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#ghost x read
moondirti · 1 month
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so.. simon and johnny stopping by a seedy 24/7 roadhouse on their way back home post-op
featuring: established ghostsoap. pregnant fem!reader. alluded kidnapping, extremely toxic attitudes. they’re literally delusional. mentioned death. this verges on dark so please beware!
They’ve driven past it about a hundred times, never having given it more than a passing glance. Who would, really? Nothing about it seemed appealing – in all its sun-bleached paint job and flickering neon signage glory – but circumstances lent themselves to its consideration. What was supposed to be a half-day mission ended up taking two, meaning they haven’t had time to sleep let alone eat. On top of that, a delayed exfil made it so they touched down on base at an ungodly hour. By the time Price waived their paperwork and they got into their car, they were famished.
“Could eat the scabby heid aff a dog,” Johnny eventually groans. He’d tried his best to hang in there, mindful not to be a pest during the hours it takes his partner to decompress after a rough operation, but his stomach kills and he knows Simon’s does too. He only receives a grunt for a response, though the man abruptly steers into the leftmost lane, catching the nearest exit towards the place in his periphery. Cleary meant to model an American diner with it’s fading blue exterior and obnoxious banner: The Dahlia
But they’ve been in worse. They hardly take note of the coffee rings staining their table, or the homeless man who’s taken residence in a corner booth (besides the brief once-over in their threat assessment upon entering). No; they just slot themselves by the nearest exit, scan over the menu and decide to order the quickest meal possible.
Only for things to take a sudden turn when their waitress stops by.
Christ alive, Johnny wonders how you manage to glow under the harshest of fluorescents. Dewy skin. Bright eyes, if not a little sunken at the late hour. Still, you smile and do so genuinely as you waddle to their station, clicking a pen before asking: “And what can I do you for, gentlemen?”
Simon doesn’t look at you immediately, not even when you speak up. He’s too fixed on Johnny, replaying the past days’ events in his head. Revisits the hour where their comms malfunctioned, when he lost touch with his boy and had to fight not knowing whether he was holding up okay. He has trust in him, of course, more bleedin’ trust than he has in earth to keep rotating. Still–
You clear your throat.
His pupils shift to pin you under their scrutiny, only he can’t bring it in him to be as severe as he wants to be. Because, while the first thing Johnny notices about you is your beauty, the first thing Simon sees is your bump.
Obscured by your apron, but still there. Round. Full. 6 months along, by the looks of it.
He’s forced to recall Beth, Tommy by extension. An old working knowledge that comes back to haunt him. At 23 weeks, his sister in law’s pregnancy began to weigh on her. Heartburn. Backaches. Hot flashes that resulted in bouts of dizziness. She couldn’t be up for more than 2 hours at a time, and yet here you are.
What the fuck were you doing in a place like this?
“Need more time to decide?” You ask. Patient. Lovely. If Johnny weren’t so sleep-deprived, so in over his head, he would perhaps realise the subtle hints you were dropping. They’ve been staring too long now, unsettling no doubt. Grimy, each with a tell-tale bump on their waistbands that point to their armament. Simon sans hard-shell mask, but still in a balaclava and eyeblack. Both larger than life and practically alone with you in this isolated place.
It’s Simon who speaks up first. “Fish and chips for the both of us. To-go. Cheers.”
You scribble the order down, pausing to consider. “Coffee? Gotta inform you, it’s drip, bottom of the carafe so it might taste burnt too. Hotplate’s all out of sorts.”
“Aye, just the one. Gae head an’ dip yer finger in it too. Might benefit from a little sweetener.” It takes you a second to process Johnny’s flirt. When you do, though, you visibly blanch, ducking your head to hide your face as you pretend to jot what he said down.
“I’ll have that right out for you.”
And then you scurry off, glancing over your shoulder once you think you’re out of sight. Curious. Flustered.
Simon’s attention refocuses on the scotsman once you’re gone, an eyebrow raised under his mask. His partner is able to read the expressed question well enough: what do you think you’re doing? Strict, but not so much angry as it a press for him to think before he speaks, to balance the scales before he asks something of Ghost that he can’t refuse.
“Dinnae look at me like tha’.” Johnny whispers. “Bonnie lass, isn’t she?”
Simon blinks. “Expecting, too.”
“We cannae leave her here.”
Memories occur in rapid succession. Tommy. Beth. The cherubic face they had brought into the world – little Joseph, who was the first he found dead upon returning home.
He considers Johnny, Soap, this force of nature that wormed his way into his life and sunk his teeth into the rot of his heart, fastened before Simon could even think of brushing him off.
“And here’s that coffee! Your meals should be coming out soon, thank you for being patient.”
It’s a bad idea. Horrible. You could have a partner, a cozy home waiting for you. Nursery already painted. Names already chosen.
What good partner would let you work this shitty job?
It’s a bad, horrible idea. No good for anyone. They’re on constant deployment. They risk their lives on every run. You’d be put in harm’s way yourself.
Not if they hide you well enough. Their house is secluded for a reason.
It’s a bad, horrible, no good idea – but Johnny accepts the mug with a gracious smile and you bloom all pretty, hand inadvertently cradling your belly. Little flower, persisting against all odds. Growing from the fissures of broken concrete. Dignified still. Kind. Strong.
So what if they pluck you from your place? They’ve got somewhere much better for you to thrive.
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pimumimu · 1 year
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creating a self insert cafe owner oc x ghost because i can
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cheesit-notes · 9 months
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"s'fucking small"
lieutenant ghost who has a major size kink.
tags: MDNI!, size kink obvi, manhandling teehee, fem reader, fingering, you're put in a mating press, lowkey praise?
a/n: sorry for the late post, i went to hoyofest '23 and then tumblr went down for a bit but teehee take ghost and size kink (i want him to manhandle me)
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ghost likes to hold things after you hold them just to see how big his hands look on it compared to yours. does the thing where he makes you hold his phone and later compares it to his cock. (when hard, he is most definitely over 7 inches and at least 5 inches in girth, you can't tell me he can act like this if his cock was any less)
loves manhandling you 'cause god, look at you! so small next to him. he absolutely adores your hand in his, just shows him how big he is compared to you.
when he has you pinned to the bed, legs spread out showing off your pretty little cunt to him, just him. god, and you're so wet, letting him slip in a finger in so easily. one hand holding yours down, your knees pressing against your chest as he pushes himself onto you. revels in the fact he can just engulf your entire body with his larger one.
slips a few fingers in and out, seeing you squirm around trying to rub on him trying to get any form of friction. teases you by rubbing your clit, just a little. then when he's had enough, he'll stand up and let you watch as he slowly takes off his belt and let his cock spring free.
an arm to support him, your knees now next to your head because of the position, and his cock lined up with your cunt. he'll ram it in with no time for you to adjust (he's so mean). gets him all riled up seeing a bulge in your stomach. he'll grunt out your name and little comments about how you're "s'fucking small" and how you're taking him in sooo good. he'll put you in a mating press. eventually, he's just panting and moaning your name as you squeeze around him with a death grip on your hips and thighs.
god you look so cute as he fucks your brains out.
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kettlefire · 7 months
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Constantine & the King
First time Constantine meets the Ghost King, he's expecting problems. In his line of work, when all the shadows in the room seem to be pulled toward a point in the room. Creating a dark portal that suddenly glowed a startling green, it's more than concerning.
However, Constantine was thrown off by the young man that stepped out of the portal. Young man could be putting it generously. The kid looked barely legal to drink.
However the kid was holding a scroll that looked thicker than his own head. A crown, ring, and cape that just screamed royalty.
Constantine did not expect the kid to greet with joy and friendliness.
It was the Ghost King. The being that held full control over that aspect of the mythical realms. His name was Danny, and Constantine found the kid's lack of professionalism a nice break.
That scroll? Every contract Constantine ever signed that used his soul as a bargianing chip.
Now, Constantine expected annoyance. If his soul was technically meant to end up in the grasp of thw King, wouldn't the kid be pissed?
After all, Constantine was certain one of those contracts was with the prior Ghost King.
Except, Danny loved it. He was all grins and laughter as he spoke about it. The kid complained about the amount of paperwork, sure. Who wouldn't?
Aside from that, Danny adored Constantine's work. His nonchalantness when it came to signing away his soul.
Danny relished in the chaos he has happening among various other entities. Praised Constantine, and thanked him for the entertainment.
Constantine realized that this Ghost King was a brat. He enjoyed the chaos and the drama as long as it hurt absolutely anyone. This kid was a little shithead.
And Constantine got a confirmation. No matter what, no matter what contracts he signed. His soul was going to end up in Danny's hands.
Constantine didn't mind that. He liked the spirit the kid had. Found a fondness for the King.
A fondness that only grew with every impromptu meeting. Every time the room grew colder, and the shadows moved and warped in the room.
Constantine grew accustomed to it. He looked forward to it.
Then it happened.
Constantine was at the Justice League Watchtower. A simple consultation, nothing too crazy. It was all going to be fine.
Until Constantine felt the shift in the room.
The temperature dropped. The shadows shifted and contorted, and a portal began to form.
Constantine waved off the other heroes concern and defense. Turning towards the forming portal, and prepared to see the kid. The kid who was easily his favorite being in the world at this point.
Except that changed once he saw the familiar being step through the portal.
Maybe step was the wrong word. Danny basically stumbled out of the green portal. Landing harshly on his knees in front of the league.
Constantine wasted no time rushing forward. Pulling the kid close to him, and taking in the sight. Looking for any sign of what was wrong.
Blood and a green substance coated the kid's closed. And Constantine noted the cape was completely missing. The kid was in tears, shaking horrible and in a state of complete hysteria.
All Constantine knew, was that he was going to make them pay.
Whoever brought this normally confident and carefree king to his knees, wasn't going to last much longer.
Those bastards will pay.
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wispscribbles · 8 months
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Ghost who's gone prematurely grey due to his lovely past (and Soap who doesn't mind)
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s0fter-sin · 8 months
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everyone makes fun of soap when they find out how many hair and skin products he keeps on hand. the cabinet in his bathroom is filled to bursting and he always keeps travel sized bottles on him on missions
when soldiers outside the 141 find out, they call him precious and self-obsessed, a vain pretty boy too preoccupied with his reflection to focus on the enemy. no wonder how he got his callsign. price has given up telling him to leave them on base and just teaches him to individually wrap them so they don’t rattle against each other and give himself away
what they don’t know is that each product contains an ingredient that when mixed with any number of the others, creates potent chemical bombs. he was caught unarmed once, he won’t let it happen again
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meowpupp · 3 months
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I know price would let pup-soap fuck puppy-girl but would he share her with Simon?
tw:// hybrid smut, fem reader, overstim, messy sex, 3sum, absolute filth
owner!price who lets owner!simon fuck his cute girls cunt so he can see what a well trained pup feels like.
price sits in the corner of the room, eyes drinking in the scene. simon's hunched over you, nose buried in your neck, inhaling the sweet needy scent that rediateds off of you. hes 9 inches deep, almost brain-dead, the only thing he's able to think about being your hot, tight cunt.
you mewl and whimper under him, thighs shaking as he stuffs you again and again and again. he's thicker than price, stretching your walls to their limit. your whines only grow louder when he presses down on your tummy, making you feel every thick, veiny, inch as he rutts in and out.
simon's ruthless, manhandling your body however he likes. sure, he has a pup of his own. soap is more than satisfying, but to finally get his hands on something like you? a tight cunt trained to take cock like a champ? well, he can't control himself.
your only comfort is price, and even then, the man is mean. taking photos of your fucked out face, of your stuffed cunt as you leak cum all over the sheets. "just making sure simon has some souvenirs. you don't want him to forget how good you were hm? we'll make sure hes got some photos so he can show his pup how to behave."
you end up almost passed out. your cunt long past abused, body twitching and tensing as you cum for the nth time. simon has you pinned ass up, hand fisted in your hair. his other grips your hip tightly, pulling you back each time he slams into you.
a wet squelch sounds out with each thrust, only adding to the lewd atmosphere. you're a mess, cunt drooling down your thighs, staining his bedsheets, joining the mix of cum already there.
"s'fuckin good. fuck," his hips speed up, driving you towards yet another orgasm, "should be grateful you're not mine sweetheart. I'd ruin your poor lil cunt every fuckin night. let my mutt have the sloppy seconds."
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tojisun · 3 months
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a short snapshot of what being with simon riley looks like (in my eyes) 🥹🫶🏼
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fallenneziah · 5 months
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Summary: Ghost's breeding instincts kick in on a cold night at the fire, and tension-turned arousal leaves you with one more body to feed.
CW: Dubcon, handjobs. Morbidly gross. Monsterfucking, Zombie! Ghost, breeding, cock swelling, deteriorating body parts, spit, Simon tries to be gentle, Ghost is there to breed. Cum inflation, cock warming. Slight angst. He tries to take care of you, but it's not really his main priority.
The zombie apocalypse has taken over the world. And you are stuck in the middle of nowhere. With no telecommunications, you were left to your own devices when your mission was sidetracked by the affected. You happened to be out with Simon when it happened, which ended in him getting bitten while you both were caught off guard.
And now you were stuck out here. Having moved from another safe haven from a lack of supplies and shelter.
Simon moaned from his broken maw, reaching out his hand lazily to the warm, crackling fire. His cold skin longed for warmth, the dark, bleak night providing you both no comfort. You gently moved his hand away, placing it back down. "Don't, You'll hurt yourself."
Simon moaned again, shifting and slouching, his glazed-over eyes staring into the fire hopelessly. Like he was lost. Feeling anxious again. He felt more anxious than you most times. But how could he not after the bite didn't fully rot away his brain?
The sound of wind and fire crackling filled the silence.
Simon huffed, his cold hand finding his slacks, still gazing into the fire as his palm dug against the seam along his crotch.
If he had done this when he was fully intact, you probably would have found it much hotter. But you knew Simon did this because he was anxious. You weren't entirely sure why he was anxious, but you gave him his space.
His hips shifted, whining against his palm while you pulled your jacket on tighter, feeling the fire whip and crackle.
‟Easy buddy, you're ok.”
Simon whined again, this time shifting his whole body as he pressed his palm harder into himself, almost like he wanted to tear his dick off. You got up and walked over to him, pulling his hand away. His head snapped at you, growling lightly. You ignored him, reaching over to rub his shoulders.
"It's alright, I'm here."
You felt him tense up a bit as you rubbed before he began to relax.
"I'll take care of you," you whispered, rubbing the back of his neck, making sure he could feel your touch. "Don't worry."
You reached down to his slacks and undid them, pulling down his zipper and letting his cock free from its confines.
He whined, squirming against your warm hand. You just wanted to help him. Seeing his swollen, puffy cock. Dripping with stagnant, thick white goo from the head of his cock. Black veins puffing out from the length and twitching.
You gripped it softly, feeling the cold, leathery skin in your hands. He moaned, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned back against the tree behind him. You rubbed the precum around with your thumb, feeling it stick between your fingers as you did.
You had to admit that it was kinda gross, but at the same time, you couldn't deny how much it turned you on.
Simon's glazed eyes followed you, trying to hump into your hand, needing the release. He was anxious, wirey, he wanted it out of him so badly. His instincts and his body told him.
Slowly sliding your hand up and down his cock, pulling the skin down over his head and then dragging back up. He moaned, his broken jaw lolling against the stretched skin. Watching with heavy, unfocused eyes as you stroked his puffy cock.
His cock twitched, dripping more ooze down the shaft.
"Good boy, Simon." You said softly, continuing to rub him. "Just let it all out."
Simon's breathing quickened, his hips moving erratically, trying to get as much friction as he could. His head lolled to one side, a cold hand grabbing your shoulder, the warmth of your palm was intoxicating him. He wanted you so badly. His cock desperately weeping from build-up and frustration.
You tried to keep him still, but he still struggled each way he wanted. His broken jaw hung, and moans flooded from his exhausted, deteriorating vocal cords.
He whined.
His hips jerked again, and you knew he was close.
You continued to stroke him, feeling the heat build in your stomach, making you feel flushed and warm. His glazed eyes searched around, humping your hand with vigour, breathing heavily, one hand digging his blunt, black nails into the dirt.
You squeezed the head of his cock, your thumb rubbing the leaking precum around so it would flow freely.
"Let it all out. Just release."
He whined, his cock twitching and bobbing as you squeezed the head tightly.
"Just let it all out. I'm here to help you, Simon."
The pressure built, his cock throbbing against your hand.
Spurting from the head in a stream of thick, white goo. He moaned and squirmed, gasping for air as his body slowly let him relax. The cum dripped from his cock to the ground, a large puddle growing around it.
His eyes fluttered, looking at you with a glazed expression. His cock didn't go down at all, oozing a little more. His fist came up, dirt-covered hand grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him, craning his head up toward you. You leaned back a little, his cold breath coming out ragged. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, looking at you with an almost human expression. One he'd been lacking for months.
He let out another inhuman noise that strained your heart. He pulled away again, his cock still desperately hard for your warmth. He wanted you. He's always wanted you. And yet he's ended up here. He released your hand, palming his crotch again as if telling you to leave. That you could go now.
You were tempted to pull away. You could leave him. Let him deal with himself. But, you also didn't want to do that.
You sighed.
"Alright. You win." You said, getting up and going over to your pack.
You sat back by the fire. Pulling out a ration of canned food, cracking it open and pouring it into the old pot you had rummaged from an abandoned house.
Simon watched you from by the tree. His insides wanted you so badly. His cock twitched, throbbing from being unattended. He wanted you. Your warm hand on his cold, dead skin. He felt no warmth anymore, and he wanted it. He craved it.
And his resolve crumbled quickly when he found himself struggling with the open buckle of his tattered military pants. Crawling over to you and whining, nuzzling against your side.
He couldn't communicate, only make those horrible, grotesque noises.
But you understood what he wanted. You knew he was begging you to help him.
His cock dripping, humping his cock into the air, just shy of your body. You looked at how desperate he was. Gurgling and whining, fists clenching in the dirt. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his cock again, but you could tell he wanted more.
His cock twitched, pulsating, desperate for attention. He grabbed the pot, throwing it aside as he climbed onto your lap, straddling you. He pushed your head up, forcing your gaze to his face. His eyes were still glossy, his jaw hanging, his face still grey and rotten.
He was still dead.
But you knew what he was doing. He was trying to be dominant.
You didn't fight back, allowing him to lead.
He held his cock in his hand, stroking it, moaning as the head rubbed against your lips. You opened your mouth, feeling the cold, leathery skin on your tongue.
He was shaking as you found yourself sucking on his cock. Letting his precum dribble down your throat, making your throat burn. His cock grew, throbbing against your tongue and the back of your throat.
He was gentle, forcing you down further on his cock, making your throat bulge.
You gagged, your eyes watering, your throat burning.
And he released your head, letting you up for air.
You coughed, taking stock of the situation. He'd forced you down.
You relaxed, letting him push you back down again. And again.
A warm, wet place to empty himself. And he needed it. Badly.
In the back of your mind, you knew that he didn't mean to be forceful. He was just so desperate to get his human warmth. To get his sexual release. He didn't know what he was doing. He was just following his instincts.
His cock glistened in the firelight, throbbing as it leaked that thick, white goo.
He tugged your hair, moaning as you felt his cock press against the back of your throat. He wanted to cum. He wanted to flood your mouth with his dead, thick cum.
You gagged, pulling off his cock. You'd never gone blowjob far with him before. You just jerked him off or let him hump you, never actually sucked him. He didn't seem to mind, taking this as permission to fuck your face.
His cock stayed firm, the head brushing against your lips as he jerked his hips.
"Come on," you said, swallowing his precum, "cum for me."
You opened your mouth, letting him push the head of his cock inside. It was big. Bigger than anything you'd ever taken. His hand fell to one side again, his helmet slipping a little, tight slacks pulling up his thighs, boots chaffing his ankles. He growled hollowly, another orgasm spurting from his cock across your face and into your mouth.
You probably should have been prepared for it to taste disgusting, but you hadn't.
You gagged a little, spitting it out as much as you could, having to swallow the rest, your eyes watering a bit from the taste.
He moved one leg off you, you attempted to roll over and get up, but he grabbed your belt. You grunted as he pulled you to the ground, dragging you back over to him. He leaned over you, hooking his leg back over your thighs, cock pressing to your ass. His hands dug into your stomach, pulling you back up into him. Getting you under him, he blindly and desperately tries to find your belt.
You're not sure how to react.
He finally grabs your belt and starts yanking it, trying to force you onto your hands and knees.
"S-Simon… what are you doing?"
He grunted, yanking again.
You pushed him away.
"Simon! No!"
He grabbed your shoulders, forcing you back down.
He's too strong. You can't stop him.
You've always thought about this with him. But you were more worried about him in this form. Of what.. could happen. Worried about possible repercussions. But he kept you down, finding the buckle and struggling to get it off.
He whined, trying to tell you to relax, that you'd be okay, and he just needed this once, but he couldn't. He held you down, getting your pants down over your ass, cold hand digging under your panties, your scent filling him.
Simon had smelled your arousal before, but now it was closer. He could smell the arousal in your thighs and the warmth of your pretty cunt.
It made him want you. Made him feel a desire for you.
He was a bit clumsy, fumbling around and trying to get a grip on his dick.
You whimpered, reaching back and pushing his hand away.
His fingers wrapped around his cock, giving you a final chance to stop him. You whimpered, hoping he'd let this go.
But he couldn't. His cock grew, throbbing, pressing against your ass. He held you down, letting you know he wasn't going to let you go. You were his. His toy. His anything.
The head slipped into you, your soaking wet labia spreading around his cock.
He held still, cock throbbing and leaking precum. You let out a gasp of air, pain running through your body.
Simon whined in reply, wanting you to relax. To be ok. He wanted to breed you. He needed to fuck you so badly. The warmth of your insides was so intoxicating that he needed it. But he could tell you were struggling. He wanted to comfort you in any way he could.
He didn't dare try to push himself in further, his cock was throbbing and sensitive, and he didn't want to hurt himself. You didn't want to do this right now, but he needed a release. And you knew it would make him happy to cum. He'd be more docile afterwards.
He pulled out, rubbing the head against your clit, your body shuddering.
He knew this was what you wanted. He pulled out, body shaking as he grabbed your hips, pulling you back against him. He pushed in again, grunting from the pleasure of feeling you, the warmth pressing to him.
He pushed into you, groaning as your tight walls pressed to him. He could feel every fold of your insides, every irregular surface. His cock throbbed, his body growing hot and cold at the same time.
He pulled out, groaning as your wetness dragged over his head and pulled you back into him. His cock thrusting, the warmth and wetness of you pulling at him. He could feel every inch of you throbbing against you.
He pulled out, groaning as your body brushed his cock. And rammed into you, your wetness coating him.
"S-Simon… don't…"
He grunted, slamming into you. Your cervix was the only thing left keeping him out. You moaned around his cock, back arching as his speed increased. His blunt fingernails dug into your hips, head lolling, grunting and making grotesque noises as his cock fucked deep into your cunt.
You knew you couldn't keep him away, and the way he plunged into you, brushing the sweet bud deep inside you slowly unravelled you.
His body was rigid, the only thing he was concerned about was getting off.
He didn't care how many times he came, or how many times he'd cum on you. All that mattered was fucking his cock into your cunt.
"Simon!"
He slammed into you again, grunting. You moaned, head falling forward, your pussy dripping with arousal. You could barely control yourself, feeling your orgasm building up inside you. His cock hit you right where you needed it. As if he knew you in and out.
Simon could smell your arousal. He could practically smell your orgasm.
His cock pulsated inside you, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
Your legs quivered, feeling your orgasm approaching.
His hands squeezed your hips, cock pounding into you, hitting your g-spot.
"Simon! I'm…"
He slammed in again, his tip brushing your cervix, your body tensing up, legs shaking.
Your body shook as you squirted, coating his cock with your juices.
The smell made his head swim, his hands digging into your hips. He fucked you harder, his cock losing control. Your pussy tightened, pulling at Simon's cock, spasms running through your body, hot fluids flowing.
His cock throbbed, pulsating as it slapped against your pussy.
You rolled your head, moaning and rolling in pleasure as he slammed into you harder.
And he held you there, his orgasm tearing through him. His arms quivered as he pushed into you, cum spurting deep inside you as his orgasm hit.
Your breathing was ragged, hips falling into his with each thrust.
He snarled and moaned with a hollow tone against your ear, breathing harsh, fingernails digging in deeper. He pressed you to the cold ground, hips plunging deep inside you without remorse.
You cried, your legs locking again as he drove you insane.
His cock pumped cum deep inside you, coating your insides.
He panted, his cock twitching as the last of his cum dripped from his cock.
Your legs were shaking, his cock twitching, still buried deep in you. He held you there. Your head fell to the dirt, tilting back to look at him. He stared off into nothing, whining and then looking down at you.
He laid down, cock still deep inside you as his chest pressed to your back. He laid his head in the crook of your neck, gurgling softly. An apology.
You sighed, reaching back and running your hand over his cold cheek.
"I-It's okay… I understand."
His breath hitched, his jaw brushing your neck. He was scared.
You gently took his hand, placing it on your stomach. "We'll figure it out. We'll work it out together."
He whined softly, nuzzling his face against yours. Nestling you close, staring into the still crackling fire as you rested on the cold ground. His cock was warm inside you, and he had zero intention of leaving so quickly.
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frogchiro · 4 months
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In reference to your other post: Wolf Hybrid!Ghost taking the reader from behind, his mind clouded with lust as he mounts them, lining up his thick cock before stretching them open. He can't help but look down at where they connect, seeing their hole stretched thin over his cock and making him mutter a teasing "Awww... biiig stretch" under his breath, lips pulled into a pleased smirk as he goes to pound town.
I literally came tf did you put in this ask
Wolf dog hybrid!Simon who, if able to, would mount you all the time and not let you off of his dick, his large knot keeping you tied to him and the pointy tip of his lengthy cock leaking and spurting his fertile sperm deep in you :((
Remember that he's huge! Build like a shit brickhouse, broad, burly shoulders, bulky arms and legs, a nice healthy layer of fat on his tummy making him seem even larger and his fluffy tail and pointy, fuzzy dog ears on top of his head only complete the look. Whenever he drapes himself over your smaller, soft body and grinds hips strong hips against you you always loose your balance a bit and whine at him to please not put all his weight on you, you'll break under him!!
But Simon just snuffles and makes a chuffing noise as he pushes his nose right under your jaw to inhale your scent, his fluffy tail wagging like crazy behind him; he wouldn't admit it but he always gets so stupidly happy whenever you're near. His mate is close and all he wants to do is to nip and tease you, herd you away and then mount :((
Imagine Simon thrusting his hips without abandon, so fucking turned on and horny, low growls escaping his maw as he listens attentively to your whines and whimpers and he can't help but smirk at the delicious sight of your poor, swollen pussy stretched open so wide to accommodate his large, heavy cock, his swollen tip hitting against your battered cervix and he almost howls at the feeling of being so so deep in you :(
Si would smirk and slow down his insistent thrusts to a slow in and out and using his thumbs he'd spread your cunt open to see his length stretching you to your limits and it's then when he growls a nasty:
"Aahhh would you look at tha'...Biiig stretch lovie'
And you're both speechless and embarrassed at the same time :(( He threw your affectionate words you use when you find Si particularly cute back at you when you're stretched wide on his dick :(( He's so mean :((
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starry-bi-sky · 4 months
Text
i've mentioned in a few past posts about an au where Danny is a variant of Jason Todd. I haven't made a post about it yet because I need a good rhythm flowing however i've been listening to Gladiator by Jann and I have been having thoughts.
but first, let me set the au:
Danny Fenton is Jason Todd, or at least, a variant of him. A him from a universe separate to the major Batman timeline - but still Jason Todd, down to the structure of his face and his name itself. The only thing that changes, is who picks him up - and, that he follows old Batman canon, and was an orphan. Jason Todd steals the tires off the batmobile and wallops Batman with his tirejack, and then runs off. Shortly after, he gets picked up by the Fentons.
(Customary line break,,,, word count check: 5k)
And his name changes from Jason Todd to Danny Fenton. He doesn't care much for the new name change, it stems from his mute refusal to share his name to the people that picked him up; an attempt to make him untraceable should he get away from them, and to keep something of his to himself. So they name him something new. He grows to like it enough as he acclimates to his new family.
(He hangs onto the name Jason Todd like a secret - he may be 'Danny Fenton' now, but he'll never forget his time on Gotham's streets. He'll always be Jason Todd.)
(Jazz is the only one who he tells his name to in the family - she affectionately calls him Jay whenever she wants.)
He becomes friends with Sam and Tucker and deals with Dash and his bullying. And when Danny steps in during a fight between Dash and another student, Dash gives him a bleeding nose and mockingly says, "Do you think you're Robin just because you're from Gotham, Fenton?"
Jason looks him in the eyes and he bares his teeth, "Why not?" he asks, spitting blood, "being Robin gives me magic."
The nickname sticks. It's supposed to be an insult; Daniel Fenton is not Robin, he'll never be Robin. Not now, not in a million years. Jason Todd has always wanted to be Robin, so he takes the insult and wears it proudly. He buys a school varsity jacket and painstakingly undos the stitching of all the school's motif on it. On the breast of it, he embroiders in a black circle with the Boy Wonder "R" on it instead. It's not good stitching, but the next day Danny wears it down to breakfast and into school.
In normal au canon, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton (its a mouthful, just call him Danny) only meets the Waynes after he becomes Phantom - an event that leans more towards Daniel Fenton's accident than Jason Todd's death, but traumatizes him all the same. (Is it too much to want to be mourned? His best friends like to deny that he died - and Danny - Jason? - wishes they wouldn't, even if he did come back.)
(The accident embitters him, even more when his parents don't seem to pick up on it. He stops calling himself Danny Fenton - he's always been Jason Todd. It shows itself in his ghostly form. He doesn't want to wear the thing he died in, not in something that belongs to the Fentons, and his suit reflects that.)
In this timeline, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton, aged 13, meets Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne after a mishap with magic on the other end of the reality sends the three of them careening through time and space, and spat back out on the other end, in a world not their own. And together.
Danny is paired with a very confused Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson. Luckily, there's a few heroes there to help them. Danny can hardly comprehend the idea that he's in another universe - he doesn't know why Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne are seemingly handling it well.
On their way to a secondary base with the heroes, Danny turns to Bruce Wayne and asks, "So, is it part of rich-person training that you're just totally chill with being sent into another universe, or are you just weird?"
Bruce Wayne huffs at him, rather than get offended, and he smiles that dumb lopsided billionaire smile that Danny's seen on every vogue magazine he's been in. "I'm not so worried with these skilled heroes here to help us get home."
Danny silently concludes that he's just weird. At least Dick Grayson is biting back a smile behind him. "Riiiight..." He says, dragging the vowel out dryly.
When they get to that secondary location -- a safehouse that one of the heroes had set up -- the three of them are sat in a living room-like room while one hero, Zatanna, goes and calls someone from the Justice League. The other two heroes stay with the three of them.
Within a few hours, Danny is face to face with Batman - someone who he hasn't seen since he whacked him in the stomach with a tire iron - and Nightwing. For a moment, Danny swears that the both of them look almost spooked by him.
Batman stares at him for a moment when he enters, and then he goes to speak with Bruce Wayne. Danny doesn't care enough to hear what they're talking about, he pulls out his phone as Nightwing goes to speak with Dick Grayson.
"Are you a fan of Robin, little man?" Someone says, and when Danny looks up he locks eyes with Dick Grayson -- who is leaning around Nightwing to talk to him, the both of them are smiling. And considering who Nightwing was, Danny finds himself turning pink to the ears.
But he will not hide his jacket. He forces a grin through his embarrassment, "Hell yeah, man, Robin's cool." He says, and pushes his arms down to pull out the hem of his letterman, showing off the emblem. "I made it m'self out of a school varsity after the A-Listers started callin' me Robin."
"A-Listers?"
"Popular kids," Danny corrects, loosing his hold on the hem and brushing invisible wrinkles out of the embroidery. "They didn't like that I kept stepping in when they were bullying. Dash asked me if i thought I was Robin because I was from Gotham."
Dick Grayson looks intrigued -- and concerned, and he leans forward onto his knees and raises an eyebrow. "What did you say?"
And Danny grins a shark-like thing, straightening back his shoulders with a burning sort of smug pride and all the sharpness of broken glass left in Crime Alley. "I told him being Robin gave me magic, and then I punched him."
Dick Grayson's smile widens, splitting into showing teeth as he leans back into his seat. Danny isn't sure why he's so delighted - but Nightwing looks incredibly amused, and he suddenly remembers that the Robin himself was there in front of him.
Danny's face burns anew and his arms fold themselves in front of him once again.
"I don't think I ever caught your name, Robin." Dick Grayson goes, his voice thick with laughter, and Nightwing steps off to the side as Batman and Bruce Wayne walk over to join them both. They're just close enough that Danny can see Bruce Wayne raise an eyebrow at them both.
"It's Jason." Danny says before he can think about it, and barely stops himself from frowning at himself for the slip. He amends himself, glancing over at Batman and Bruce as they get closer. "But everyone calls me Danny."
Dick Grayson's head recoils slightly, and he looks a little surprised. "Why Danny?" He asks.
"Why Dick?" He shoots back, and Bruce and Dick both smile at him, with Dick Grayson shrugging with an expression that looks like 'you've got a point.'
In the end, the three of them - yes, three - get sent to this world's Wayne Manor, and Danny is bewildered by that decision to include himself -- he's not a Wayne. Why not just send him to the Fentons?
Batman tells him that the Fentons don't exist in this world, and Danny falls silent. "Oh." He says quietly, a pit growing in his stomach with an ill-kind of dread. He can't keep Batman's gaze, looking away with unease.
No Fentons in this world. No Fentons. Where was he then, in the grand scheme of things? Where was he in this world? What happened to Jason Todd? Was he even alive? He can't keep the worry off his face, and he jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder. When he looks up, Dick Grayson squeezes him gently.
Dick Grayson is steadily beginning to remind him of his sister.
-
They end up driving back in the Batmobile. It's such a shock to Danny that he momentarily forgets the lack of Fentons. He makes a laugh sound, actually, and immediately he covers his hand with his mouth and stares at the car -- tank? with his teeth sunk into his lower lip.
"Jason?" Dick says, and hearing his name being spoken feels like someone touched him with a livewire. It's weird, it's foreign - he hates, in some way, that it's foreign - and it's so nice. Yes, that's me.
He drops his hand immediately. "Sorry." He says, realizing he'd stopped in his tracks, "I -uh, was just surprised."
"It's not every day someone sees the Batmobile." Dick agrees. Nightwing has his back to them but Danny swears he sees his shoulders shaking a little.
"Yeah," Danny nods slowly, dragging his eyes over the batmobile as Batman opens the driver's side and gets in. He thinks for a moment, of what he should say next - whether to admit that he's seen it before, or to pretend that he's seeing it for the first time. Snd as Nightwing opens the door for him, Bruce, and Dick, he chooses the funnier option; "The last time I saw it, I was stealing its tires."
To his surprise and unsurprise, Danny only gets two pairs of eyes on him. Nightwing gets into the passenger seat as both Bruce and Dick turn their gaze onto him; Dick's eyes big like they were going to bulge out of his head.
"You what!?"
So Danny tells an amazed Dick Grayson that he hit Batman with a tire iron after he stole his tires - something he is very proud about and also incredibly embarrassed about when he retells what happened in the backseat of the batmobile, with Batman and Nightwing listening in from the front seat.
(Bruce Wayne doesn't ever tell Dick shit, he's going to lord this over Bruce's head the moment they are alone.)
"Please tell me this didn't happen in this world." Danny groans behind his palms as he sinks into his seat. Dick Grayson is killing himself laughing on his left, and he saw Bruce Wayne stifling a smile before he obscured his vision with his hands.
Much to his luck, its Batman himself who speaks next, (Danny was being mostly rhetorical). "It did." He says, and his voice sounds like the rumble of the earth before a stampede. It will never not throw Danny off every time he hears it. "It takes quite a lot of spunk to steal the tires off the batmobile."
He can't believe it. Batman is making fun of him. Fucking, Batman.
He wants to die with embarrassment. He groans even louder as Dick Grayson's laughter crescendoes. Danny risks a peak through his fingers, he doesn't know whether to regret it or not because he can just barely see Batman smirk very faintly from his position in the middle.
(His world axis tilts five degree leftways seeing it; like someone dunked a bucket of ice water on him.)
"He ended up being adopted by the Bruce Wayne of this world."
Danny's hands drop with his jaw into his lap. Dick Grayson on his left chokes on his laughter and careens into a coughing fit. Bruce Wayne on his right chokes on air, and quickly recovers himself with a cough behind a closed fist.
"What?" Danny croaks.
-
Apparently, Bruce Wayne's family is much larger in this world than it is in his. Danny can barely wrap his head around the idea that he ends up adopted by the man, but now he has to learn that Wayne had several children in this world?
He's still not wrapped his head around it when the three of them wind up at Wayne Manor, finally, or even when he's standing in front of him himself. For his effort, Bruce Wayne does a good job at looking unruffled by it.
God, he's weird. Danny's starting to quite like it, actually. How human of him.
He still can't wrap his head around it when he meets the rest of Bruce Wayne's children, all of whom are already aware of the three of them. Danny thinks that someone from the Justice League might've alerted them before they got here.
It makes sense, he supposes.
It helps that they are just as weirded out as he is. A boy named Tim Drake sees him for the first time and blurts out; "Oh wow, you're tiny." In a tone like he's just seen a two-headed snake burst out of the ground.
Danny is still offended. He's still growing. It's not his fault he spent twelve years of his life malnourished. "I'm gonna be taller than you," he tells him seriously, "and when I do I'm gonna kick your ass."
Tim snorts at him.
The other Bruce Wayne -- Mr. Wayne's -- youngest looks at him up and down with a face of carefully controlled judgement. His name is Damian, he's Bruce Wayne's only biological son. Danny can't believe that there's only one.
If anything, Bruce Wayne himself looks surprised too.
"Todd, yes?" Damian says, his green eyes narrowed at him.
Danny feels like the specimen under his parents' microscope, he feels like he's standing on a platform that's being slowly spun by scientists. He looks over at Bruce Wayne in confusion, and then back at Damian. "I- yes?"
Damian Wayne nods, and then leaves.
Danny does not once see himself. That is unsettling in and of itself - surely Jason Todd would have been told about another version of himself in this world, wouldn't he? How old is he here? An adult, probably. Danny doesn't know if he wants to see him. What does he look like when he's grown up? He pulls his Robin jacket around him a little tighter, like a cocoon, like a shield.
"It's weird to hear them call me Jason Todd." He says aloud to himself, and it leaves a weight behind in his chest that shouldn't hurt the way it does. It shouldn't be weird to be called your name. It shouldn't cobweb up your throat to hear your name being said. It was his name. It was his.
-
Danny acclimates to the manor slowly. The house is big, massive. He's never been in a house so large before, he feels like a stray cat being taken in for the first time, again. He and Bruce and Dick Grayson are all given their own separate rooms - one of many inside this mansion - and the sheer size of his bedroom is bigger than his living room and kitchen combined.
it's daunting. Danny sits outside on the balcony and stares at the stars he can see - Wayne Manor is far enough away from Gotham that its light pollution doesn't obscure the sky here like it did in the heart of it.
Danny finds the constellations he can find and wishes he had his books with him. He finds the library the next day and buries himself in the back, curling up into a comfy armchair next and inhaling each book he can get his hands on.
Tim Drake wanders past him at some point, Danny would have missed him if it weren't for the fact that Drake stared at him strangely when he saw him. He walks away when he realizes Danny was staring back.
It's a rinse and repeat for the next few days. Danny doesn't go to meals, he sneaks food from the kitchen afterwards, and then buries himself in hundreds of books in the library.
Dick Grayson, the one from his world, goes and finds him three days later. Danny's eyes hurt with strain by then, but he is furiously halfway through a Jane Austen novel when Dick sits down across from him.
"Have you been here all day?" Dick asks, he drapes himself across the side of his chair, contorting himself into a position that Danny doesn't think is comfortable when he looks up at him.
Not that he looks up at him long - he hums absently and goes back to reading. Frowning when he realizes he lost his place on the page.
Dick Grayson raises an eyebrow, "Have you at least eaten anything?"
Danny hums. No, he hasn't, and he hadn't thought about eating all day. Until now that is, his frown ever deepening as his stomach pangs with a deep hunger.
"That's not healthy."
"Mhm."
"Are you going to eat something?"
"Mhhh."
And this gets Dick to frown. He straightens himself up, propping onto his elbows to stare at Danny. "Jason." He says strongly. And it's that that gets Danny to finally look up from his page, jumping like he'd again been poked with a live wire as he stares at Dick with wide eyes.
"Yes?"
"Put the book down." Dick orders, gesturing towards the side table next to Danny with a nod. "And come eat something." There's very little room for argument in his voice, he sounds like Jazz when she's trying to parent him, but instead he actually sounds authoritative. Not bossy.
Danny still frowns at him. "You're not the boss of me." He says, sinking back into his chair with a thumb bookmarking his page.
Dick gives him a look and makes a decisive noise, swaggling his head side to side while he does. "I'm pretty sure that for as long as we're here, me and B actually are the boss of you."
He's never really liked authority figures, not ones that tried to boss him around, that is. Danny doubles down, his lips curling into a shadow of a scowl. "Just because you're my brother in another world doesn't mean you can act like it."
"That's not what I mean and you know it."
"I don't want to go eat."
"It's not good for you to skip meals."
"Quit talking like Jazz."
"Danny."
Danny sinks his teeth into his lip and scowls darkly at him, shrinking into the back of his armchair in hopes that it'll swallow him whole. The idea of going into that large fucking dining room fills him with a dread that makes him completely forget his appetite.
"Your fucking- dining room is- it's too big." He grits out, finally closing his book and hugging it tightly to his chest.
Dick blinks at him. "What?"
"You heard me! It's too big. This whole place is too big. It's- what do you even do with this much space? I don't know how this- other me ever lived here."
Dick Grayson surprises him, and his expression softens. "Oh," he says, "I get it."
"You do?" The tension bleeds slowly out of Danny's shoulders
"Yeah, I felt the same way when I first moved in with Bruce. I lived with the circus for most of my life, but I slept in a trailer." He says. And he talks more.
The end result of their conversation ends with Dick Grayson offering to let Danny sit across or next to him during mealtimes, and that he can talk to him if he starts getting uneasy. But he can't keep skipping meals - it was making them all worried.
Danny agrees, and Dick takes him down to the kitchens for food.
"They look at me weirdly too." He grumbles as they leave the library, Danny's book returned to the shelf where it belonged. When Dick looks at him curiously, he scrunches his nose up. "The - your other siblings. They look at me like I'm- I'm someone else. S'weird."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Dick asks, "You are someone else."
Dany shrugs, staring at the ground with a heavy frown. "I don't know."
-
Danny seeks out Dick more after that. And vice versa. Dick reminds Danny of Jazz, and he latches onto the familiarity like a leech. If Dick is bothered by it, he doesn't show it, whether he's talking to his other world's self, to the Bruce's, or to one of the other Wayne kids.
Damian Wayne seems particularly keen to seek him out, Danny finds. He thinks it means that they're close in this world, and that Damian wants to see more of what a young Dick is like. That's what he would do, at least.
He takes up on Dick's offer of seating near him during dinner, and finds an open spot across from him. Unless he has something to show him, then he sits next to him.
("You can call me Jason." He tells him one day when they're in the Wayne's massive, fuck-off gym and they're both climbing over the jungle gym. Dick's showing him how to be more flexible. It's the most Danny's worked out ever, he likes the burn it gives him.
Dick looks at him in surprise, "Really?" he's doing a handstand on the bars and Danny's more than a little jealous at his balance.
"Yeah, dipshit," he says, rolling his eyes, "I'll even let you call me Jay, it's my nickname."
Dick happily takes him up on that offer, and much to Danny's embarrassment, starts calling him Jaybird. All because of his stupid Robin jacket.)
Danny has yet to meet his other self still, it's scaring him a little. Where was he? And matter of fact, how long until he could go back to his home dimension? The three of them hadn't gotten any updates since they arrived.
Speaking of, he was starting to talk to Bruce more, it was just... strange. Even stranger than talking to Dick. Bruce Wayne in another life would have been his adoptive father, Danny can't wrap his head around it for the life of him.
Whatever did Bruce Wayne see in Jason Todd that made him worth adopting? He's too afraid of the answer to ask. They start talking more after they run into each other late at night. Danny had been hit with a bout of insomnia and was going to the library.
He ran into Bruce on the way. He was just.. staring, out the window, with a faraway look in his eye. He didn't even look startled to see Danny standing there.
Danny asks him if he wants to go to the library with him. It was out of panic. He isn't expecting Bruce Wayne to agree, and they walk there in suffocating silence. Danny keeps looking at him from the corner of his eye.
("You're staring?" Bruce doesn't sound upset, Danny jumps anyway.
"Yeah, sorry." his voice sounds stilted, "it's just..." his jaw wires itself shut for a spell, "...you looked like you were about to disappear."
"Ah.")
When they reach the library, Danny leads Bruce Wayne into the science section and takes out books upon books about stars. He leads him over to the armchair and fire and they both sit down on the ground.
"When I lived in Gotham I would stargaze." Danny says, it's the first thing he can think of. Bruce Wayne looks at him quizzically. "Well, I would try to. The sky's too polluted for that. Mostly I would just watch the skyline and try and spot Batman and Robin, was the same thing."
That cracks a smile out of Bruce. It's a small one, barely there. "I hardly think the two are comparable."
Danny is still serious. "Not to me."
He goes on, talking about how after he was adopted he got his hands on every star book he could find. He loves english and he loves to read, but something about the stars drew him in like a song. He rambles about every star fact he knows with Bruce Wayne.
Bruce Wayne surprises him by telling him facts he didn't know. Danny soaks it up like a sponge, listening intently to him speak. And when they run out of star books to talk about, Danny tells Bruce that it was his turn to find something for them to talk about.
Bruce Wayne smiles again at him, a sly little thing like Danny's challenged him, and gets up. He comes back with a stack of film books, and they spend the next few hours going through them. Bruce Wayne rattles off every single movie fun fact he knows, and there is so much that he knows.
Danny is in awe, and moves to press against Bruce's side to see the stuff he points at in his books.
"You're smarter than people give you credit for." He says at some point, when his eyes hurt from being open for too long and his head leans against Bruce's arm for support. It follows with a jaw-cracking yawn that he tries and fails to stifle.
"Thank you, Danny." Bruce says, his voice soft and soothing and not helping with Danny's weighing exhaustion. His eyes drift, and then jerk open. "Do you want to go back to your room? You look tired, chum."
He bites back a smile at the nickname, and fails to keep it bitten. "No, no, I'm awake." He mumbles, shaking his head slowly. "I wanna hear-" he yawns again, "-hear you talking."
Danny swears he can hear the smile in Bruce's voice as he speaks; "Alright. Now, where was I?"
In the end, Danny falls asleep on the floor of the library next to Bruce Wayne. He doesn't even realize it until he wakes up the next morning. But it's not to worry, Bruce Wayne fell asleep too, an arm thrown around Danny protectively like he was his own kid.
This becomes a thing for them soon enough. When neither of them can sleep, they go to the library and talk and talk about whatever comes to mind.
There comes the dreaded night after they've finished whatever book they were looking at when Bruce, the little shit, turns to Danny and goes; "You never mentioned what happened after you hit Batman with a tire iron."
Danny groans, big and dramatic, burying his head in his arms, and ignores the low chuckle. "I thought he was gonna chase me down for sure." He complains, his voice muffled by his arms.
"Why did you hit him with a tire iron?"
The look Bruce gets is one of pure disbelief. "If Mothman suddenly showed up behind you while you were taking the wheels off his ride, you'd hit him too!"
"Last time I checked, Mothman isn't real." Bruce told him amusedly, and Danny flops over onto his back to stare him down. His arms sprawl out like a starfish, intentionally hitting Bruce in the shoulder.
"You don't know that, Batman's a cryptid and he's real."
Bruce roars with laughter, and Danny preens like a bird.
That next morning when Bruce passes by him for breakfast, he reaches over and ruffles his hair. It's the same thing he does for Dick every morning. It's the first of many, and it gets many stares from the surrounding family.
Bruce has a newspaper tucked under his arm, and when he sits down Danny stands up and skedaddles over to him, leaning over the side of his chair to peer at the paper.
"Any cryptids spotted, Buzz?" He asks, getting a startled laugh out of Bruce, who looks up at him.
"Buzz?"
"Well, yeah," and Danny states it as matter-of-fact. He gestures his head at Dick Grayson. "Dick calls you 'B', and B is for bees, and I can't just call you Bees, that's dumb. So; Buzz."
He grins triumphantly when Bruce laughs quietly, his shoulders shaking imperceptibly. "I know," he tilts his head up proudly, "I'm a genius."
Now he's actually laughing, dropping his head into one of his hands and trying to quiet himself as much as possible. Danny is positively beaming, ignoring the stares of the other Waynes as he flounces back to his seat just as the other Mister Wayne enters the room.
-
When Jason Daniel Fenton Todd meets Jason Todd for the first time, they both just stare at each other.
Danny recognizes himself immediately in the library, and he freezes up. His tongue ties to the roof of his mouth, and he's unsure of what to say.
He doesn't need to say anything at all, because when Jason Todd looks up and they lock eyes, they both just stare. And stare. Jason Todd is a large, hulk of a man, built like a brick shithouse, with a tired, traumatized look in his eyes and a white streak in his black curls. The same black curls that Danny himself has.
He has no idea what to say. Or if he should turn back around and leave.
Jason Todd sighs at him, "I know they told me you and another world's Bruce and Dickie were here," he says, but it sounds like he's talking to himself. Even moreso when he mutters half-heartedly, "-but I was hoping I wouldn't run into you."
Danny feels small next to him. He doesn't know why. "Sorry." He says lamely, his one foot skips back, "I can leave if you want." It's unlike him to be meek, he thinks. Not after years of Gotham living and dealing with the likes of Dash and his Jerk Jocks.
But this also isn't the streets, and this isn't other kids being dicks. Jason Todd shakes his head, and gestures with one large arm for Danny to come over. "You don't need to do that, you were coming to read, right?"
He nods, and tentatively makes his way over. When Jason looks at him, he sees him cast his eyes over his Robin jacket - he wears it everyday. Danny sees him narrow his eyes, just slightly. But he says nothing.
It's... a strange conversation. Interaction. Jason Todd doesn't talk to him much, and if he does it's stilted and awkward, like he doesn't know how to treat him. Like he's holding him at arm's length.
Jason's getting tired of being treated like a ghost.
They talk about their books. They compare lives. Jason Todd was picked up a few days after he stole the wheels of the batmobile. He wasn't an orphan, he lived with his mom and his stepdad before he lived with Bruce. They both like to read, only Danny has an interest in the stars.
("What do your adoptive parents do?" Jason Todd asks him, one arm slung over the back of the armchair, he looks relaxed. He looks tense. Danny feels like he's back in Crime Alley again.
"They're 'ectologists'." He says, making air quotes over the word. He rolls his eyes, "Ghost hunters. They study the dead and all things afterlife."
Jason Todd makes a dry laugh huff, a sarcastic half-smile on his face. He doesn't explain why he does, Danny doesn't ask why. It doesn't seem like his business.)
Danny wants to ask him where he got that white streak in his hair. It doesn't feel right. It feels like his parents' lab, and that isn't right. Nothing ever feels like his parents' lab.
Jason Todd leaves first after giving him a few book recommendations. Danny isn't sure how to rate the experience. Being in Jason Todd's presence was like standing in a liminal space. An empty parking lot at night. When he leaves it feels like much the same thing.
He struggles to read his books afterwards, unable to shake the feeling of being haunted.
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'Normalize morally grey and questionable woman characters!'
Please, you people couldn't handle Gwen Stacy making questionable life choices after being disowned in the most difficult stage of her life.
Let's normalize teenage girls making mistakes hows about that huh???
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bluerosefox · 7 days
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GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS
When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.
(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)
But Jason didn't mind his penpal.
Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.
From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.
Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.
Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...
But then he died by the hands of the Joker.
The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.
Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.
Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.
And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.
Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.
It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.
The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.
"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.
Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"
Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.
His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.
"From: Danny Fent Nightingale
Amity Park, IL"
To: Jason Todd-Wayne
Gotham City, NJ.
Wayne Manor"
And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.
"Jason.
I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.
Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-
I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.
I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.
I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.
I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.
Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.
Again I’m sorry.
This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.
Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.
-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."
The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.
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thevoidstaredback · 11 days
Text
Honestly, Danny doesn't know how he gets into these situations. It's probably the fault of a deity or an Ancient or someone. It's most definitely Clockwork's fault.
Going on that mission with Constantine sounded like a good idea at the time, and Raven was going to be there! She's the best impulse control on the team. He realizes he should've clarified why Raven was going with them. Evidently, it was not to help or be impulse control for the Ghost King and the Alcoholic Soul Whore. (Don't tell Constantine that's his nickname) Raven was going along because she had business at Titan Tower. It should've been obvious, but Danny is not the most observant.
Either way, he was wrong. He thought going on this mission with John - there was a demon running around an apartment building and people were, apparently, quite upset about that - would deter the Justice League from hounding him like roaches. He was right about that, but also very wrong because the proteges took the opportunity to sniff him out like the bloodhounds they are. Unsurprisingly, Red Robin was at the head of the charge.
Raven, the traitor, sat back and laughed at him. She wasn't laughing, but it was obvious that she found his misery amusing.
Anyway, this lead to a citywide hunt for Danny. Anytime he spotted even a hint of any of the Titans chasing him, he was gone. He couldn't stray too far from Constantine, though, and Beast Boy had a nose like a damn elephant.
The chase lasted a solid three hours before he had to let them catch him, if only so that he could tell them to leave him alone because he's there on official JLD business. Not like that would actually work, but he had hope. Unfortunately, he forgot that Red Robin is Bat Trained.
Danny took a second for himself before the Titans caught up with him. Was this really better than Deadman harassing him about his first time in Gotham? No, it wasn't. It wasn't any worse, either, and he didn't know how to feel about that.
"Are you finally done running?" Red Robin asked, landing in a crouch in front of him.
Danny folded his legs to sit criss-cross in the air as the rest of the kids that had been chasing him joined RR. "You make it sound like I'm a criminal."
"You ran like one," Beast Boy pointed out. Fair, but rude. "And, dude, I don't know if you know this, but you smell horrible."
Danny placed a hand on his chest with a dramatic gasp. "How dare you! I took a shower just last week!"
Raven was now unamused.
Superboy gagged a bit. "He's right," A small shudder. "I couldn't smell it before, but I can now that you're so close to me."
He sighed with equal dramatics as his gasp. "I guess I can never get rid of the smell, even after all this time."
Wonder Girl tilted her head to the side slightly. "Oh? And what smell would that be?"
"The smell of death," John Constantine, ever a man of impeccable timing, turned onto the side street to join them. He largely ignored the kids in favor of the ghost child who isn't actually a child but no one listens to him when he explains that so he's probably going to stop trying. "It lingers. C'mon, kid, we've got a demon to exorcise."
Danny huffed like a petulant child, "Still not a kid!"
Constantine continued walking away. "Still don't care."
Part 4 Part 6
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nelkcats · 8 months
Text
Lost Contact
Danny fell in love with Bruce Wayne in college. If he was completely honest with himself he didn't even know about Gotham or the outside world by that point, he just knew he had to get away from home for a while and complete his studies.
He didn't expect to run into a playboy billionaire who was supposedly very dumb at his college; Danny knew better, he could tell the difference between the act and the real Bruce, someone truly thoughtful, caring and very smart, but no one but him noticed so he didn't say anything.
They became very good friends despite their obvious latent crush and on graduation day Danny was about to confess when he got a call from home asking for help with the GIW. The halfa had no choice but to say goodbye not wanting to get Bruce in his mess.
When he returned to Gotham months later he learned that Bruce was gone, his butler informed him that he would be back but didn't know when and the halfa returned to Amity in disappointment. He decided to take over the Realms for a while and distract himself with all the responsibilities he had been avoiding.
Years later he was called for a college reunion. Danny was very nervous, he hadn't kept in touch with the outside world but his core was still glowing for the billionaire, he wondered if Bruce would remember him.
Despite his plan to confess his old feelings (and pretend they no longer existed), Danny was unable to do anything but look at Bruce who greeted him with a smile and a small child at his side. The halfa grimaced, maybe he was married?
Bruce seemed excited to see him again and exchanged his contact, asking him not to go off the radar again, the halfa felt a little guilty about it. They continued to communicate over the years. Danny noted with amusement how his crush kept adopting children and calling him for a dinner at the mansion.
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helios-sol · 1 year
Text
hmm…had a ghost thought..take this.
“you broke his nose.”
simon flinches when your needle breaks the tender skin of his brow. he’s lucky it’s not too deep, less chance for a nasty scar.
“he slapped your ass.” is his only reply.
your sigh is heavy, the puff of air ruffling the bangs that hang in his face.
“i’m an adult,” your fingers work quickly, “i can take care of myself.”
the statement has simon quirking his brow and you’re cursing him.
“stay still-“
“what were you saying last night,” he interrupts you, “ ‘s-sir, please, need you so bad’ was it?”
your mouth goes dry, face flushing in an instant. the smug, satisfied grin on simon’s face makes you physically angry. you want nothing more than to rid him of it, render him just as speechless as you are. unfortunately, he’s far quicker to the draw than you.
“where’s all the bite from earlier?” he questions and he’s lucky you don’t make his stitches any more painful than they need to be.
“fuck you.” you grit out, lips pulling into a thin line. you don’t want to entertain him any further but he’s got other plans.
“plenty of that later sweetheart.”
you pretend to gag.
“you’re not as smooth as you think you are.”
simon huffs a laugh at that, face aching at the pull of his lips into a smile.
“still gets you hot under the collar.”
you frown, tying your thread into a knot before snipping the loose end. he’s not wrong but you don’t think you could live with him having that satisfaction.
“you’re insufferable.”
simon lifts your chin up towards him with a bloodied knuckle.
“you love it.”
you roll your eyes.
“yeah, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“would you kick me out if i said it was you..?” he asks, tugging a clean shirt over his head. you stare at the way the material stretches across his back before meeting his glance from over his shoulder.
“no, but i would tell you you’re getting a bit soft.”
that makes him scoff and roll his eyes, lips ticked up in a slight smile.
“maybe, maybe not. i think i just like a warm bed and a nice ass.”
“SIMON! you’re such a jackass!” you cry out, cheeks warm with embarrassment.
He flashes you an apologetic grin, arms raised in defense.
“okay, okay. maybe i am getting soft,” he tugs you towards him by your wrist, “but i only have you to blame.”
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