#they have nothing to do with ghosts! there just happens to be a lot of dead people in this forest rip. so dvs r actually trying to escape fr

[reindeerswillsavethisworld]

Corpse au case fic where the trio decided to try cracking a murder mystery, except instead of angst it's a comedy of errors where they make everything worse.

Like. Danny comes out of a portal dead and translucent and glowing, and there's charred remains of a human body on the floor. So now all three of them are freaking out, and instead of asking for help, or finding an adult, or telling literally ANYONE, they decide to just. Get rid of the body. As one does.

So that's what they do: they break out Tucker's nice shovels (because god forbid Sam's family owned something as pheasant as a shovel, and Danny's too afraid of touching their family's Patented Fenton ShovelsTM for... reasons), they find a nice desolate clearing in the woods, and then they bury Danny's body like one would a very unfortunate hamster who met their demise too soon under very suspicious circumstances. They even stay at the new "grave" in silence for a minute or five in respect and DEFINITELY nothing else, you know. And so, they bury the body, and then they (try to) forget the experience as some horrific nightmare.

And then, a year later, there's an uproar: the Amity Park's police department found the child's remains in the woods! And you see, Amity Park is not THAT big of a town, and the police estimated that the body belonged to a 14-15 year old child, and, look, there's only so many schools in a small town, alright. Obviously, the rumours start very soon in Casper High: about how the kid could've gone to their school, about how they could've died, about whether or not anybody was missing them, about their identity, and some definitely-truthworthy-would-I-lie-to-you-bro-come-on sources insist that the kid was murdered around a year ago, around the time ghosts started showing up. And these rumours obviously reach the ears of Sam, Danny and Tucker.

Now, you would've thought that their first thought would be something like "oh no, they found Danny's body", or "oh no, they know", or even simply "we're sooo fucked". Except. You see, the night they buried the body? It was really cloudy. And dark. And, y'know, it's very easy to get lost in a forest. And they were too high-strung, you see, they completely forgot to leave some sort of a marker or anything. And also like, it was so long ago, you know? A lot have happened, they were sooo busy and the likes, you can't really blame them for forgetting some things.

And here's lies the problem: all three of them just fucking forgot that there was a body left to bury at all.

And then it gets out that the police can't even conduct any sort of DNA test because it became corrupted to the point of being absolutely unrecognisable due to exposure to a large amount of ecto-energy.

It's now looks like a bad set up for a joke: an identifiable body of a child, cause of death unknown; the probable involvement of ghosts or at the very least a very large quantity of ecto-energy; a probable murderer on the loose, which naturally breeds suspicion and speculation; a town full of all kinds of rumours; and a trio of absolute dumbasses, who after hearing that ghosts were involved immediately went to stick their noses where they don't belong.

Rejoice, Amity Park! Sam, Danny and Tucker are now on the case! Except they are all teenagers, and nobody in their right mind will allow teenagers to solve a murder case. Plus, them poking around would be highly suspicious, but Phantom, on the other hand?

(people seeing Phantom helping solve this case and coming to the conclusion that the ghosts were definitely involved was not on their bingo card, but oh well)

They don't go to the cops, obviously: Danny at least in part because he's worried they will call GIW on his ass or try to arrest him, and Sam and Tucker simply because fuck the cops (one because the police is involved in a militaristic, capitalistic corrupted system that breeds injustice and furthers the divide between average people and the wealthy, and the other because cops suck and will probably call GIW on his friend's ass). They also can't go to any other authorities: cops are out of the question, as is the mayor; laboratory personnel will most likely just throw them out; and there're no witnesses or known relatives, so they're stuck.

Therefore they decide that desperate times need desperate measures, and so they enlist all of their ghost allies on a quest, hoping to find the ghost of the kid. Considering the amount of ecto-energy they were subjected to, they MUST have formed a ghost, they only need to find them.

Except. The Ghost Zone is a big place, and they only have so many allies, even if some of them are a queen and a god. So Danny bites the bullet and does the most stupid (debatable) thing he has ever done: he goes to his enemies for help. They're surprisingly understanding and willing to help, even if some of their reasons are a little... strange (Skulker and Johnny entered some sort of competition on who finds the ghost first, Box Ghost starts to seek out coffins (??) and Youngblood is not above to start torturing people to finally have a friend that is not either an adult or a complete stick in the mud). And even then they still can't find the ghost.

In the end Danny goes to Clockwork in a desperate hope that he will be able to glimpse at least a little of what had transpired on the night of the murder, and to Danny's annoyance Clockwork laughs so hard he almost pops a ghost equivalent of a blood vessel.

A few weeks down the line Sam hesitantly brings up Danny's buried corpse ("MY WHAT" "Your corpse which we buried in the woods, Danny, don't you remember?" "Yeah, bro, I think you dissociated the whole time we were digging the hole and carrying your dead body" "WE DID WHAT-"), reasonably saying that, you know, they ALSO technically buried a body in the woods. On that Tucker just shrugs because obviously it was not Danny's body, the place of the burial was way off, he remembers that there was a really big stone to the left of the grave (he doesn't and there wasn't), so they are in the clear. During that exchange Danny's sitting on the floor and having a panic attack, because he really did dissociate the whole time and afterwards legitimately forgot that there was a body to bury at all.

After that conversation all three of them leave with a certainty that Danny's body is still there where they left it, whenever it was. And so the shenanigans continue.

#yes i know that is custom made for some delicious angst and identity shenanigans #but also consider: this scenario would be very funny #three teenagers running around a crime scene trying to solve a murder case #and not realising they ARE said murder case #idk whether or not there would be an identity reveal down the line but if there would be one #i like to imagine vlad just sitting in his office alone afterwards head in hands #wondering WHAT he did to deserve this stupidity that went for MONTHS #like sir you did it to yourself when you decided to make a 14 years old your arch-nemesis #jazz is both horrified ('IT WAS YOUR WHAT') and exasperated ('what do you MEAN you forgot') #she's out there secretly hoping this sort of stupidity is not hereditary (in her case it kinda is lmao) #his parents are simply horrified (tho jack a few months down the line finds the whole ordeal rather funny) #the ghosts all forget about this shitshow rather quickly #except for ember youngblood kitty and johnny. they will NEVER let danny live it down. NEVER. #also danny waking up at 3am in cold sweat and remembering cw laughing his ass off: THIS MF KNEW ALL ALONG- #danny phantom #sam manson #danny fenton #tucker foley

[lazerswordweilder]

I wanna see Danny absolutely insane. Not like. We got too silly insane. Like, pushed past his breaking point, desperately trying to hold on, for the fifth time this week, and it’s Monday.

I wanna see him smile when Dash shoves him into his locker, because he’s not sure what to do. On one hand he’s so done with this, and he knows he could end Dash in a fraction of a second. On the other hand, it was almost reassuring, nostalgic, he remembers when this used to hurt.

I wanna see ghosts and humans alike, go to hurt or bother Danny Fenton Phantom. And have them stop when he turns around, because the look in his eyes is not something they understand nor want to mess with. Lancer saw a weight he thought only characters in books could possibly have to carry, Paulina saw tears and when has anyone ever seen him cry, Vlad saw exhaustion that cuts into your very core but you have to keep going because that’s what’s expected of you, Ember saw grief and pain over something that never happened but could’ve been, Dash saw pain a hundred times worse than anything he’s ever felt, Jazz saw protectiveness of a kingdom who hates him, Wes swears he looked insane.

And Danny? Danny is done with their shit. And he doesn’t swear. He’s so tired of everything, he’s so close to giving up, he is very much not feeling phantastic right now. He’s got more scar tissue than skin, he’s pretty sure everything he owns has at least a little of his blood on it by now, he’s forgotten what feeling okay is like, and he can’t even begin to describe everything else, and he means everything. He’s got half the mind to track down who ever said death was peaceful and make them deal with his life. But he’s a hero. Right?

He knows he’s got duties, the Realms needs a king, Amity needs a protector (both the humans and the ghosts), Danny Fenton needs to go to school. Oh and he’s pretty sure Frostbite is having a panic attack after looking at him which is ridiculous. But still, the stars seem real inviting right now, he wonders if Clockwork would turn back time for him and just let him sleep on the moon for 200 or so years. Probably not. (Clockwork absolutely would’ve). He might just do it anyways. It’s kind of ridiculous how much somethings just look like comfy beds to sleep in for a trillion years to him now, he fell asleep in a snow bank earlier which wasn’t nearly cold enough. But it’s kind of fair Danny supposes, he can’t remember the last time his home really felt like home, and Amity in general is his haunt, but eh, whatever.

Still though, having your enemy worried for you is really something. Like Vlad should comment, Vlad’s the source of a small fraction of his problems! Which is a lot! First of all having to worry about another source of constant attacks, having to try and convince his parents that Vlad is so clearly evil, having to check up on Dani and also make sure Vlad isn’t trying anything like that again, and not to mention the whole mayor of the town he lives in thing.

Okay this kind of got off track. But my point is, I want it to be too much, instead of somehow managing to survive it all and getting help, Danny gets pushed off the edge (and can’t get out) and he just goes crazy, he breaks down right in the middle of school over a minor inconvenience, laughing then sobbing then screaming then wailing for ancients knows how long. Then he flies off somewhere and continues to breakdown for a while, then he returns to his life like nothing happens, but it did.

That was it.

He can’t be pulled back now. You had your chance. You all had so many chances. And now he’s lost it for good. And you all deserve it.

He’s not going to apologise for punching Dash through a wall, he’s not going to apologise for whatever he did in that little blacked out period of time, he’s not going to apologise for taking a nap in the observatory and hissing and attacking all the tourists and everyone else, he’s not going to apologise for dissecting his parents, he’s not going to apologise for making Vlad regret it, he’s not going to apologise for making the ghost writer eat a book, he’s not going to apologise at all.

You let him get like this. He doesn’t want to shift the blame. But what was he supposed to do? No. Oh no. Don’t try to explain. This is all your fault. And he’s tired of pretending he’s fine. And he’s tired of helping. Because you lost that a while back.

You all don’t even know how dead you are to him, he had a little regret when it came to Sam and Tucker and Jazz, and that’s why they’re alive right now. Because they did all they could, well, not all they could, but that was because he asked them not to tell. Maybe he shouldn’t off.

-

All hail the high king Danny Fenton Phantom. The king who never stopped crying.

#danny phantom #lazerswordweilder writes

[halaboyz]

2:07 am, eric

gn! reader; angst; tipsy characters; 457 words

you were always a second choice. it wasn't any different when it came to best friend, eric, who knew you liked him a lot. he didn't mean to leave you hanging without any answer to your confession, but you knew. deep inside, you do- that no answer, is an answer.

but even so, you liked that eric's lips lightly graze your earlobe as he whispers sweet nothings as sweet as honey. or when his hand meets your back unconsciously when he guides you through the sea of unknown faces chugging their hearts down.

what you least liked, is that goddamn smile on his face when he unexpectedly meets someone he immediately clicked with in the sea of those faces one day, and the ghost of him is what remained with you. the warmth of his breath under your ear, or his hand on your back.

and that continued to happen, over and over again.

"i'm leaving." you collect your things and stand up, leaving your friends confused and staring at you as you stride away. you hear eric quickly bid a goodbye to his so-called friend he had been meeting with for the past few weeks and to the others, tailing you.

"hey, party's not over. are you not feeling well?" and started with eric's hand on your back again, lips an inch away from your ears again. you leave him with no answer, letting him lead you out the doors of the bar.

"party's not over, like you said. you should head back." you sigh, facing him.

"are you okay? it's not like you to leave mid."

"eric. i'm not." you finally snap, "i'm not okay. i haven't been for the past few weeks and i know you know why."

"is this about her? come on... we've only just met last month and i've been bringing her so that we could be friends all together. once you get to know her it'll be fine-,"

"tell me you don't love her, then." you softly plead, waiting for him to answer. "tell me you don't love her." you wait. and wait. but when eric frowns at you, you chuckle bitterly. "see."

"y/n," he tries to reach for your arm, but you step away.

"right. asking you to tell me you don't love her is like asking you to tell me you love me. so fucking obvious." you let a tear fall before you turn your back on him, and like what you had always let happen, you hope he runs after you and ask you to understand.

but when you reach the end of the road with nothing but loneliness, you've also gotten your answer. the answer you shouldn't have chosen to ignore in the first place.

#the boyz #eric #eric sohn #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshots #the boyz fic #the boyz x reader #son youngjae #eric imagines #eric imagine #the boyz imagine #tbz imagines #tbz imagine #eric x reader #the boyz fluff #tbz x reader #the boyz eric #the boyz eric sohn #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn imagines #the boyz reactions #the boyz angst #the boyz fics #the boyz drabbles #the boyz eric x reader #the boyz eric angst #kflixnet

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Game night ruined.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wang lingjiao #If the assorted Jiang disciples look familiar it's because they are the same as the disciples in the LWJ in Yunmeng Jiang AU comics! #I decided that if I was going to have background characters come up a lot I may as well solidify a few designs. #We are following MLP background character rules in the sense there are more disciples around but these guys fill in for them #Do they have names? No(t yet). #I just think the jiang disciples are very sweet and cute in the audio drama. I hope nothing bad happens to them. #(let me have me fun and whimsy with them before...you know...) #I feel like I totally missed an opportunity to set WLJ up as an 'Um Actually" girl. #“you're hitting on my man? UM ACTUALLY get BURNT” #“You want to fly kites? UM ACTUALLY It's offensive to my sect so get fucked” #“UM ACTUALLY we're setting up a supervisory office here” #“You want me to stay? UM ACTUALLY I think we pissed off some ghosts so I'm outtie <3” #Do you see the lost potential here? I'm furious at myself for not seeing it sooner.

[spineless-lobster]

I miss creative writing in english class I don’t wanna write a fucking comparative paragraph about existentialism in two damn near unrelated pieces of media I want to write about silly little guys doing things

#okay so we have to compare sartre’s no exit to the good place right? #but we only watched the first season that literally almost has nothing in common with the play #so comparing it is SUPER difficult and I’ve never seen the good place so I can’t analyze it through a ‘critical lens’ #when all I’m trying to do is understand the plot and what’s happening #I’m being dead fucking serious when I say we should’ve watched ghosts instead that’s not even me being autistic it’s literally the better #show to watch for this sort of comparison #while we were reading the play I was able to naturally draw comparisons between characters and situations #julian is garcin estelle is kitty and inez is a mix between a lot of characters such as thomas julian and the captain #I can go on about the themes of each but this is long enough lol #idk I’m just so tired of using so much brain power and getting fucking nothing written down

[scare-ard--sleigh]

me white-knuckling the kitchen sink: i won't say anything i wouldn't want repeated in a running report, not everything that makes me tick needs to be commented on, may g,d or whoever grant me the serenity to ignore stupid stupid stupid human beings, etc., etc, etc.

#silver jelly #i was thinking earlier about this wooden plaque thing that my deacon grandmother had in the house growing up that had what i thought was #the serenity prayer. upon googling it a few years ago it turns out that it was not; it was uh. a different prayer. #i think it's called the morning prayer? it's the 'nothing is going to happen to me today that you and i together can't handle' one #(except the font was like that old English looking mf so up until googling it i thought it was 'you and 2 together' idk why i never #questioned it i guess bc of like. the father/son/holy ghost thing?? anyway.) #here's the thing though she did actually have the serenity prayer in the house as well. it was just the *ceramic* decoration; not the #wood one. though i did look at that one a lot too. #anyway i guess i'm thinking a lot about making your space reflect your values. and how that can mean literally but also not. #like i think the wooden plaque is fundamentally the same as the prayer candles on my vanity. #i'm decorating my boudoir. my parents are coming next week. how do i make this space look like mine. #and also; what environmental reminders can i provide myself that direct my attention away from uhh. irritating individuals. #what's the emo version of the serenity prayer lmao (it may very well be the gway prayer candle)

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

The Daycare

Danny moves to Gotham after Lady Gotham themselves asks for his help.

Gotham's natural ecto has been deteriorating, and considering ecto was what held everything in existence together safely this was a major problem for Lady Gotham.

If Gotham got too bad it would spread to the rest of the world, and could cause it to cease to exist entirely.

So Danny came, as the Ghost King he had the power to filter in great amounts of the corrupt ecto just by being in the city.

But part of his obsession was protection & helping, Gotham already had a lot of help (Batfam). So he decided to focus on helping not with the problem at the top (villains), but with the problems at the bottom.

The problems at the bottom that would be the root cause in breeding more problems.

After all, many didn't start evil, but need and desperation pushed them towards that path.

So Danny moved to the worst part of Gotham, The Bowery.

What did he do there?

Why open a Daycare of course!

Many parents could not get a good or stable job simply because they needed to look after their kids and could not afford to pay the daycare fee.

Danny wasn't worried about money after all the coffers that he inherited as king would take forever to even make a dent in it, and that's only if he was living a very lavish lifestyle everyday for several human generations.

With this in mind his Daycare fee was pretty much nothing.

He would take care of the children of a very wide age group, while the adults could focus on getting a decent job or even returning to school for a higher education for better opportunities.

How does he care for so many children?

He duplicates himself of course!

At least in the very beginning, after a while he begins expanding his Daycare offering classes and tutoring to the children as well as free food at all times.

Who's helping him ?

His ex-rouges and other ghosts who volunteered.

Lunch Lady absolutely adores having so many people and kids to make food for, and Box Lunch can socialize and play with the other kids while she works.

Ember even volunteers to be the music teacher!

Danny has the help of many ghosts who once they heard his plans were very excited to help, many having the obsession with teaching children or in general. Other ghosts helped with building, expanding, and just generally helping maintain the building in great shape. Even building a very diverse and fun playground.

Of course all this catches the attention of Red Hood. Danny just appears one day on his territory with many others and practically having a building appear out of nowhere with how fast it was built, asking literal pennies to take care of the children, and free food for anyone who asks.

All that gains a lot of attention and is rather suspicious.

But the crime rate has been going down since he opened, which is a good thing.

But many people don't want good things and decide messing with Danny and his Daycare.

Unfortunately for them cuz Danny is absolutely down for violence if he's protecting what's his.

~

Villain: "What a lovely place you have here would be a shame if something were to happen"

Danny who has the audacity to fight Gods and win: "Someone call an ambulance! But not for me!

Also Danny: "These hands are rated E for everyone"

~

Other people:"Should we call someone for help?"

The ghosts:" Nah, let him have his fun he needs his enrichment"

~

Red Hood: "He's very suspicious"

Danny is absolutely covered in paint and singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with the young kids: "Ah yes I'm totally doing normal Gothamite behavior"

~

Lady Gotham is having some self care spa time she's having a grand time: "Should I warn the young king of the other halfa (Jason)? Hmm best not, it'll be more entertaining if it happens naturally"

~

Just an Idea

#dp x dc #danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #batman #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #jason todd #red hood #dc x dp crossover #dp #ghost king danny phantom #ghost #ghost king danny #ghosts #Daycare #daycare #Lady Ghotam #she/they #pronouns for Lady Gotham #batfamily #adult danny phantom

[screampied]

BAD ROMANCE! — ☆ SATOSUGU.

➤ popstar!gojo mlist.

headline. being sandwiched between a popstar and geto, his bassist best friend was almost like a fever dream. what happens when they start fighting over who can make you moan the highest note? sharing is caring…right?

word count. 5.8k (i am sorry)

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo au, bassist geto, geto has a tongue piercing, threesome, double penetration, manhandling, fucking while standing, size kink, unprotected sex, implied multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, gojo slander (lol)

an. makes sense if u read the first part !! if not that’s okaaay. sry for any errorssss aha

“seriously. join…the two of you?” geto mutters with a subtle eye twitch—you stared at the lead bassist, and he briefly returned a glance. his hands were buried in his pockets, wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans and a fitted white tank underneath. geto’s hair was a tad bit ruffled with a perfect length wolf cut. “you do realize your fans have been waiting for you for over an hour.”

“oh….right, i did have a concert,” gojo nervously chuckles, running a hand down his neck. “they heard everything too. nanami’s gonna kill me. that’s fun.”

geto’s eyes dart back towards you and suddenly you feel extremely nervous. you could never ever read him, he just a blank stare plastered amongst his face.

“i don’t think we’ve officially met. wish i didn’t have to meet you half-naked but,” and you were embarrassed, feeling the tips of your ears get feverish and abnormally hot. “i’m this idiot’s bassist. suguru ge—”

“bro she didn’t ask for your life story,” gojo groans, and you let off a gasp once he lifts you up, an arm underneath you and another bringing you towards his chest. “sugupoo, you didn’t answer my question.”

“sugupo—” he furrows his eyebrows, repeating the petname. geto grumbles, “…fine, but not here. we can…go back to my hotel or something.”

this was far more than anything you could have imagined. being between two idols. more so gojo but still. you were pretty much left with shredded clothing thanks to gojo barely even an hour ago…

“is she always this sensitive to touch?” geto utters, peeling your the remains of your clothes off — which was basically just a thin robe. he was tantalizingly slow with his hands, the very pads of his fingertips ghosting against your skin made you left off a soft gasp.

“pretty much,” gojo hums, and you watch as the popstar lowers his head to kiss near your thighs. “she’s a little camera shy.”

“what does that even-”

“…nevermind.”

geto was more tame while gojo was far more eager. you make brief eye contact with geto and he leans in toward you. you were expecting him to kiss you but instead, he brings a thumb towards your lip and smiles. “you’re a lot prettier in person, assistant. what are you doing messing around with this idiot?”

“um—”

“none of your business. besides, don’t talk to my work wife like that.” gojo pouts, and he makes you face him directly. 

obviously, he was being nothing but a pure tease. you feel yourself grow hot once gojo presses his lips onto yours. you could hear geto scoffing in the background.

you and gojo weren’t exactly a thing… although, maybe this “thing” was developing into some sort of fling. 

you moan into his mouth, feeling gojo’s hand trail down to part against your thigh before geto pries the two of you off, only to bring you into a much more steamy kiss. 

gojo’s jaw drops dramatically, a squeaky gasp leaving his lips as he watches you make out with geto.

geto was far more passionate and tender by a mile. with a soft thumb grazing beneath your chin, you let off a soft whine. tasting the sugary spiced alcohol on his tongue…..just a tang, but it was enough for you to covet more of him. more of his taste.

“this isn’t…. fair.” gojo nags, yet his body feels otherwise. seeing his bassist of a best friend kiss you deeply, touching all over your body. he started to feel himself get…aroused. 

you feel a cunning smirk go against geto’s lips. with a hand gripped softly underneath your chin, he continues to stroke it soothingly. 

he was so deliberate with his tongue, making sure to savour every inch of you. a groan leaves his mouth as he deepens the kiss for a brisk second. his breath was eminently lukewarm, and you don’t even recollect yourself pulling him closer to your already achey body. 

“suguru, you’re beinʼ stingy,” gojo frowns, starting to think if suggesting him to tag along was a good idea… perhaps not… after all, he was the satoru gojo. he’s never been a fan of share the spotlight.

geto swiftly pulls away and his eye contact against you makes you grow hot. his eyes spoke a thousand words, dirty dirty words though. gojo lets off a vexed sigh before running a hand through his hair. “…i have an idea though.”

“what?” you and geto both speak in low unison. 

the popstar has a cheeky grin on his lips before playfully rolling his eyes, tilting his head. “which can make her louder. then again, i already know i’m gonna win sooo…”

geto utters in the most sassiest tone imaginable, “please. you’d probably be the loudest out of all of us but fine.”

the thought of them both fighting over you, your client, and his best friend as well as his lead bassist.

you firmly clasped your thighs together before shyly drawing circles against the outer part of your arm. “well, he was pretty loud earlier. his fans heard him moaning all through his mic backstage and—”

“tch. shut up..” he grumbles, trying to forget that incident even happened. 

gojo now decides to pulls you into sweet passionate fulfilled kiss, and it’s deep with a bit of tongue.

you were indeed basically naked with the exception of a silk sage-colored robe he bought you as a new year’s eve gift. it hung down your body perfectly, just enough to make out your skin. 

geto makes you slip a whine into gojo’s mouth once he spreads your legs with one hand—you were drenched, soaked….no doubt about it. “no panties,” he mutters in a rough voice. “satoru must’ve beat me to it, hmpf.”

you started to pant the more gojo moved his tongue against yours, you could tell how needy he was. even though he already had a taste from you earlier, he wanted more. you were like some kind of candy, intoxicatingly sweetened. 

he smoothly slides his tongue against your bottom lip, grunting from the leftover taste of your flavored lip gloss that was by this point smeared across your lips. whenever gojo kissed you, you had this warm burning feeling inside. it was indescribable, you knew more than anyone how unprofessional this was…yet it felt good, his touch, his taste, even his rich scent. 

“what a mess. already drenched for me,” geto murmurs, and you peek an eye open to watch the bassist go down, between your legs. you sit up with gojo tilting your head to face him, thighs spread apart and you let off a moan once he starts to work his way. 

slowly, geto creates tender kisses… 

he creates a simple trail, all up your thighs. the softness of his lips pressing against your skin made you whine against gojo’s lips.

gojo moves your chin back to focus back towards him, and he gives your bottom lip an impish bite.

peppering the side parts of your mouth with numerous wet kisses. “mwah,” he’d coo, a teasing gesture yet the stare he gave you made you throb. “my fans heard us…heard you, y’know. how does that make you feel?”

you stare at gojo, and his eyebrows are slightly raised in curiosity. he was such a tease, wanting to know your response. 

geto’s tongue licks against the inner part of your thigh and you moan. that’s when you feel a slight coldness of his tongue piercing run against your skin — it tickles but in the best way imaginable. 

he starts to suck against your skin, a soft ‘pop’ skims past his lips and you whine before gojo squeezes your lips together. 

“heyyy, pretty. ‘m talking to you.” he whispers, leaning in to sneak another kiss on your mouth. 

“i— i liked it,” you utter, geto’s touch from underneath, a finger trailing against your skin with his tongue following shortly afterward made you pulse continuously. “knowing everyone heard me….your die-hard fans, it turned me on a little.”

“yeah? did it really?” he grins, showcasing a casual head tilt. “wow, you really are a kinky girl. but it turned me on too,” he adds, inching his face towards your neck to give it a soft suck. “hmph. next time i should probably fuck you on stage, wouldn’t that be a pretty sight,” he murmurs, his voice playfully lowering. “ooh, it’s probably all over the headlines, but eh, who gives a shit, right? not me, and definitely not her.”

you were just about to let off a mewl once gojo reached down to give your pussy a mean squeeze as soon as he referred to it as ‘her.’

he brings an additional kiss to you before you feel the warmth of geto’s breath fan against your entrance. you start to pant, feeling gojo’s hands roam and wander all against your body. 

an abrupt shock surges throughout your skin from his fingertips and the silk robe you wore. gojo traced a thumb against your nipple—your overly-sensitive nipple that poked through the thin pretty fabric. you were so aroused that your mind raced just as quickly as your heartbeat did. 

“fuck…dunno know what it is about you,” he murmurs, breaking away a few seconds to speak. there was a titillating bass that carried underneath gojo’s tone. 

you could hear it in his voice, how pitchy and low it would get at certain times. “just lookin’ at you gets me s-so hard,” and then he swallowed for a second, departing eye contact out of sheer flusteredness and it was cute. “still a bit…sensitive from earlier though. had the audacity to keep ridin’ me after i c-came.” 

“sorry.” you playfully press your lips together, glancing up at him and he grows embarrassed for a moment at remembering the pure thought. 

the image of him… the satoru gojo and you, his trusty assistant — being on top of the famous well-known pop star, riding him until he whined for just you and only you.

not to mention as well as having him as an entire mess underneath you. he probably was too stubborn to realize it but you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger…

to think that was just about nearly half an hour ago. your thoughts get interrupted from feeling geto’s tongue meekly lick against your inner folds. a sharp breath elicits from your throat as you look down at him already staring at you with a smug grin. 

“toru already got here too?” he whispers, ghosting a thumb against your sodden folds. his slender fingers were so long and lengthy, nails perfectly manicured, and of course, he’d have well-trimmed nails because of his status as a professional bassist.

all things considered, geto would just be godly with his fingers. it was no secret, really…

“of course i fuckin’ did.” gojo pouts, giving him a nettled glare. 

geto snickers. “aw. poor girl,” and then he makes eye contact with you, smugly simpering.

geto takes a second to tie his hair back into a messy ponytail before pursing his lips to speak. “he’s a good singer, yeahhh. but he has a huge lack of skill at eating pussy. trust me.”

“shut up, man..” gojo’s eyes widen, the tips of his ears burning, it was adorable. “that’s…not true.”

it was.

“suguruuu..” you whined, not even realize how much you were desperately aching for him. the two bickering was a constant thing, but you decided to ignore it and let the lust take over. 

“i’m sorry, i should be paying more attention to you,” he mutters, using a hand to shove your right thigh a few inches away.

geto promptly rolls out his tongue….slowly, pink and pretty. clean. your eyes peer at the pretty piercing that laid flat against the center part. “keep these legs spread for me. can you be a good girl ‘n do that?”

you unwittingly feel yourself pulse just from that action of him showing you a good view of his tongue. you give the bassist a pathetic eager nod, a hand running towards the roots of his hair to grip it before he grins. “good, ‘cause ‘m starved.”

“sugu, what… what am i supposed to do?” gojo huffs out. 

“figure it out yourself, popstar.” geto murmurs, and a soft pout twists against gojo’s lips. 

that’s when he makes you turn over to where you’re on your hands and knees—you face forward, most importantly, you face forward right against gojo’s crotch. face front and all.

he lingers near the edge of the bed, towering over you with a hungry gaze before letting off a whine. 

“jus’ look at me….i can’t perform like this,” not like he was going to perform anyway…but you stare at gojo’s body. all he wore was sweats, the original partially bedazzled outfit that was actually geto’s was practically torn. “you gave me this boner, ‘s your fault ‘m all needy.”

geto interrupts the erotic atmosphere with his tongue gradually flicking against your pussy, two rough hands spread the fat of your ass and you whine at how abruptly lewd it was. “oh my g-goddd.”

gojo feels like he has competition with geto, so he frowns—the pout remaining on his pink sheeny lips before he grips ahold of your chin to make you stare straight at him whilst you’re on all fours on the cushioned mattress. 

“been…been wantin’ to finally see what this pretty throat feels like,” 

he sighs, and he watches as you already start to lean into his touch. you’re on the palms of your hands, back slightly arched before you pull the hem of his boxers down with your teeth. “you’re such a little... you…you know what you’re doing..”

gojo lets off a soft grunt, gripping your hair, and as you inch your face closer toward him — a few specks of his neatly scattered brush against his face. you lick against the padded fabric of his boxers, curving your tongue against the print of his bulge and he swallows thickly. 

“you’re so fuckin’ nasty,” he huffs, bringing you all close to his briefs. you stare up at gojo, licking against the thin madematerial before cupping your mouth over his bulge…right near his base, in a much playful manner. “you’re—just asking to have a stuffed full mouth, huh?”

again, geto’s tongue rummaged all throughout your pussy while you absentmindly toying with gojo throws you off for a sudden concise moment. 

he was just as filthy, maybe even filthier. as you propped up—you whimpered, feeling how he ran his tongue all along your sweetened labia. 

your pussy pulsed against his movements, he starts to teasingly nibble on your clit before giving it a loooong suck. 

“mmph.” he’d grumble, and within minutes you could tell you had him entirely drunk. his tongue was just skimming around and against your clit that forevermore clenched. before you know it, you’re starting to intensely jounce and convulse because of the stimulation. 

his tongue laid flat against your pussy, the piercing that stuck against him, the slight coldness of it made you obliviously arch your back a bit more. toes of yours clenched in desire before your mouth opened at his technique.

geto was slow but sensual. 

his tongue… it spiraled against your pussy in a sweet motion to make you sob out a cry. 

“open that mouth,” gojo mutters, his hand still gripping your chin, and you do, parting your lips before watching him spring his dick out. it was throbbing, swollen, and not to mention quite pretty.

he wasn’t lying—you did leave him incredibly sensitive from earlier…

gojo lets off a breathless groan once he watches you kiss the tip of his cock head, which ends up turning into many kisses. his lip quivers the more time he spends staring at you. his breath becomes abnormally shaky, all because of you.

“…don’t tease me,” he whines before wrapping shuddery fingers around his fat length, giving it a few swift pumps before he starts to smear his pre-cum smothered tip all across your lips.

you give the popstar a cute, roguish glance before skimming the tip of your tongue against his frenulum. 

that spot…it was that spot that always gave gojo chills. he was trying too hard to keep up a tough front. he’s suppressing his moans before he watches you sink him down inch by inch. 

“mouth of yours ‘s just askin’ to be ruined,” he moans, and your eyes dart back up toward the popstar. his washboard abs tightened as he stood still, watching you lower your throat on him. you were a bit sloppy not to mention, strands of spit were already running down the side of your chin. “such a slutty assistant. unprofessional and—”

gojo shuts up the moment he feels your tongue stir leisurely against his tip, he’s halfway in before you gag. he reaches the roof of your mouth already, and you’re keeping him warm, all thanks to your throat.

“…damn girl,” he huffs, and as you’re breathing through your nose, he grabs a fistful of your hair.

with a tight pull, your eyes meet his abs again, and he was so fit. figures, he is an industrially well-trained dancer after all. gojo’s workout routine was no mystery. you throbbed a bit the more you stared at his body. 

as your eyes rove, you spotted a few lipstick stains smeared all against gojo’s skin, as well as a few sharpie marks. you figured it was from one of his obsessed die-hard fans.

it was just the way his perfectly sculptured chiseled v-line presented itself. the few specks of white hairs trailing down his area further and further to where it aligns toward his happy trail…

yet, the more you stared back at the dozens of now nearly faded marks of lipstick stains scattered all over his body—you don’t know why but you felt this peculiar feeling of…jealousy. 

was it jealousy?

geto continues to eat you out as you’re trapped in a dark bubble of your thoughts, and you whimper once you feel the soft padded tip of his nose slide all against your pussy. 

he was quite literally nose-deep, making you extra sensitive by adding a finger to rub against your soaked folds. 

his touch was fiery warm.

as you started to moderately make your lips firm. you slid your tongue out before gently rubbing it against the very underside part of his cock. gojo groans once more, face growing flustered as a hand remains at the top of your head. “such a filthy mouth,” he pants, hovering over you beside the bed.  

geto’s still eating you from behind, and he starts sucking again. passionately sucking on your throbbing neglected clit. he makes it his passion to give it all sorts of uninvited attention to feel you pulse and convulse into and against his mouth. 

gojo watches you start to vigorously shake and twitch from his best friend’s tongue, and he raises your chin up to look right at him.

mouth full and all, your tongue reaches the inner vein part of gojo’s lanky cock, he whines. 

“s-shit,” he sibilates through gritted teeth, and that’s when he started to pivot his hips a bit. gojo thrusts into your mouth — and his moans were so pretty to listen to, he was a soprano after all.

the way his voice would effortlessly pitch all because of your tongue…he grabs your head, gently, yet with just enough pressure he makes you go back and forth, he’s stuffing your throat full of his girth, full of his inches.

you’re a mess, strings of saliva pouring down your chin and he looks down at you before nervously chuckling. “look at you. what, are you trying to say something?”

and he’s just at his limit, near the edge yet is such a brat. way too much for his own good. “don’t try to talk with y-your mouth full, princess.”

abruptly, you feel that familiar rush disrupt your thinking and you suddenly tense.

geto’s tongue slithers all against that spot, deep between your folds, and giving it a good nibble before your legs nearly give out right then and there. such whirlpools, a plethora of them came crashing down all at once before you moaned, the sensation was almost too much to bare. 

“give it to me, c’mon. i wanna hear you.” geto whispers, breath wafting against your clit. glossed pink lips of his was just drenched with your slit for it’s entirety.

he merrily blows against your pussy and that was just about the last straw for you—you end up cumming, and it had your eyebrows furrowing with such pleasure. 

“pft. took me longer to make her cum when i…” gojo gruffs, the same pout still pursed against his lips as he watched you riding your orgasm off against the bassist’s tongue. 

covetously, he watches as your eyelids start to droop and you’re growing quite dumb.

geto’s tongue….the length of it, the piercing, it tickled against your wet entrance as well as having you spasming and craving for more. 

gojo takes his dick out of your mouth hastily with a cute scowl on his lips whilst geto departs from behind you. 

he has a sly grin, bringing a thumb up to the corner of his mouth before swiping your slick clean. 

“jealous, ‘toru?”

“…no,” he grouches, and he definitely was. the popstar lifts you up suddenly, and your arms wrap around his neck, still panting from your recent jaw-dropping orgasmic release. “i can still do better than you, sugupoo.”

“i told you to stop calling me that.” geto chastised, standing up also. walking towards you, he ran a hand down your back and you moaned from his touch. 

you bury your face into gojo’s neck, your own warm breath going back against your face. the pop star’s half-cut-sparkled open glove traces down your back before he slyly smiles. beads of sweat races down his forehead before the singer hums. “suguru. do ya think we can fuck her like this?”

“standing up?” the bassist murmurs, and they’re both grazing their hands all over your body. while gojo has you lifted up, your legs tightly wrap and lock around his waist like a vice before geto kisses the back of your neck, pitching his voice lower as he speaks to you. “what do you think? can you handle the two of us, pretty girl?” 

you whine against gojo’s neck, trembling from geto’s touch behind you. how gentle he was, leaning in to suck against the tenderness part of your collarbone. “yeah,” you nod, and gojo glanced down at you with a smug grin forming on his lips. “j-just hurry up. satoru should have been performing like an hour ago.”

“damn, that’s true. i kinda forgot about that,” he timidly chortles, and he raises you up in his buff arms just a bit. “oh well. heh, i mean you…you can explain it to kento for me, yeah? i know he’s my manager but fuck, he scares me. if he’s nosy just tell him i’m uh…i got athlete's foot.”

there was a long rightfully so pause and geto’s hands remained gripped against your waist. “idiot…” he mumbles. 

the moment gojo aligns himself, you intake a sharp breath — mentally preparing yourself because you were about to take not only him, but his best friend also….while standing. 

“hold on to ‘toru. i’m gonna have to stretch you just a little…” geto purrs against your ear.

you made candid eye contact with gojo and he flashes a sheepish grin before planting a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

“i stretched her already.” gojo shrugs. 

“you did a lousy fuckin’ job then.” geto snarls, and you moan, feeling the thickness of geto go right into you with simplicity.

needless to say, it was sloppy. 

your cunt squelched in utter enthusiasm as he eases his way inside of you. gojo rolls his eyes at geto’s remark, and you’re quite literally being double stuffed. they both were slow and precise with their movements and you’re just in awe, dumbfounded, stupid…

you’ve never felt so full.

both of them deep inside of you, churning up your insides at the same time. you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked like this.

not only were you being shared but doing everything while standing up—your arms pathetically wrapped around gojo’s neck, and it’s the perfect position to stare right into the pop star's eyes. 

he returns the gaze, and he grows flustered, lip quivering, ears twitching, eyebrows contorting. he was trying just as much as you to not be so loud, so vocal. yet a moan slips out, and gojo’s moans never fail to be so slutty. 

“think i can see why he’s so obsessed with you,” geto grunts, maintaining a firm grip against your hips. he’s taking you from behind with gojo occupied towards the front, each pretty glacé coated whimper that ran off past your lips grew shakier and shakier from the deep thrusts you were being given.

as you idly bounced against their dicks, you were again, stupid—brainless.

your mouth ends up partially opening as you’re moaning. your pussy gripped against each of them tightly. squeezing and clamping down against each of them to where you’re just so dizzy. 

geto’s thick and girth, meanwhile gojo’s long and lengthy…

your ears fet like they were about to pop from the sheer sudden humidity in the room the more you bobbed and jostled against them. biting your lip to conceal an incoming moan, your eyes briefly roll backward before you suddenly feel the plump mushroom-tip of gojo’s dick fully expand and reach there. 

“f-fuck, oh my g-godd,” you’d whine, rough sounds of your skin against theirs ricocheting amongst each other. such beefy bulky toned arms had you propped up in such an obscene way, you craved more. “…so deep.”

gojo leans in for a wet kiss and you kiss back, a plethora of whimpers and whines glissade right into his mouth - he swiftly swipes a tongue against yours, sloppy per usual before even he starts to moan. in such a way, you never failed to leave gojo all hot and bothered.

“you two are such sluts for each other, it’s cute..” 

as the bassist teases and pokes fun, you shudder, feeling geto press up against your ass… 

the stretch, the girth he had that made him thicker… it was mouthwateringly appetizing.

you found yourself practically drooling just from his dick, the way the curve of it hit that same repeated spots to make you grow dumber and dumber. you were starting to get so loopy from his best friend that you completely forgot gojo was in the picture for a quick second. 

geto being abutting against you, his body heat was entirely chambré—the fabric of his leather jacket, the cold frigid zippers skin against your skin and you lean back against his chest. despite all of this, gojo’s still managing to have you being fucked upright.  

your entrance was slick…damp, coated each of their cocks with your dampened arousal before your breathing starts to catch up with you. 

“s-shit, ‘m not gonna last.” gojo starts, and his body language changes a bit—you study his facial expressions, the way his lips contort into a perturbed pout. skin against skin, you radiated from their heat thoroughly before geto shakes his head with a sly scoff. 

“of course you’re not.” he snickers. 

“s-shut up, sugupoo,” he whines, hastily his head goes back. the popstar’s hair goes all over his face, long white strands occluding his view of vision and it's sexy. the way he’d become whiney out of nowhere, pressing his lips together in utter desperation. you had him a mess, whining again and again, regardless of trying to keep up a front. “she’s gonna milk me ‘n it’s all your fault..”

you throbbed from his words, and the popstar could barely keep his eyes open. he’s so sensitive, keeping you up with his arms while geto has you from the other end, geto sighs dramatically. “here he goes.”

“you both talk too much.” you mewl, clinging onto gojo’s neck. 

“no we don’t.” they both say in unison before giving each other a glare. 

geto scoffs whilst gojo pokes his lip out, focusing his attention back towards you. yet the minute gojo cums, his dick ends up slipping out of you and that’s when he becomes a stuttering mess. 

“s-shit,” he huffs, wrapping a hand around his base before repositioning it again. ropes of his cum start to seep out your cunt, geto watches and he’s speechless—you mewl, feeling geto run a thumb down your slit only to then smear gojo’s cum against your pussy. “so much to give you, even still.”

gojo starts whimpering. stretching such inches inside of you while geto pauses his movements. you felt warm, not to mention exceedingly full. 

you were stuffed, to the utmost limit…

the two took turns with you. you were treated like a rag doll if one was to be honest. it was as if stamina didn’t exist for them. positions after positions, there’d be a point where geto’s sucking against your nipples while gojo’s slamming his hips into you with the sweetest whimpers dragging out from his pretty glossed lips.

albeit, you don’t expect geto to get whiney…

but he does.

you’d be riding him, he’s laid back against the bed with his legs openly spread and clenched. a sharp jawline points forward as he faces you forward. “fuckk, your hips are so..” he’d groan, his head goes back in desireable pleasure and you lean in to bombard the inner part of his neck with sweet kisses.

gojo’s behind you, and he finds himself getting jealous and a tad bit clingy. you moan, feeling him lick a long stripe up your neck, wanting you to pay more attention to him and not his dumb best friend.

geto’s so attractive from this perspective..

you decide to be a tease, planting a kiss near the corner of his mouth—your lips meeting his revealing dimples. “gripping me s-so good,” he groans, bringing a sharp smack to your ass for ‘encouragement.’

he craved the way you grinded against him, not too fast, not too quick…just right. your hips slid from front to back, swiveling all around him to where a whine rips from his throat. “damnnn, just like that. f-fuck me, fuck megirl...”

his voice deopped a single octave, and he even brought a hand up to his face to shield his pure embarrassment.

gojo snickers before he speaks, peppering kisses against your collarbone before peering at his best friend. “awww, look at sugupoo. all that talk ‘n he’s just as whiny as i was.”

“shut up.. fuckin’ shut…up,” he groans, his nostrils flare and you lean in to kiss geto, he kisses back, and this time it’s sloppy and less passionate. it’s rougher. the instant second his lips meet yours, a low moan from geto slips out.

he pants heavily against you, breaking away for a second to breath — his hands were pinching your waist, brushing against your tender skin before he exhales out a sigh.

geto’s hair, tied into a near ponytail had a few strands poking out, scattered all against his face. he groans, feeling your clit rub against him slowly and gradually.

perfectly aligned and lined up right, he shudders once he feels your hand roam against his body, sliding a finger down a scar near the right side of his chest. 

gojo, still being sat behind you as he impatiently watched, reaches between your legs and starts to play with your pussy. you whined, feeling him start to maneuver tiny circles against your already sensitive folds before geto pulls away to breath yet again. 

a pretty sheeny web of spit coats against your chin and his as you depart from one another. your lips, and his jaw tightens. “f-fuckkk, fuck me. fuck me like that, don’t s-stop.”

he found the way you mounted him in such a good angle, it makes him ten times harder. geto’s thick cock slams in and out of you to where he’s almost tasting how swollen he was. you ploddingly thrust your hips forward before geto pulls you into his chest suddenly. 

“suguruuu.” you’d whinge, feeling him squeeze the fat of your ass.  

“fuckk,” he raps, you could be milking me all the time instead of this—this wannabe justin bieber.”

“hey…” gojo narrows his eyes, and he catches you giggling at geto’s remark. geto peeks an eye to stare at gojo before a smile goes against his lips, soley before turning his attention back towards you.

once geto’s body relaxes, he feels the pressure rising up within him to the point of his incoming release. the fiery sensations of electricity went all through. such fiery sensations piercing, he’s bouncing his thigh in an attempt to deepen his strokes inside you to make you whine yourself. 

“damn, ‘s good. s-so fuckin’ good,” he swallows, grunting once you lean in to kiss the front part of his adam’s apple. “gonna flood your pussy, you want that? want me to make a fuckin’ mess of myself?”

“y-yeah.” you breathe, nodding in contentment. “suguru please.”

geto’s vision becomes a little blurry, he’s hazy and it feels so good…your cunt’s got him on a leash.

he fell in love with the way your hips rolled against him again and again, each spank he gives your ass makes him throb. the girth he had lunging inside of you, outstretching to where it prods against your g-spot. “f-fuck.” you’d sob, slumping your head against the bassist. 

once he eventually came, it was way more than gojo. more as in you’re stuffed fuller than you thought you could ever be. you pause, huffing and puffing as your ear laid flat against his bare chest. geto aches, heavily panting himself and sweat droplets raced down his v-line. 

“i think i won,” gojo frowns, breaking the two of you up—you were practically limp, geto’s cum dripping out of you. you moaned, trying to recollect your breath but failing. 

geto leans back, giving gojo a side eye before murmuring. “just shut up..”

“aw. poor sugu’s all d—”

gojo’s voice gets rudely interrupted by the annoying screech of your ringtone. the two of them stare at the blue light, and gojo picks it up with a curious expression. 

“ooh, phone call,” and he picks it up, bringing it up to his face and raises a brow. “huh. why’s uh..” and he turns it the opposite way, “why’s fushiguro toji calling you? and heh what’s with the dumb heart by his name. isn’t he my old producer?”

geto grumbles, still silently heaving with a hand rubbing against his abdomen. “yeah, that scum who tried to take parts of our salary from that one gig we did,” and then geto darts his eyes towards you with an unreadable expression “why is he calling you?”

your stomach quite literally drops. you sat on the plump bed laid flat on your tummy. momentarily stunned for a moment. alas, you had to say something… you sat up, the phone continuing to sing in the distance before uttering. 

“toji…he’s um…he’s kind of my boyfriend.”

yeah, you were fucked. 

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[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹

#stampedwithanE★ #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk angst #geto angst #jjk fic #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x you #jujutsu kaisen angst

[dcxdpdabbles]

DPxDC fanfic idea: The Back Roads

Bruce was driving around as his civilian self one late afternoon. The sun was barely setting, though one wouldn't be able to tell with all the smot.

He was planning on surprising his children with a spontaneous pizza party and some good family-friendly competition. He was excited.

Maybe it was because he was checking on the pile of pizza in the back, or maybe he was more tired than usual from his long nights as Batman, but whatever the case was he did not see the boy until he hit him.

Bruce swears the boy appears out of nowhere like a ghost. One moment, there was a long road with nothing but trees and his softy playing radio.

Bruce has always loved the long secluded roads that lead to his Manor. It always gave him peace of mind to enjoy a drive without anything or anyone around. Rarely did he ever encounter another driver out here - not since the Drakes moved out.

That's why someone standing in the middle of the road had come so unexpectedly. Bruce hadn't even noticed him until his headlights saw a brief flash of blue eyes just as it was too late.

The boy slammed against his hood, flying into the windshield and sliding off to the side. There was a terrible gagging sound, likely the boy checking on his blood as slid away to the ground.

Bruce slammed his brakes, sitting frozen behind the steering wheel. For a moment, all he could do was sit there in horror, wondering if it was true. Then reality crashes in, and he pushes the car door open, falling out in hysteria.

There on the ground is a boy that could be fourteen crumbled. A boy with dark black hair and - if the wide eye stare before the hit was any indication - blue eyes. He looks a lot like his sons.

Bruce feels sick.

Desperately, he rings up an ambulance, chocking on tears as he tells the dispatcher what happened. Bruce, meanwhile, does his best to check the boy over with his training.

He slowly turns him over, pressing his fingers on the neck as gentle as possible. There is a cold moment before he feels a aodt flutter against hia finger tips.

A heart beat but one that was slowing by the second.

Bruce tells the dispatcher this, who in turns tells him as soothing as possible that help is on the way, but Bruce knows the boy doesn't have enough time.

With shaking fingers, he presses the Bat Distress signal. His children are only ten minutes away in vehicles that can get to the hospital in thirty minutes. The ambulance will arrive in that same amount of time.

"It's going to be okay" He tells the still boy. "You're going to be okay. Please. Please. Be okay"

Nightwing pulls up then in the Batmobile with Robin in the passage seat. Red Robin, Spoiler and Red Hood are not far behind on thier bikes.

They all stop for a few seconds, unsure what to do, before Nightwing shakes himself out of it. "Mr. Wayne we got it from here"

Bruce is only half aware of Damian taking his hand and moving him away as Tim and Dick get the boy into the Batmobile. They speed away to the hospital.

What a terrible night for Alfred to be out.

Later, the cops speak to Bruce and use the dash cam to confirm that the boy really did appear out of nowhere. He's a meta, they say. Likely one that just got his powers.

Teleportation. Or Invisibility.

They weren't sure, but they would figure it out. They told Bruce he was free to go, and there was no need for Bruce Wayne to know further of the case.

Batman, however, was back there that night. He was outraged to find out the boy had been flagged for his meta genes, and some nurse low on cash knew there was a market for meta children.

She was attempting to move the unconscious youth through false discharge papers when Bruce landed on the hood of the car of her associates. They were quickly dealt with, turned over to the police-the good ones- and Batman had made arrangements for the boy to be taken in by Bruce Wayne himself until he awoke.

While that was happening, the attempts to locate the youth's family yielded results. He wasn't in the system himself, but he did match to a brother that was.

A week later, Danny Fenton opens his eyes from the best nap he's had in years, only to find out he was run over while in a ghost version of hibernation and in a different world.

Oh, and apparently, he is being confused as a twin brother of some guy named Tim Drake.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny dimension jumped while sleep walking #He is fine #confused by the twin and new rich himbo dad #Bruce is not having a good day

[deadsetobsessions]

It takes a lot to break a ghost. After all, even death didn’t keep them down for long, not in any way that mattered.

There is, however, a sure fire way to utterly crush a ghost’s core without even touching it.

Find their grave, and defile it.

It is the height of cruelty. It is the ultimate act of disrespect. It is violation, of the deepest kind, an act that can never, ever be allowed to go unpunished.

As Danny stared at the remains of the toppled over rock tower that Tucker and Sam had made for him all those years ago, to honor his death, he wasn’t sure if he could survive this.

——

Please.

Zatanna looked around. The magician knew better than to write off the sound as a trick of her mind.

You have to help him. Please. He’s just a child.

“Who? What’s wrong?” Zatanna asked, heart aching for the grieving whispers of the young voice.

My brother. His grave. It’s been destroyed. Please.

Zatanna’s hair stood on ends. “What’s his name? Where is it?”

Amity Park. His name is Phantom. Please. Hurry.

Her heart skipped a beat. Phantom. The name of the Infinite Realm’s Champion, the future king.

“Shit. I’m on my way. Can you lead me there?”

I can’t. I won’t be here for much longer. Tell him Jazz sent you. Please. Help him. Help him.

“I will.”

When Zatanna portals out of her dressing room, she catches a flash of red hair.

——

“CONSTANTINE!”

“Gah! Zatanna?” John Constantine fell out of his chair, legs slipping from their place propped onto the table.

“Emergency! Infinite Realms level. Someone destroyed Phantom’s grave.”

Constantine scrambled upwards, pulling on his coat as his mind all but bleated like a highland goat at the sound of “Infinite Realms” and “Phantom’s grave.” Destroying a ghost’s grave might destroy the ghost, but if they survive the initial splintering, right before their final death, they’ll explode in a ball of fury. Normally, it would be slightly less of a problem. Normally, it wouldn’t be the most powerful ghost in the Infinite Realms. Normally, this wouldn’t happen. Normally, even if it did, it wouldn’t risk a war none of the universes would win. The Infinite Realms loves prince Phantom. Their grief over this… even if he survives, the consequences would be unimaginable.

“You contact the League. I have to go fix this, right now.”

John doesn’t bother going for his hottle, because he unfortunately needed to do this sober.

“Go, go!”

——

Danny doesn’t turn even as he hears the crunch of grass blades. He sits, staring blankly at what used to be his grave marker.

“Hi, there,” it’s a woman. She sounds sad. Danny understands, because all he feels is a whistling hole where his heart used to be. “Are you Phantom?”

Danny sighs, ice crackling at his lungs. He knows, when this is over, he’ll find it in himself to rage. If he doesn’t shatter from this, he knows he’ll take Amity out. Perhaps he’d spare this one. It’s been a long time since anyone bothered visiting or even knew about his grave.

“Your highness…your sister sent me. Jazz?”

That got Danny’s attention. Glowing green eyes peeked from the curled ball of ghost to stare Zatanna down.

She swallowed.

“She… had red hair?”

“Why are you here?” Why did she send you? He doesn’t say. Zatanna seems to understand anyways.

“To help. Please, will you let me help?”

Danny looks down at the ice freezing her feet to the ground and thinks of the kind set of her eyes, the steel backing her spine, the carefully nonthreatening posture. Yes, Jazz would send this kind of person to help him.

The ice melts.

“Thank you.”

Danny watches as she approaches his destroyed grave. She glances back for his permission. He shrugs. It’s destroyed. Nothing would ever bring it back.

And then, he was proven wrong.

Zatanna’s eyes glow, and the stones began melding itself back together- no, it was reversing the damage and zooming back to its proper place.

“Oh.”

The damage to his core was still there. But… he won’t kill this one at all.

Or her friends, who stand at the edge of the clearing with the soul-torn one standing at the helm.

“Is this… alright, your highness?”

Danny stares at Zatanna. His voice is hoarse but… but it’s not on the verge of insanity anymore.

“Do you always come to graves without an offering?”

He knows he’s being rude. He’s past the point of caring. Zatanna’s response is to pull a bouquet of lilies from behind her back.

——

Phantom’s face is so young, and it’s even younger when he smiles.

“Not always,” Zatanna replies, rolling her eyes. But when she settles the flowers down, they’re gently placed.

“Can you magic clovers around it?” Phantom asks, that note of painful hope cracking her own heart. She wonders how old he was when he died.

“Of course.”

A field of clovers surrounds the rock tower, and Zatanna adds four layers of heavy wards around the area when she grows them. Phantom notices, and looks up at her with… trust.

“I am Zatanna. Your sister, Jazz, sent me.”

“Okay. You can call me Phantom.”

——

“I want their heads.” Danny says.

“We don’t kill.”

“Then hand them over to us, for they have hurt the Great One. They will answer for their crimes.” Frostbite settles a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

“Alright.”

“Constantine.”

Constantine somehow manages to drag Batman away to hiss in his ears.

“Shit in a hole, Batsy, I’m not fucking with the Infinite Realms. My demons won’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Destroying a ghost’s grave is an act of war, and an act of complete violation, and we’re lucky Phantom liked Zee enough not to completely bring ruin to our universe. So shut up, and get the bastards that did this.”

“Hm.”

——

Zatanna sits in the visitors chair, Batman’s and Constantine’s disgruntled selves standing behind her.

“How old are you, Phantom?”

“Hm?” The future King looks exhausted, understandably. “Oh, sixteen.”

“You’re… sixteen? That’s how old you look, right?”

She’s hoping that he’s older, that he’s a millennia and a half years old. Because if he wasn’t, whoever broke Phantom’s grave, broke the grave of a child.

“No, I’m sixteen. My body looks fourteen. I died when I was fourteen.”

Constantine swears.

Batman straightens and walks out, fists clenched.

Zatanna eases the hum of hunting magic at her finger tips and smiles at Phantom until he sleeps.

Then, she gets up, and hunts.

#zatanna #danny phantom #dc x dp #batman #bruce wayne #the Justice League #john constantine #the consequences of destroying a final resting place #crisis averted #ghost prince danny

[ambreiiigns]

you need to understand that the line "nobody exists on purpose nobody belongs anywhere everybody's gonna die come watch tv?" makes me Break Down

#i took a nap. had a fuckin miserable dream abt n**. and so now we pretend it didn't happen by bringing this up again instead #how's that sound? cool? everybody cool w that? great #anyway first time watching that episode was gutting #i don't remember things like these a lot bc when i watch episodic shows everything kinda melts together #but that was insane. bc intergalactic cable is the funniest thing in the world #and then it hits you w all this existential bullshit at the same time #and the show hadn't shown any continuity so far right. i still didn't know if it was gonna have linear lore or if everything was #autoconclusive or selfcontained or however you say that in english and my brother Refused to tell me ANYTHING #so when morty points at the fucking graves????? and that's how they tell me Yes This Will In Fact Have Continuity #boy i felt Gutted. i did not see that coming. and that line just 😭😭😭😭😭😭 #the delivery the earnestness the the just the. you know. like it gets to me i Feel that #like literally so true. shit sucks nothing's worth anything so let's just do pointless little things that make us happy for as long as #we can. that Is the only way to go on. yk like zombieland and enjoy the little things i LIVE by that #that's when i decided i was gonna keep watching rick and morty w gioele even after we finished sk8 #and now i'm talking abt it on tumblr #i'll be normal again tomorrow we go back to ghost posting but today we are being consumed by rick and morty #oh nay

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: The New Teacher

(So, I've seen a lot of prompts that have Danny go to Gotham and be a teacher but I don't remember seeing any with it in this direction, so on the chance that this is an original idea here we go!)

Jason was given a choice, or multiple choices. Babysit the Replacement on a mission that could last a week, go to Bludhaven and have some 'brother bonding time' with Dick who needed backup on a big case, or take a temp solo-gig in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Amity Park.

Well, considering he was still a bit hurt about the fact that B replaced him all those years ago and the pit loved to grab hold of that bit of frustrations towards his younger brother, that didn't seem like a smart idea. Dick wasn't an option either because he knew that would lead to 'talking about feelings' and other shit that he didn't want to do.

So he took the solo-gig.

It was supposed to be easy, at least that's what had been implied by the others he'd spoken to about the case. It seemed like most of the Justice League thought this situation was being 'exaggerated' because most of the time when somebody checked out what was going on there was nothing happening. No big take over, or kidnapping, or 'end of the world' situation, but there had been too many calls to put Bruce's mind at ease. The frequent calls mixed with the fact that the Government apparently had the area under a 'black out' made Bruce even more nervous.

Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that Bruce was famous and that Scarecrow, Penguin and Riddler had all escaped from Arkham he would have been doing the case himself.

Which is how Jason ended up in a restraunt named 'Nasty Burger' looking at the news papers he had managed to get from a stand down the street while taking notes of things he had already seen. It wasn't just that the Government had cut them off, all of the tech in the city was easily 20 years outdated compared to the rest of the world.

Nokia phones, chunky computers, hell he'd even seen a kid with a PDA of all things. Thankfully, it looked like his tech still worked other than running slower than it should have, but thanks to modifications made by Barbara and Tim things were running better than he expected. But, they did struggle to have access to anything, specifically the news.

Hence the paper.

Ghost Boy: Friend or Fiend. A new vote cast by the city has found that the Ghost Boy - Danny Phantom - has had an astounding rise in support after the events over the Christmas Holiday. The new polls suggest that 43% of Citizens support Danny Phantom, with the majority of his support coming from the students at Casper High who insist that Phantom is a hero who has saved them countless times over the past few months. 49% of people still agree, however, that Phantom appears to be at the center of the majority of the attacks with many still claiming that he is the sole cause of the attacks. However, 8% of the population remain undecided, including many teachers, police and hospital staff. Upon seeing the new results of the pole Mayor Montez had this to say; "While I will admit that Phantom appears to favor the younger generation and frequently seems to come to their aid, we cannot forget what it has done in the past. Taken hostages, injured innocents, and caused millions in property damage. Phantom may not be a 'villain' in the typical sense of the word, but we shouldn't blindly trust him just because of a few good deeds."

So there was a... hero? Half hero - potentially villain - in Amity Park? That might have explained some of the calls they'd gotten from Amity park over the past few months. Still, he was concerned by some parts of the report.

Students at a high school were frequently coming under attack? So much that this potential-villain kept saving them? Just what was the cause? What could cause so many issues?

Jason looked up as he saw that same PDA kid talking with a girl with short black hair in a half-ponytail who was wearing a black crop-top. The girl seemed annoyed while the boy seemed worried about something.

"But it's Vlad, Sam... what if he does something?" He heard the boy whisper, "We should go back him up..."

"He doesn't need our help, besides Jazz ran away from home, remember? She got herself into this mess it's her problem to get out of it. Something that Danny should have learned a long time ago."

Jason frowned, pretending not to hear them as he hesitated then got up and walked over to the two younger teens. "Hey, excuse me."

The girl looked annoyed and suspicious while the boy looked confused.

"Uh, yeah?" Tucker asked.

"Hey, sorry to bug you both. But could you guys tell me about this... 'Danny Phantom' person?" He asked, holding the newspaper out.

The girl looked even more suspicious, "And... who are you?"

"And how haven't you heard of Phantom?" Asked the boy.

"I just moved to town." Jason admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I'm just trying to catch up on all the town drama."

"You moved to Amity Park... willingly? Psh, what do you have, a deathwish?" The girl grumbled.

"Come on, I just moved from Gotham, which is worse?"

The girl blinked as the boy laughed.

"Furries vs Ghosts, who will win~" He said as the girl elbowed him. "Ow! What?!"

"Danny Phantom is a hero." The girl explained, "He showed up in April and has been protecting the town since."

"A hero, huh? Could always use more of those in the world, but the mayor seems to have it out for him."

Tucker sighed, "No kidding, man. Somebody framed Phantom for something really bad and no matter what he does to try to fix it the city just see's that incident as the only thing he's ever done. It was the first big 'public thing' outside of the high school so it was huge but it wasn't his fault."

The girl reached for her phone suddenly, looking at it before she answered. "Hey, Danny. What's up?" She was quiet for a moment, "Yeah, we're at Nasty Burger, wanna join us? Lunch on me?"

A quiet mumble came through the speaker before she smirked.

"I'll order for you then. Double or triple?"

More mumbles.

"Triple it is. See you soon." She said, then hung up. "Come on, Tuck, Danny is on his way for lunch."

"Hell yeah, see you later, dude." The boy said, then jogged off with the girl.

"A teacher? Yeah, it looks like there's some openings but why would you want to have your cover as a teacher?" Oracle asked as Jason sat in his hotel room, looking through the paper again.

"Most of the incidents seem to surround the High School, I want to see what's going on."

Oracle hummed, typing for a moment. "Alright, well as luck will have it, it looks like teachers are sparse at Amity High, at least from what I'm able to get using your connection... which is infuriatingly slow, by the way, are you sure you did it right?"

"I've done it a million times, of course I did it right."

Oracle grumbled, "Stupid Amity black-out. Okay, so you have options. Most of the teachers have fucked off so all of the teachers in Freshmen year switch around to cover lessons or do mixed lessons. For example the English teacher also teaches Math and the normal Math teacher also teaches Science. So it looks like you could have any position you want and the school would just shuffle around the teachers."

"You said English is taken, right?"

"Yep, the teacher is named William Lancer and he- oh... wait, he's on a leave of absence due to injuries he suffered over Christmas Break. Concussion, broken arm, and bruised ribs, he'll be out for a few weeks."

Jason smirked, "Perfect. Sign me up."

". . . Jason, the English and Math teacher... never thought I'd see the day. Alright, I'll type up your application, send it in and casually push it to the front of the line. You'll be official by the time Winter Break ends in a few days. So get studying."

"Sounds like a plan, but I'll be fine, I mean our family is crazy and i deal with criminals on a nightly basis. How hard could this assignment really be?"

He would regret asking that question by the end of his first day as an Amity High School teacher.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #my prompts #might continue this #maybe not #we'll see

[freedomfireflies]

Whiplash*

Summary: The second part to Knockout*

The one where Harry does something dangerous in the shadows, and he'll do anything to keep you out of it.

Word Count: 9.4k (again...so sorry)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, slight blood kink, slight pain kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

There’s no protocol for what to do when a handsome stranger you hardly know (but occasionally fool around with), stops showing up at your diner. 

You stare at his booth for far longer than you should. Willing him to appear. To walk through the door and make things right. Ease this ache in your chest.

You have no way to contact him. You don’t know his last name, or his phone number, or his address. You don’t even know his license plate number. He’s a ghost to you. More than a stranger but less than a friend.

You give him a few more minutes to appear. Maybe there was traffic. Or maybe he forgot you were working tonight.

But soon, a few minutes turns into an hour, and booth 505 remains empty.

So, you put the idea of him to bed. Carrying on with your shift while wearing your heavy heart on your sleeve. Perhaps he’s gotten bored with you. Or perhaps he’s found other ways to occupy his nights.

You almost think you’d prefer this alternative to the other. The one where he’s not here because he’s not…here. That wherever he goes and whatever he does has finally caught up to him.

It makes your stomach wrench to imagine, and you forcibly shove the thought free before returning your attention to your newest pie.

Peach. Another one of Harry’s favorites.

3 a.m. has never felt so liberating. Bringing you the perfect escape as you clock out and rush through the doors for the parking lot. Eager to rid yourself of this wretched night and head back to your apartment to worry about your stranger in peace.

You step out into the cold morning air and pull your jacket a bit tighter around your frame. Exhaling a shaky breath that you can see dance across the dimly lit space.

There are only two other cars over by the right side of the building, and much to your continued dismay, you notice that Harry’s still isn’t one of them. 

So, with a sinking stomach, you reach into your pocket for your apartment keys, and begin walking for the subway. Yet right as round the corner of the diner, you notice something move within the shadows just beside you.

With a jump, you gasp, and spin around on your heel with your keys raised and aimed at the ready.

The figure that emerges sends your heart straight into your throat.

“Harry?” You drop your arm and move closer for a better look. “What…what…?”

The battered and bruised man offers you a tired smile that hardly reaches his lips. “Hi, Cherry.”

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. There’s a nasty slash going down his left eyebrow, a dark bruise forming along his jaw, and blood dripping down his arm from beneath his sleeve onto the pavement below.

You search for the right words – for any words at all – but before you can, he’s stumbling forward. Just barely able to catch himself before he collapses onto the ground.

With another gasp, you surge forward, quickly taking hold of his shoulders in order to keep him upright. “Harry—”

“M’okay,” he murmurs, and you can hardly hear him. As if he barely has the strength to speak. “I’m fine. I promise—”

“Harry,” you repeat for a third time, almost incredulously. “You…this is not fine. You’re…what happened?”

Even before he shakes his head, you know he won’t truly answer. “Nothing. S’just a little worse this time, but I’m okay. Really.”

You feel sick. Sick that he’s so hurt, sick that you can’t help him, and sick because you don’t understand who does this to him. “Okay, we…we need to get you to a hospital, we need to get you some help—”

“No.” His head shakes again, a bit more insistently. “No, I can’t go to a hospital. I just…I had to see you.”

You feel your throat constrict. “What?”

His hand lifts, palm finding your jaw until he can softly caress your cheek. And you feel a streak of blood smear across your skin from where his thumb brushes at your chin. 

“I had to see you,” he repeats softly. “Had to make sure you were all right. M’so sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

You want to bury yourself in his arms. Want to kiss him, and hold him, and fix him. Make everything better again.

“It’s okay,” you nearly whimper. Pushing yourself into his touch. “I’m just really worried about you.”

The smirk grows. “I’m all right. I’ll go home, take some pain pills, and be right as rain by tomorrow. Really.”

 You’re hardly convinced. “Harry—"

“I’m all right,” he insists, dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to worry about me, Cher. S’not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll be okay. I just wanted to see you.”

And you don’t believe him. You don’t even think he believes him. But he smiles at you as though he wants to. As though he wants to offer you any sort of consolation for his pain. To make this better…for you.

You allow him to hold you a moment longer before you pull back and declare, “I’ll help.”

His brows pinch together. “What?”

“I’ll help. I’ll go with you. Make sure you’re okay, and…and help you clean up.”

His expression softens, but he sighs heavily. “Baby, I can’t…I can’t ask you to do that—”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“I know, s’just…” He holds your cheeks in both hands now. Keeping you in his sights. “I made a rule with myself. A promise that I wouldn’t drag you down with me. That I’d make sure you were okay, and that you’d never hurt because of me.”

The pit in your stomach deepens, but you merely straighten up. “How could this hurt me? I just want to help.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he breathes. “But letting you come with me means breaking my rule. And I can’t do that. I won’t.”

You wonder what he means. You wonder if you really want to know.

“Then you come with me,” you decide. “You can come back to my apartment, and I can make sure you’re all right.”

Another heavy exhale, but you can tell he’s touched. “Cherry—”

“I mean it. You’re not…Harry, I’m really worried about you. You can hardly stand and you’re bleeding from more places than one. You could have really hurt yourself and you shouldn’t be alone. I won’t let you be alone right now.”

He considers this. “Cherry, I’m trying to protect you—”

“And I’m trying to protect you, too,” you argue firmly, but with a persuasive grin. “Please let me.”

There’s a long lull of silence, those gentle green eyes studying you closely. He looks so very tired and wrought with grief. Yet when he sees you…his entire world seems to change. Lighting up about as bright as the moon.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll go. I trust you.”

I trust you. Three little words that have never sounded so good and you can’t help but push up onto your toes to kiss him as gingerly as you can.

“Okay, where’s your car?” you ask, letting go in order to look around. “My apartment isn't too far, so I can drive until we—”

“No.”

“What?”

He squeezes onto your wrist almost pointedly. “No, we can’t…can’t take my car. S’not safe.”

“Oh…” Your lashes flutter. “All right. We…we can take the subway. I was going to take it anyway because a friend of mine is borrowing my car for the night, but…that can work. We can make that work.”

He says nothing, instead swaying a bit from the loss of blood as you rush to take hold of him once more.

“All right, okay. You’re okay,” you murmur softly. “Just hold on, okay? It’s only a few stops to my place, and we’ll be there in under twenty minutes.”

He nods weakly in response, and you’re quick to pull his arm around your shoulders in order to help guide him through the parking lot.

He seems grateful for this hold on you. Smirking to himself before leaning over to press his lips to your temple. Keeping you tight against his chest as though the two of you are merely going for a stroll in the park. 

Like a real couple.

You cling to his stained hoodie and help lead him toward the subway station. Making sure that you don’t walk too fast (or too slow) in order to get him there in one piece.

You don’t talk much – although there’s so much you want to say – but you can tell he’s pleased. Grateful to be in your company, even despite the circumstances. 

Once the train arrives, you both slip through the doors, and take a seat near the exit. You push your shoulder into his and he pushes his shoulder into yours. Leaning against each other almost contently and smiling to yourselves as the rest of the crowd saunters on.

The subway is relatively empty for this time of night. Or rather, early morning. And you’re more than all right with that. It means less people to stare at the bloody, bruised man dripping onto the train floor. 

He doesn’t notice the odd looks. He doesn’t seem to notice anything but you, instead staring down at where your fingers are tracing his. The way they run tenderly over the cracked skin across his knuckles before intertwining together.

He hums contently, lips stretching into a gentle grin.

You’re at your stop only fifteen minutes later, practically leaping onto your feet in a rush to get him out.

He seems to have a bit more energy now, perhaps from being able to rest for as long as he did. But he still holds onto you as tightly as he can while you walk along the sidewalk.

And you can’t help but let him.

“My apartment might be a little messy,” you attempt to preface as you head inside the tall building. “I was going to clean it before I left, but something…came up.”

He nods understandingly before glancing over the side of your profile. “Are you all right?”

“Am I all right?” you tease, gesturing toward him.

He smirks, but that curious look doesn’t slip. “Are you?”

You press the elevator button with one hand and squeeze his palm in the other. “I will be once you are.”

Apartment 505 is on the left side of the building, just beside the stairwell. It gives you a perfect view of the city, and you spend most of your days out on the stairwell watching the sun rise and set.

There’s a wreath on your door, hanging just over the number, and your stranger smiles when he sees it. Seemingly amused by the bright flowers and dainty bow that stands out amidst the dark grey paint.

After fumbling with your keys, you finally manage to get you both inside. Exhaling a deep breath and tossing your things toward the coffee table.

“Lock it,” he murmurs just as you’re moving for the kitchen.

“What?”

“The door. Lock it,” he says, almost firmly while nodding toward the handle. “Right now.”

A tad surprised by the resolute tone of voice, you nod, and turn around to oblige. Making sure the lock is turned and the door is secure before glancing over for his approval.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. “I want you to always lock it when you come in, all right? Always.”

“Okay,” you agree softly, returning to him. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, raising your hand to his face to press a kiss to his cheek. “Can you let me take care of you now?”

He seems to chuckle as he allows you to stroke his jaw. Settling into your gentle touch before nodding.

Pleased, you take his hand, and lead him toward your small bathroom. Sitting him on the edge of the bathtub in order to get a better look.

But the moment you see each cut and scrape beneath the bright, fluorescent light, there’s a hitch in your breath. Overwhelming you with sorrow and anguish at the sight of him. 

“Harry,” you exhale, almost unintentionally. 

His lashes flutter as he smiles, reaching out to lightly tug on your waitressing dress. “M’okay, Cherry. Really.”

He’s not okay, and you both know it. “I’ll…I’ll need to clean them first. Where…how many are there?”

A beat while he thinks. “There’s a couple on my chest. Plus, the one on my eye, and, you know, my hands.”

You nod, and vaguely gesture toward him, willing yourself not to shake. “Can…may I take off your hoodie? So I can check?”

The corner of his mouth curls up and he nods as well, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt in order to begin peeling it off his torso.

You attempt to help, making sure he can get his arms through without having to bend too far or cause any strain to the injuries.

But once it’s off, you feel your stomach twist.

 His skin is littered with scars, scrapes, and fresh bruises. A variety of colors that range from light pink to an unsettling yellow. Blood is smeared across tattoos you didn’t even know he had, and there’s a rather nasty gash along the side of his ribcage. 

You hear yourself gasp, and he quickly tugs on your hem again. “Cher—”

However, you brush his hand away and move closer, running the tips of your fingers along his shoulder and down his sternum. Trailing each inch of stained skin until you reach his heart.

“Harry…” you say again.

He takes hold of your wrist and offers you a look of remorse. “I know.”

You aren’t sure you have the strength to ask, instead swallowing thickly as you pull back, and turn around. Searching through your cupboards for everything you’ll need.

He watches you closely, and it seems your reaction causes him more pain than anything else. It’s a look you know well. One where he’s desperate to comfort you, and you wish you could let him.

You rejoin his side with bandages, rubbing alcohol, and a sterilized needle with thread. “All right, I have to clean them first, and then…”

His eyes flick down to the suturing supplies with a smirk. “Ah.”

You grimace. “It’ll probably hurt.”

To your surprise, he shrugs. “No worse than what gave me the cut, I imagine.”

You hum to yourself and move for the alcohol. “And this might sting.”

“Mm. I’m counting on it.”

Dipping a cloth into the potent liquid, you begin to dab at each open cut that’s painted along his body. Making sure to be as gentle as you can and avoid any potential infections.

He tenses every few moments, jaw ticking as he takes steady, even breaths. But he makes no noise of complaint, nor does he flinch away from your touch. Almost leaning into it as you move between each scratch.

“How’s that?” you whisper, glancing over his face curiously before moving for the cut on his brow. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, red-rimmed eyes trained on you. Seeming to study you while you study his injury. “M’okay. Are you?”

You smile. “Yeah. Don’t like hurting you, though.”

“You’re not. Could never.”

“Hope you’re right.”

You smooth back the dark hairs of his eyebrow as gingerly as you can before reaching for the medical tape. Cutting the strips to the right length, you place a couple over the cut, and step back to observe.

“All right,” you declare. “Now, um…now I’ll need to…”

You both look toward his stomach where the worst gash lies, and he nods. “Where do you want me?”

“Just…there. Is fine.” You collect the needle and thread before crouching down near him in order to get closer. “It shouldn’t take too long. Be over before you know it.”

“All right.” He’s oddly calm, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched, Cherry. I’ll be all right.”

 “I can see that,” you mumble to yourself, reaching now for his abdomen. “Just…tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

With a deep breath, you pinch his skin between your fingers, and bring the tip of the needle closer. Piercing the skin and threading it through slowly and with great precision.

He looks down, watching for a moment almost as though fascinated. “You’re really good at that.”

You offer a tight-lipped smile. “Should hope so. Spent three years learning how to do it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My, uh…my parents really wanted me to pursue a career in the medical field,” you explain as you continue working your way down. “And I thought being a nurse would be good because I liked the idea of helping people. And I liked learning about the body and how to heal it.”

His eyes remain on you.

“Anyway, it didn’t…I didn’t have a great experience in medical school,” you continue. “And it made me realize that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. I wanted to…help people through food, I guess. Which probably sounds silly—”

“No,” he says, almost immediately. “No, it doesn’t.”

You smile a bit bigger. “Well, my parents were pretty pissed when I dropped out. Which makes sense, since they were the ones paying for it. But…they told me that if I wanted to pursue baking, I’d have to do that on my own. Financially, anyway. Hence all the late shifts at the diner.”

His brows furrow together almost sternly.

“And I don’t mind it. I really like working there. I like my coworkers, I like the people I meet.” You pause now and brave a glance up. “And I really like that it brought me to you.”

There’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip. “M’glad it brought you to me, too.”

You chew on the inside of your lip to suppress a rather giddy grin before returning your focus to the wound. “All right, your turn.”

“My turn?”

You nod your chin toward his injured body. “Why do you keep letting this happen?”

He sighs, and his stomach tenses with the strained breath. He wears the same look he wears each time you ask, and you already know he’s searching for the right way to deflect the question. 

“I don’t know.”

You expected nothing less, yet tonight, you insist upon the truth. Scooting closer as you glance up almost pleadingly. “Where do you go? Who does this to you?”

He hesitates. “Cher—”

“I won’t judge you. I’d never judge you, but this isn’t…Harry, this is really scary. And I want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Another heavy pause as you continue the suture. He contemplates his response, the small bathroom filling with a tense sort of energy. You wonder if the truth hurts him more than the scars.

“I…fight,” he finally says, and you feel your pulse stutter. “I get paid to fight. Three nights a week.”

And even though you’d already begun to assume that was the case, you feel the blood drain from your face. “Harry…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs quickly, reaching out to brush his thumb along your cheek. “I’m okay.”

You want to argue, but you bite your tongue. Zeroing in your focus on your hands.

“I like it,’ he continues. “Don’t know why, but there’s just…there’s this rush, you know? This adrenaline. Makes me feel alive to be so close to death, I guess.”

You hum quietly, features pulling together in a wince. 

“S’about the only thing I’m good at, too,” he adds with a wry chuckle. “And all I have to do is win.”

Your head lifts. “This doesn’t look like a win.”

“Yeah, well. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

And despite his attempt at humor, you look back down, lashes fluttering.

It’s quiet for another long lull before he says, “It’s how I met you.”

You choose to keep your eyes downcast on the needle this time, but your ears perk up.

“One of the guys I work with said your desserts were the best he’d ever had. Said he used to go there all the time, for every fucking meal.”

You pull the thread though his stained skin and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

But his story is undeterred. “And I always get kind of a sugar craving after a fight, so I thought I’d go. And then…you.”

You remember the night vividly. The sight of him, hands wrapped in gauze, eyes dark and inquisitive, that familiar hoodie pulled over his head.

He was mysterious and strange, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

You have been ever since.

“And he was right,” Harry whispers now, tucking his finger beneath your chin until he can see you. “Never had anything as sweet as you.”

Your heart returns to your throat, and there’s a sort of longing in your stomach that can’t be tamped. You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry, so you merely release a soft sigh and finish closing the wound.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you ask of him again. “Really?”

He runs his tongue over his cracked lip. “Sometimes.”

“And would they let you leave? If you wanted to?”

The silence is deafening. 

His thumb moves to your mouth, brushing over the pink fibers that part for him. “Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to find out.”

It’s not a perfect answer. But it’s the one you choose to cling to, reaching up to squeeze his wrist in desperation.

You suppose this explains more than you realized. Why he won’t tell you who he really is. Why he won’t let you into his world. Why he insists on keeping you safe.

But it only makes this new reality that much heavier.

“Just make me a promise, okay?” you exhale. “Promise me that you’ll be all right. That you’ll stay safe. That you won’t…”

The unspoken word carries a weight that nearly crushes you, and he seems to understand as he squeezes your chin.

“That you’ll always come back,” you finish.

“I promise,” he says, even if you both know it’s not a promise he can make. “Always.”

You kiss him. Quickly and without pause, surging forward until your mouth meets his. You take his lips between your own, careful to mind the cut while remembering just how much he enjoys the sting.

Instantly, his hand curls around the back of your neck, tugging you as close as he can get you. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, and soft grunts that reverberate all the way down to your chest.

“Careful,” you gasp, attempting to pull back when he guides you between his legs. “Your cut—”

“Don’t care,” he whispers, bringing you back to nip at your bottom lip. “Don’t fucking care.”

You whimper against him, hands resting delicately on his chest. “Har—”

“I know. Just missed you. Really missed you, sweet girl.”

He tugs you between his thighs and you allow yourself to be moved. Melting into his touch as he uses his height advantage to fully take control of you. In more ways than one. 

Desperate pants fill the tiny bathroom, and you can’t help but feel undone by him. Already feeling a certain throbbing in the pit of your stomach that can’t be tamed by anything else but him.

“Harry,” you try again, moving your hands to his hair. Carding your fingers through his matted, bloody curls. “Please…”

And then…you feel it. Rather, you feel him. Hard and prominent, pressing right up against you. 

You gasp, and he rests his forehead against yours. Cursing to himself when you nudge yourself forward.

And that’s when you realize. 

“Does pain turn you on?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods once. Trailing his lips along your cheek and toward your throat.

Your head spins. “Really?”

Another motion of his head. “It’s not really pain when it’s you.”

Breathlessly, you drop your touch to his lap, palming him through his dark jeans while he groans again and buries his nose in your neck. Inhaling you deeply while bracing himself against your knelt frame.

“Think it’s my turn now,” you say. “My turn to be good.”

The grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel him release a warm exhale against your collarbone before he’s kissing just below your ear.

Then, he shakes his head, and mumbles, “No.”

You stop, fingers freezing over the bulge between his thighs. “What?”

“No,” he repeats gently. “S’not about me. Wanna make this about you.”

You lean back just far enough to catch his eye. “But—”

“There are a lot of things I’ll never be able to give you. Or do for you,” he explains gingerly. “But I can do this. I want to do this, sweet girl. Wanna give you the fucking world because it’s what you deserve.”

You consider this for only a moment before settling on the floor. “Har…”

His head shakes once more. Thumb stroking the curve of your jaw while tilting your eyes up. “Never be able to tell you how beautiful you are. I don’t…I can’t even understand it. You’re perfect, Cherry. So fucking perfect, and I will spend the rest of my life wanting to be near you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. One that nearly knocks the wind from your lungs as you gaze at him.

“Wanting to taste you…” he continues, dipping down to brush his nose against yours. “Feel you…touch you. You…are the best goddamn thing I will ever have.”

You whimper, pushing yourself closer until he finally kisses you. “Then let me…”

But he merely smiles. “One day, sweet girl. I promise.”

You want to push. You almost want to insist that he let you take his cock into your mouth, but the look on his face is resolute. Decisive. You aren’t changing his mind, at least not tonight.

And you decide that maybe it’s for the better. His body needs to rest in order to heal, and perhaps any extra strain would hurt him or rip the stitching.

So, you oblige. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

With a chuckle, he kisses you again. “Good girl.”

The kisses grow more frantic. About as frantic as before, and you have to physically yank yourself out of his grasp in order to calm yourself down.

“No,” you say this time as you stand. “No, you need to lay down. And rest. Okay? Give your body time to heal. And get better.”

He watches you go, but he’s unconvinced, already looping an arm around your hips to pull you back. “This is how I get better.”

And even though you’re concerned for his health, you can’t deny the pulsing between your thighs. “Harry—”

“You make me better,” he says, trailing his lips along your arms, all the way down to your palms. “Always. Fucking always—”

You whine beneath a strained breath, your other hand dropping to his head as you tug on his hair.

In turn, he moans against you, and your knees about buckle. “Let me get better…please…”

And it’s almost like he doesn’t realize he’s said it. A subconscious thought that’s whispered against your skin until it becomes one with your bloodstream.

“Want to,” you say. “I want to, but you need to rest. I need you to rest, Har.”

“I am,” he tries to argue, glancing up through those thick lashes of his. “This is me resting.”

“Harry—”

“Please,” he nearly groans again, pressing his nose into your stomach. “God, please, Cher. Please. M’so fucking lost on you, I can’t…I need…”

He told you once that you’re like a drug to him. That he goes through withdrawals if you’re not near. If he’s gone too long without you.

And, truthfully, you feel about the same. Feeling strung-out and shaky without his touch. Even the sound of his voice. It’s borderline pathetic, yet you don’t ever want to be rid of him.

“You need to rest,” you repeat, although you’re losing conviction. “I want to, but I can’t…I’m worried. You shouldn’t move, you should rest.”

The air becomes charged as he looks back up. “Then ride my face.”

You hesitate. “What?”

“Ride my face,” he says again, practically groaning the instruction. “S’easy, right? Won’t have to move. I’ll just hold you, yeah?”

You feel the heat rush into your cheeks as you blink down at him. “I…you’re already hurt. I don’t want to suffocate you, too—”

“God, suffocate me,” he sighs, grabbing onto the backs of your thighs. Squeezing the flesh in his strong, battered hands pleadingly. “You’d never hurt me, baby, ever. S’all I fucking want. Don’t want anything else but you. Only you. All of you. Want you everywhere.”

And you believe him. You do. But the idea of…and being that close…

“What…but what if it’s too much?” you murmur. “What if I’m too…—”

“Never.” A firm shake of his head. “Fucking never. You would never be too much. Believe me. Tasting you is the only good thing in my life.”

There’s a catch in your throat that you swallow down. “I just…I’ve never…”

His expression softens. Thumbs brushing at your exposed skin before squeezing once more. “It’s okay. S’okay, sweet girl, really. Don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t have to do anything at all. But…I promise you…you could never do anything wrong. Ever. You breathe and you’re perfect.”

And he’s so honest. So good. You know he means it, know he’d never lie about something like this. And you do trust him. More than anything. Trust that he’d never judge you or want anything more from you than what you’re willing to give.

“If you say no, then it’s no,” he adds gently. “End of. Promise.”

But that’s not your problem. You’d happily do anything and everything with him. But you’re worried about his injuries and all the blood he’s already lost. Granted, his suggestion would perhaps be the best alternative, but…

“Fine,” you whisper, squeezing his curls in your fist. “Okay. But you need to be very careful and very still. And if it starts to hurt, we stop. Okay?”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. One you recognize all too well, yet it merely makes your pulse jump.

“Okay,” he agrees, almost mischievously. “Deal. Just lead the way.”

You bite back a whimper before glancing toward his knuckles. “I need wrap your hands first—”

“No,” he interjects. “No, leave ‘em. Just for right now. Wanna see them when I hold you.”

And there’s something about the idea that leaves you breathless, making your nails curl into his scalp as if to drag him closer. “Are you sure—”

“Yes.” He tugs on the hem of your dress again, almost as though trying to rip it off. “Yes, m’sure. Please, Cher…”

And you have no choice but to oblige.

You reach down, take his hand, and pull him onto his feet. Quickly and impatiently leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to your room before pushing the door open and bringing him inside.

He only takes a moment to look around, eyebrows raised while a smile plays at his lips. He studies the array of artwork you have displayed, the baby blue paint on your walls, and the plethora of pillows that sit near your headboard. He seems…enchanted, almost, and it makes you giddy.

“S’cute,” he decides, offering his smirk to you. “Very cute. Very you.”

“Thanks,” you reply anxiously, already looping your arms around his neck in order to yank him back down. “Please?”

He chuckles against your lips before dropping his hands to your waist, nodding once, and pushing you back. “Do you trust me, baby? Trust me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” you answer instantaneously. “Yes, always.”

“Yeah? Know I’ll take care of you?”

“Yes.”

He drops you onto the bed before chasing after you. Lips on your cheek, your neck, your chest. Fingers playing with the buttons on your chest before he whispers, “Can I take this off, sweet girl?”

You motion your head almost frantically, leaning back to give him room.

He undoes your dress and slips it over your head in a matter of seconds. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear as he tosses it toward the floor before surging forward to kiss you again.

He’s seen you before. Seen your chest, your stomach, your thighs. But never in the privacy of your own home, and the way he seems to look at you now feels as though it changes everything. Like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

“Baby,” he breathes, pulling your lip between his teeth before groaning. “God…s’fucking cruel you have to hide this behind such a hideous dress.”

You grin against his mouth, scooting back in order to make space for him. “Then maybe you should come around and take it off more often.”

He likes this idea, chuckling to himself before grabbing hold of your hips, and flipping over onto his back. Effectively pulling you with him until you’re straddling his waist.

With a gasp, you glance down to his newly stitched cut, quickly inspecting in order to make sure nothing has been ripped or pulled. “Harry, you can’t—”

“Shh,” he coos, pulling on the back of your neck to bring you down again. Nose nudging with yours. “M’okay. I’ll tell you, yeah?”

“But—”

“I’m all right,” he insists quietly. “Promise. Just need you.”

You swallow the rest of your complaints, allowing your body to be pulled into his before he’s moving both hands to your naked thighs. Stroking along the tender, soft flesh and kneading it tenderly.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” he whispers. “Hm? Gonna let me have a taste?”

And even if you’re somewhat apprehensive, the lust that swims within the bottom of your stomach makes you whimper. Urging you to say, “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” he hums, gliding his palms toward your ass before patting it once. “Up you go.”

You imagine you seem somewhat terrified, but his look of encouragement goes straight to your cunt. Encouraging you up his body until you can place your knees on either side of his head.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes already gluing to your panties. “So good, baby. Can you hold onto me? Hold onto my hair? And tug it if it’s too much?”

You nod weakly and drop your fingers to his curls. Brushing them gently while he smiles, lashes fluttering.

“Good girl,” he says again, and it makes you clench around nothing. “M’gonna pull you down now, okay? Don’t worry about anything. Just let me make you feel good. Promise I’ll be all right.”

You whimper beneath a deep breath before nodding again and allowing him to guide you down to his face.

You feel the tip of his nose ghost across the edge of your panties, right near your clit. And you can help but buck up, gasping as you squirm away from the stimulating touch.

But his hold on you is unrelenting, tightening when he feels you twitch before yanking you back into position.

“Uh-uh, sweet girl, none of that,” he warns softly, mouth dancing down your covered cunt. Tauntingly. Deviously. “M’just having some fun, yeah? Gonna let me have fun with such a pretty pussy?”

When you don’t answer, he gently smacks his hand against the side of your thigh.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, gathering his curls in your fist. “Yes, I…I will.”

“Mm. Good. Cause m’having so much fun with you, Cher. You know that? Always have fun getting to play with what’s mine.”

This possession sends chills down your spine and your chest heaves from the way he flattens his tongue against your underwear before dragging it down.

He seems to bask in your whines, moaning against your cunt before curling his fingers into your skin. Forcing you down even further until you’re nearly sat on his mouth.

His technique is sinful. Just enough to tease you and leave you wanting more. Effortlessly casting out any doubts or hesitation as you begin to settle in his hold, permitting him to keep you against his tongue until he sighs contently.

“Fucking killing me, baby,” he says, lifting you up in order to reach for the soft material against your pussy and drag it to the side. “Ready, sweet girl?”

You nod quickly.

“Promise to tug me if it’s too much or you want to stop?”

“Yes…yes, Har, please—”

“I know,” he shushes. “Just so well behaved for me, aren’t you? Hold still for me, all right?”

You go to nod again, but before you can, his lips are meeting your clit. Pressing the most innocent of kisses to the sensitive nerves until you choke on his name and yank his curls.

He seems to realize this aggression has more to do with the pleasure than the pain, and you can practically feel him smirk into your cunt before he does it again. Over and over and over, making your eyes roll back and your throat run dry with desperate pants and whimpers.

Then…he sucks. Takes your clit into his mouth before flattening his tongue and dragging it through.

You’ve never felt this kind of stimulation. This kind of overwhelming pleasure that goes directly to your toes.

Sure, he’s eaten you out before, but he’s never been this…close. He’s devouring you from the inside out. Forcing you against his mouth as though his life depends on it. 

The hold on your hip is unforgiving, and you’re almost sure you’ll see remnants of him on your skin tomorrow. The tips of his fingers tattooing to your waist and marking you as his forevermore. 

You aren’t sure what to do with yourself. Overcome with lust and infatuation for the man between your thighs. The way he expertly slides his lips through your folds, drowning in you.

The tip of his tongue teases your hole, and you feel him groan at the way your pussy flutters from the slight intrusion. And the vibration of his greed makes your hands tighten in his hair. Nail scraping so hard down his scalp, you’re sure you’ll draw blood.

But he loves it. Seems to thrive off it. Going in a bit further before dragging your arousal up to your clit and flicking.

Then, he swallows you down.

“Harry,” you gasp, and you wish you could see him. Wish more than anything that you could gaze down at his face and watch while he does this to you. 

He always tends to get a sort of mesmeric look in his eye when he’s making you cum. Almost like he’s in a trance. Hypnotized by your body, drunk off the way he’s making you feel.

You imagine that’s about how he looks now, and you’d give anything to see those beautiful, hazy eyes just once.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, pulling away just long enough to speak. “You’re okay, yeah?”

You nod quickly. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I promise—please…”

He understands your request perhaps better than anyone and smiles to himself before going back in. It’s far too easy to unravel you, it seems. All he has to do is suck, and flick, and slide his mouth along your dripping pussy, and you’re done for. Already nearing release before he’s even really begun.

He senses this, and instantly goes harder. Faster. Tongue fucking into your clenching hole relentlessly until you cry out his name…and let go.

You hardly have time to register what’s happening or warn him of your impending orgasm. Nor do you have the time to remove yourself from him before accidently crushing him between your thighs and beneath your weight.

Yet through every second, he holds on. Keeps you exactly where you were, stuck in his hold, glued to his tongue. Until every drop of your cum belongs to him.

“Har…Harry,” you pant, uncurling your fingers from his hair. “Okay, it’s okay…I came, I—”

“I know,” he mumbles, leaving another kiss to your clit. “And you’re gonna do it again.”

It’s resolute. He leaves no room for bargaining or questioning before he’s going back in. Quick flicks of his tongue through your pussy until you feel breathless.

It’s sloppy. Everything about it is sloppy and wet. The sounds, his technique. The way he makes out with your cunt as though it’s the best thing he’s ever had. And, truthfully, you imagine he believes it is.

He repeats the movement of his tongue along the overstimulated nerves until you begin to shake. Never letting up, even when you begin to whine rather pitifully. Instead, he squeezes your waist, and keeps you close. Makes sure you take every second of this blissful affliction until you cum for a second time. 

The moment you do, he readjusts his hold on your panties in order to slip a finger inside. Forcing you up onto your knees so he can nip at your clit and fuck his finger into you with a newly determined fervor.

“Harry,” you cry out again, moving one hand to your headboard to brace yourself. “Can’t…can’t—”

“You’re all right,” he hums, the tip of his nose pressing hard into your skin. “You’re all right, sweet girl. Just want one more, okay?”

 And you believe him. You do believe you’re all right, even if the painful pleasure he’s dragging you into nearly kills you. Making your legs shake and your lungs heave.

You want to give him another. You want to give him all of your orgasms, forever. And he knows this, so he adds a second finger, and pumps you mercilessly.

The sound echoes through your room, loud and lewd. But it intertwines beautifully with his soft murmurs of encouragement: 

“Good, baby, just like that. Fucking squeezin’ me, aren’t you? Hm? S’it feel good? Feel so good to ride my face?”

You can’t answer. Want to. Can’t. Skin growing hot as sweat beads at your hairline. Muscles burning, aching, crying out for reprieve.

But all you really feel…is him.

“One more, come on,” he urges, increasing the speed of his tongue and his thrusts. “Can feel how close you are, sweet girl. Know you want to, yeah?”

You whimper softly, body tensing with the impending release.

“Yeah? I know. Know you’re so close. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? S’just too much for this sweet little pussy, hm?”

He curls those long digits into your cunt until you moan, thighs trembling beside his head as you attempt to keep yourself upright. “Har, please—”

“What? What do you need?”

Everything, all of it, whatever it takes. You aren’t even sure, you just need…more.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg. Kissing and sucking into the tender skin while his fingers continue to encourage you closer. 

“Just taste so good, don’t you?” He trails his lips back toward your cunt. Lazily mouthing at your clit as if to torture you. “Get so wet for me. S’precious. So fucking precious.”

He uses his fingers to spread you open. Exhaling against your dripping cunt until you begin to squirm. Writhing away from the sensation while he does it again.

“Mm-mm,” he tuts, pulling you closer. “Told you no, sweet girl. Said I could play with you, so I am. Thought you were behaving for me?”

He exploits your need to please him. To obey and win his approval, and it nearly drives you mad.

“Know it’s a lot, baby,” he coos next, slipping back inside and curling. “Know you’re all sensitive. Not used to being so overstimulated, are you?”

He’s right, you’re not. Apart from him, nobody else has ever really taken the time.

“Makes me wonder,” he continues gently. “Wonder how you touch yourself…here in this very room.”

He pulls your clit between his teeth and tugs until you gasp.

“Tell me, Cherry. Tell me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”

Your mind goes blank. Darkening around the edges while you suck in quick pants for air.

“Tell me,” he repeats, coarse and riddled with an insatiable hunger. “Tell me what you think about. D’you think about me, baby? Think about how good you look on my tongue?”

You find just enough strength to nod as you squeeze his curls and whimper out your agreement. 

“Yeah? Go on, tell me.”

Your mouth drops open, yet nothing else comes out. Save for a plethora of pathetic whines and anxious mewling.

He seems to laugh, the low sound sending goosebumps across the back of your neck. “What’s the matter, Cher? Pussy got your tongue?”

You can hardly acknowledge the joke as you go reeling forward, just barely able to catch yourself against the headboard before collapsing. “You…you,” you finally groan. “Always you, Harry. Always.”

“Me?” You can hear the faux fascination. “You think about me, baby? What do you think about?”

What don’t you think about? “Your…your fingers,” you stammer. “And…and your mouth.”

“Yeah? Good girl. What else?”

You’re too close to think straight, already falling victim to your orgasm before it’s even found you. “You…your…your…”

“S’okay, baby, come on. Tell me.”

You swallow thickly and will yourself to speak. “Think…think about taking you. About how you’d feel. How you’d…be.”

“How I’d be, hm?” The hand on your hip tightens almost possessively. “How would you want me to be? How would you want me to fuck you?”

 An array of positions flash through your mind. The echoing of his groans and pants in your ear as he fucks you. The way he’d hold onto your leg and push it into the bed. The way he’d pull your hair and demand you take him. That you behave, be good. 

There’s something about him, you realize. Something about his dominance that makes you feel safe. Seen and cared for.

You want him to tell you what to do. Want to give him full control of your body and mind. Make your decisions for you so you don’t have to wrestle with them yourself. You trust him. Trust that he’d always put you first.

“Any way you want,” you finally answer. “Any…any way. Hard…slow…fast…deep. Just wanna be good for you.”

The noise he makes against your pussy is animistic. Virile and obsessed, and his mouth reattaches to your clit almost like a reward. 

“Good,” he nearly growls. “Know you would be. Know you’d be fucking perfect, yeah? Let me stretch this sweet, little pussy anyway I’d like?”

 “Yes. Yes, Harry, please—”

“Just take it, wouldn’t you? Take me so well?” He yanks you down so hard, you wonder if he can even breathe. Truthfully, you don’t think he cares either way. “What else do you think about, sweet girl? Think about me tying you up?”

You nod zealously, sneaking a glance at the headboard almost as though to recreate your fantasy. 

“Yeah? What else? Would you want me to spank you?” He follows this inquiry up with a quick – albeit gentle – slap to your outer thigh. “S’that what you want?”

“Harry—”

“What about your pretty, little throat, hm? D’you want me to hold it in my hand? Squeeze it till you see stars?”

The thought sends you into a frenzy. Stomach flipping in on itself until you’re clenching so hard around his fingers, you’re surprised they don’t break.

“Yeah? Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, slowly and almost inconspicuously sneaking a third digit into play. Filling you exactly the way you need. “My dirty little Cherry just wants to be taken care of, doesn’t she?”

You have nothing more to offer him. No more noises, no more whines, no more pleas. Your throat has gone dry, and your body is trembling almost violently.

He grins. “Then I’ll always take care of what’s mine.”

You’re not sure what does it. If it’s the way he strokes his fingers into that sweet spot in your cunt, the way he skims his tongue against your clit, or if it’s his promise. 

But no matter the cause, your third orgasm overwhelms you. Pulls you down into the deepest part of your pleasure before ripping you apart. Seam by seam.

He swallows every second of it. Attempting to drag the stimulation on for as long as he can before you have to psychically take yourself away in order to breathe. 

“Okay, okay,” you whimper, returning to the bed just beside him. “Can’t…I can’t…”

“Okay,” he agrees in a soft, soothing tone. Quicky reaching out to press his hand to your cheek while his thumb brushes at your heated skin. “Okay, we’re done. Did so good for me.”

Your lashes flutter as your vision slowly returns, and when you see him, you about moan.

During his ravaging of your pussy, the cut on his lip reopened, and now, blood is smeared across his mouth and chin. Glistening from his skin right beside the remnants of you.

You don’t imagine you’ve ever seen something so erotic. You also never imagined you’d find it so appealing, and yet the way it looks painted across his sharp jaw and swollen lips…

You surge forward and kiss him. So hard and so fast, you imagine you’ve made him dizzy. 

Instantly, his palm is pressing to the back of your head. Keeping you against his mouth while slowly pulling you back into his embrace. And he holds you against his chest while moaning something that sounds a lot like, “Fucking hell.”

 You kiss until the sun comes up. The soft, warm beams of light slipping through your curtains, setting the whole room – and your tired bodies – aglow. 

His mouth moves to your neck. “You still with me, baby?”

You smile. “Always.”

“Good.” He leaves one, final kiss. “And you’re feeling all right?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

“Oh, I’m more than all right, sweet girl. M’fucking perfect.”

He guides back onto his chest. Limbs tangling together as he puts your body between his legs until he can hold you properly. Even despite your fussing over his injuries.

But it’s not until you’ve begun to settle that you feel it. “Harry?” you whisper softly.

“Mm?”

“…did you cum?”

He smiles before pressing his lips to your forehead. “Yeah.”

“But I didn’t…I mean I didn’t get to—"

“You just have that effect on me, Cher,” he murmurs, snaking his arms a bit tighter around your frame. “Told you. Making you feel good is all I want.”

You glance up, expression wounded. “Why won’t you let me help? I thought…I mean, you keep saying you want me to, but you never…you won’t let me.”

The bedroom falls silent as he considers this. The sage green in his eye melting into something golden from the reflection of the sunrise.

He reaches out and brushes his thumb across your mouth. Seeming to clean you of the blood that smeared when you kissed.

“I didn’t want this to be about me,” he finally says. “I never do.”

You merely frown. “But I want to do it. Do you not…I mean, do you think I can’t or something?”

A soft chuckle. “Oh, I know you can. Know you’d use this pretty little mouth just right, yeah?”

You nod.

“Yeah.” He squeezes your chin. “I meant what I said. One day. There are a lot of things I want to do with you. Be for you. But right now, I can’t…I’m not in a place where I can offer them to you. Not with…everything else going on.”

Your stomach sinks as you realize. You might not understand the complexities of his job or his life, but you do understand his concern. And you trust that he doesn’t make this decision lightly. 

“Besides,” he adds coyly, “they kind of have a rule about it.”

“Oh, do they?”

“Yeah. Something about reduced testosterone and decreased aggression. I don’t know, s’probably bullshit.” A nonchalant shrug. “Just means I get to keep the focus on you. Which is all I really want, anyway.”

“I can tell,” you tease, reaching up to brush your nose against his. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re perfect.” He says it so easily. As though it needs no thought. “Baby, you have no fucking idea how beautiful you are. Touching you is the closest I will ever get to heaven.”

You wonder how he does that. How he always manages to say exactly what you need to hear. And make you believe it. Every time.

You kiss him again, but it’s slow. Soft and gentle and full of an unspoken emotion that nearly overwhelms you. 

You fall asleep against his heart. His lips in your hair, your fingers on his chest. And for the next few hours, you dream of nothing but him.

By the time you wake, it’s nearly afternoon. Your muscles are sore and your body aches from the decisions and positions of the night before. 

But it’s a good sort of pain. The kind that reminds you of how willing you are to do it again.

You’re both quiet as you stir, and it’s comfortable. As though you’re used to waking up together. Exchanging nothing more than smiles and a hoarse, “Morning.”

After offering him some cereal, you ask if he’d like to take a shower. Maybe change into something else before you take him back to the diner so he can retrieve his car and you can pick up yours from your friend.

He politely declines, but he does agree to your stipulation that you check his wounds before you leave. He even stands perfectly still while you assess each cut and stitch in order to make sure everything is still in place.

Which to your surprise, it is.

Once you’ve gathered your things, you exit your apartment (after locking it as previously instructed), and head for the subway station.

It’s almost strange to see him in the light of day. He’s still as effortlessly striking as before, if not perhaps more. His skin looks a bit more tan, and his hair seems softer in the sun. But he walks with a kind of confidence you almost envy, slinging his arm around your shoulders just like the night before. This time, out of possession.

And you grin the whole way there.

It feels normal. Feels good. Natural. Like it was always meant to be. You and him. Always.

Your heart begins to sink with each step closer you get to the diner. You cling to his hoodie as though it physically hurts to say goodbye. And in turn, he pulls you in tighter to his heart, as if refusing to let you.

“I’ll walk you in,” he murmurs once you reach the parking lot, and you nod gratefully. Already taking in a deep breath as you prepare to watch him leave.

You see your car near the front of the diner, signaling that your friend is here to drop off the keys. And you almost feel nervous because you aren’t sure how to explain Harry. Or if you even need to explain him at all. 

If he’d want you to.

A part of you wants to protect him from everybody else. From their prying eyes and inquisitive questions. From their haughty, judgmental stares and this idea that they know who he really is.

Instead, you take his hand in yours, and squeeze. Offering him one last smile to hold you over until you see him again.

Which you can only hope will be soon.

He pushes the door open and leads you inside. Loosening his grip on you almost regretfully while your heart sinks down into your toes.

But the moment you both step beneath the light, he stops. Suddenly and with a strained inhale as fingers retighten around yours, halting you in place.

Concerned, you glance over the side of his face rather curiously before following his eyeline further into the diner.  

And that’s when you see him. 

“Hey, thanks again for letting me borrow your car,” your friend says, sliding off one of the barstools in order to hand you your keys. “I really appreciate it. It was a huge help.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” you murmur before looking back to the tense man beside you. “Uh…this is my friend, Jesse. And Jesse, this is—”

“Harry,” Jesse says for you, lips curling up almost knowingly before he’s nodding once. 

Now even more confused, your head tilts while Harry’s skin instantly pales, his jaw clenching as his grip on your hand gets stronger.

But despite your muddled expression, Jesse merely chuckles to himself and steps forward, dragging his eyes from you to the tall stranger holding you.

“I see you finally found my girl.”

EEEEE I AM HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN

Next Part:

~ Reckless*

Previous Part:

~ Knockout*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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