear.

He groans in response. This new angle has your clit rubbing against him, and you ride yourself to an intense completion, your head thrown back when your orgasm rushes over you.

As you cum, Hyuck flips you onto your back, taking over and thrusting into you with newfound energy. Your pussy throbs around him as he fucks you stupid, and when he buries his face against your throat, marking your skin, he cums too.

You can feel him shoot a second load deep inside of you, coating your walls to the point of nearly being too full, but part of you kind of loves it.

You hold him as he fucks you through your highs, listening to his panting and whining.

Finally, he stops, all but collapsing on top of you, lips feverish against your skin.

You pet his hair, trying to catch your breath.

You’re cognizant of the fact that you don’t have all the time in the world for aftercare, and you’d rather talk with Hyuck now than address a shadow.

“Ghostie?” you whisper.

He releases a grunt.

“We don’t have much time left,” you say sadly.

He pulls away from your throat, looking down at you.

“Listen,” you cup his face, “being interested in a ghost the way I’m interested in you has never been something I saw for myself in this life,” you admit. “But, I am interested in you. I only have so many pictures of you that I can use to make you physical like this, but I’m going to find something to make this longer lasting, I promise. Until I do… I’m okay with you sniffing my panties, or watching me masturbate, or anything you want-”

Hyuck cracks a smile at your words, and you find yourself giggling as well.

“So you’re not going to exorcize me?” he jokes.

“Never ever,” you promise.

“You’re going to find a way for us to be together,” the ghost says softly.

“If anyone could find a way, it’s a witch like me,” you assure him, leaning up to press your lips against his.

He kisses you gently, and you get lost in it.

You’re not sure how long you stay lip-locked, but after a while, the feeling of his lips disappears. You open your eyes to find yourself alone, well- you can still see a shadow of him, but his warmth is gone, and the sensation of his kisses too.

You sigh. “I’ll find a way, ghostie,” you promise.

You’d like to think he responded, maybe with a word of encouragement, but there’s no way to know for sure.

Rolling onto your side, you imagine him behind you, close but unable to physically touch.

Leave to a witch to fall in love with a ghost.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! writing this style of Hyuck was way too satisfying

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🔮 preview. Hyuck kisses you, grabbing your face as he does so. You can taste something unsaid on his tongue, but you do your best to ignore it as he pulls you from the sink, turning you around until your bum hits the island table. He lifts you up, setting you onto the old wood, then, he sinks to his knees. You’re wearing a dress, Hyuck loves dresses, they make it easy for him to have access to your pussy. He’s downright kitty obsessed these days, lifting up your skirt just enough to get under it. His lips make contact with your panty clad core and you let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on your palms and letting your head fall backward.

cw/ tw. Dominant leaning switchy Hyuck, unprotected ghost sex, kitchen sex, sex on a table, pussy eating, fingering, pussy obsessed Hyuck, slight ghost angst, hair pulling, choking, praise, dirty talk, kitchen quickie, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of dark magic/bones, panties as a gag, finger sucking, sex while wearing a dress, etc… I petnames. (hers) princess (his) baby

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 staring. Hyuck x afab!reader

bonus

The answer to your ghost conjuration problem had been shockingly simple. If burning a picture could draw Hyuck to your existence for as long as it was alight, you realized that burning one of his bones would last substantially longer.

Most crematoriums burn bones at 1000 degrees Celsius for two or three hours. At a much lower temperature, using a Bunsen burner set to 300 degrees, you could burn one small fragment for a lot longer.

The worst part was going to the graveyard across town, with no one but Pluto as company, under the light of the moon in the dead of night to exhume Hyuck’s body. It’s been so long since his death that you weren’t worried about finding anything other than bones in the casket, and with a spell, you didn’t even have to put in the effort to dig- but something about uncovering Hyuck’s supposed ‘final resting place’ just hadn’t sat right with you.

You’d been aware, as you had driven home with a bag full of bones, that you were teetering on the side of a darker shade of magic. But for love, you decided not to care.

The first night you’d lit up a small bone, Hyuck had appeared right behind you, and the two of you had fucked on the floor right next to the altar.

It’s been three or four months since you began to burn Hyuck’s bones, and your lust for each other hasn’t diminished.

He’s insatiable, and you are too.

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frogchiro · 5 months

Text

Idk if this has been done yet, if so please tell me, but lately I've been toying around with medieval aus combined with my good old Witch!Reader au...So how do you guys would feel about Reader who is a very high ranked court magician? I'm talking like she's basically the Queen's right hand when it comes to all kinds of magical and supernatural affairs but the thing is, while obviously incredibly clever and wise, she still is quite young (early 20's) and very spoilt, all about the luxury life, lush furs and revealing dresses, rare jewelry from around the world and is quite the temptress; running around in dresses that leave little to the imagination, flirts with guards and eats up all the attention she's given :((

Imagine the CoD men, all in different positions, pine after the beauty even if she's spoilt, a little naive due to how sheltered she was outside of magical and court affairs and her being a little whiny and bratty when she was once send out to a military fort to sort out a magic anomaly and when she was shown her chamber which, to no surprise, was a huge downgrade from her large, luxurios palace chamber, was whining to Knight Commander Simon 'Ghost' Riley about 'this thing looking like a dungeon and where she was supposed to put all her things', all he could think of was about what he wouldn't do to put you in his lap and spank your ass raw :((

Or or nasty pervy mercenary-turned-guard John 'Soap' MacTavish whom you oh so much despise :(( But no one can blame you!! He's so damn huge and burly and beastly, you have no idea where your Queen even got someone so barbaric!! His accent is weird, his hairstyle is weird, even his clothes and armor! He's so loud and boisterous and has not a single gentle or elegant bone in his huge body >:(

You often catch Johnny leering at you, whistling or making crude comments which leave you angry and flustered but he doesn't do anything about it and just laughs!! Tells you to be quiet and now yowl like a cat in heat!! Is he insane!?

The worst is whenever you bathe in a lake or even a bathtub whenever you can get one and he's always there and perving on you, not even trying to hide his nasty gaze and smirk :(( While usually you'd tease the handsome guards back in the palace and preen at the attention, now it's the opposite! You can scream and curse at him, telling you'll cut his balls off in his sleep and make a sacrifice off of them and Johnny's only reply is that 'he hopes it will be to some smokin' hit fertility goddess so she can grow his balls back to stuff you full' >:(

#kin speaks #idk how to name this au😭#spoiled witch!reader #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish

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flamingpudding · 2 months

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I'm back with a part 4 if you want to do it it's kind of more of a crack write I just need Klarion trying to explain the family tree

But not explaining how he was made at all So Young Justice and the Justice League are now convinced that a the Ghost King was a teenage parent who is now 27 years old and just passed college with a degree in astronomy and machinery

Klarion's other parent is a a crazy fruit loop 64 year old millionaire who went to college with Klarion's Mom parents who had an emotionally unhealthy obsession with his mom's mother and then it passed on to his mom.

And he has an older sister who is technicality a clone of his mom but also has the bastards DNA so fundamentally making Ellie Vlad Master and Mom's first born kid but there's six other siblings that Klarion had that died back a while back but Mom got granddad who's apparently the time lord AKA Cronos which is a whole another long story to go back in time and save those kids get them fixed up and now Klarion technicality has seven older siblings which all do their own things

And then he starts mentioning his uncle who is a 9 ft yeti his technicality auntie who is a medieval ghost princess who can turn into a dragon his auntie Pandora and his his grandfather cronos

My names for the six other clone children are Donald (he/him), Cecelia (they/she), Bartholomew(Them/They), Kyle AKA Bite(He/It), Brutus(He/They), and then there's Danna (She/Her) who actually really like the name Dan and asked Klarion if could have it when Klarion changed his name

Sorry if this is a little bit too much I've just really been thinking about au for this after the last part you made I hope this helps you with your writing or at least makes you laugh but I really love the idea of Danny's AKA somewhat clone children and finding their own personalities and and fighting themselves out of just being failed clone of their mom also I love the idea of Danny going back in time to save the rest of the clone kids cuz now he's a mature adult who wants to save their lives and wants them to grow into their own people.

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I probably did way to much research into all the fandoms I am in to see what I could tie into this... And yet this feels shorter than it should but I also currently lack the time to add more. But for now I hope this will be satisfactorily.

Also this family tree idea especially the part of saving the melted clones. LOVE IT!

So even though it took me a while! here is Part 4 you inspired! Thanks so much for the ask!

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

"Dude, you are making us only curious!" Impulse spoke up as he sat down next to Klarion who had his head in his hands. "Like you and your mom can't just drop your family lore like that!"

The witch boy on the other hand looked up with narrowed eyes at the speedster. "What lore?"

"Let's see, the part that apparently a Vlad tried to kill your Grandpa to make friends several time. That your mom is 'ghost' adopted by the lord of time Cronos and Pandora, which makes us family too by the way, and that you have a sister that apparently is even crazier than what we got to know of your family so far." Wonder Girl counted off her fingers next to him grinning as she mentioned the part of probably being a part of his 'crazy' family too. Which hell yea, that sounded like a lot of fun to be explored she would have to talk with Wonder Woman about that as soon as possible.

"Also..." Red Robin added as he flipped through the photo album that apparently no one remembered he had. He was turning it around and pointed at a particular photo with a wild bunch of people in it that varied between more human and well... less humanoid people. One of them definitely was a Yeti and there was also what looked like living armor as well as Teekly (they knew that demon cat at least), a giant green dog and for some reasons there was a green aggressive looking Octopus in the background too. "...how are you related to a Yeti?"

"Hey that man there and those other teens in the picture actually have some resembles with you! Do you have older brothers too?" Superboy additionally asked as he moved around Red Robin to see the photo better pointing at a man that appeared to be in this late twenties, blue eyed, black haired and a little on the buffer side. If he didn't know any better and the fact that he should keep his mouth shut about their actual identities he would have jokingly asked Red Robin if his family would like to add more kids considering Klarions family apparently had a bunch of black haired blue eyed members too, judging by the photo at least.

"What are you talking about. That man is my mom and yes the others are actually my older brothers and that Yeti is uncle Frostbite who also happens to be the best medic in the Infinite Realms" The four teen heroes looked stunned at the picture and then back at the Ghost King that was smiling at them, still seated by the dinner table with their mentors. Who by the way were now perking up at the change of topic and the information they could gain with it, well Wonder Woman was more interested in the apparently extended family she had.

"Oh I remember we took this photo last year, it was such a hassle to get everyone into one place with them all being busy doing their own things." Danny mused for a moment, remembering fondly how he had to literally drag some of the kids home through a portal.

"It was more annoying than anything too since I was declared to be the youngest...." Klarion muttered also remembering that day not as fondly as his mother.

"Wait, wait, wait! That is a picture of your family? I need an explanation buddy!" Impulse cut in without shame, quickly removing the picture from the photo album to get a better look at it before holding it out to Klarion so he could explain all the individuals. "Plus why does your mom look soooo.... human?"

The witch boy on the other hand stared at him for a couple of seconds before looking over towards his mother as if waiting for something. After a moment the teen heroes as well as their mentors saw Danny nod with a little smile. "This dimension doesn't have the GIW so its fine, the Justice League Dark won't be a problem either, right?." Constantine flinched at the smile the Ghost King was giving him, muttering something under his breath as he had hoped his presence had been forgotten.

"Since mom is giving his okay...." Klarion mutter sitting crosslegged on the ground as he snatched the photo album from Red Robin and flipped through it. "Lets start with the easiest stuff to explain."

Danny chuckled noticing that not only the teen heroes but their mentors as well showed an interest. He choose to stay quiet letting the adults listen in on the kids, and if things went bad he would just ask Clockwork if they could revert time back to this moment and he would change his nod of permission to a shake of denial.

"Okay first of, this is my mom and his sister Jasmine, this is Danielle my older sister and that hulk with flaming white hair and blueish skin is me. That was before I got deaged because of destabilising." Klarion explained flipping to a photo of him, Danny, Jazz and Danielle. "Mom was around fifteen, Aunt Jazz about seventeen and Ellie should have been about a year old but she was aged up to twelve. They look human in this one because well they are. Mom was originally human and became what you call in this dimension a Meta through an accident."

"Wait... that would mean your mom... How could he have two kids at that age of fourteen? You look like an adult and your sister was aged up?" Wonder Girl couldn't help but ask as she looked from the photo and back to Danny at the dinner table again.

"That's cause Vlad was a fu-"

"Language Klarion!"

"Vlad was a fruitloop. That photo was taken shortly after Vlad and I sort of redeemed our selfs. Plus, mom didn't really have my sister and me willingly.... we were kind of forced upon him in a way." Klarion explained shrugging. "Old Man Vlad had an obsession with his mom that then turned on mom, which resulted in my oldest sister Danielle first. Actually, a lot of my elder siblings resulted from that, but they didn't survive it the first time, Mom got Old Man Clocks help to save them once he got used to being the Ghost King. I got added to the mix shortly after my sister, but... i wasn't in the best state of mind at first, kind of went through a redemption phase in which mom had to fix the timeline of our original home dimension, too."

Danny chuckled again at the disturbed looks the teens were giving his son as well as the looks their mentors sent him. He probably should correct Klarion's wording... but being one of the gremlins of his family he just smiled on, not commenting. He really understands now why Pops Clockwork liked watching the chaos he used to cause as teen, and still sometimes causes as adult.

"Klarion... how old is this Old Man Vlad?" Red Robin asked grimacing as his eyes under the mask flicked up to the Ghost King and then back to the witch boy both seemingly unbothered by the disturbing information they were sharing.

"In human years... probably around 67? You stop counting age at some point if your a halfa." Klarion shrugged, not noticing the grimaces of the teens around him. "Anyway, Ellie is sort of the first born. I came in after that, with my core being a mix of Mom and Vlad. Not DNA wise though since I came to be because of their ghost cores. That's why I look like that in this photo. Though human DNA wise I am probably now mostly Moms, we never bothered to ask the old man."

Danny muffled another chuckle, coughing as Superman sent him an incredulous look of shook while he felt Batmans burning gaze on him.

"You... mentioned more siblings?" Red Robin asked carefully sharing a look with his team, feeling like there was a whole lot of trauma in Klarions family he wasn't sure they should address or not. So asking after his siblings was probably, hopefully the safest option. They didn't know that while there was trauma in the witch boy's family it was not the kind they were imagining.

"Yea I got a bunch more brothers, Vlad was a evil crazy fuitloop, before he redeemed himself. They all kind of melted in one timeline but mom and Grandpa Clock found a way to save them." Klarion nodded flipping to another photo containing him, as he looked now, and all his siblings.

"So, Ellie you know about already. The one with the sunglasses and died hair is Bartholomew, second oldest. They made themselves a home in other dimension, barely at home cause he has to much fun messing with something called a 'Starstream' by being a 'Constellation' and throwing gold coins at 'Incarnations'. Don't ask me what that means, I barely pay attention when he gushes about his favorit 'Incarnation'. They spent like all their money and pocket money there. Aunt Jazz thinks he might develop a gambling addiction if we don't stop his spendings." The teen heroes eyed the teen that looked like a young adult grinning in the photo as the witch boy pointed at the one next to them. "The one with the vile is my elder brother Bite, most responsible one of this bunch. Mom even allowed him to take care of a couple of dimensions by taking the role of being their God of Death. I think he messed them up more than helped but he is doing a somewhat good job, even if he is sort of obsessed with making some red head his saint or something..."

"One of your sibs is a God?" Impulse gabbed and Klarion just blinked at him with a shrug. "My Grandfather is the ruler of Time, your point is? Wonder Girl is also related to a God of your dimension."

"Never mind him, moving on." A yelp resounded as Superboy pushed Impulse head down leaning in more to see the photo better. "You got one emo looking brother there!"

"Oh that's Yamikumo, he is like a year or two older than me right now, in human years. He barely got any of mom's powers so he choose to try to life a somewhat normal life but weirdly enough he choose a dimension that is ruled by people who have powers and abilities, you know like the Meta Humans of this dimension. Now that I think about it, he is also the only one who actually is studying on how to be a Hero."

"Do you end up fighting with him if he studies to be a hero?" Wonder Girl whisper asked him with a quick glance towards their mentors, to which Klarion shook his head. "As long as we leave the dimensions one of us choose to live in alone we usually don't fight about stuff like that, aside from the usual sibling fights that is. Then again I do have some siblings that like to make bets like who is better at ruling as demon lord, or who can safe a dying timeline quicker."

Danny chuckled again as he watched the kids, Klarion had definitely caused some misunderstandings with his wording. Then again it wasn't like Klarion said anything that wasn't true, but then again his son loved chaos. So there was a suspicion that Klarion intentionally choose the way he worded the explanation about how he and Ellie came to be as well as the rest of siblings.

"So....." Superman slowly started wondering how he should bring up the topic. "...you became a mom at 14?"

"Say Danny is there a way for me to meet this Vlad? You know since we are family." Wonder Woman also asked smiling in a certain way that reminded Danny of Valerie when she was mad but didn't want to show right away how mad she was, to which the Ghost King on reflex could do nothing but gulp for a moment. Not noticing that a green post it note appeared on the table before him.

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anotherlifeinanotherworld · 23 days

Text

why watch Dead Boy Detectives

includes:

- a gay little Edwardian genius ghost who was sacrificed to the devil, ran away from hell

- a charming, protective ghost, fights with his criket bat and backpack with unlimited space, ran away from death

- a psychic who will fight anyone, lost memories, was possessed by her demon-boyfriend

- the cutest bravest and funniest fashion girly who loves love

also:

mysteries and detective work, power team dynamics, emotional value, travelling through mirrors, humor, action, a walrus man, a cat man, a cute lil crow boy, a butcher being your tenant, ghosts, talking cats, witches, creatures, confessions in hell, and whole lot of fun stuff

plus:

if u loved lockwood & co. you'll love this!

#dead boy detectives #netflix #stream on Netflix this week so it doesn't get cancelled #lockwood and co #sandman #neil gaiman #good omens #spread the word

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ceilidho · 8 months

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in the cauldron boil and bake

prompt: pretty little witch who lives in a cottage in the forest who sometimes eats wayward travellers but Ghost has some kind of magic repulsion aura that doesn’t allow her to use her powers on him. (ON AO3) tags: very nsfw, implied/lightly described violence, dubcon/noncon, noncon spanking, implied cannibalism (just in general, not with the pairing lol); 5.5k

He moves at a pace too slow for you to make out with the naked eye, but you feel it creeping through you.

The vision of him appears in a dream first, a premonition. A hulking figure trekking through the woods. You snuggle deeper under the covers and scrunch up your nose in your sleep. In the morning, you go outside to harvest the holly leaves and buttercup and return home dreaming of tender, slow cooked meat. It’s been awhile since you last had a proper meal. When you hang up the laundry to dry, you chew on peppermint cuttings and try not to salivate.

In the centuries you’ve lived in these woods, travellers have come and gone. You don’t eat every single one that happens to pass by—that would be a surefire way to get your forest branded as bedevilled and a longer route established circumnavigating your grove. You might be hungry, but you’re prudent, careful. Not like some other witches these days, greedy for any morsel that happens to pass in front of them.

No; you take care of your woods. You have to, if you plan on remaining here for the centuries to come. If a few travellers happen to disappear here and there, that’s simply life. Not everyone can make treacherous journeys.

You always have a sense of when a traveller is nearby. It’s as though your being is embedded within the forest itself, privy to those who dwell within it. You feel him along the outer regions of the forest, a lone traveller hauling not more than himself and a rucksack filled with the bare essentials. He appears to you in flashes in your dreams, not the full image of him but piecemeal, a shadow obscuring his full face from you. You see only tendons and meat on his bones, a rough hewn strength to his limbs, touch muscle and fat wrapped around his middle.

It makes you giddy to think of him circling ever closer to your spider’s web at the centre of the forest. After him, you won’t be hungry for years.

Your restless leg acts up the day you know that he’s close enough to approach. All morning, you sit at the little table in your kitchen and rip lavender buds from the stems, black shoes tap-tapping away at the floor. The broom sweeps by itself in the corner, sweeping the dust into a neat pile. When you snap your fingers, it’s brusque, impatient. The broom halts in midair and then clatters against the floorboards. The chair scrapes against the floor as you rise to your feet.

“Come, come, Asphodel,” you whisper to the black cat curled up on the windowsill, which barely lifts her head enough to blink at you. “No more dallying. Mommy’s hungry.”

In a show of great defiance and disrespect, Asphodel merely meows at you and lays her head back down. Insipid little familiar.

You go off on your own then, keen to see the travellers with your own eyes. Jowls growing tighter. Robe cinched tight around you and hair pinned back by a thin strand of velvet. The days have just begun to shorten, just begun to exhale frost and rot. The leaves however, by agreement, do not crunch under your feet and give you away. You are a phantom amidst the trees as you flank the lone traveller, following the breadth of him as he traverses past your homestead.

It’s fortunate that you are not beholden to physics because he is formidable. Broad as a man might be, no less sizable than in your dreams, but much more menacing in the flesh. He too moves quietly in the brush, with a care and precision that you have not seen many humans employ.

He conceals the lower half of his face with a black piece of fabric, which you had mistaken for shadows. Not so. It is a deliberate concealment, meant to unnerve. Without magic, you might not have approached.

His size alone isn’t enough to frighten you though. You are two hundred years old and you have eaten men twice his size when you were naught but a babe.

You step out into the clearing just a few paces from him, halting the man in his tracks.

“Hello,” you call out tentatively, raising a hand to shield your eyes. “C-can you help me? I think I’ve lost my way.”

At this point in your career, it takes a bit to hide the smile that threatens to break. You are like the spider posing as a fly. The show is half the fun though.

The man doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even seem shocked at your presence, arms loose by his sides. It makes your stomach clench, the script flipped a bit. It should be you, loose and limber, and the wayward traveller tense and nonplussed, then eager to help the lost girl. You wait a moment longer for him to respond, but he remains silent, blue eyes unblinking.

“Can you help me?” you repeat, taking a step closer. The tendrils of your magic slither out of you, snaking across the forest floor towards him. “I’m lost. Can you help me find my way out?”

Your magic finds his boots in the dirt like mycelium threads, the pulse of him rich and earthen. It makes the saliva pool in your mouth, hunger gnawing at your guts. He will taste so good. Meaty and huge, enough to last you the winter. You take another step closer despite his continued silence, a tad too eager. You only need a moment though, long enough for your magic to take root, to render him febrile and inert. When he collapses to the ground, you will float his body back and rend him limb from limb by your hearth.

Another step brings you closer to him when your magic suddenly recoils, unwinds from him. You frown. You try sending it back, but your magic shrinks away, an atavistic fear blooming up in you. It does not want near this man.

A cold sweat breaks out on your neck. The hairs on your neck and arms stand on end.

The masked man staring back at you tilts his head, the skin under his eyes crinkling with a smile that you cannot see. Suddenly eldritch, blood-curdling.

“Now, what are you?” he asks with a rumbling voice, rough from disuse, and takes a step towards you.

You trip over your feet scrambling back. Branches from a nearby tree scoop towards you, catching you before you tumble down into the soft dirt. He advances quickly on you, big hand finding now the hatchet strapped to his side and pulling it out, the thing dwarfed in his massive paw.

“Stay back—stay back—” you hiss, the branches listening to your fear and dragging you away from the man. “Leave—I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?” he asks, taunting. Just a twinge of it, as if he can’t help that he has a predilection to mock.

He catches up to you fast enough, the strides of his long legs enough to eat up the distance. When you whip the branches towards him, they stop mere inches from him, giving him ample time to bat them away. The ones that get close enough meet his hatchet, a single cleave enough to sever them from the tree. You don’t feel the tree’s pain, but where his blade meets your magic—a thin coating along the branches, like extended, ghost limbs of your own—it stings.

“Stay back!” you shriek, heart pumping away ferociously. Your voice comes out like a caterwaul. He’s too close now though, towering over you, the bitter smell of old sweat and musk. Up close, he does not smell like anything you know. He smells sun bleached, the rust of old blood like the blades in your shed after a long season’s hunt.

“What sort of girl—” he starts, hand fisting in your hair and wrenching your head back, “—ambushes strange men in forests? Do you have a death wish?”

To have him touch you is singularly terrifying. You haven’t been touched in a hundred years, certainly not by a human. His touch sends you skittering back, but he has you trapped in place. Your shoes dig into the dirt when you try to push yourself away, hands pressed against his chest much to your distress.

“Men can’t kill me,” you hiss, fingers clawing at the hand holding you in place, scratching at him with the little nails that you never bothered to grow out.

You can’t see the whole of his face, but his expression is undoubtedly unimpressed. “I could kill you easily, girl.”

“I’m not a girl—I’m a witch.”

“A witch is a girl.”

“I eat girls,” you snap, so angry now that spittle drips from your mouth. You shrink back when he wipes it away with a gloved hand. “I eat men like you too. If you are a man.”

You say that because the way your magic curls away from him has you on edge. Humans may not scare you, but eldritch, ancient monsters do and they hunt little witches like you. Usually not in your own woods, but stranger things have happened.

“‘Course I’m a man. Look at me.”

He presses the whole length of his body against yours, dragging you so close to him by your hair that you almost rise up onto your toes. He’s solid all the way through, only a bit of give around his middle. There’s something distinctly hard pressing against your low belly. It leaves you flustered, hot under your collar. An unfamiliar heat in your core, legs clenching on nothing. You give in to the instinctive urge to look down, but pressed so close to him, there’s little to see beyond the wideness of his chest, covered by a brown tunic laced up the front.

“Means nothing. Plenty of things look like other things. I look like a girl but I am not,” you stutter.

“Were you trying to eat me then, witch girl?” he breathes, amused. You yelp when he gives you a little shake by the hair.

You flash your teeth at that, hoping he takes that as a threat. You have chewed off flesh far tougher than his. “Still might, human. If you don’t let me go.”

He stares down at you, eyes giving nothing away. “It’s not every day that a little girl threatens to eat me. Not very nice, you know. I’ve cut down men twice your size for less.”

“You like bloodshed?”

“I trade in bounties; it’s part of the job. But, yes, girl. I like bloodshed.”

It’s not reassuring to hear that when his hands are fast on you. You wish now you hadn’t dreamed of this strange man immune to your magic and left him to his wandering. There are bears in these woods that could have dealt with him for you.

“I’m—I’m not going to anymore,” you say, quieter now, hands falling back to his chest, trying to shove yourself just the slightest bit away. You don’t move an inch. “I’ll…I can find something else to eat. Just let me go.”

The man widens his stance, feet bracketing yours. In two hundred years, you haven’t felt small. You’ve felt tremendous, expansive, big as the whole forest; monstrous some days even. The most ferocious predator in the woods, the haunting lurching her way through the trees, belly hungry for iron blood and the ripe taste of fear.

You feel that fear now in your mouth for the first time, sour.

He smiles behind the mask again. “Maybe later. Need to teach you a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Maybe the fear hasn’t sunk in all the way because you ask that when he lets go of his hold on your hair and drops his hands to your waist, getting a tight hold there. Twisting you around while he walks you back.

“You all alone in the forest?” he asks instead of answering you. “Is there a house that I missed? Been here for months and haven’t seen one.”

“Of course, I—I live here.” You don’t want to say more than though, lest you reveal too much about yourself. You’re still wondering whether surviving this ordeal will be as simple as getting away. There’s something savage in his gaze now, the mealy taste in your mouth translating that look like the hunter looking upon the hunted.

There’s a tree stump that he guides you to, shaded under the canopy. When he tips you over the stump, the breath rushes out of you. The edge is rough against your stomach. You don’t even notice him pulling up the back of your dress until a few seconds later.

“Wait, hold on—that’s my indoor dress!” you cry out, the front of your dress scraping against the stump and sure to tear. “Let me go—stop it!”

Your drawers are next, slid down your hips while you squirm and wail, feet kicking out behind you.

“Behave.” It’s punctuated by the sudden sting on your cheek, bottom flaming red by his hand. Pain is such a foreign concept to you that it initially leaves you speechless.

He props you against the stump with little care for how your knees drag in the dirt and whether your underwear gets dirt on them. He keeps you pinned there with a big hand on the centre of your back. Your shimmying gets you nowhere, only planted farther into the dirt; it only scuffs up your knees and pulls wretched little noises from your throat.

The terror comes when you’re bare to him and he draws his hand back. You gasp at the first smack, shocked; it’s a broken, stupid sound. At the next smack, you react properly, going into a frenzy, twisting left and right to get away, but helpless under just a fraction of his strength. Your magic does no good for once in your long life either. You feel it sit on the periphery, unsure of what to do because it cannot come close to this strange man for some reason.

You yelp every time his hand comes down on your bottom. Red fills your vision. Tears do as well.

“I am going to—” you break off on a yowl, back arching, “—I am going to eat the flesh off your bones for this! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

His chuckle is bone-chilling, ices you right over. “You oughta at least know the name of the man you’re going to eat. They call me Ghost.”

“I’ll call you—” The caustic name you were about to call him is ripped from your lips by another well-placed smack on your ass.

You shriek so loud that the birds flee from their perches within the trees.

The worst part is the way your thighs flex together with every smack. Belly clenching. You can feel slick gathering where it shouldn’t, a high blush splotched across your cheeks as you pray that he doesn’t notice. It doesn’t happen often, only in the week following your cycle when you feel ravenous and flushed, skin prickly and raw until you go outdoors and roll around in the dirt under the moonlight. Always by yourself, of course, naturally.

Little panting breaths hiccup out of you, your cheeks overflowing with frustrated tears. After the first minute, you simply go limp. There’s nothing else you can do. Even trying to levitate does you no good, it only props your butt up higher into the air since Ghost’s hand on your upper back keeps your chest pressed to the stump. It only seems to amuse him, judging by the hoarse chuckle he lets out.

Without your broom, the little bit of levitation is more of a party trick than anything—and you haven’t even been to a party in fifty years, not since your coven’s last autumnal gathering. Not that it matters at a time like this. His hand comes down on your butt again and you wail, shoes digging into the ground and kicking up dirt. Your mind goes blank again, thoughts replaced by the looping ow, ow, ow that also falls from your lips.

“Does it hurt, lovie?” Ghost asks, hand coming to rest on your livid cheek. It makes you hiss, turning your head until your cheek is pressed to the stump’s inner rings. His voice is gentle, but mocking, like the voice you use when hacking into a screaming man, asking him if he’d like his hand back while you dangle it in front of him.

“It’s going to hurt so much worse when I dice you into little pieces,” you hiss. He gives a mocking pat to your butt, making you flinch.

“Learned your lesson yet?”

You keep your gaze stubbornly off to the side. Somehow, it would be worse to look over your shoulder and make eye contact with the strange beast at your back. “If you leave now, I won't sever your limbs from your body and roast your organs from the inside.”

“I take it you haven’t,” he says, another chuckle rumbling out of him.

His hand comes off your naked rear. Your ears perk up when you hear the sound of fabric over fabric, wondering if maybe he’s pulling your underwear back up, but you don’t feel anything. What you feel instead is the sudden heaviness pushed between your thighs, nestled right up against your wet core, so unfamiliar that it makes you jump. You stay put though, held down still by his hand.

“Put that back,” you say severely.

He holds it against your sex with his free hand and presses forward, coating himself with your slick. “You’re not in a position to make demands, girl.”

“I’m going to slice every bit of skin off your bones.” Your mouth salivates at the thought, thinking of all the thick, iron-rich blood from someone Ghost’s size.

Those thoughts disperse again like smoke when he ruts forward, the thick length between his legs gliding through your wetness. It makes you break out into a sweat, keen catching between your teeth, just narrowly bitten back. Ghost makes no effort to suppress his groans. They’re loud, a lustful, masculine pleasure that you’ve heard far off in your woods before—unfortunate couples come to copulate before meeting their end at your hands—but never so close. Never right up in your ear.

“It’s not fair,” you sob, emotional suddenly. “You’re just going to—to do that and then kill me.”

He leans his full weight over you, the rough texture of his shirt catching on the back of your dress. You’re sweating so hard now that the lace embroidery around your collar is thoroughly soaked, clinging to your skin.

“‘M not gonna kill you. What would I do something like that for?”

You sniff. “It’s what I would do.”

He chuckles again, the sound reverberating through you with him all pressed up against you. It would almost be pleasant if it weren’t for the cock pumping between your thighs. That brings you right back down to earth, mind torn away from the ravens perched in the branches of the tree looming over you, watching you from above. If you were able to pay them any close attention, you’d probably hear them chattering about the position their little witch has found herself in.

“C’mon now,” Ghost grunts in your ear, hips shifting back. “Be a good little witch and say a little spell—don’t wanna knock you up on the first try.”

You open your mouth to reply and squeal when he rocks back forward, the bulbous tip pressing into you this time. Your toes flex in your shoes, thighs spreading without any prompting from him. You don’t even notice the hand on your upper back travelling to your waist, both of his big hands gripping you there now to hold you in place. There’s no thought of trying to get away, just breathing around the immense stretch from his shaft driving up into you.

“Ooh, no, no—it’s too much,” you squeak, fingers digging into the sides of the stump, the wood cutting into your soft skin.

It is too much. It doesn’t even feel entirely possible. Even with the wetness leaking from you, his cock only manages to fit a couple inches in you before you’re too tight.

“You’re doing fine, lovie,” he rasps into your ear, drawing his hips back and then plunging back into you, deeper than before. “See? Not so bad, is it? Gonna take a little more for me, a’right?”

“No—no more,” you slur, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Can you just—just keep it right there?”

“Yeah? That enough for you?”

Your fingers unlatch from the bark of the tree, trembling when you reach down to wipe them off on your dress before dragging the palm of your hand over your clit. It makes you jump and whine. The skin of your palm is a bit textured from gripping onto the stump, but the friction makes your brain leak right out of your ear. Especially when you push your hips back just a little bit, nervously fucking yourself on his cock.

Ghost laughs and lets go of your hip to bat your hand away, then reaches back around to fit a big hand around your jaw.

He holds your jaw in a single hand, palm supporting your chin. “You ever going to do this again, girl? Go up to strange men in the woods?”

You almost don’t hear him over the blood in your ears. A thick cock spears into you for the first time in your life and the man rutting into you expects coherence? Maybe you babble something into the palm of his hand, but it’s lost to the world when he pulls your knee out to make more room for himself and tips your ass up.

He gives your cheek a solid pat. “C’mon, focus on me, lovie. Tell me what you’re gonna do from now on.”

Your breathing picks up, heavier. When you don’t respond again, he abruptly pulls out and stands up, hauling you up to your feet with him. All of the blood rushes from your head, pooling around your pretty black shoes. Leaves crunch under your feet when he turns the two of you around and sits down on the stump where you’d just been spread over. The hands on your waist turn you to face him and that’s when an inkling of struggle works its way back into your veins.

You hiss and snarl when he lifts you to straddle his thighs, particularly when you see the brutish, ruddy cock jutting out from his trousers. Ghost seems more amused than anything at your little attempts to escape, clutching you closer to him until your chests are pressed tight together, making it all the more intimate. All the more real.

“Quit fussing.” You jump at the sharp slap he delivers to your ass.

“Going to curse your whole lineage—” you grit out, wincing when he draws you back down over his length, cunt fluttering at the stretch. You can’t help dropping your forehead to his chest, shoulder hitched with a frustrated cry.

His groan makes you seize up, a hot flash darting through you. “Don’t be like that, lovie. Might be yours too.”

A haze passes over you when firm hands lift you up off his cock and plop you back down, emptying you of any thoughts like you’d tipped your head and all the water had poured out.

The worst is the way your body betrays you. Each time he shoves his fat cock into your cunt, a whine rattles out of you, snatched from your chest. Robbed from you. The nearby leaves rustle and swirl up into the air with an artificial wind, magic singing their edges. He reaches so much deeper inside of you like this, splayed on his lap, hands gripping onto his shoulders for dear life because it takes every bit of energy in your body to merely take his cock into you.

Your knees scrape against the uneven wood every time he drags you back down. They’ll probably be scraped raw by the end of it; you’ll need to tearfully smooth on ointment and wrap thick bandages around them when you get back to the cottage.

“There we go. Fuckin’ take it—come on,” Ghost grunts, dragging you down onto his length, just using your body how he likes.

The thick head grinds up against a spot deep inside of you, spongy and sensitive. You feel it all the way up in your throat. Every time his cock rubs against that spot, your nails dig into his shoulders. A violent shudder rips through you because this position also lets him grind your clit down against the root of his cock.

“Ghost—”

He ducks his covered mouth into the side of your neck. Even through the fabric, you can feel his lips press a firm, closed-mouth kiss there. “Bit more, bit more, love. Better than you thought it’d be, huh? Fuck. Only thing magic about you is this wet pussy. Fuck hiding this from me—gonna ride it twice a day from now on.”

“Never doing this ever again, you beast—”

Ghost bites you through the mask, the pressure dull but real. It says, try keeping it from me.

When you come, it’s sudden and sharp, painful like a cramp in your belly and then a wave of bone-deep pleasure. Ghost wrangles it from you with a thumb on your clit, pumping up into your pussy at the same time. He wrenches it from you like it’s his, like you have no choice but to come for him because he wants it. You press your whole body against him when you come, arms wrapping around his neck like you need him close. Heat unfolding and leaving you limp. No cauldron has ever boiled as hot as your flesh does now.

He pulls out of you before coming. You watch helplessly as he settles you close enough to keep the heat of your pussy on him and then wraps a firm hand around himself, giving it a few good tugs before a white rope of come spurts from his cock. Right onto your exposed pussy, spilling across your folds. Your mouth drops open on a soft whine as it stripes across your inner thighs and the front of your dress, painting it white.

His harsh pants ebb into something softer as his cock goes flacid against his thigh. You feel boneless, drained of all your energy. Even your magic only gives a pathetic twitch, the tendrils of it curling back up inside of you where it’s nice and warm.

Your cunt feels tender, puffy when you reach down and touch it. You flinch when his fingers graze against yours, also feeling around your swollen lips. Ghost knuckles your fingers out of the way and scoops up the mess he left between your thighs, pushing two fingers just past your entrance. You don’t even have the energy to yelp, only wince and mewl.

He shushes you. “Didn’t even come inside. Quit whining.”

His words are belied by the way he scoops more of his come up into you.

You really don’t like that he follows you home. The march back to your cozy cottage nestled in the middle of the forest feels like a death march, one you might have witnessed in the hundreds of years that you’ve lived here. Worse still because your legs are still wobbly, your sex achy and raw. Still, whenever you pause for a moment or lean against a tree, he nudges you forward with a hand on your back.

“This is unfair,” you snivel, eyes tearing up. “You can’t—this is my forest.”

“The woods don’t belong to anyone, girl,” Ghost counters.

“Yes, they do. I’ve been…it’s been mine for two hundred years.”

“Of course, lovie.” You can almost hear the roll of his eyes. It makes you grit your teeth. You can’t wait to bury him in the backyard with all the bone mandalas.

It doesn’t take long for him to settle in, making himself nice and comfortable on your plush couch with the intricate doilies knitted by your grandmother draped along the back. Your poor couch almost collapses under his weight.

Your cottage is far too small for someone of his size; you built it to accommodate someone of your size, not the behemoth that’s taken up residence in your house. You know that Ghost is more of a man of action than words, but he’s plenty happy to grumble about needing to redo the door to make it big enough for him to come inside without having to duck his head.

“You aren’t going to touch a single brick of my house.”

“I’ll take apart the whole damned thing if I want.”

You keep trying to lift him up with your magic but it does nothing to him and only tires you out because using magic is exhausting. You’re sweating and panting at the end of your efforts while Ghost just stands in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest and a single eyebrow raised. It’s humiliating. You used to be a powerful witch. You still are.

He lets you yell at him until you’re red in the face and then drags you down for a rough fuck. Arguments with Ghost often end that way—you, sore and satiated in your bed, the window opened to let some fresh air in. Him, spread out next to you and dragging you close, playing absentmindedly with a nipple until you pinch his side. That always gets you a meaner pinch, one that leaves you teary-eyed and hot all over again.

Magic might not work on him, but he’s still mortal, so you try to work with that. Bear traps by the windows and doors. Hemlock in the soap. Poison in his stew. He’s stealthier than you anticipate though and seems to have a sixth sense for death.

It’s demeaning and humiliating to be punished for your ‘bad behaviour’ but that’s what he calls it when he passes by the kitchen and catches the stew burping out the telltale skull shaped steam. You’re taken off kitchen duty after that, but the worst part is being trapped under him on the bed with your hands pinned over your head, bottom exposed to him yet again. He laughs a little later on when you squirm around on your hard kitchen chairs because you refuse to sit on his lap.

Sometimes when he has you trapped under him when you’re sleeping—because, of course, he commandeers your bed like it was built for someone his size when truthfully he should be in a bed twice as large—he wakes up to you gnawing at his shoulder and he has to hold you jaw in his hand and rumble out “No biting” before going back to sleep. You stare over his shoulder petulantly, not even bothering to fight the pout. The kettle whispers in the kitchen, fueled by your frustration.

Ghost only lets out a dry, husky laugh. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Asphodel takes to him like a new favourite thing, winding around his legs while you glare from the other room. Damned familiar.

You only start to lighten up when your senses tingle one day when you’re out picking berries in the woods and you come back to find him ruthlessly butchering a band of raiders that had been trampling through your woods. He slaughters them methodically, almost bored. Almost like he does this every day.

You can’t help the way it makes your pussy ache.

He catches the look in your eye. You’ve been alone for far too long in the woods; everything you feel is laid bare, open for anyone to see. Ghost is just always looking.

He grins under the mask, blood splattered across the front of his shirt. “Go on, lovie. I’ll be inside in just a few.”

Molten slickness drips from between your thighs. You bite your lip before you slip away, blood growing feverish when you glance back down at the mangled bodies bleeding out in the red-orange leaves. There’s a severed eye that’s rolled off to the side and your stomach gurgles.

You lick your lip and look up at him from under your eyelashes. “Save me some for supper?”

Ghost’s eyes soften, a sharp contrast from the gore and viscera piled around him. “‘Course, lovie.”

The world seems different with the arrival of him. Cranberries beneath the sycamore, the russet moon on harvest's day, the scent of soldering iron, the laughter woven between your many faces. With him, you feel like the cynosure of all eyes.

In the twilight hours, he presses a hand to your forehead and laves your belly with his tongue like he might push something back in there. The curtains draw shut and the lights flicker off.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #cod simon riley #ghost/reader #ghost cod

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talesofesther · 2 years

Text

would you kiss me in a crowded room?

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: There was always a push and pull with Eddie. He'll kiss you in an abandoned corner of the library and then barely talk to you in the cafeteria, but will look like a kicked puppy if you so much as think about giving him a cold shoulder. You care for him, deeply, but sometimes, he confuses the shit out of you.

A/N: Let me say already that this is by no means my best work. It's just something I randomly wrote while bored, with a bit of Halloween spirit. Definitely not very proofread.

Masterlist

The burn of vodka was unpleasant down your throat, still, you kept on drinking, tilting the red solo cup until the last drops of your drink were gone.

You didn't know whose house this was, honestly you didn't care. Halloween was one of your favorite holidays, and when a friend finds you a party to go to, you don't ask many questions. As a last-minute call, you snatched a long, black cloak and a witch's hat from your closet, pairing it with a dark dress you hadn't used in a few good years and a pair of boots so you had a costume.

The music was loud in your ears, you could feel the drums of it on your chest; the lights were dimmed inside, making it hard for you to avoid stepping on the many discarded cups that littered the floor whilst you danced. Tina held onto one of your hands, moving wildly around and taking you with her. She smelled of alcohol, you did too probably, but you knew for a fact that she drank twice as more as you did.

"You're making me dizzy," you giggled, holding onto her shoulder with your free hand.

"Come on, I feel like I'm dancing with a mummy, you're too stiff," the girl jumped on the spot as if to emphasize her point, the cat ears she had on her head bounced with the movement.

"You're the one that's too loose," you said, but followed her lead nonetheless.

You had long since lost count of how many hours had passed since you arrived when the house started to feel way too cramped. You desperately needed fresh air.

The backyard was huge, shiny pumpkins adorned the stone path that lead you to the pool and lounge chairs, there was a patch of grass with a few trees further back, fake spider webs and makeshift ghosts were hung up on the branches; it felt like a different world compared to the raging party inside. Just a few people stood outside, mostly ones that were too far gone on drinks, and, to your surprise, one Eddie Munson sulking in one of the lounge chairs, beneath the starry sky.

The leather of his jacket was shining with the few lights that surrounded the pool, he wasn't looking at you and you took that as an opportunity to look at him. His eyes were dark all around, eyeliner painting the lids, and he had fake blood down the corner of his lips and to his neck, all giving his skin a paler tone.

You smirked, the chilly wind made your cloak flutter around you, walking up to Eddie with one boot in front of the other, "vampire Eddie," his eyes shot quickly to you, a smile of his own already forming and only increasing yours, "I like it. Suits you."

Eddie leaned back on his palms, his eyes nothing but black orbs in the night as he looked you up and down. "A witch," he began, and you couldn't help but feel heat creeping up your neck because of his attention.

He got up, extending a hand to you and wiggling his fingers until you took it, only for him to turn you around so he could see you from all angles, "always knew you were magical, sweetheart."

Eddie's voice was all warm and sultry, sending a pleasant shiver down your back. You ducked your head, your hand still gently held up by his, "you flatter me, Munson."

"Nothing but the truth passes through these lips," as if there was a gravity field around you, Eddie lowered your hands only to intertwine his fingers with yours. He smiled something shy, a timid tilt of lips as the only telling against the confidence in his tone. "I wasn't expecting to see you here," he said, his free hand tugging on the edge of your cloak as if you'd slip away.

Maybe he knew you better than you gave him credit for. "Roll for perception?" You raised an eyebrow at him, letting go and stepping away to walk along the pool's edge.

You heard him groan, and then the quick steps that followed before his shoulder bumped yours as he fell into step with you. Personal space was not in Eddie's dictionary when it came to you, not that you minded.

"Come on, I was going to call, but I came for just a few sales, last minute thing," his curls bounced with his steps, lower lip caught between his teeth and eyebrows up as he looked at you through his lashes. Eddie was nervous. "Humour me," he tried.

"Like you wouldn't roll a natural twenty," you muttered under your breath, gazing at your reflection in the pool's water.

Eddie's fingertips grazed the top of your ear as he pushed back strands of hair. Only to see you better, he told himself. "You know I would," he kept his voice just as quiet, the music coming from inside the house almost clouded it.

Your eyes closed for a brief moment just so you could turn to him, just so you could take a breath and will your heart to calm down. "I came with a few friends," you shrugged, trying to placate him, "and they're probably wondering where I am, so…"

"Do you wanna come back with me?" Eddie blurted out before you could leave. "We can smoke or, I could play something for you, or- or just be together?"

The small smile you gave him then held no happiness at all. You grasped the collar of his jacket in one hand to hold him in place, just long enough so you could peck his lips. A kiss that could barely be called a kiss, it wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. "See you around, Eddie." You squeezed his hand before you turned to leave in lieu of saying; I'm not mad, but two can play this game.

Eddie didn't fight it when you walked back into the house, but he should have. His lips still tingled with the ghost of your touch as he gripped at his hair, mumbling countless curses under his breath. He considered throwing himself into the pool, if anything, the coldness of the water would numb everything else he was feeling.

You played some bear pong, gave Tina a peck on the lips in a game of spin the bottle, and danced some more, anything to keep your mind busy. But it didn't take long for you to find Eddie again, he was leaning back on the kitchen counter, red cup in hand, and looking for something in the crowd.

The burn of vodka was unpleasant, but it gave you a dash of confidence you wouldn't dream of while sober. Granted, the colorful lights did little to kill the darkness of the house, and most people were already beyond remembering anything tomorrow morning.

So it was easy to mold your way amongst the bodies, to walk the rest of the way to the kitchen and to him, before you could think better of it.

Nonchalant as ever, you stopped beside Eddie without looking at him, picking up a skull-shaped candy and throwing it in your mouth.

You could feel him shuffling closer to you, the warmth of him blossoming a color in your heart you couldn't find anywhere else — much as you might try. Eddie took your hand, a bold move considering the crowded room, he brought it to his lips and kissed each knuckle. You still didn't look at him.

"Don't shut me out," his voice was so low compared to the banging of the music, you felt more than heard the shape of his words on your fingertips, "please."

Eddie spoke softly and looked at you even softer, his eyes were glistening bright with the colorful lights when you finally met them with your own. There was always a push and pull with Eddie. He'll kiss you in an abandoned corner of the library and then barely talk to you in the cafeteria; he won't call you to parties but will look like a kicked puppy if you so much as think about giving him a cold shoulder. You care for him, deeply, but sometimes, he confuses the shit out of you.

"I won't, when you don't give me a reason to." You snatched your hand back, ignoring how it tugged at your heartstrings.

Dark curls fell like a curtain over Eddie's eyes when he ducked his head, his fingers rhythmically tapping the counter beside him; "I was just… trying to give you an out."

"And who said I want one?"

"You should."

"That's not for you to decide," you said a bit harsher, causing Eddie to finally look at you again, his eyes twitching as he tried to hold your gaze. You sighed and took off your witch's hat, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "Whatever, I don't care," you shook your head and walked away, not looking back. Your feet carried you all the way to the front porch, as far away from Eddie as you could get.

You braced your hands on the railings, already considering walking back home because you were so done with this party.

"What's a pretty face doing here alone?"

An involuntary groan escaped you when you heard his voice, James or Josh or something else irrelevant was his name.

"'m not alone," you grumbled, stepping away when he invaded your space.

"Looks pretty alone to me." He smelled strongly of alcohol and weed, slurring his words as he reached for your waist. "Let's get a drink, sweet thing."

"No thanks, no company at all is much more appealing," you smiled all sweet, hoping he'd just give up.

"What's your problem?" Apparently not. He made to grab onto your arm, but ringed fingers caught hold of his first.

Of course, he followed you.

"She said no, man. Just drop it," Eddie said, steadily, as he subtly pushed the man away and stood in front of you.

"What's it to you, freak?" The guy puffed his chest out as she spat the words. "Mind your own business."

Part of you knew where this was going. You curled a finger around the belt loop of Eddie's jeans, tugging gently. "Eddie leave it, let's go."

Eddie chuckled, straightening his posture and standing a few inches taller than the guy, "oh I am, and why don't you mind your business, get in there, down a few more drinks, and do us all a favor and pass out, yeah?"

As much as you might like the protective side of Eddie, it was the wrong thing to say. The guy got red with anger, if anything for the sole reason of having someone talk back to him. Neither you nor Eddie saw his punch coming, fist colliding squarely with Eddie's cheek and nose.

A few sober-ish people gathered around quickly to hold him back, but the damage was already done. Eddie brought a hand up to his nose and felt wetness there, blood was dripping steadily from one nostril and mixing with the fake one from his makeup.

The crimson color made your stomach twist and turn, a knot forming in your throat. You grabbed the hand Eddie wasn't holding under his nose and started dragging him away from the party. He followed you blindly, his eyes were half-lidded because of the sharp pain.

Your boots crushed the damp lawn as you looked around, the music from inside the house growing lower and lower, "where's your van?"

"Just around the corner," he motioned to an empty street, far away from the prying eyes; it was barely illuminated by yellow street lights that had bugs chasing their warmth. A quiet corner of the world.

You stomped your way there, throwing your hat over the van's hood once you reached it. "The hell were you thinking? Taunting him like that, do you have a death wish?"

"I was thinking that he wasn't gonna give up on you that easy," Eddie pulled away his hand and grimaced at the sight. He could feel the metallic taste of blood on his upper lip.

"Oh, so you make him punch you?" You crossed your arms to keep yourself from reaching out, palms already slick with perspiration.

Eddie brushed the sleeve of his jacket under his nose, hissing at the sting it caused. He somewhat curled in on himself, too aware of your eyes not leaving him once, "I had it under control."

"Evidently," you scoffed and Eddie winced at your tone. It hurt you just as much. You sighed, leaned your head back — the dark sky was full of clouds, only a few stars peeking through, the wind only getting colder — and dropped the act.

You walked up to Eddie, all careful and slow just as you did with the stray cats you wanted to pet, raising both hands to cup his cheeks; "let me see that."

Eddie gulped when you touched him, growing stiff, as if bracing for a scolding. You saw his eyes get wet when your thumbs brushed his cheekbones, a tiny tear clinging to his lower lashes that you chose to ignore.

"I don't think it's broken," you took hold of your cloak, raising the ends of it to his nose. You gently cleaned away the blood, tracing the shape of his cupid's bow. Eddie scrunched his eyebrows when you touched the bridge of his nose and the reddish part of his cheek, whimpering a little. You muttered apologies under your breath.

The moment felt way more intimate than it should. Eddie reached for the hand you had on his other cheek, holding it in place when he kissed your palm.

You sighed. This guy.

You dropped your forehead to his shoulder in some sort of an awkward embrace; "you can't do shit like that, Eddie." You let go of your black cloak, sneaking your hand under his jacket, under his shirt, palm brushing the warm skin of his waist. "Can't get yourself hurt 'cause of me."

The music of the party, the crickets singing and the sizzling of the street lamps were nothing but background noise. Eddie kissed your temple, arms closing around your shoulders and pulling you closer; bits of the affection he had for you spilling more and more. "Did you mean it?"

You frowned, tracing random patterns on his back and feeling his goosebumps under your fingertips; "mean what?"

"That you-" he hesitated, as if the words were choking him. "That you don't care?"

Subconsciously, you squeezed him tighter, "of course not."

Eddie nodded, you felt it, an exaggerated motion to try and calm himself down. He tucked his head on your shoulder; "okay," the word came out so shaky you barely recognized it.

You pulled away and Eddie almost panicked, but you kept your hold on him, only moving to wipe away the last droplet of blood that escaped his nose; "I do care about you," you started, knowing damn well he needed to hear you say it to believe it. You traced the shape of his eyebrow with your thumb, all the way to his hairline to bury your fingers in his curls, trying to memorize every curve of him, "so much, Eddie. But you have to let me."

"I want to," he breathed, pupils were blown wide and shining bright as he cupped your cheek, rings cool against your skin. "More than anything, I want this," he said, to the way you clung to each other.

So what's stopping you? You silently asked with a tilt of your head.

The nervous energy bounced off of him as Eddie ran a tongue over his bottom lip. You're not sure if he knows it, but Eddie’s face plays out his emotions like a book. "But you shouldn't settle for someone like me." He said it quietly, as if speaking the words out loud would make you believe them too.

"Someone like you?" You let out a breathy chuckle, squishing his cheeks with both hands and forcing his eyes to not leave you. "Eddie you're such an easy one to love, you gotta know that. There's no one else I'd rather be with."

Though a single tear met the pad of your thumb, Eddie smiled, shape a bit crooked because of your hands; you dropped them to his hips again, waiting, wishing he wouldn't pull away.

He dug his teeth into his bottom lip, smiling something teary, hair bouncing when he nodded his head; "Yeah?"

The small word was filled with hope and desperation, almost making you tear up as well.

"Yeah." You'd tell him that every day if he asked you to.

With his heart almost beating out of his chest, Eddie leaned down, brushing his nose with yours. And any other coherent thoughts slipped his mind when his upper lip grazed yours. He caught your lips with his in no hurry, in a way he'd never done before; clinging to you with everything he had, eyebrows just a bit furrowed, and tilting his head to be as close as possible. You could feel him, in every sense of the word.

Eddie tasted like sunshine and chocolate and just a bit like blood; most of all, he tasted like the prettiest of promises.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Eddie’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @science--hoes @cherrypieyourface @tssf-imagines @daph-505 @astream-ofconsciousness @fentyreligion @fantasylovestoryme @justabeautiful-letdown @crazyrapunzel @yessica41 @dancing-hillary @bakugouswh0r3 @jakebasement @zervopoulouu @forverdaydreamer-blog @fromthedt @oeuryale @mcueveryday @witchbinchstories @call-me-magpie @loveshineslikethesky @luvmybbies @tvserie-s-world @agirlsguidetolove @hallothankmas @sweetpeapod @forsaken-letters @hazydespair @fangirling-4-ever @electric-cabaret @ollyoxenfrees @twinkofmydreams @paola-carter @masterlistmanic @xceafh @andraimeide @esoltis280 @eddielives1986 @totallynotkaibiased @just-love-reading

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #strangerthingsedit #stranger things #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddiemunsonedit #joseph quinn #stranger things x reader #st #my story

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