#phantom ask blast
Note
Liam, you've been posting a lot of pirate/nautical themed stuff recently. You doing okay buddy?
No, I'm torn between the call of the sea and the thrall of the occult and all the while I have to respond to messages on fucking MICROSOFT TEAMS
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Are Roger and Duncan roommates in the tea verse? If so, how on earth did that arrangement come about?
((FUCKING TEA VERSE I CAN’T 🤣🤣🤣))
OK let’s say Tea Verse runs parallel to/is the same as the “canon” HPHM universe.
Roger lives with his brother Chester out of convenience i.e. the low low rent of NOTHING per week.
Duncan spends most of his time at Jacob’s house. He tagged along once when Jacob went to catch up with Chester at his place, which is where his path crossed with Roger’s.
So while they’re not roommates, Duncan will show up now and then to give Roger a hard time because you know what? it’s fun.
#hogwarts mystery#roger davies#duncan ashe#ask#anonymous#one very elaborate wake-up call came in the form of blasting the overture from the phantom of the opera#roger nearly had a heart attack which then led duncan to dial it back#just a bit#so they wouldn’t haunt each other for eternity
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"i hate you" "there's people coming" and now they're making out
for Boggie cuz... y'know. :D please?
Ooooo okayyyy! Hehe I love these two, I don't get an excuse to write them nearly enough!
Bobby ducked into an alcove and let himself fall back against the wall, trying to get his breathing under control. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Nothing about tonight was going right.
In, 2, 3, 4, out, 2, 3, 4...
Having someone on his arm tonight was supposed to get people to leave him alone. Sure, Bobby had known it wasn't a permanent solution to the constant nagging over his upcoming ascension to the throne and his lack of a partner to sit beside him. But he'd expected his family and the court to be too relieved that he was showing serious interest in anyone to tear into any issues about who his 'partner' was.
In, 2, 3, 4, out, 2, 3, 4...
"Hey, you okay?"
Bobby flinched away from the voice, one fist clenching around the edge of his tunic. "I'm fine," he said, tone flat.
"Well I guess I'll just come be 'fine' with you then," Reggie said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he slid into the alcove across from Bobby.
Bobby forced himself to meet the eyes of his friend and 'partner'. Reggie was sweet, too sweet to be dealing with this disaster of an evening. Bobby should never have dragged him into this. He'd barely known the man for two months, for heaven's sake!
"Sorry, I figured you were someone else," he forced out. "Are you okay?"
Reggie shrugged. "I'm alright, nothing I haven't heard before."
Bobby felt his shoulders tensing all over again at the thought of anyone talking down to Reggie like that at all, let alone often enough for him to be so accustomed to it. He wondered just how far away Reggie was from. It must be within the country. Bobby could likely have a whole squadron of guards there in under 48 hours, ready to destroy anyone who dared to hurt the angel of a man before him.
"I'm sorry," he said. No reason to voice any of his true thoughts. "For my family and for dragging you into this."
Reggie inched closer, fingers brushing against Bobby's knuckles. "Hey, I knew what I was getting myself into. It's all good."
"No, it's not!" Bobby snapped. "No one should be saying those sorts of things about anyone, but I knew they would and I still brought you here."
"They're just careful because they care about y-" Reggie began.
"No they don't!" Bobby interrupted. "They tear into everyone they see as 'lesser', regardless of how good that person is or isn't. They enjoy it. They don't care about me, they just care that I'm the one who's going to be sitting on that throne next year."
He felt like he was going to tear his clothes with how tightly his fingers gripped them, but he couldn't seem to stop. The words kept slipping from his mouth. He couldn't turn it off.
"I mean, why the heck do you think I haven't dated anyone? There's never been anyone that I cared about enough to make it worth the pain my family would cause them. Sure I'm interested in someone every once in a while, but 'interested' isn't enough to keep anyone around after them. I might as well just die alone and childless and let the kingdom pass to someone who isn't as polluted as I am."
He finally stopped, breathing hard. Reggie was just staring at him. Bobby waited for him to run. That was the only logical thing to do. But the young knight didn't budge.
"What would it take for you to let someone in?" Reggie asked finally.
Bobby blinked hard, trying to make sense of the question. Hadn't he just said that was what he would never do? What he shouldn't do? But Reggie's face is so open and curious, how can Bobby deny him an answer?
"I guess I would have to love them," Bobby responded.
"Then what does that mean you feel for me?" Reggie asked, voice soft. "If you would have to love someone to bring them here, what does that mean for us?"
I love you, Bobby wanted to say. But he couldn't. He couldn't subject Reggie to the pain that was the life he was trapped in. The people he was surrounded with. The constant nagging and prodding and needling to make everyone else happy. Reggie was good. He should be free. And this was never real to begin with.
"I hate you," Bobby said, the words catching on his lips like the jagged lies they were.
Reggie's eyes flashed with something Bobby knew he despised, though he couldn't fully read it before it was gone. Then Reggie's gaze darted past Bobby's shoulder and panic took over his expression.
"People coming," was all the explanation Bobby got before Reggie was crowding into his space, hands cupping his jaw as the knight's mouth met his.
Bobby tried not to melt into the kiss. It was just a performance after all. But Reggie's lips were warm and his hands were gentle and Bobby couldn't resist the urge to twine his own arms around the other's waist, pulling him closer. Reggie let out a pleased sound and Bobby was helpless against the desire to run his tongue over the knight's lower lip. And when he was allowed entry into his mouth, there was no stopping him.
He knew it was wrong. But it felt so good, so easy, so freeing to kiss Reggie. The guiding motions of the hand sliding up into his hair reminded him of riding through the fields, both of them spurring their horses to go faster and faster as the wind yanked at their clothes. The soft moans that passed between their joined mouths were sweeter than any symphony Bobby had been forced to sit through as a child. The steady weight pressing him against the wall was the best kind of drowning. It urged him to let go, to sink, to forget the world of before.
And then it was gone. Bobby couldn't breathe. Reggie leaned back, glancing past him.
"They're gone, sorry about that," the knight said, his voice hoarse.
"Don't you dare apologize," Bobby managed, still struggling for air.
"You said you hated me," Reggie pointed out softly. "And then I kissed you."
Oh yeah. Bobby said that. He should say it again. For Reggie's sake. But he couldn't. Not with all the memories if their adventures together at his fingertips. Not with his gentle words rolling over him like the tides. Not with the phantom feeling of their bodies entwined consuming his thoughts.
"I don't," Bobby admitted before he could stop himself. "I don't hate you. I should, but I don't."
A smile lit up Reggie's face, small as it was. "Yeah?"
"I want you to be safe," Bobby sighed, "and safest would be away from me. But I don't know if I can be okay with that."
"You don't have to be," Reggie promised, grabbing his hand. "We can make this work."
"It's not going to be easy," Bobby warned. But the war was already lost. They both knew it.
"I love a challenge," Reggie joked, like he had the first time they met.
This time, it was Bobby who kissed him first. It was softer than before, more honest. A promise to try. And Reggie kissed him right back, sealing the deal. Well this was a terrible idea. But Bobby couldn't bring himself to care.
#legolas tag#legolas answers asks#julie and the phantoms#jatp#jatp fanfic#reggie peters#bobby shaw#boggie#vague royalty au?#fake dating au#bro I have no clue what the setting is here#they just decided to fill in random details here and there#while telling me nothing else#but gosh they're so cute!!!#dang it's been a minute since I've written a make out bit#hopefully it was okay#and I hope this lived up to your expectations!!!#I had a blast writing it!
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According to sources Masachika Ichimura was hired because of his performance in the phantom of the opera musical, does that mean that maybe they saw some similar vibe in both the phantom and mewtwo’s characters?
Hi Anon! Thanks for writing in! Sorry for the delay, I had to do some research on this one.
Yes, absolutely! Theater actor Masachika Ichimura was asked to be Mewtwo’s seiyuu in part due to his role in the first Japanese production of The Phantom of the Opera. He'd reprise his role as Mewtwo in Mewtwo Returns and the remake Mewtwo Strikes Back Evolution, as well as the role as the Phantom in the sequel Love Never Dies. The characters are very similar and the Mewtwo Strikes Back crew comments on it quite a bit!
So quick history. (Skip this paragraph if uninterested!) You have to understand that when Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical version of Phantom debuted in 1986, it became a worldwide sensation. As of this writing, it remains the longest running show in Broadway history. It was awarded the Tony for best musical in 1988. That same year, Phantom played to sold out houses at the Nissei Theater in Tokyo. It was playing up to 10 shows a week. It was a lavish affair; Webber and his crew made sure the Japanese production was as accurate to its London and New York counterparts as possible. Phantom was a cultural event for many in the late 80’s.
As you noted, Mewtwo and Erik, the Phantom, are very similar characters. Both are reclusive misanthropes, mysterious and intelligent. Both are rejected from society due to biological reasons outside their control. Both are excellent inventors and architects, exiling themselves to elaborate lairs of their own making. Both feel deeply. Both think blowing shit up is a valid way to solve their problems. 🤷
MSB’s screenwriter Takeshi Shudo notes the similarities in his blog. “[The Phantom’s] talented yet dark and distorted character may indeed be of the same quality as Mewtwo in 'Mewtwo Strikes Back.'”
MSB director Yuyama Kunihiko notes the similarities as well. “Mr. Ichimura, who [voices] Mewtwo, he’s a well-known musical star in Japan. He’s famous for playing characters like the Phantom from The Phantom of the Opera. Dark and complicated characters.”
It was Ichimura’s casting that ultimately propelled Shudo to write the prologue for Mewtwo Strikes Back, including Mewtwo’s dark history and his preponderance for asking “Who am I? What am I?”
On reading the finished script, Masachika Ichimura himself remarked, “It’s just like the Opera House.”
So yes! There's absolutely Phantom vibes in Mewtwo’s character. The character was similar enough to influence the director’s choice of Ichimura as his voice actor, and Ichimura’s hiring inspired the screenwriter to add more Phantom-ness to Mewtwo’s character as he wrote. It all influenced each other. Pretty neat!
Sources under the cut.
CopyCat. “Mewtwo Strikes Back LaserDisc Director Interview.” <www.rigelatin.net/copycat/saga/firstmovie/laserdisc-director-interview>
Rainbow Road. “Pokémon - Mewtwo Strikes Back - Rare 1998 Japanese Director Interview.” YouTube, 5 Oct. 2018.
Rockwell, John. “Review/Music; How “the Phantom�� Plays in Tokyo.” The New York Times, 9 June 1988, <nytimes.com/1988/06/09/theater/review-music-how-the-phantom-plays-in-tokyo>
Shudo, Takeshi. “The 168th “Mewtwo Strikes Back” Mr. Masachika Ichimura.” Scenario E-daba Creation Techniques: Anyone Can Be a Screenwriter, 17 Dec. 2008, <style.fm/as/05_column/shudo168>.
Shudo, Takeshi. “The 169th “Pokemon” Where Am I? Who Am I?” Scenario E-daba Creation Techniques: Anyone Can Be a Screenwriter, 24 Dec. 2008,<style.fm/as/05_column/shudo169>
#pokemon#mewtwo#phantom of the opera#mewtwo strikes back#masachika ichimura#takeshi shudo#yuyama kunihiko#dizzy's asks#mewtwo meta#mewtwo's theme in the jp version is an organ on blast for goodness sake
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DP x DC Prompt #6
Phantom is sitting at the Batcomputer, kicking his legs back and forth. With the seat last set for Batman's height, his feet barely skim the ground. He's propped his head up with one hand, examining something he is holding between his thumb and forefinger in the other.
He is very casual for someone who has never been told the location of the Batcave.
"Phantom," Batman grunts. Phantom doesn't glance his way, likely having heard the Batmobile pulling in.
"Hi Bruce," he says. "I had a nightmare last night."
It's important to note that The Justice League does not know Phantom's true age, although there are several theories:
Theory One: he is a ghost dating back to several thousand BCE. The proof of this is sparse but present, through written record of beings with white hair and green eyes and uncanny likenesses found in artifacts proven to be authentic. Could these truly be Phantom? Yes. However, there is
Theory Two: he is a teenager, as his visual presence suggests. This could be true even if his existence is thousands of years old, as his mentality might not have advanced beyond that of a child aged fourteen to sixteen when they died. This is supported by his general behavior and advanced knowledge of memes. The few times he and Red Robin have interacted, Bruce did not understand a word of it without extensive googling. But worse, of course, there is
Theory Three: Phantom is the age of his first recorded appearance in modern times, only a few years ago. Phantom's recorded appearances in the past were sparse compared to his consistent existence in this century, which could hint at a timestream accident similar to Bruce's own, if they are real. And ultimately, this would not be the first time a two year old presented as a teenager in form.
Two out of three options propose Phantom is a child, and so Batman's tone is gentle when he says,
"Did you?"
"Yeah," Phantom says, words almost a sigh. Whatever is in his hand catches in the lamp light, shining green.
It's kryptonite. Phantom is holding a shard of kryptonite.
"Sorry." Phantom twirls his chair around to face Bruce. He holds the shard out in his palm. "I called you Bruce, didn't I? I know you hadn't told me yet."
"That's okay," Bruce says. He takes the shard calmly, his suit's layered biometrics disguising the fact his heart is racing. He recognizes this chunk from his stores, kept in the secure, deepest, impenetrable section of the cave coded to his DNA alone.
He's been aware Phantom's powers include invisibility and intangibility, but the ghost has been benevolent, honorable, and heroic since introduced and he had allowed his guard to slip. All it would've taken is being tailed one time, and now he must rely on that benevolence.
"And I'm sorry about that," Phantom says, nodding at the belt Batman has tucked the kryptonite inside. It will do nothing to stop Phantom should he decide to pluck it away again, but kept out of sight in a lead-lined pouch still feels safer than out in the open.
"I needed to make a point." Phantom says. The words are threatening but his tone is not.
"Oh?" Bruce asks, wary nonetheless.
"I'm really strong," Phantom says. "I can walk through walls. I can disappear. I can fly. I can blast and freeze stuff. I don't need to breathe. Traditional weapons don't really work on me."
"I can duplicate," a voice says from behind Bruce. He whirls around, batarang in hand, to see another Phantom rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "That duplicate will have all the same powers," the doppelganger says, apologetically. He floats back over to the Phantom sitting on the chair and the two merge.
"I have bad powers too, ones I don't like to use. I can scream at things until they fall apart, even buildings. I can...I can possess people, and make them do things," he admits, unable to look Batman in the eye. "It's not that all ghosts are like this, pretty much all of them aren't, it's just that I'm one of the stronger ones, and I'm only going to get stronger, and the stronger I get, the more powers I might get, and the less weapons even made especially to fight ghosts will work on me."
None of this is phrased as a threat, but rather a confession.
"Why are you telling me this?" Batman asks.
"I had a nightmare," Phantom repeats weakly. He reaches under the computer table and pulls out a purple JanSport backpack, cotton dirty and frayed with use. He unzips the front pocket and pulls out a small plastic baggy. He offers the baggy to Batman, his hand shaking.
Batman takes the baggy, examining the contents. Inside are six tiny little dots. They look like poppy seeds, but held up to the light are a deep purple in color.
"Phantom, what are these?"
"Hemo Prunus," Danny says, eyes stuck on the baggy. He's paler than usual. "Colloquially: blood blossoms. At the time they were grown it was believed they required drops of blood to grow, but a friend of mine who likes plants thinks it's more likely they actually just like a higher quantity of iron in their soil. You know, truths found in witch's tales and stuff like that. I don't know much about their care beyond that but I do know they were grown previously in Salem in the late 1600s, early 1700s during their summer seasons with some amount of success so perhaps you can mimic that environment and go from there. From what I've gathered they're incredibly difficult to grow, but I figure if anyone can do it it's you."
"I'm not exactly the gardening type," Batman says dryly.
Phantom laughs faintly. He looks like he's about to pass out, which should be impossible and is not the correct reaction to gifting someone a rare piece of flora.
"Phantom," Batman says again, slowly. "What are these?"
"They're my kryptonite."
Bruce closes his fist over the bag immediately, taking several steps back to put distance between himself and Phantom. "Are you alright?" he asks sharply.
"I'm fine," Phantom says, waving a hand. "As seeds they just sting a little, like nettles."
That's not the reaction of someone being lightly stung, Bruce thinks. Phantom looks like he needs the chair he's sitting in just to stay upright.
Then the rest of his words click together.
"You're giving me these," Bruce says.
"Yes," Phantom says. "For safekeeping."
"To grow."
Phantom's smile fades. "For safekeeping," he says, looking at Bruce's belt. Where he has stored the kryptonite.
The enormity of what Phantom is entrusting him with hits Bruce like a ton of bricks, and he finally realizes that Phantom is not sick but terrified. He is quietly, deeply, terrified. Bruce also realizes that a reaction like that is not born out of fear of the unknown but is the reaction of someone who has felt the sting of the bee and felt their throat close up. At some point Phantom has felt the blood blossom flower, and the sheer memory of it is enough to make the ghost go almost catatonic with terror.
And he has still handed over the one weapon that can hurt him to the Batman, and told him all he knows on how to make more.
I had a nightmare.
"Is this all of it?" Bruce asks, the question coming out brusquer than intended. Phantom blinks.
"Yes, I'm sorry, that's all I could--yes that's all," he stammers.
Bruce shakes his head. "I mean, does anyone else have access to it? Is anyone else growing this that we should be aware of?"
Phantom can't mask a sudden shudder, his reactions always woefully transparent (pun not intended). "No, that's the last of it. No. No. I don't think," his eyes grow wider, "I don't think so," he whispers, to himself, an attempt at comfort.
Way to go, Bruce, a familiar voice whispers, you just scared the kid harder. Bruce drops the packet on a table beside him and strides forward to put a firm hand on Phantom's shoulder.
"I'll make sure of it," he says. He'll pull Kal in and together they'll make sure, the same way they raided every GiW base across the United States four months prior. Phantom looks up at him the same way he did then, with complete and utter trust.
"Thank you," he says quietly. "But if you do...if you do find any more, promise me you won't destroy it. Promise me you'll keep it, the same way you keep the kryptonite. Please, Bruce."
He's not just asking him to keep it. Another weight finds its place, settling on the Bat's shoulders like the cape he wears. Another contingency for a hero he fears will one day be a dear friend.
"I promise, Phantom."
"Danny," Phantom says, "My name is Danny. A name for a name, right?"
"Danny," Bruce says, heart growing ever heavier. "I promise."
#I watched Epilogue from JLU right before this#can you tell#I'm in my feelings so hard rn#dp x dc#dp x dc au#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc crossover#my writing#batman#danny phantom
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Danny was livid.
The Guys In White had been following Phantom around constantly and while they weren't much of a threat, they were a massive nuisance. They had shot him down on Thursday and caused him to crash into some poor kids birthday cake in the park.
On Friday they had accidentally released ghost rats into the school.
On Saturday they had somehow managed to turn Paulinas hair ectoplasm green. She refused to leave her bedroom until it was reversed
On Sunday they tried to commandeer his parents GAV and earned the ire of his mom. They found out exactly why that was a bad idea.
On Monday they bardged into Danny's classroom, interrupting his math test because they were looking for a ghost parrot. It was mostly harmless but kept insulting them in a cheery tone. Danny decided he liked that bird.
We won't speak about what happened on Tuesday.
On Wednesday, he scowled at an agent that had accidentally blasted him and his friends with liquid ectoplasm while they were sitting and eating lunch. It was then that Danny began plotting his revenge.
That night he when ghost and lead the GIW on a while goose chase. Did danny take them across state lines? Yes. Did he manage to pull a massive following of these creeps? Also yes.
Did he plan for his target-the guy he had been leading them to- to already be in cuffs when he arrived in Gotham? No. Not at all.
"Hey, uh..." the words died on his tongue as Batman- The Batman- turned to him with narrowed eyes. Mustering his will, he started again, "Could you let him out? Just for a little bit?"
"No."
"Aw, Cmon!"
Condiment King began raving about something, but Danny didn't particularly care to pay attention. "If you're not going to let him out, then can you at least call the rest of the paw patrol? I wanna ask if they wanna throw mud at evil secret organization people. For enrichment." Danny gave his best, most cheeky smile for extra measure.
"Hn."
#dpxdc#fanfiction prompts#prompts#danny fenton#danny phantom#batman#condiment king#guys in white#maddline fenton beating up government agents#supposed government agents at least#the bats should be allowed to tear apart the giw for funsies#Danny -i have never met a compatent adult- Fenton: Yeah i can totally keep my identity a secret from Batman :D#narrator: he could not#the batgam go ham#not only do they destroy the giw they also terrorize them with stains#danny is so happy#danny is trying to figure out what *hn* means. hes not fluent in Batman
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“I think I’m going to move to Gotham,” Jazz’s tapped away at her laptop, clicking through her college acceptance letters. Danny sat up from where he was scrolling through his phone and stared at her. “Thoughts?”
“And prayers,” he sassed. “Because you’re going to need them. Why the would you pick Gotham when Harvard accepted you?”
“Gotham has Arkham. And Doctor Quinzel.”
“Isn’t she Harley Quinn? The Crime Princess of Gotham?”
“Yeah, and an acclaimed psychologist with hundreds of published work that revolutionized the mental health field! Sure, she’s more criminally inclined now, but I’d kill to pick her brains.”
Danny grinned. “Interesting word choice. You’d fit right in. It’s just weird that all of their psychologists turned into villains.”
“Okay, but I won’t. You’d stop me.”
“Or I’d join you,” Danny rolled back onto the floor.
“Don’t you dare, Daniel Fenton. You’d better stop me if I went villain.”
“But I feel like you’d have a pretty good reason for it though?”
“I appreciate the trust, dumbass, but I’m always this close to loosing it.” Jazz rolled her eyes as she jabbed a finger at Danny.
“Hah! You’ll fit right into Gotham!���
Jazz hummed. “So, Gotham?”
“Yeah, why not?”
——
“Danny!”
“Little busy!” Danny dodged a blast from a GIW agent.
“Why’d you pick up, then?”
“You don’t call often- hey, can you guys knock it off? I’m on a call!” Danny shouted. Surprisingly the agents stopped.
“Woah. You guys actually stopped?”
“We’re anti-ghost, not rude cavemen. Finish your call, Phantom, so we can get back to capturing you.” The agent with red hair said. Her partner nodded their head.
“Riiiight.” Phantom floated away a bit. “What did you want to talk about?” He asked Jazz.
“So, Dr. Quinzel-”
Danny heard a further off “Call me Harley, darling!”
“Harley,” Jazz continued seamlessly. “Is dating Ivy, a meta! Which, totally cute and their relationship is so healthy. Goals, honestly-”
Danny heard another far off comment, “Awe, thanks, Jazzy-wazzy!”
“But long story short, they got in touch with the Justice League about the GIW and they’re getting pulled back! And disbanded! Are you fighting the agents? Can you see if they’ve got the order to pull back?”
“Wait, seriously?” Danny perked up, the exhaustion from the fight all but gone. “I’ll ask.”
Danny turned to the two agents, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Hey! Did you guys get orders to stop hunting me? I heard the Justice League got involved.”
“What? We didn’t-”
“Shit, wait, we got orders.” Her partner jabbed their phone at her.
“Fuck. This isn’t over, Phantom!”
“Yeah, yeah! Shoo!” Danny watched them peel away. “Thanks, Jazz! Maybe I’ll finally get a peaceful school year.”
“R.I.P.” Jazz solemnly intoned.
“Dead-ass.” Danny replied, just as seriously before the both of them broke. Cackling, Danny said goodbye to Jazz.
“Maybe I should get some gifts? Hm… Undergrowth has some rare plants.” Danny muttered as he flew back home.
#danny phantom#jazz fenton#dc x dp#dpxdc#dc x dp crossover#Harley Quinn#that’s DOCTOR Harleen Quinzel to you#poison ivy#harley x ivy#Gotham#justice league#the giw#Jazz Fenton goes to college and takes down a government branch with the aid of well known criminals
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DC x DP: Magic Older Brother
It happens the day of his high school graduation because Casper High is cursed, and the curse personally targets Danny. Danny doesn't care what anyone says. He will die on that hill.
The school is cursed, which is why he turned into a halfa in his freshmen year, throwing his life into chaos all throughout sophomore and junior year, and now that he was finally leaving it, this happens.
An attack by a ghost he has never seen or met before. She calls herself "Lady Gotham," and her name doesn't hint at her power or obsession, unlike other ghosts.
He finds it rather rude of her to burst the graduation ceremony just as they called his name.
Danny knew he could take her- she felt more like a city spirit than a ghost, which means she was terribly weak against Phantom- but with so many witnesses, he hadn't been able to transform. Instead, he was blasted with black tar paste that reverted him to the age of ten, and while he stumbled on tiny legs, she took him and threw him into a portal.
He had attempted to shift into his ghost side as soon as he landed, but something was anchoring his core. It felt like he had been hit with the Plasmius Maximus- his powers were out of reach.
He would not be able to take her in a fight after all.
Thankfully, she had been distracted by his parents attempting to rescue him, so she got trapped on the other side of the portal. Still, he felt it would be safer to get as far away from the random field she kidnapped him to before she could return.
So he was running in an unknown storm, to an unknown location from an unknown city spirit instead of having his graduation party with his friends and eating cake.
"Casper High just couldn't give up even on the last day," Danny grumbles while running through the pouring rain of a terrible storm, trying to see through the water and the howling wind. He was drenched head to toe in the water, and he could feel even his bones shaking. He hasn't been this cold since the day his Ice core materialized.
Up ahead, he spots a building. Praying they will take pity on him, he pushes himself to go faster until he's at the door, banging on it with his tiny fists.
"Is someone there? I need help!" He yells as the wind picks up again, almost throwing Danny off balance. "Open the door, please!"
The door cracks open, and one tiny blue eye peeks up at him briefly before it swings open. "Come in! Hurry!"
Danny doesn't need to be told twice as he all but throws himself into the giant building, away from what he is starting to suspect is a hurricane. He turns around to find a little boy- he couldn't be older than nine- struggling with closing the garage door. Danny is quick to help him, and together, after tucking and grunting, they get it shut.
"Thanks," Danny says trying to gather his breath. He glances around, startled to see he's in a big fancy house that reeks of money, maybe more than Vlad or Sam. It is also deadly silent and bare as if someone only attempted to make it look lived-in but forgot to get humans.
"Don't mention it." The kid says almost under his breath. Danny would think of him as shy if the boy wasn't staring at him without so much as blinking.
Kind of creepy.
"Are you here because of my poster?" The kid asks, and Danny has no idea what he's talking about, but he's not about to make the creepy kid angry.
"Sure am."
The boy beams. "This is the first time anyone has responded! Come this way. I have everything in the main ballroom!"
Danny follows eyes taking in all the tasteful decor of various cultures and the complete lack of any other person present. After getting stranded, he found a mansion tucked away from human contact in search of shelter. Strange how that has happened to him twice
The boy leads him to two large double doors which he proudly opens up with a loud "Ta-da!"
Inside the ballroom are rows and rows of bed cots, blankets, and pillows. On one side of the room are tables with water bottles, bowls of snacks, and even little goodie bags. There are board games on a nearby table and clothes folded neatly in various sizes. Next to the tables are piles of teddy bears.
It looks like a movie set of a makeshift shelter that could easily fit a hundred people. Again there is no one else but them. Double creepy.
The boy skips between the first two cots, gesturing to the room. "You're the first one here, so you can first pick! I have board games, food, and clothes for you to burrow at the front if you want! I'm sure we'll have more people soon if you come!"
Danny offers the kids a weak smile. "Thanks."
"You're welcome! I'll go wait for everyone at the door. You make yourself comfortable."
While Danny cautiously explores, the kid races back to wait at the door for who knows who. The first thing he does is change into a warm set of clothes- picking a grey set of sweat pants and long sleeve that fits his tiny limbs. He grabs a water bottle and a bag of chips before his eyes land on a pile of brightly colored posters, likely forgotten on the table.
Strom Shelter for free at Drak Mansion
Everyone Welcome!
Sleeping, clothes, food and entertainment are provided!
Kids are invited to Tim Drake's birthday party on the same night!
Doors open at 5pm.
Oh gosh. Oh no.
He looks around the completely empty room and, for the first time, notices a small corner with a very sad "Happy Birthday" banner and a few party hats. At the edge of the table sits a folded half-sheet cake with a lopsided candle in the shape of a nine.
Above that little corner is a large clock that reads ten o'clock.
He puts his things down on a random cot, carefully returning to the front door where the little boy- he assumes Tim Drake- is waiting. He's leaning back and forth on his feet, and Danny can barely pick up his soft words.
"It's okay; they're all just really late. One person came this time so more could be on their way! Don't be sad, Tim. Things are looking up!"
Bless his heart.
Danny tries to reach for his ghost powers and grins when his ice core responds. He glances back at the little boy before he slips into the ballroom. He quickly re-decorates the party corner using his ice, making it look like actual decorations.
He even goes out of his way to open bottles of colored juices- he doubts anyone would drink them- and freezes the liquid so it adds a bit of color to the room. He's left with a winter wonderland with ice sculptures of animals- kids like animals, right?- and he gathers a birthday boy.
"Hey, Tim?"
The kid hurries to his side. "Yes? Did you need something?"
"Yeah, I need the birthday boy to cut his cake!"
Danny strong-arms the kid into the room and is delighted by the absolute happiness that blooms over the boy's face once he sees the room. "Wow! Did you do this?"
"Sure did, kid."
"Are you a wizard like Harry Potter?" The boy asks, and Danny has no idea who that is, but he nods anyway. Maybe it's this world's version of Santa Claus? Who is he to deny the kid's sense of wonder.
"Don't tell anyone." He says with a wink.
"But-But- but I'm a muggle!" The boy cries, suddenly horrified. Danny wonders if that's a slur, and if so, he won't allow him to use it to describe himself with it. "You'll get in trouble for using magic before me!"
"Why?"
"Cause muggles can't know about magic unless they are family! They'll throw you in Azkaban!"
Ugh, okay, he can work with that. "Well, I guess this makes us brothers, doesn't it?"
Tim's eyes practically pop right out of his skull. "Really?!
"Yeah, I'll be your big brother. My name is Danny and we can do something you always wanted to do for your birthday. How does that sound?"
"We can do....anything?"
"It depends on what you want to do, as long as it's legal and safe."
"Will.....you read me a bedtime story? I always wanted to know what that's like."
Danny's heart shatters. "Sure of course. What book do you want to read?"
Tim's face goes slightly pink. "The new Harry Potter book just came out. The goblet of fire? Can we read that?"
Oh, so Harry Potter is a book series! "Sure, Tim. Let's cut the cake and then we can pick a cot to pile blankets on to snuggle down and read."
Danny had never seen a kid look so happy in his life "Okay!"
Later, as Tim is tucked into the crook of his neck and shoulder, fast asleep after the exciting chapter of Harry Potter outflying a dragon Danny is visited by Lady Gotham.
It is only because Tim is too comfortable that he doesn't start swinging at her. She explains Tim's life and the obvious neglect before she bends down until her forehead touches the ground and begs Danny to care for him in her stead.
By morning, the Drakes suddenly acquire a new family member, and no one notices how he appeared overnight, but he's in the system, and no one can fault the documents. Lady Gotham made them herself.
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Magic older brother#Lady Gotham gets Tim a breother#Harry Potter is a thing in Tim's world but not Danny's#Danny just kind of accepted it#Tim is so happy to have a brother
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Okay so this might be nothing, but I've been thinking about it.
So, DC × DP world, yeah?
Phantom isn't really a big time hero yet, he's still focused on Amity, but he's being scouted for the Justice League, and he notices something.
Is... is Green Lantern firing ecto-blasts? Because those really look like ecto-blasts.
It takes him a while to actually get close enough to confirm, but yeah, those are definitely ecto-blasts, but Green Lantern isn't dead. Also, there's a whole group of them, so what gives? Are they using ecto-weapons? How? Why? They seem convinced it's some kind of alien tech, but Danny KNOWS what ecto-blasts look and feel like.
Obviously, he has questions. But as a minor hero like him, you can't just go up to a founder of the Justice League and start asking questions like that.
But, he can do a bit of his own research, right? The Watchtower has some files he can access, and the rundown on the Lantern Corp seems... familiar. Energy blasts and powers fueled by strong emotion, that's definitely ectoplasm. It can form shapes, act partially intangible or not, all things Danny has seen in the Ghost Zone.
Okay. But there's other Lantern Corps, different colours. But Danny knows that Ectoplasm can take different shapes and colours, he's definitely encountered pink before, and his own ghost powers sometimes show up as blue. So if the different emotions corrospond to the different colours, it would make sense.
The rings are powered from something in space, he knows that. He's not sure WHAT, he doesn't have access to those files, but he knows the rings need to recharge from it. If it's something like his parent's tech, than maybe it needs to re-up the ectoplasm every once in a while, like a phone battery.
So, Danny is 99% sure that Green Lantern uses ectoplasm, but what can he do about that? What should he do? Green Lantern is a senior hero and might not even listen, and would that even matter? It's not like not knowing has caused problems, but still, knowing something GL doesn't is making Danny anxious.
And for a while, he doesn't do anything. He goes on missions, he protects his town, he goes to college. It isn't until a massive threat sweeps across the earth that he finally does something.
The Lantern Corp is down. All of their rings are drained, they don't have time to charge them, but the League only just figured out how to stop the threat, and the Lanterns would be the best way to do it. They're all arguing in the Watchtower, trying to decide who to send in instead, when Danny finally blurts out "I can recharge the rings!"
Everyone goes a bit quiet, then start yelling all at once at him. He only manages to get them to listen by yelling over all of them again to be quiet.
Eventually, he explains, and watches as Green Lantern goes from disbelief, to bafflement, to determination. The rest of the Justice League seems equally surprised when Danny channels some ectoplasm into the ring, and it starts glowing again.
They defeat the threat, with the Green Lantern Corp and Danny fighting side by side. It's the biggest role he's had in one of these fights, and he's nervous, but when they all get back to the Watchtower for the debrief, he gets a pat on the back by Green Lantern, and a nod from Batman.
#dcu#dc x dp#danny phantom#green lantern#listen i dont know a lot about gl#but there's only so many types of green lazer beams in my mind
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DP x DC Prompt: Backup Plans
Danny had a list of 'backup plans' and plans for his backup plans. If his secret got out and his parents didn't take it well he needed a backup. If the world found out he had a back up for that. If both happened there was a third plan. If the worst came true and his loved ones all died in a fiery blast and he was potentially forced to live with Vlad - there was a backup for that too.
Most of the back ups meant living in Sam or Tuckers house without knowing, leaving with Jazz to another city, moving into the Ghost Zone, or leaving America all together (he was thinking Antarctica because of the cold, distance and frequent Ghost Portals that opened there).
But there were backup plans for that too, because if Vlad was determined enough he would go to the ends of the earth (literally) to find him. So, with Clockworks blessing and very vague gesturing towards one section of the Zone he started looking for backup plans in the Infinite Realms.
Which is how he ended up in Gotham City when a natural portal opened up. It was the middle of the day - not ideal - and he appeared right in the middle of a crowded room - even less ideal. It seemed like some kind of... reward ceremony? There were people in spandex on a stage, looking surprised as Danny got ready to book it.
At least that was until one of the spandex wearers approached him. He was wearing all black with pointy... ears? and some kind of bat symbol on his chest.
"Alien, Meta or being from another dimension?" He simply asked.
"Uh... the third one?" Danny replied, looking around anxiously as the bat-guy reached into his belt, pulling out what looked like a PDA but without buttons. Seeing Danny's confusion he turned it on, the screen lighting up with a form.
"Alright. Come stand over here with me and fill this out."
Danny didn't know what was happening but was even more concerned when he actually read what the not-PDA said.
Alternate Dimension Traveler Documentation Form 301
"Do... you get visitors from other dimensions a lot?" Danny asked, following bat-guy to the corner.
"Occasionally."
"Oh... and that's okay?"
"If they're not here to cause trouble, yes."
Danny smiled at this, "Well I'm definitely not here to do that. I'm looking for a backup plan."
"Backup plan?"
"Mhm." Danny said looking at the not-pda curiously as he tried to figure out how to work it. "You know, in case my parents find out what I am and try to cut me open, my Godfather tries to kidnap or torture me, or my Government captures me and performs legal experimentation's on me as a way to destroy an entire dimension and potentially all connecting dimensions - including yours... say to you have a stylus or something? I'm not sure how this works."
Bat-guy simply blinked slowly, then put his hand on his shoulder as he lead him further from the crowd and sat him down. "You use your finger. See, tap where you want to type and go from there."
"Oh, neat! Thanks bat-dude."
"It's Batman, and you are?"
"Phantom. Danny Phantom. Nice to meet you."
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A.D.I.D.A.S - huh yunjin
(All Day, I Dream About Sex)
genre; smut
pairing; desperate!yunjin x mean!fem reader
content; degrading, humiliation, yunjin being turned on by Y/n being mean, slightly perverted yunjin (lowkey simps for reader and is down bad), some breast play, cunnilingus (giving and receiving reader), fingering, some praising, spitting, choking, breath-play, a bit of thigh slapping, dom!reader/sub!yunjin
synopsis; yunjin's exams are coming up and among spending hours studying, her new neighbor seems to be a noisy metal-head who blasts music from morning to night. whenever she doesn't blast music, she's shredding on the guitar. yunjin is losing her mind after being ridiculed every time she's asked if she can tone it down, the frustrations getting the best of her. although, the guitarist knows just what is needed to help her relax.
wc; 8.8k+
masterlist
She tried to ignore it at first, to just deal with it and pretend that the noise didn’t exist. When that didn’t work she tried to put on headphones and blast her music, but it made it hard to focus.
Yunjin’s new neighbour had a thing for loud music.
She wouldn’t mind it at all because she loved music, she even played instruments, but this wasn’t her genre of music.
The lyrics were vulgar or dark, straight angst. The sounds were pure noise in her ears and she couldn’t phantom who willingly listened to distorted electric guitar riffs, pounding drums or vigorous vocals.
It was safe to say that Yunjin hadn’t managed to become a fan of nu-metal or any other of the metal subgenres.
If her neighbour wasn’t blasting music, they were seemingly playing it themselves on an electric guitar. She was starting to wonder if she was the only one bothered by this, but at the same time, she lived on the top floor which was mostly empty.
With exams coming up, the girl was already on the brink of a breakdown and was tense. Now a neighbour she had never seen with her eyes was blasting music every time she tried to study which was all the time. She had opted for libraries and cafés but they didn’t compare to sitting in the comfort of her home.
Despite it making her feel like a nag and not something she wanted to be she found herself leaving the apartment to finally try and convince her neighbour to agree to tone it down. Just the thoughts were making her skin crawl because she had always been a person who liked music and didn’t get bothered by someone else. She minded her business and lived on with her life.
She closed her door and took what were three steps to reach the door where music was sounding muffled from the other side. With a hand running through her hair, she sighed and knocked at last–
And again.
Once again.
A frustrated sigh left her lips as she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting as the person on the other side didn’t even hear her knocking. This time she banged on the door, it was hurting her knuckles at this point as they were bright red by now.
The music got turned down and she knocked one last time before flailing her hand and dropping it to her side while she waited for the door to open. She was praying for it to be someone kind and not an asshole. The girl had no clue what to expect because she could have a perceived idea about who was on the other side, but she decided against it.
Her heart picked up when the girl who was just an inch taller opened the door.
It just had to be the campus mean girl she had been avoiding at all costs because despite her slim figure she was sure the girl could swallow her whole.
Y/n Y/l/n who was the lead guitarist in a band was in a whole different division compared to Yunjin.
“Who are you?”
It made the redhead's lips part as she felt insulted after having most of her classes with the dark-haired girl for the past year.
“Neighbour–I’m your neighbour.” She stated, gathering her words that withered. This had been the closest she’d been to the girl–no, the closest was when she once sat right beside her in English. God, how was she the only one to remember?
The scent of vanilla was still the same, the girl was dressed in low-waisted jeans, a cropped tight shirt, star tattoos going right beside her hip bones that were protruding, her nose pierced, the same went to her belly button and when she glanced at her lips that moved she could see the silver bell on her tongue.
“Okay?” Y/n asked, somewhere between confused and maybe weirded out over why the girl was knocking on her door.
Why was she being so rude? That was all Yunjin could think about.
Or maybe Yunjin was being sensitive because her tensed self was on the brink of losing her sanity and now her new neighbour was a metal-blasting asshole.
She shifted on her feet, the slightly taller girl leaning her weight against the door frame.
“I just wanted to ask if you could maybe–the music, you know.”
“I don’t know,” her tone was bored, monotone and lifeless as her eyes stared at the ginger, slept in eye shadow, dressed in grunge with the same makeup style.
Despite these being waters Yunjin had never tested, the girl was undeniably hot. It was like a morbid curiosity. Yunjin was scared of Y/n but also intrigued and curious about the girl. She wanted to touch but also hide.
“It’s kind of loud and I am trying to study, but the noise makes it hard.”
Y/n held onto the door frame and leaned forward, coming closer to the girl who tried to stand her ground. On the inside, she was shaking with how nervous she was, crumbling under Y/n’s cold stare and resting bitch face.
“I take offence, noise is a genre of its own and not all metal is noise, and not all noise is metal.” Yunjin pursed her lips at the haughty smirk on Y/n’s lips and she had a feeling the girl was only trying to mock her, to get her angry, to just mess with her.
“Sorry for offending you, but I have exams coming up and I don’t want to listen to someone screaming shove it, or being cut up and then fucked up.” It did work because she felt her temper grow short and all she wanted was to get it over.
“You just went from hot to less hot by not liking Deftones or Slipknot.”
“What–” She was somewhat stunned to hear that the girl found her hot, but she didn’t get to put in another word when the door shut in front of her face. Before she knew it the music started to pound once again.
All the girl could do was complain to her friends over the phone while being on the verge of tears because of the stress and her neighbour being hot, but also mean and it had bruised her ego when she got called less hot for not liking whatever bands she had mentioned.
Instead of heading home the next day she stayed in the college library to study and would just walk home late.
It wasn’t long until her peace was disturbed by the loud steps echoing through the library and she looked up from her laptop after hours. Her eyes scanned around her and at last, she spotted none other than Y/n and the band she played in. She averted her gaze back to her things when those intense eyes caught hers staring, but she still did a subtle glance to do damage control and see if she had been caught–
Why was Y/n heading her way? She was growing nervous and anxious once again.
Yunjin tried her best to look as occupied as possible, but it wasn’t long until the lead guitarist pulled out a chair. The chair creaked along the wooden floor and Yunjin winced, looking up at Y/n who sat down in front of her.
“What’re you doing here?” She asked as she slumped back in the chair while crossing her arms. The girl played with her pierced tongue as she raised her eyebrows at the girl across from her.
“I study here.”
“You do?” Y/n asked, surprise lacing her tone and Yunjin couldn’t determine if she was serious or not when they had so many classes together.
She didn’t get to reply because Y/n was full of herself. “You sure you’re not following me?”
Her lips pursed into a forced smile at the dark-haired girl who licked her plump lips that were glistening with lip gloss. The ginger cursed God for letting a self-entitled asshole be hot.
“Are you serious?” Yunjin asked in disbelief, heaving a sigh at the annoyance the girl was causing her. Y/n nodded with wide eyes, looking dead serious about the whole thing.
“We have the same classes, you always sit at the back and see everyone–”
“Oh, so…You’re stalking me?” The urge to drill Y/n’s head through each shelf of books was strong.
“I am not.” She hissed, utterly annoyed with how confident Y/n was to even utter those words. The more she would try to explain or defend herself the more like a stalker she would look like.
Y/n rolled her eyes and planted her palms on the wooden table as she stood up. Yunjin quickly averted her eyes away from the girl’s cleavage as she had a spaghetti strap top on. God, Y/n knew what she was doing from how that smirk was right back. The ginger was sure she had caught her looking further down than what her eyes were.
“I’m just kidding, carrot top, no need to get offended, but no I haven’t noticed you before which I guess is somewhat of a bummer.” Now Yunjin was offended, but Y/n was already leaving her behind as she walked through the library. She was offended but was also fighting the way she felt flustered at the somewhat flirty remark from the mean girl.
She had just been called Carrot Top, BUT Y/n also said that it was a bummer she hadn’t noticed her before.
Yunjin hated Y/n, but she was also so riveting that she found herself thinking about her a bit more that day and the day after.
“Could you please turn it off or at least tone it down for an hour or two, please,” she found herself begging her neighbour. Yunjin wasn’t sure if it was because she wanted to see the girl again and maybe receive a backhanded compliment once again or to be able to study. It was probably both as the girl stood leaning towards her as she held herself with both hands on either frame of the door.
“Look how cute—” Y/n started and Yunjin waited for what she would say next. “You’re pathetically begging me.” She took it as an insult and a compliment because somewhere along those lines she had been called cute in one way or another by one of the hottest and most sought-after girls on college grounds. Y/n was the type to crush a guy’s ego and spirit and make girls flash their breasts at their concerts that were attended by quite a huge crowd at a live club.
Around 500-700 people which wasn’t bad at all.
Maybe there was something wrong with Yunjin’s ears if there were so many people enjoying metal.
“Y/n—” She cut herself off as the name just slipped her lips even if they hadn’t officially introduced each other.
“Kind of expected my stalker to know my name. Do you even live here? Or do you pretend and are waiting for an opportunity to one day break into my apartment and do whatever pervy things you’ve been imagining?” Yunjin’s ears were burning hot at the girl’s words and now her mind trailed off to those pervy things because they were mentioned, but she quickly got back on track. At least she tried because they were still swimming in her head as she stared at the girl in front of her while being somewhere between drowning and getting out of the imagining.
“Everyone knows your name.”
“I know.” It made the girl roll her eyes at how confident she still was. “What’s your name?” It somewhat caught the ginger off guard. It didn’t seem likely for Y/n to ask for her name if she had been nothing but mean. The last thing she seemed to care about would be her name yet she was asking about it.
“What do you need my name for?” She asked with raised eyebrows, but it didn’t make the girl’s confidence falter.
“Well, it’s either you tell it or I call you Carrot Top.”
“Yunjin.” It was an easy choice.
“Nice to meet you Yunjin.” With that the door slammed closed once again and a few seconds after the music started to blast again.
“No, literally turn your music off or…” She trailed off, looking for what she would do if the metalhead wouldn’t turn off the music. Her brain racked for things as she found herself right outside Y/n’s door again. At this point, she just mostly wanted to look at the girl she had unfortunately grown infatuated with despite barely knowing her and only seeing her at college from afar. Y/n barely spared her a glance, but somehow that made it better. It made her feel less guilty for what she had done. Eye contact would have been difficult.
“Or?” Y/n prompted, wanting to know what would happen if she didn’t turn down her music. The only person who had been complaining was Yunjin, but she assumed that it was because the apartment next to hers was empty and the other was occupied by a deaf elderly woman.
“I don’t know, but just turn it off,” Yunjin exclaimed, the frustrations getting the best of her as she was ready to get into a verbal fight with the girl. There were so many reasons to be frustrated in the end.
“You’re angry today, aren’t you?” Y/n only questioned, further fueling the girl who looked like she was on the verge of blowing up. She found it amusing, and she was somewhat baffled by how she had missed the girl completely in her classes, but at the same time, the girl was far from the person she was right now in classes. She didn’t seem like the type to knock on doors and lose her shit.
“Yes, I am and it’s all your fault.” She blamed the girl right away who had been getting on her nerves since she woke up this Saturday because of Y/n playing electric guitar.
“What’s your problem?”
“You are my problem.”
“Why is that?” Yunjin groaned at the questions she was being asked.
“Because you move in here, blast your music, refuse to tone it down, you call me carrot top, then you give me these backhanded compliments which you shouldn’t because you are too hot to be flirting with just anyone because everyone will hope that you are serious and–”
“I am serious though. You are hot, but you would be even hotter if you liked my favourite bands and were less of a freak.” Y/n didn’t even blink or stutter when she said those words- Yunjin bit her tongue while blinking her eyes and staring at Y/n.
“I’m sorry but I hate your bands, whatever they are.”
“But you like me?” Yunjin’s eyes went wide at the question from the vixen in front of her.
“No, I hate you for being a jerk.”
“Okay, but you do find me hot, so we have mutual feelings.”
It made her more than flustered as the heat ran to her cheeks. “That’s–” Yunjin wanted to continue and argue about the music as she was frustrated and taking out her frustrations on Y/n seemed like a great option. Y/n had a quicker tongue as she cut her off once again.
“You know, guitar players are quite good at using their fingers and you look like my newest one, so, would you mind if I played you to find out how good you sound?” The abominable words made Yunjin’s lips part as something still twisted in her stomach and the heat shot south instead of north because the thoughts were stronger than Y/n’s horrible pickup line.
“I hate you.” Y/n leaned closer as she held onto the door frame, this was the closest they had been as their faces were a few mere inches apart. “How about you take it all out in my bed? You can be as loud as you want because my neighbour who complains about noise isn’t home.” It wasn’t hard to figure out that she meant Yunjin when she said those words.
The ginger was fighting all her urges.
The door slammed closed once again and this time it wasn’t in front of Yunjin’s face but behind her as Y/n pushed her into her door. It was followed by a gasp and the vixen’s slender hands with those long fingers found their way to her ass as she gripped it.
At last, she got to taste Y/n’s plump lips after watching those haughty and teasing smiles grace them. It was her first time kissing someone with a pierced tongue and Yunjin found herself eagerly sucking Y/n’s tongue into her mouth. That was enough to draw out a moan from the back of Y/n’s throat, the ring clanking against teeth before she swirled her tongue around it, toying with it.
Y/n chuckled at the eagerness of the ginger, her fingers digging into the flesh of the girl’s ass, squeezing and pushing her more into the door.
“You’re so needy, aren’t you? Have you been imagining me fucking you?” Y/n’s voice dropped an octave, clouded with lust as she pulled away from Yunjin’s plump lips. A string of saliva followed and the guitarist leaned in and licked it off of her lips. The action made heat shoot through the girl’s body, running straight to her clit. It was making her crumble and slowly lose this composure she had tried to put on to not show how needy she truly was for the girl.
She tangled her fingers in Y/n’s dark hair, her head falling back against the door to give her the space she needed to kiss along her neck. “You’re so fucking full of yourself,” Yunjin grumbled as the guitarist was cocky, but it was doing unimaginable things to her arousal.
“You’re about to be just as full of me as I am,” Y/n said with a chuckle at the words. The action made Yunjin moan when her ass got smacked and a knee got placed right between her thighs. Y/n pressed into her heated cunt that was throbbing with need and the ginger wanted nothing more than to orgasm and hope for all these frustrations to go away that were caused by her sexy neighbour and godforsaken exams.
Teeth dug into her juncture, hand running from her ass and up under her oversized shirt–only now realising that she wasn’t exactly dressed in a flattering way. She was in a pair of sweats and a shirt for comfort and she could feel Y/n smirk against her skin as she sucked right at her pulse because she had no bra on either. The girl still had her specs on as she had been in the middle of studying.
Yunjin’s hips started gyrating, grinding herself against the knee between her thighs as she couldn’t control it. The need was overwhelming and her clit was throbbing painfully. Small gasps started falling from her, bliss overtaking as she closed her eyes with her lips parted.
Y/n cupped the breast in her hand, slowly starting to knead it while getting a hold of the stiff bud. It elicited a whiny moan from the ginger when she tugged on it and the vixen pulled away from her neck which was shiny with spit and bite marks. The girl was lost, completely, fucking herself on her knee as Y/n helped guide her hips by her ass where her fingers were digging into the soft flesh.
“Fuck–I want to come, Y/n.”
“How bad do you want it?” She asked, pressing harder with her knee and watching the way it made the girl crumble as her hands fell to Y/n’s shirt, gripping it desperately. Her clit rubbed against her through the layers of clothes, the pressure tingling in her body as each second she grew more desperate. It made her humping sloppier, messier and needier to chase her high.
“So bad,” the girl whined out, light moans left her mouth. The heat was building up and the tension in her stomach grew. Y/n watched the frown cover the girl who tensed up, her jaw falling slack. “Oh fuck, so close–” That was all Y/n needed to know.
“Not bad enough.” She said, clicking her tongue as she pulled her knee away from between the girl’s thighs who let out a cry at the frustrations that got ten times worse now. All that tension went away and the only thing left was that painful pulsating of her clit.
“What?” Yunjin let out, her voice cracked in the process as it had been in a high pitch just as she was about to reach her peak. The ginger pushed her head up and her eyes were glossed over, looking at Y/n who licked her lips.
“I said, you don’t seem to want it bad enough.”
Yunjin looked over Y/n, her eyes trailing the girl’s lanky body with her chest heaving, still leaning against the door with Y/n’s hands not on her body anymore. The vixen ran a hand through her dark hair that was more messy after she had been tugging on it, a glint of mischief in her eyes and Yunjin’s stomach was doing flips because of how needy she was, but also how hot Y/n was.
She wanted to get fucked.
Not just fucked.
But fucked by Y/n.
Right now.
“Please,” she pleaded, her eyes going docile to add to it.
“Please?” Y/n questioned.
“Please fuck me, eat me out, or finger me, just please do something. I want you to fuck my pussy until I orgasm.” The words flew out so quickly that she had no clue that they did. There was no shame behind them and the only thing to show that she had some shame left in her was the tint that covered her cheeks.
“That’s pathetic,” Y/n commented and Yunjin was slowly losing it more and more as she couldn’t figure out what the girl wanted her to do anymore.
Why was getting her pussy eaten out by the lead so difficult?
“I like it,” well…
Maybe it wasn’t that hard.
Boney fingers bunched up her loose t-shirt and Yunjin was being dragged through the apartment she had assumed would look completely different as it was light in the living room and kitchen. Her preconceptions had been off–
That was until she was dragged into the room where the walls were covered in banners of what Yunjin assumed were album covers, bands, and their logos. On the wall were three electric Fender guitars hung up, one black, one white, and one pastel pink (?).
“Watch the pedals.” She almost tripped but got roughly pulled by her shirt, threads snapping in it to avoid stepping onto the board with pedals. It still left her stumbling over other wires as nothing was put away and it was messy.
“Jesus,” she complained and was pushed down to sit on the bed.
“Shut up.”
“Wha–” The girl was caught off guard, Y/n was already pushing her down on the bed and getting on top of her. Her specs got removed in the process and discarded to the side. Those same slender fingers cupped her jaw and her eyes closed at the lips that came right back onto hers. They tasted like strawberries and she found herself sucking on Y/n’s bottom lip, her hands gripping onto the slim thighs that were on each side of her body. The whole room held the scent of that strong vanilla and she was drowning in the bedsheets.
She tugged on Y/n’s bottom lip before she let go to catch her breath, panting for air under the girl who removed her shirt, revealing a black lacy bra that wasn’t leaving anything to the imagination. The shirt fell with a thud and Yunjin pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her eyes took in Y/n’s slim body as she couldn’t know if she would ever see it this way again.
“It’s a shame you don’t come to our concerts, maybe we would’ve done this much sooner.” Y/n slyly said as she grabbed the hem of Yunjin’s loose shirt and helped her pull it over her head. She bit her lower lip at the supple breasts, her two buds stiff.
“I already said that I don’t like—”
“Maybe my tongue can change your mind.” Y/n cut her off while pushing her down by the shoulder. It was mouth-watering and Yunjin craned her neck, biting her lower lip at the way Y/n glanced up at her just a mere inch away from her chest. It shot heat to her clit and her hips bucked, earning a breathless chuckle from Y/n, the air making her whine when it hit her sensitive nipple.
Her head fell back, hands trying to grip the girl’s low-waisted jeans but they weren’t baggy enough and it only let her nails dig into them. It was electrifying how Y/n toyed with her nipple, pulling it into her mouth, flicking at it and pressing the hard piercing against it before sucking. Small moans and whimpers slipped past her plump and parted lips, Y/n’s tongue warm and slick as she coated her breasts with her saliva, leaving it to get cold when she moved from one spot to another.
Y/n moved to the other breast after wetting the first one, making it easier to tease it with her fingers. The ginger kept pressing her chest into her face, hips bucking into hers and Y/n’s hips moved, pressing her clothed heat against Yunjin’s.
“Fuck,” she breathed out, getting lost in the bliss Y/n created as she played with her chest. Sucking on the soft flesh, tugging on her nipples, twisting and dragging teeth over them, biting softly and leaving the buds more swollen and her chest glistening. It was hard to focus on anything when Y/n’s jeans were pressing through her sweats and grinding down on her cunt, dragging up and down and pressing into her clit every upstroke. It was making Yunjin’s toes curl and throat run dry.
Y/n moved down, kissing down her cleavage, sucking the middle and down to her underboob, making sure to suck on the skin there too. She licked a long stripe along the underside of her right boob before sucking on it, simultaneously she flicked at her other nipple and it earned her a high cry of pain with a mix of pleasure.
“Want me to fuck you with my mouth?” Y/n questioned, mumbling against her stomach as she kissed down the skin while Yunjin was heaving under her. Her nipples aching after the treatment, wanting more of it, but also wanting Y/n’s mouth on her cunt.
Yunjin was almost embarrassed. She wanted nothing more than for Y/n to go down on her because she was leaking wet. She was quite sure it would soon be visible through her grey sweats if the lead wouldn’t remove them and slurp all her juices up. There was tension between her thighs, it had been there for a while and she wanted Y/n to do something about it.
“I want your mouth to eat me out.”
“Want me to eat you out like you’re a whore or a good girl?” Y/n questioned and Yunjin whimpered at the words that sent heat over her whole body. Her pussy was throbbing uncomfortably and Y/n was kissing just above the hem of her sweats, sitting between her legs that were spread wide for her. The guitarist hummed and cupped the girl’s heat, pressing right where she needed her with the pad of her palm, feeling hips push and subtly hump against her. The girl twisted the sheets in her fingers. “Which one are you for me?” She asked further and watched the shaky sigh that Yunjin released.
“Think you might be a whore the way you begged me to fuck you, how you’ve been coming over complaining all while imaging how it would feel to get fucked by me.” The vixen teased, rubbing the pad of her thumb against the warmth, it was enough to make the thighs quiver.
“I don’t fantasise about you.” Yunjin defended and Y/n removed her hand from her covered pussy. She sat back on her heels and wrapped her fingers around the hem of her sweats.
“The walls are thin, cutie.” Y/n teased and caught the way Yunjin’s eyes widened at the words as she had taught that the only reason why she heard Y/n’s music was because she blasted it so loudly.
“Once.” To her defence, she had been tired and horny and Y/n had just gotten on her nerves by slamming a door in her face while also giving her backhanded compliments.
Okay, she had started crushing and was desperate despite Y/n being mean to her. It left Y/n running on her mind, her pussy suddenly was wet, and she found herself in her bedroom fucking herself while thinking and “mumbling” about Y/n and what she wanted.
This was far from who the girl was, but somehow she just forgot about dignity around the Y/n.
“Still doing it–” Y/n concluded, tongue out and playing with the corner of her lip as she slowly started to pull the sweats down. The ginger lifted her hips, feeling her underwear slowly peel off of her sticky cunt. Y/n threw them off her bed, letting them fall onto the floor. Her smile wasn’t disappearing as she looked at Yunjin’s wet cunt that was glistening with juices. The vixen leaned forward, seeing how embarrassed the girl looked, her hand fell beside her head, her right coming between the younger’s legs.
The moan came right away when cold fingers ran through her folds, spreading them together with her sticky mess, only making it that much worse. She could feel it run down her ass and onto the sheets. “So desperate, such a fucking perv, fucking yourself, moaning my name and thinking about me. Should I get a restraining order?” Yunjin couldn’t comprehend it, but there was just something so hot about Y/n being so mean to her, humiliating her and degrading her.
The guitarist was very well aware of it when the girl bucked her hips at the words. Her eyes faded in bliss, losing focus and lids hooded with fingers twisting the duvet. “Come on, tell me how bad of a whore you are. Aren’t you embarrassed?” Y/n ushered, the sounds slowly occupying the room as her middle finger teased the clenching hole, barely dipping it in before she circled the greedy and sopping entrance where everything was leaking out.
“Fuck, I am, but I just want to get fucked by you at least once, Y/n.” She whined, admitting to having the hots for her new neighbour that she had found herself perving over in her head. “I’m sorry, it just happened,” she continued to whine, on the verge of tears at how embarrassing it was for her, but at the same time, it was making her cunt throb more while it was toyed with by the slender fingers she had imagined before this. Yet Y/n wasn’t touching her where she wanted her.
“You’re not sorry, I just know you will go home and continue fucking yourself while thinking of me. Tell me what you thought about when fucking yourself.”
“Your fingers deep inside me ‘cause your hands are so fucking–” She choked, two fingers stretching her hole as they slowly pushed in. Y/n watched how her lips parted, tilting her head to admire the girl better. The hands that could shred on a guitar were slender, veiny and had long fingers–she no longer had to imagine what they could reach. Y/n pushed knuckle-deep into the girl and slowly started to pump the clenching hole while curving up and caressing her g-spot. The sopping sounds her pussy was producing was shameful because of how wet Y/n was able to make her with just some words and touching.
They barely knew each other, but Yunjin was already giving up her dignity for the vixen.
“How you would play with my clit,” her back arched when Y/n pressed the pad of her thumb against her clit, pressing against it, slowly circling it and letting Yunjin fuck herself against her. “I wanted your hands around my neck and your spit in my mouth for being so fucking bad and thinking about fucking you when I barely know you.” Y/n bit her lower lip, her fingers being squeezed as Yunjin was getting turned on by her own words. All those things she had fantasised about came right back to her mind and left her uncontrollably pulsating from the inside.
She sat back on her heels, hand running over the ginger's stomach and between her breasts until she reached her slim neck. Yunjin moaned louder at how perfectly they wrapped around her throat, slowly stopping the air that was flowing to her head. Her hands quickly grasped at Y/n’s wrist, unable to stop the grinding of her hips, the squelching sounds filled the room, and her moans grew strained as there was only a small amount of oxygen getting to her.
“Y/n…” She strained out, nails digging into the wrist as her eyes rolled back. The sounds muffled.
“Open your mouth wide if you want to take a breath, needy slut.” Y/n ordered and the girl gasped as she opened her mouth. The band member leaned over, fingers speeding up in her cunt and making Yunjin plant her feet down and raise her knees to press more into her. Despite barely being able to see, all the pleasure, it was overwhelmingly good while also barely being able to comprehend what was going on. Y/n fucking her like a toy with her fingers, choking her, ordering her, and spitting in her mouth while her pussy was letting out sopping sounds just how she had wanted it to look.
Her tongue stuck out, and the spit landed right on it, warm and spreading over it. The hand on her throat let go and she barely managed to take a breath when Y/n used her hand to force her mouth closed. “Fucking swallow before you try anything else.” And she did just that, swallowing the spit that had lingered on her tongue, it felt like a reward to have Y/n spit in her mouth.
“Good, live your dream.” Y/n teased and ran her thumb over Yunjin’s wet lips, and tugged down on her plump bottom lip. She gestured with her head to the girl who was barely present as she was moaning and squirming under her, but she got the memo. Yunjin sucked the thumb into her mouth as Y/n pushed until she reached her knuckle, it was close to making her gag and Y/n started to pull out. Her cheeks hollowed and let go with a pop before another whimper left her.
“Please, make me come, I want it so much, please.” She begged and Y/n pulled her fingers out of her sopping hole that had a warm and snug grip on her. Yunjin wanted to whine and complain but stopped when Y/n moved down and got on her stomach.
She did not wait as she had come face to face with the pink and wet pussy. The girl held her legs spread wide, pulling them even further apart and inviting Y/n to start eating her out. Her raised to watch when she would do it, wanting to see her pussy get eaten. To see the look on Y/n’s face of how big of a mess she made her because she had been thinking about this.
Her tongue came out, flat and dragging up her slit, parting the swollen lips of the girl’s puffy pussy. It made her hum at the taste and she went right back down to tease her hole and gather more of the juices onto her tongue.
Her head dropped at the feeling. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Yunjin’s hand flew to Y/n’s hair, eagerly pushing her head into her pussy. The piercing dragged along her slit, adding a new sensation of the barbell that circled her clit and made her hips raise. Y/n wrapped her slim arm around the girl’s thigh, gripping the flesh between her fingers, kneading it while drowning in Yunjin’s sopping pussy.
Those plump lips wrapped around her swollen clit, tugging on it before she suckled. It made Yunjin whimper, her legs quivering around Y/n’s head and she moved her leg over her shoulder, her heel digging into Y/n’s spine as her hips humped at her face. The tongue firmly flicked, pressing the piercing against it before going right back to flicking in a way that was making Yunjin writhe into the sheets. Her moans grew gradually louder, sounding more needy and strained with every hard flick against her swollen slick bud. The pink nerves were sensitive and slowly brought her to the edge because of the muscle that was toying with it.
“Oh God, so good, your tongue is so fucking good.” She whined out a moan.
The lead guitarist nuzzled her face into the girl's cunt, her fingers coming right back to the clasping hole that she pushed into. Y/n pressed them right on her g-spot, applying just the right amount of pressure to make the girl under her spasm. Yunjin was losing her mind over how well Y/n was working on her pussy. The tension was quickly growing in her stomach, pushing it all down and she was right on the edge again. Her breathing grew quicker and deeper, each moan more breathy if not breathless at times.
Y/n grazed her teeth over it and put her tongue flat against it, letting Yunjin fuck herself against her, the piercing moving over the clit. Her hair was being tugged on, the heel digging deeper into her spine from how the girl was pushing her sticky cunt into her face. She sucked the clit back in between her lips, tongue stiff and working hard against the bud, doing quick flicks that Yunjin could feel spread through her whole body as each nerve was being sparked with light.
“I’m gonna come!” She cried out, body tensing up, her back arched off the bed and her vision washed over with black as she lost control over her voice.
Y/n looked up at the girl from between her legs, lips tugging at how loud the girl was who clasped around her fingers, holding them in a chokehold while her walls thudded just like her clit. Her voice strained and her thighs were shaking, making Y/n slap the flesh and grasp at it. It only fueled Yunjin’s orgasm who was fucking Y/n’s mouth herself at this point with the way her hips were stuttering into her mouth. It landed her Y/n’s palm against her thigh once again, much harsher and the pain stung right through it and to her overstimulated bundle of nerves.
Slowly her moans died down and all that was left was the sounds of her trying to catch her breath. Her eyes closed and her hands covered her face at how lost she felt. Her body slowly relaxed into the bed, trying to figure out how she ended up here to begin with all while Y/n was still between her legs. It was making it hard to focus on anything else besides the tongue.
She pulled her lips away from the sensitive bud that was making the girl’s legs spasm every time she touched it. Her fingers slowly pulled out and she leaned down, licking everything up, cleaning the mess she made. It was bringing back the soft whimpers and gasps as her tongue worked at the pussy with kittenish licks.
“Fuck.” She exclaimed when Y/n slapped her thigh once again with a grumble and she shakily removed her leg that had been wrapped securely around her. Her eyes followed Y/n who sat up, her chin and nose glistening with her wetness and all Yunjin’s shame was gone as the sight made her thighs clench again.
The ginger was about to sit up only to get shoved back down. Y/n gave her that pompous smile as her hands reached behind her back. “Time to pay back for making your perverted fantasies come true. Or is eating me out one of them too?” Her breath hitched when the lacy bra unclasped and Y/n let it fall down her shoulder before throwing it to the side. The vixen revealed her small and perky breasts to Yunjin, her nipples hard and Yunjin was slowly going into overdrive. Her pussy was still going through aftershocks yet her clit was throbbing at the view of Y/n naked and her words.
“Please, ride my face.” Y/n let out a breathless chuckle at the request, running a hand through her dark hair. The naked girl on her bed had lost all shame, begging for her fantasies to come true.
“Have you imagined me riding your face, using your mouth to get off?”
“Fuck, yes I have and I just want to taste you, Y/n.” The girl had already imagined what the guitarist would taste like on her tongue while grinding down on her face. She just wanted Y/n right on top of her, using her like the needy whore that she was for being used after imaging it. To just be her fuck toy, to pleasure her and get her pussy fucked until it was raw.
Her eyes were eager on Y/n who got off of the bed.
“You can taste me.” She worked her belt, unbuckling it before she unbuttoned the low-waisted jeans.
Yunjin pushed herself further up the bed, eyeing Y/n who removed her bottoms and underwear. Never did she think she would get to see Y/n naked, or even get fucked by her. The vixen did not look like the kind to bring someone like Yunjin to bed, but maybe that was her thing. Coming off as completely riveting to people who were opposites to her.
“You’re going to eat me out like a good little pussy eater because you want me so bad.” Y/n’s voice was humid as she spoke while getting on the bed. Her eyes set on Yunjin who felt like prey and she wanted nothing more than to be one. The vixen’s slim body was like a cat the way she crawled over to her.
“I want to taste you, be good and eat you whenever you want me to.” She licked her lips, and her eyes fell onto Y/n’s heat when the girl straddled her chest and Yunjin grabbed hold of her protruding hips. She looked like she would start shaking if Y/n wouldn’t let her get a taste. Her fingers ran over the tattoos that went along her skin, tracing the stars but her eyes were stuck to the pink pussy that was waiting for her mouth. It made her one hand run down between them, trailing her skin.
“That’s what perverts like you want, you dream about having sex with me all day and get off on these thoughts. Not many have the chance to live through it.” Y/n tangled a hand in the orange hair, threading her fingers through it and Yunjin looked up at her to meet her eyes. It made her thighs clench to see Y/n looking down at her. “Do it well and I will let you eat me out again, might even fuck you more times than just today.” That was more than motivation for Yunjin who used her arm to pull Y/n right over to her mouth.
A light moan fell from Y/n’s lips and Yunjin moaned right after when she ran her tongue over the slit. Her hand was busy between her legs, playing with her clit to the sounds Y/n was making, to her taste, and to having her ride on top of her. It was all turning her on so much more than she already was as she had only been able to imagine what Y/n would sound like in bed.
Y/n gripped the headboard of the bed, moving her hips into Yunjin’s face who was eating her out like her life depended on it. The moans slipped out of her mouth at how good it felt to have the girl’s slick tongue slide between her folds, teasing her clenching hole and her nose stimulating her clit. All she had to do was slightly move her hips while the girl greedily did the rest, slurping at her like she was starved.
Yunjin moved her hand down from Y/n’s hip and to her plump ass, kneading her cheek in her hand. Her mouth lapped at her pussy, taking in everything she could get while her nose continuously rubbed at the clit. The girl had her eyes on Y/n though who had her head thrown back while arching, unable to look away while she worked with her mouth on her cunt. She continued to fuck herself while doing so, her hips bucking into her fingers as she was sensitive. It was like watching an erotic scene in Yunjin’s eyes who was fucking herself and Y/n as she was unable to not fuck herself at the sight.
“You’re doing so good, fuck you’re a good fucking whore, aren’t you?” Yunjin moaned in response, pressing her nose harder against Y/n’s clit who continued to fuck her face. Her nails digging in the firm flesh of her ass, tongue probing at her hole. The sounds filled the whole room, Yunjin’s tongue lapping at the wet cunt, Y/n moaning and whimpering with each move of her hips that were perfectly grinding against Yunjin’s face. The younger girl was taking it all, letting it smear over her mouth and chin, wanting to be covered in Y/n’s mess.
“I want you to come on my face,” she mumbled as she momentarily pulled away. Her voice quivered as she could feel herself about to orgasm once again.
“It’s all for you, fucking cumdump. All you’re good for is being a freak that eats pussy.” Yunjin cried out at the words that shot right to her poor clit that she had gotten abused by Y/n and couldn’t help but abuse herself too. She was too needy.
“Call me a perverted freak, Y/n.” She begged, her eyes closed this time.
“You’re nothing but a perverted freak–Oh God, but you eat pussy so well.” Those backhanded compliments sent Yunjin to her edge.
Y/n’s thighs trembled, her nails digging into the girl’s scalp as she let out a long and light moan as her back arched and her hips stuttered into Yunjin’s face. Her orgasm washed over her while Yunjin was going through her own, her thighs clasped around her hand while Y/n’s were squeezing her head. The pulling on her hair only added to all the pleasure.
She only stopped toying with her clit when Y/n came down from her peak, slowly stopping the movement of her hips. However, she held the girl in place by holding onto her orange hair.
“Fuck, clean my mess for me too,” Y/n said and bit her lower lip as she looked down at Yunjin who worked her tongue, her jaw slowly going sore as she did her best to clean up every little trace of the slick left. The vixen looked over her shoulder, catching the hand that snuck out from between Yunjin’s trembling thighs.
“Did you fuck yourself?”
She hummed and Y/n lifted her hips, looking at Yunjin whose nose, chin, and plump lips were glistening with her slickness. It was photo-worthy as the girl looked like she had been fucked for hours multiple times from how satisfied she was with what she got. It was as if the smallest drop of water would satisfy her thirst and Y/n realised how big of a freak the girl was. It was hot, to say the least.
The guitarist moved off of her and got off the bed while Yunjin was gathering herself.
Had she just fucked her mean, but hot neighbour?
Yes.
Did she regret it?
No.
She would gladly go through this again because it was much better than she had imagined.
Her pussy was still throbbing and her perverted fantasies about her mean neighbour had come true. Whatever judgement she thought she would get, Y/n didn’t give, but instead gave in to Yunjin’s desires for her.
Her eyes scanned the room one last time, the blinds were down, it was dimly lit and more on the messy side, but not dirty as it smelled of sex and vanilla now. She at last looked at the ceiling after being so lost in the pleasure her eyes squinting as her specs were discarded.
Only now seeing the graffiti on the girl’s ceiling right above the bed in black which read;
“A.D.I.D.A.S?” She confusedly questioned as it seemed random.
Y/n rolled her eyes while rummaging through her wardrobe. “You’re so lame.”
“What?” Yunjin still had no clue what it meant, however she knew that Y/n found her lame. At least she found her hot and fucked her so it didn’t matter. The more lame Y/n found her, the more Yunjin got off. The ginger quickly got up from the bed after getting back the feeling in her jelly legs. Quickly trying to gather her clothes and put them on all while looking at Y/n who was picking out clothes from her wardrobe, some falling out and landing on the floor in a pile.
“Nothing, I have to get ready for the concert tonight. You could come, bring a friend.” Y/n threw the invite out there while grabbing a towel and covering herself with it as she had to shower before. She at last turned to look at Yunjin who had just pulled her shirt over her head, fumbling with her bottoms.
“None of my friends listen to your band's type of music.” The girl mumbled. However, Y/n’s tongue did make her rethink and want to try and listen to the music.
“Those are my underwear and are you sure?” Y/n pointed out with that almost malicious grin as she bit her lower lip. Her siren-like eyes set on Yunjin who held the black lace in her hand while pulling on her sweats.
“Sorry–” She blushed and was about to put them back as it was genuinely by accident as they had somehow tangled themselves up with her clothes, but she was stopped.
“You can keep them.” Y/n shrugged out, wanting to see if the girl would do it or not. It was hot to see someone be this down for her as it had happened before, but Yunjin was down bad bad.
Yunjin was hesitant as she looked at the lacy pair of used underwear in her hold. It would stay between them in the end. “I’m sure.” She replied, quickly stuffing them in her pocket and reaching for the specs that she put back on. It wouldn’t hurt to maybe get off with them in her hold if Y/n got to find out about her fantasies either way. She cleared her throat, her cheeks burning at the way Y/n was looking at her and she wasn’t sure when she became so thrown off the rails. The vixen stood leaning against the wardrobe, phone in hand.
“So…you’re not friends with Chaewon?” She curiously asked as she had seen the two girls together multiple times, but it looked like they maybe didn’t tell each other everything when Yunjin creased her eyebrows in confusion.
“Chaewon? How do you know Chaewon?”
“You can see yourself out, carrot top,” Y/n replied instead while walking towards the bedroom door to get to the bathroom. She did look back at the girl who seemed baffled, giving her a sly grin and wink before the speakers started to blast more metal and Yunjin was left to see herself out.
#yunjin x reader#le sserafim x reader#yunjin smut#le sserafim smut#huh yunjin smut#lsfm smut#kpop gg smut#girl group smut#smut#fanfic#jennifer huh smut#yunjin x fem reader
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Lazarus (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 2)
"According to tradition, Lazarus never smiled during the thirty years after his resurrection, worried by the sight of unredeemed souls he had seen during his stay in Hell..."
Word count: 5.7 k
Tags and warnings: Angst, fluff, soft smut 🔞. Slightly possessive!Ghost. Graphic depictions of past suicidal thoughts. Dating, kissing, cuddlefucks, emotions (the most daunting cw there is). Unfettered prose about a grown man's complex trauma. Reader is female and works as a medic at the base. Ghost POV.
Summary: You've just started dating Ghost. (This is a standalone sequel to Refugee)
She tastes round and sweet after the tang of blood and smoke and metal of the field. She feels like warm cascading water after the bleak, dead weight of a gun that leaves his hands throbbing with recoil. Her skin returns the memory of Paradise until it overrides everything else.
She's a soft blooming to the senses.
And his have been blown wide, torn apart, shot full of noise. There's an amputated, burnt stump where there should be a limb and some soft skin. But still, a blast that burns flesh from bones is not that different from her soft whisper that has the power to level him like a nuclear wind.
. . .
They're some kind of a secret, although he doesn't know why exactly.
Perhaps because she knows enough by now. She knows he's a dead man.
A ghost.
And women like her don't date apparitions. They deserve more than just bones and a haunting: they deserve flesh and blood and solid ground. She deserves far more than promises he has no power or right to give.
He has no mandate for life. His is a half-life, and stolen; he's living on borrowed time.
She doesn't only protect his phantom, she shields herself from talk and rumors. It's only understandable. He takes everything she gives him, which is more than he deserves.
He fucks her to ruin on the conference table people share in the meetings. He makes her leak all over his desk during quiet afternoon hours of his office; he makes her come on his tongue in the fucking hangar after a long day, just to get the taste of dry desert sand off his mouth.
She stops complaining about propriety after that. After all, she's the one who came there on his call and allowed him to rip her pants down when there was only settling dust to accompany them in the quiet hall.
It doesn't take long to see that the woman's not actually complaining at all. She fucking loves it when he barges in and simply takes her.
And he buries himself inside her like she's the base. His home after a mission, his destined location after deployment. She lets him fuck her practically anywhere except on the floor.
That's his place. And he has no problem with lying down there in the filth, especially if it means he gets to watch how she sits on his cock until that pretty little face distorts with pleasure that looks like pain.
His field pants and navy blues have cum stains after his visits while she cleans herself up in no time, fixes her hair and looks as innocent as ever. His mask smells of cunt when he's trying to concentrate on missions, and the scent of her juice makes him hard while he's supposed to be instilling brass into bodies. He smokes cigarettes just to drive the maddening taste of her from his tongue.
He's gonna get killed one of these days. The irony doesn't escape him: it's not a bullet or a grenade that will take him, but that sweet, hazy memory of her cunt.
She's an obsession. He injects himself full of her like the most pathetic addict.
Until one day, she says it can't continue like this. That it won't do to rut like animals until the smell of mad sex coats the room she's supposed to stitch and staple people in.
It causes a small panic till she asks him to visit her.
In her home.
It sounds serious: it sounds like she wants more than just his cock. And he's fucking terrified.
Women think about whether to wear this dress or that on a date: he thinks about whether to put on the mask or not – he meditates on it for two whole hours. Everything else is clean and in order; he looks like a human and not a soldier. But he can't rid himself of the skeleton.
There's a storm coming when he reaches her place. It electrifies the air until his spine is full of thunder.
She seems surprised – happily so – when she finds him at the door, decent as can be. He gets one of those innocent smiles which are pure sin beneath.
"You came."
"Sure."
She doesn't ask why he's always wearing a mask. She takes what he has to give, which is his all, which he fears will never be enough.
"There's food–"
She lets out a delightful little noise when he picks her up and carries her to what looks like the biggest and softest bed he has ever laid a woman on, ever laid himself on.
So, she likes luxury. Or at least, comfort.
Softness. Hugs… Support.
And kisses, apparently, because his mask is lifted without permission. Not that she needs one.
"Simon, I made you some dinner," she laughs in his mouth, and he's smiling – she's the only one who makes him fucking smile.
"Later," he rasps with a sore throat – he has become soft, too, and it's her fault. He has barked orders all day, but with her, his voice always comes out quiet and calm.
Where her domain at work consists of harsh lights and sterile frigidity, her home is dark and warm like a womb. His senses are filled with lemon and thyme – she has made something he's never tried before, something… Mediterranean, perhaps. A culinary ambrosia for someone who has lived on dog food and tried to thrive on it.
It's a pity that he's a barbarian, and here for dessert. As much as he likes the dainty little thing she has put on just for him, it's not cunning enough to stop him from ripping it to shreds.
She protests at first with a posh little gasp, but then she spreads her legs like it's open season and he's the VIP customer. The laced, pathetic little thing lays in wreckage around all that softness creaming just for him, and his mouth shoots full of water.
The feel of her is better than sinking a knife between two ribs. She's velvet on his scar and coarse stubble and for the first time in his life, he curses the mask. She moans all around him, tries to grab him by the hair still under the black fabric.
And it makes him want to rip it off and let her yank and tug to her heart's content, grab his hair and push his face as deep inside her cunt as it goes.
He tries to fit inside her apartment, a serene space filled with scented candles and clean carpets and frilly little curtains that shift in the restless night wind.
He tries to fit inside her.
The attempt always makes her moan and tremble and sigh. It's hard to focus on the task at hand when he wants to freeze the moment to where her lashes flutter and she stops breathing for a second – when she takes him in with grace and hunger.
"Oh fuck…"
She swears this time, watches with helplessness and an open mouth as his cock slowly disappears inside her. Then she looks up at him like…
Like she's missed him.
"You're a brute," she whispers, eyes shining.
"Thought you liked brutes."
"I made you dinner and you…Ah…"
He arrives home, heavy and loaded with yearning.
First things first.
It has been a week, and there's been no time to relieve the pain, nowhere to go and wank off the sickness that festers inside him every second they're apart. And she's the only one who can cure his disease. But he does feel like a brute for not letting her feed him. When was the last time anyone made him anything?
The sea is booming now, roaring behind the window she has left open. This time, they're not fucking at the base, in some corner of a room with a lock hurriedly latched on. He's fucking her amidst doused lights and a seaside breeze that enters their skin through an open window. He's at the beach, even when there's no sun. The sands are even more stunning with a gathering storm.
He fucks her like a dog, and she looks at him with weak love in her eyes. She's looking up at him with those big, wet eyes like he's the best leader there is - like she's counting on him. Like the people under his command, those who ask for his advice, ask for the next move.
It drives him fucking insane.
It's even better than a good round of sex: that unbound look of adoration. His mask is a poor shield against all that. She slips past it like she's the expert in clandestine warfare here. And suddenly he doesn't want any more secrets. There's a ton of them already; he carries the weight of them in his soul.
He's an underdog, always has been, but he's also a hound for claiming her as his that night.
After he's done fucking her to oblivion, he descends. She comes alive like a jolt of lighting in his arms as he kisses her, then sucks the tender skin of her neck. Everyone's going to see it, he makes sure of that by using the tiniest amount of teeth to finally mark her. She moans an equal amount as she does when she's clenching around his cock.
"Did you just give me a hickey?" She asks, breathless when he's done.
"High time, don't you think," he mutters. The woman will look glorious on the beach and highly improper at work.
Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas…
"You're unbelievable." She only laughs at his obsession. The woman’s not afraid at all, even when she’s face to face with a monster. The sunshine of her smile pairs well with the crackle of thunder outside.
"You want a beer?"
He's too drugged to answer with nothing else than a surprised, drowsy blink. She laughs again and takes it as a yes, which it is. He stares in awe as the woman walks to the fridge, all naked and lax from his treatment, takes out a bottle, opens it, and brings it to him. She takes none for herself; she only serves him like he's some kind of a king. When he takes a sip, she smiles again: lighting flashes somewhere in the distance and gives her an aureole of light, a halo of an angel for a second.
"I'm gonna go take a shower." The wink she gives him makes it perfectly clear that she wouldn't mind him joining her. But as she goes by the mirror, the vision of his claim stops her.
"Simon…"
He gets a scolding, and it only makes the corner of his mouth tug.
"No concealer is going to cover this."
"That's the point," he takes another sip while lying on her too-soft bed. She shakes her head before walking to the shower. The eye of the storm is above him, and everything's silent, like he's lounging on a dream.
The bottle in his hand sweats cold condense in his hand, and like always with her, he finds himself in the present moment. He drinks the beer in less than ten seconds, then takes the mask off and leaves it somewhere among the sweat and cum stained sheets.
It's the first time she has seen him without the shield, the first time she sees his body in full light. Every protrusion of white scar, every part of uneven skin, every marring of two and three stage burns is visible as if he is on a well-lit stage.
"Well. Pleased to meet you."
The smile that greets him, the veil of surprise that draws aside to reveal pure delight and marvel is more than worth the risk. She's frozen in time with a bottle of shower gel in her hands, too preoccupied with the trust he has decided to arm her with. She now has power over him, but he proceeds to do what he came here to do. Which is to make her sing a second time.
"For what do I owe this pleasure–"
The bottle falls on the tiles with a soft plunk as he steps between her legs and lifts her against the wall.
On that, she doesn't only kiss him; she takes the scar of his lip between hers and sucks. The warm water is nothing compared to her hands which sweep up and down his back and release years and years of tension. She whines when he only gives her shallow thrusts, then tries to claw his back to get more of his cock. It makes him chuckle.
"Needy," he comments on such delightful hunger, and she lets out the most annoyed, frustrated noise he has ever heard on her.
"Stop teasing, Riley…"
She tends to use his last name when she's fed up with him. It's supposed to create distance, but it only makes him latch himself onto her more fiercely.
He could torture her, delve deep, dig out even more frustrated sounds from her, but that's a quest for another time. He grants her wish along with his own and slides fully in. She kisses him through the whole fucking, and he feels like he's in boiling water, cooking until the raw meat grows tender and prepared.
And he realizes he's not actually fucking her: he's making love to her. He didn't even know he could do that.
When they've had their fill, the water takes away his gift. It feels wrong that something meant to be inside her leaks down some filthy drain. It's like a testimony, an illustration of his whole life: that his essence, his worth, belong in the sewers.
"You're a beautiful man," she whispers on his skin while caressing his back filled with past torture. His stomach churns, he feels like throwing up and falling asleep at the same time. An odd sensation.
She holds his mutilated corpse under the descending water and breathes life into him. The vomit never comes. He exhales history on her skin, inhales some peace in its stead.
In the morning the sound of thunder has been replaced by myriad birdsong.
. . .
He never meant to bring her here, but the wind on the beach is too harsh today and she's cold. It would be ungentlemanly not to get her a jacket from his apartment when it's only a few hundred meters away.
"To say that this place needs a woman's touch would be an understatement, Riley."
There's little else here but a tv and a fridge. He doesn't need either of them, but they're there to remind him what a home should look like. She takes the deafening silence and barren wasteland well, far better than he ever imagined she would.
"Y'can touch anything you want."
She turns and raises an eyebrow – he already knows that look. He's in for it now.
"Smooth... Very smooth." She walks to him and pushes him to the armchair. Not with force, because she doesn't need it. He falls to the sagged old thing like it's suddenly cloud nine rather than his old deathbed.
He waits for her to climb onto his lap and ride him until the chair breaks under the weight of their love. He could use a new chair anyway.
But she doesn't do that.
She gives her what this place has been missing.
A woman's touch.
Her mouth is hot as hell, wet like the gulfs that used to drown men in the sea centuries ago. She's a siren with her songs, but this time, she's quiet.
The room is not: the deathlike silence is suddenly filled with wet urgency and sloppy sounds of adoration. All his hauntings recede to the shadows like the blowjob is a whole exorcism.
His head falls back, and the first charred moan coats the air like it's been entombed for decades. And it has.
She is encouraged by the sound, and the tongue that sweeps the underside of his cock sends him jolting from his shallow grave.
Jesus fuckin'–
"Fuck…" He tries to blink back tears or death while looking at the crumbling paint on the ceiling. He feels equally worn out on her tongue: old and a lot of work, but a woman's touch is like magic.
"Mm–h." She dares to moan on his cock as if it's the best thing she's had in her mouth in decades, too. She even brushes her fingertips over his balls like they're some newfound treasure. They pull taut under her touch, stupefied by the sudden attention.
He can feel the upcoming blaze. It gathers at the base of his spine, his cock is brick-heavy in her mouth, and she won't stop – fuck, she goes even deeper…
"Fuckin' hell, pet…"
His thighs bunch and spread, a scorching groan erupts like he's a volcano and not a man. That's when she gives his cock a long, torturing suck, and he's gone, there’s no time and space other than her hot velvet mouth that surrounds him like the hot core of a star.
She adds a hand at the base of him, and he explodes so hard that he barely has brain cells left to worry about whether she will choke on it. But she doesn't even gag, even if the first spurts must be more than generous.
Fuck, this woman…
He melts in the chair while she finishes the rest of him, takes all he has to give, like she always does. They're an odd pair: an angel and a demon, and he feels like he's finally saved, resurrected – this room, this chair has never seen anything like this.
It's different with her, the emptiness that comes after. It's not filled with grief but deliverance.
He wants her to know what she’s just done, but he knows the things he's good at, and he knows the things he's not. Words are one of those things. She moans and begs and shatters and swells in his arms, she takes on a volcano and resurrects corpses long since dead, and he still doesn't know how to tell her. That he's hers, that he wants to make her feel as good as he bloody fucking can. He could be tortured for days and he still wouldn't know the right words. He tries to tell it to her in other ways and sees how she settles.
He would rather kill the whole human population on this earth than see her settle for anything.
So he forces the strange words out, fleshes them on his tongue and pushes them through teeth to haunt the stale air of his apartment that has never seen such love before.
"I missed you."
Of course it sounds so odd that she laughs. Bitter, too.
"You missed my tongue."
"No. I missed you."
She finally raises her eyes to his, doesn't try to blink back the watercolors. Those eyes are shining; they're beckoning.
"I missed you too," she says, then lays her head on his thigh like she's only a humble servant begging for mercy.
It's a farce. He's a skeleton, a ghoul of useless rubble while she's celestial; she's summer, a fucking empress.
It rips his chest to see her on her knees on the dirty floor, that she's comforting him in a chair that should've been his disposal site. The leather was supposed to be painted with shards of bone and puddles of pink-white brain; this room was supposed to echo with a single blast of a gunshot, not with roars of fragile love. He would've been found relatively soon, the neighbors wouldn't have had to complain about the smell: after all, the military takes care of their own. A lieutenant's absence wouldn't have gone unnoticed, even if everything else in him would never have been missed by anyone.
He brushes her hair, and she sighs, oblivious to his past hell. All nine circles of it, an inferno that would put poets to shame. And she doesn't know she has pulled him from the depths just by smiling.
. . .
"Promise to come back."
"Yeah I promise."
He can't promise that. Fuck, that he wants to.
Every bullet acquires sound, like that birdsong from her little window. They gain weight, they start to carry death. It used to be his power: to bring destruction. He was put on this earth to reap.
Now he's alive.
He's suddenly a man who can be killed.
Now everything's bright like he's a newborn trying to get used to a world full of pain. Light and sound and time and space; mortality.
Sharpened instincts have never been his friend. It used to be a simple dance: knife out, knife in. Drop 'em.
Line the sights and deal extinction. Walk like a ghost until the battering ram announces there's death coming.
It takes him a while to understand where the sorcery lies.
It's in the senses. She's sensuous.
"Simon–"
He hears her in the shaded crevice of rocks, catches phantom notes of vanilla from the dry desert air that tries to push through the filthy fabric of his mask. She’s with him just before the hatch opens, and for the first time in his life, he hesitates before the jump.
She tastes round and sweet after the tang of blood and smoke and metal of the field. She feels like warm, cascading water after the bleak, dead weight of a gun that leaves his hands throbbing with recoil. Her skin returns the memory of Paradise until it overrides everything else.
She's a soft blooming to the senses. And his have been blown wide, torn apart, shot full of noise. There's an amputated, burnt stump where there should be a limb and some soft skin. But still, a blast that burns flesh from bones is not that different from her soft whisper that has the power to level him like a nuclear wind.
He has to learn how to come back to his senses. It's a joke that makes him wish he could shed tears. Luckily, she's the best teacher he could ever have.
"Fuck, Simon…"
He tries to quit smoking just to be able to taste her better. A scorched tongue is a curse when a man can't get enough of cream and silk.
"I need you. Need you so much. You don't even know..."
He knows. He knows that the depth of his need surpasses hers; it always has and always will.
The last time he saw her wasn't at the base; it was when he woke up to the sight of her foraging for orange juice from the fridge with his sweatshirt on. She combined sultry lace and bare, smooth skin with an old, black hoodie.
And it swallowed her. All his darkness. She only looked sleepy and content while being smothered by all that dark cotton.
"I'm gonna make some breakfast," she announces upon seeing he's awake. "You like bacon and eggs?"
What the fuck did I do to deserve you.
She knows full well she could offer him a chest filled with gold, and it wouldn't be half as tempting as her little American breakfast.
"That'll do."
He was supposed to go to the shower but instead, his feet take him right back to her. She gives him a pleasant hum when his hands fall on her shoulders and start to rub some stress away. He knows it will make her moan, as it does now. She leans a little into him, surrenders to his treatment.
"Simon… Do you come here just for sex?"
The hiss of cooking bacon almost drowns the question. Just one syllable less, and the question would be as she originally meant it to be.
Does he come to her just for sex.
"No."
She turns to look at him with a shy little smile. It makes him want to crush her against that counter until those lips part with a helpless sound.
"I like your cooking."
"You…ass," she laughs, shoves him lightly.
He treats every day like it’s his last with her, waits patiently for her to realize he is not the man she thinks he is. Under the bones he wears there’s only more bones, nothing more. She can feed him all she wants, but it will only make him more hungry; and a day will come when she sees he’s not actually a man at all but a yawning, six feet grave.
The black cotton hugs her and makes it falsely look like this woman belongs to him. It’s another round of torture to see how she takes his shirt, takes his cock, plays with the only things he can give her for a while or two.
She has the sweater on as she gives him the softest farewell smile. She adds a few words, some more detail to her request. In truth, it's his new protocol.
"Promise to come back to me."
He doesn't ask for the sweatshirt back.
She's left with it and his promise.
. . .
"Poor lass's always sulking when you're on those solo missions."
He knows that Price might know about them by now. But if Soap knows, everyone knows.
He doesn't care: after all, the woman doesn't even try to conceal the seductive looks and dreamy smiles she gives him whether there are other people present or not. They're not a secret anymore. Perhaps that's the way she wants it to be.
But the information Soap gives him is new.
"She is?"
He goes straight to her after the plane lands. Doesn't give a single fuck about that smug look the boy gives him.
She looks slightly surprised as he simply walks in: she can see he's filthy. He has grime on his hands, on the fingerless gloves that make it easier to operate a gun when there's no threat of sweating. He smells of smoke and ruin, gasoline and tobacco – a lousy compensation for her, a ridiculous substitute to calming his nerves when he knows the mission is going to be tricky. It already pisses him off that her cream will be mixed with smoke and disease again. He knows his weaknesses, which aren't many. But with her, he has learned it's not about the quantity.
The sorrow is briefly disguised from him. It's admirable: the way she tries to hide even the plainest of things. He knows her by now, knows that the sun casts shadows too. She should know he's the one she can cast them safely with.
The throat between the shoulders burdened by work and worries looks fragile in his hands. A bird's neck he could wrench without breaking a sweat.
"Mmh. I love your hands."
"Just my hands?"
He shouldn't be touching her with his filth, but he can't help it anymore. If she loves it, who is he to argue back?
Love your hands too.
Fuck, I love your smile. Your tits, your lips. That little pout you got when you don't get what you want right away.
I love–
She sighs. Then she cranes that beautiful neck, clings to him with one, tiny hand. "Why are you here, Simon?"
"Heard you were sulking," he mutters in her hair.
"What…?" She laughs. She laughs, but she's not happy. "What on earth are you talking about?"
She's shy. Reserved. Hiding behind a wall of humor and sunshine and smiles. His darkness penetrates it all.
"Heard you're devastated when I'm gone," he tries even more softly.
She could take it as arrogance. One of his lousy jokes. But she knows better than that.
"I am," she finally says, angel-soft. When she turns, there's finally sorrow in her eyes. She looks up at him, up, up, again with that stare that says I am yours to command. On the brink of tears; tears he wants to battle to the abyss. But his muscles are no use here.
Her lip trembles, just a little, when he brushes his knuckles over her cheek.
"We can't have that."
"We can't?"
"No."
"Well what are you going to do about it?"
Her voice is soft, pleading. It's not a demanding question: the woman's simply out of it. She wants assistance, assurance.
What are your orders, sir?
She worries too much. Up until this point, he thought it’s just because she's dutiful, responsible, one of the best employees there is. But she's not tense from work.
It's not just the missed you's she whispers when his skin is at its most thin.
She fears losing him.
Stone-cold realism is required in his field of work; no sleight of hand magic can help him when he's facing the unavoidable. If the mission is impossible, he doesn’t take it. Because he can't change the unchangeable; he can't fight the inevitable. They both know he can't promise anything.
They both know he will do his best to come back. There was a time he would’ve considered it a blessing if he didn’t. Death used to be his only ticket to some peace.
She gives him an impossible mission, and he can't say no. Leadership is about taking care of people. His people. And she's more than just a subordinate.
He grabs her by the waist and raises her to the counter, relishes the way she gasps. She weighs nothing in his hands after cold, hefty cannons. It’s almost like she gains wings and flits to the tabletop designed for him to take her. It’s the perfect height for him to simply open his pants and alleviate her pain.
"Gonna fuck you until you cry."
She sighs. "You can't solve every problem with a gun or a cock, Riley."
The woman knows how to penetrate him, too. The stabbing doesn’t stop even when her thighs part slowly - she knows, just as much as he, that this is the best way to remind her just how alive he is. This is the only thing he can give her, and he is damn right going to deliver. His hand covers half of her thigh as he brushes a thumb over the sensitive inner side.
"You sure about that?"
That look of desperation makes him hard already. Her hands go about his neck in a perfect paradox with what she whispers next.
"Honey… Not here."
She calls him honey. As if this tar-black madness is only golden nectar to her.
"No?"
It’s not only sorcery, but necromancy: how she’s brought him back from the grave. No wonder such arts are considered dangerous. This is forbidden, and still, he cannot stop.
"Ya want me to stop?"
"...No."
He leaves most of her uniform on because he is in too much of a hurry to get between her legs. The woman molds herself against him the second his tip meets her folds.
"God, you feel good," she sighs as he slides in. It's like a prayer: both her words and his return back to the base. Alive.
"So fucking good…"
Fuckin' tell me about it.
She whimpers and clutches him like a little leech. Almost cries already.
"That's it. You just hold onto me."
If someone heard the way he's cooing in her ear, they would deem him soft in the head. He doesn't give a fuck.
Her moans chime inside his head like the softest, most beautiful opera. He has never been a man of high culture. The whole civilization could go to hell for all he cared. But she sings to him so beautifully that even a man like him can finally see the appeal. Legs wrap around him even tighter than those small hands until he doesn't know who's holding who here.
"That feel good..?"
"Yes… Don't stop, just don't stop."
She's almost limp in his arms. Good. He's managed to relieve that tension already.
He goes deeper, deeper, and a tiny hand that saves people instead of slaughtering them grabs him by the shirt, probably in an instinct to try and catch some skin. He can't see her face but the body against him trembles and shakes as he spreads her wide and pours love in her.
"No need to sulk, sweetheart. I got you."
She's crying, or laughing, or both. Of course she likes pet names paired with support. He adds it to the list of things the woman loves, the things he can give her. He hopes, half expects that she will shed some tears after shattering around his cock. She needs a good cry as much as she needs him. And nothing feels as good as this: being needed by her.
When she comes with an arched back and a scream he fears and hopes will reach every other officer here, he knows he can let go too. He's done his duty: now it's time to collect the reward. It's not transactional, she's not work, but she's still his responsibility. The woman's paycheck is fatter than anything he could ever get from his employer. He's inside her, but that doesn't mean she isn't inside him too. She's embedded in him in ways that threaten to swallow him and leave him on the shore like bleach-white bones on a beach. He stays inside her long after the waves have passed. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he doesn't dare to move.
"I still have your sweatshirt," she sighs while holding him.
"Good. Looks better on you."
"I sleep with it sometimes," she whispers and wraps herself around him so tight that he wishes he could be there every night to send her to sleep. Now she only has his memory as a company, some darkness far too big for her. "Sleep in it, actually."
His mind is like a wheel that turns around nothingness. There's nothing to hold on to; he's falling through starless space.
The eerie sound of gunshot echoes in his head, he thinks about the splatter of brain matter on the armchair; how there's at least one person in this world who would cry from hearing the news.
And not just any person, but her; a whole summer in one woman. A midsummer sun, missing some forgotten, weatherbeaten bones on a beach when there's plenty of flora and fauna to shine on.
"If you ever break your promise…"
She sniffs in his neck, and his embrace tightens instantly.
"Would rather die than break it."
His promise doesn't make any sense. Or perhaps it makes every sense. She finally cries like she's supposed to.
"Shh. I'm here now."
I'm not dead.
I'm not dead.
#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley fluff#simon riley smut#ghost x you#ghost smut#ghost fluff#mw2 fanfic#ghost x female reader
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Submitted Prompts #99
Jazz went to Gotham to finish her degree away from her parents, as their obsession with Ghosts started becoming dangerous to everyone. So, of course, she brought Danny with her, so he's also far away from them and the GIW.
Danny held out a whole year without going out on patrol, just establishing his haunt in the new city. Lady Gotham was very happy to be able to show them to their new place, almost giddy that the little King and his Queen Mother have come to live in her beloved city.
Of course, the first time Phantom floats out of his window and into the night, he has a new suit, made of padded black leather, and a fluffy white cape with a hood (imagine the Lightkin Cloak from Destiny2, but snow white, rather than black and grey), along with a facemask engraved with a fanged design. New haunt, new look, and the new look fit right in with the viciousness of Gotham City.
And, as luck would have it, his first Gotham Rogue was Poison Ivy. Thinking back to his fight against Undergrowth, Pantom opened with his ice, forming a double-sided axe to better cleave her vines apart, and locking Ivy herself down with ice.
To further distance himself from his identity as Phantom, in case the GIW somehow became smart at some point, instead of blasting ice like most ghosts fire ectoblasts, Danny asked Pandora for lessons on fighting with weapons, and Frosbite taught his how to channel his element as an aura, or a freezing breath. He even sat down to listen to Nocturne speak as they wove spells and ectoplasm, and the Personification of Dreams softly taught him how to use his powers through objects acting as catalysts, or as manifestations of his will, rather than throwing his affinities around by brute force.
With his new abilities and look, rather than fight like a feral raccoon, Danny took to fighting more like a spellblade, slinging around ice shard and spells to enhance his physical strikes, controlling the pace of a fight to get the upper hand on his enemies.
Suffice to say, Poison Ivy hadn't expected the Avatar of Icy Vengeance to lock her in a pillar of ice up to her neck while her vines withered into frosty sculptures.
Gotham's newest hero got awarded a new name by the news the next day: Ymir, Frozen Progenitor.
Danny thinks it's too pretentious for a random ghost, or random halfa, like him. Joke's on him, the perception of Gotham's people slowly starts empowering him, slowly enough that the only reason he notices his oncoming Ascension to myth as a Protector Spirit is when a terrified kid begs for his help, and he hears them loud and clear out of nowhere.
The Bats are confused by this Entity. Constantine stepped one foot in Gotham, felt it's cleaner air, the sharp bite of ice in his nose and lungs, and the overwhelming pressure of the new Godling training under Gotham herself to control his new powers, and ran out screaming about not getting paid enough to deal with divine beings. Zatanna is trying to contact Ymir to ask them to join the Justice League Dark.
Jason is vibing with the tall redhead Amazon he's met at Babs' library, and her feral little brother who cured his Pit Rage by biting his arm when they first met. One time Jason is in a pinch after a stakeout gone wrong, Bellona (Ancient Roman Goddess of War) takes the fight to his captors to free him, dressed in golden armor and wielding a spear Pandora and Firght Knight made for her. Nocturne and her brother worked together to imbue a spell into her back to give her wings she can use to fly or fight with. The fact it left a badass tattoo on her back, is just another way Jazz rebels against her parents. It also has Jason weak in the knees when he first sees it.
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Please Don't Leave (Fear Gas)
Jason Todd x vigilante reader
Synopsis: After returning from a mission to take down an organization similar to the one that trained you to be a powerful assassin when you were little, all you want to do is shower. Life is peaceful waiting for Jason to come hime until you get a call from Stephanie saying that Jason was blasted with fear gas.
Warnings: Mentions of needles, IV's, trauma, death, PTSD, that kind of stuff
FYI: Reader was raised in a Red Room type place and has powerful magic but it's not a super important part of the story, it's just mentioned
Word Count: 2488
It was late at night, and you were winding down to shower and go to sleep. Tonight, was your night off after being away on a short mission for the League. You were tired and sore all over, and all you wanted to do was freshen up and wait for your boyfriend to come home so that you could sleep. Jason was meant to be home in around 20 minutes, and you were waiting for him to come back. Steam from the shower filled the room and you stepped into the shower and closed the door behind you. The lather of your shampoo in your hair made a bubbling feeling on your scalp and the smell of your shampoo created a calming feeling around you. Ease washed down your spine as you turned washed the shampoo from your face and started conditioning your hair when your phone suddenly lit up. You wiped your eyes and got the conditioner out of the way so that you wouldn’t get it in your eyes. The caller ID read “Steph” and a feeling of dread creating a gaping pit in your stomach.
“Hey Steph.” You answered, “What’s wrong?”
“Are you in the shower, not on patrol?” She asked, “Never mind, just, Jason got hurt bad and we need you at the Manor ASAP.”
“Okay I’m coming, uh-“ A sense of urgency got you moving faster than you’d want to be at this hour, “what happened, what’s wrong?”
“Scarecrow bust gone wrong. He created a new toxin that is more intense than usual. It makes you relive physical feelings with phantom pain.” “We’re five minutes ETA from the cave. Jason keeps calling out for you and it’s the only way to lower his heart rate before he has a heart attack. He’s reliving the night in the warehouse Y/N.”
“Okay, okay I’m coming” You got choked up talking to her.
Realizing that your sense of dread was right, you put Steph on the speaker and started washing the rest of your conditioner as fast as possible. There was no time for drying your hair and you got into clothes as fast as possible as Stephanie explained what was going on. You started running towards your door and grabbed the emergency duffle bag that you kept in the closet in case something like this happened. Sprinting towards the front door in a cold sweat, you locked it and realized that your lights were still on.
“Lumine off (lights off)!” You snapped a finger towards your lights and the apartment went dark.
You held onto your bag and took a breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Wayne Manor, “suscipe me huc (take me here).”
It was quiet all the sudden, with a breeze filling the room around you and a bright light dropping you on your feet. When you opened your eyes again, you were in the living room of the manor where you suspected someone would be.
“Ms. Y/N!” Alfred stood with a quick bewilderment, clearly expecting you to use the front door and not the living room as an entrance, “Master Todd is in the cave. I shall lead the way.”
You and Alfred started for the cave, your bag still in hand and anxiety becoming more and more intense. Alfred pressed a button into the clock and an elevator was revealed. Starting into the elevator first, you pressed the button for the cave before Alfred had a chance to.
“Sorry about the scare Alfred.” You said suddenly realizing that you had startled the sweet man.
“Oh no worries. I’ve plenty a fright with this gaggle of vigilantes.” He said this with a smile in his voice, trying to make you feel less intense.
You gave him a smile before returning to a worried, slightly stoic expression. When the bell chimed and the elevator door opened, you ran towards the med bay where you saw Dick and Bruce hauling Jason to the table. Jason’s eyes were rolling back into his head, and he was coming in and out of consciousness. You ran over and helped support his body weight so that you could be close to him. Jason was screaming something about the Joker. He was flinching and convulsing like he was being hit repeatedly. As Dick and Bruce hauled him closer to you, trying not to get punched.
“We got him here as fast as we could, he got a direct hit jumping to stop Scarecrow from releasing the gas into the water supply.” Dick explained as you held onto Jason and Bruce barked out orders to everyone around.
“Okay, alright, Jason, look at me babe Jay!” you set him down on the table and held him up by his sides, “Jay I’m here, you’re okay, you’re alright. Hey, hey! Calm down, you can do it love. Breathe for me, you’re okay I promise.”
Jason held his head up and looked at you with bloodshot eyes. His pupils were blown out and he was shaking with cold sweat.
“Y/N/N?” He muttered out quietly in sobs, “I need you; I need you. Help me.”
“I’m right here Jay, lay down. Breathe for me Jay.” You started pushing him back lightly so that Dick could hook him to an IV and get antidote going.
Dick came up behind you and got the shot ready for Jason when Jason’s eyes went wider than you thought possible, and he started pulling you towards him and screaming like he was being set alight.
“Y/N, no!” Jason shrieked and started throwing punches towards Dick like he was fighting for his life, “Get away from her Joker!”
Dick ducked behind you and away from Jason’s sight, realizing that Jason was hallucinating again. The poking of the IV and Jason being pushed backwards caused him to grab onto you and start screaming hysterically. A look of absolute terror filled his face, and he started calling for you again screaming for help.
“No please! Y/N where are you?” Jason started flailing around and you called for Dick to get a sedative since he couldn’t handle being laid down.
“Jay, honey I’m right here, right here. Joker isn’t here, you’re okay. I’m okay.” You grabbed his cheeks with your hands and pulled his face towards you. To relax him as much as possible ran your thumb over his cheek and pushed the hair in his face out of the way. Jason held your arm as gently as he could, even in as much stress as he was in, and looked at you like you were a lifeline.
Dick came over and injected a sedative into Jason’s arm while you were keeping him distracted. Jason shot his eyes over to where he felt a pinch on his arm and started gasping for air like he was dying. It was like he was reliving his death all over again. His eyes shot back to you, and he started crying harder.
“Please don’t leave me. I’m going to die, please stay with me.” He cried to you.
“It’s okay Jason, I’m not leaving, I’m right here, you’re okay. Close your eyes and breathe for me Jay.” You ran your fingers through his hair as his labored breathing became less and less abrasive.
“Don’t leave me.” Jason’s eyes dropped shut one last time and he went limp on the table. It was quiet in the cave again.
You didn’t let go of Jason’s face and tears welled in your eyes before you blinked them away and sniffled. Dick was still standing next to Jason monitoring his pulse which was now evening out as much as it could.
“Y/N, I’m sorry this happened I-“ Bruce came over to you and laid a hand on your shoulder. His mask was off, and you could tell that he had cried at one point. He was upset seeing Jason reliving everything that he had been through, just as the rest of you were.
“It’s okay Bruce, it’s not your fault.” You sighed heavily, realizing that your hair was still dripping from your shower, “Where’s Scarecrow now?”
“You’re not going after him.” Bruce said, “GCPD has him under tight supervision in Arkham.”
“He should be in Black Gate and not some mental asylum. He knows what he’s doing.” You said, “And you know his gasses don’t affect me anymore B.”
“I know that but-“ You cut Bruce off before he could finish.
“Besides I promised Jason, I wouldn’t leave him, and I hold fast to my promises.”
Bruce nodded, “Tim, Damian, and Cass made sure he didn’t get away. Damian reportedly put Crain in a temporary coma.”
“Maybe Crain won’t wake up.” You muttered under your breath as you took Jason’s hands in yours.
Tim came inside the cave along with the rest of the heroes. “How’s he doing?”
“His vitals have stabilized, we narrowly avoided him going into cardiac arrest.” Dick reported, “we should clean his wounds and get him out of his uniform.”
“Antidote hasn’t fully kicked in yet, we need to wait before he’s not under the influence of toxins anymore.” You said, “removing the IV will trigger another attack.”
“Someone needs to watch him too. Incase his vitals flip, or he wakes up.” Tim said, “Who takes first shift?”
“I’ve got shifts.” You said, “Go hit the hay.”
“Y/N, you can’t stay here alone.” Dick said, “Someone can stay with you.”
“That’s fine, but either way, I’m not leaving.” You spoke.
“You have to sleep at some point, eat, use the bathroom.” Dick was trying to convince you to get to sleep. He knew that your mission was arduous and had to have taken a toll on you. The League had called you on a mission to help locate and dismantle a group of assassins, like the ones you were trained with as a child, using magic to increase the abilities and reach of the organization. You were the most familiar with the group’s tactics, and the most powerful member in the league to deal with this, so naturally, you were sent. The mission took a mental toll of you because of the similarity it had to your childhood, and you needed the rest to recuperate.
“Dick it’s okay. We don’t need two people going manic over nightmares tonight and if I need something; I can literally wave my fingers to make it happen.” You waved your fingers around, creating a blue hued light around them to prove a point.
Not wanting to continue to argue, Dick subsided and went to hit the showers with everyone else before coming back downstairs to keep you company. He had brought you a blanket and another little pillow, knowing that you wouldn’t get up and leave Jason.
A few hours later Jason was dressed into something more comfortable that wasn’t his suit and his wounds were disinfected and stitched where they needed. You had fallen asleep and woken up a few times while keeping watch. A day had passed since Jason’s run in now and you were exhausted. One of the times that you had woken up, you realized that Jason was stirring. You looked at him, watching for signs that he was waking or going back to sleep. Looking at the time, you saw that it was 2:46 AM. The blue light from the Bat Computer lit up the cave gently.
“Y/N?” Jason called out quietly while moving himself to where he thought you were.
“Hey Jason.” You said quietly, “I’m right here love.”
“Did I die?” He asked, searching for an answer in your face.
“No Jay, you didn’t. You’re right here, you’re okay Jay.” You said, tears starting to well in your eyes again.
“Don’t cry Y/N.” He lifted his arm and whipped under your eyes, “You know, I didn’t want to see you again like this doll.”
You let out a small laugh through your nose, smiling a little, “you scared me so much Jay.”
“I’m sorry Y/N, I never try to. I’m so sorry Y/N/N.” He looked sad very suddenly as he was still watching your every move.
“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You were just doing your job.” You gave him a knowing look, “At least I was back in town.”
“I missed you.” Jason worked his hand up your arm and sat up to kiss you before groaning in pain.
“I missed you too, now lay down before you bust your stitches.” You helped him lay back down before nestling your head into your crossed arms on the side of the bed.
“You know that does not look comfortable at all babe.” He said, starting to coax you onto the Med Bay bed he was laying on, “It’s also cold in here. Are you cold? I’m cold.”
“If this is your way of telling me you want me to sleep with you in that cot, you could have just said.” You stood up and helped Jason scoot over a bit.
The quiet hum of the Bat Cave was the only thing that filled the room, along with the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Jason’s breathing was steady, and you thought he was asleep until he started talking again.
“Were you here the entire time?” He asked, glancing towards you.
“I told you I wouldn’t leave you.” You said, “I don’t break my promises with you.”
“Y/N, you know you didn’t have to.” Jason looked guilty, like he committed a crime in keeping you with him.
“No, no, I needed to stay with you Jay. I couldn’t leave you alone the way you were. I didn’t want you to wake up alone in this place.” You explained, grabbing onto his hand.
“I would have found you.” He said softly.
“That’s the problem. You would have hurt yourself while going looking.” You smirked some, laughing to yourself slightly.
“I can’t argue with that.”
“How was your mission?” He asked rubbing circles in your palm.
“It was… a lot.” You sighed, “That was not horrible to relive again at all.”
There was sarcasm in your voice to hide your hurt when you spoke about the mission.
“I know the training you’ve gone through, intense enough that the fear gas doesn’t work on you.” Jason said, “you’ve seen enough that nothing scares you much anymore.”
“Well, you dear, scared the ever-living life out of me.” You poked his side.
“I’m sorry.” Jason was endearing and serious now.
“Jason it’s okay.” You looked at him with intensity, “You did what you had to do. I’m proud of you, not upset with you.” “I love you, Jay.”
“I love you Y/N.” he said with a softness.
Silence drifted over the two of you, and eventually, you were confident enough to fall asleep when Jason had finally drifted asleep. In the morning, you’d worry about sorting out affairs and making sure Jason was alright so that you could go get a good shower after your mission.
#dc x reader#dc comics#dc characters#batfam x reader#batboys x reader#batfam#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader fluff#jason todd fluff#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood x y/n#red hood imagine#red hood fluff
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woke up from a dead sleep last night realizing I could make soroku flavored pitch pearl and no one could stop me
edit: you know what? I'm feral and I won't apologize. more under the cut bc this is my house
I slammed this out all at once so I apologize for the quality but I'm having EMOTIONS
so imagine. bc of the way Danny was quickly resuscitated, his ghost only barely started forming. With the excess blast of ectoplasm from the portal being created, that little whisp was given form even after Danny's soul returned to his body.
except this ghost (Phantom) slowly comes into consciousness while trapped in Danny's body. they're separate entities sharing one body, but Phantom doesn't really have a sense of self right away. he pieces together vague fragments of Danny's memory to get a basic understanding of the world, and is mostly just observing like a backseat passenger.
Phantom starts reflexively protecting Danny, his powers and instincts bleeding through when his emotions are high. Danny doesn't really transform, and his personality doesn't totally shift that much at first because Phantom’s mind isn't complex yet. but as time goes on, and Danny has tense conversations with ghosts, Phantom realizes that's what he is. he's a ghost, somehow trapped in his old body. and even now, this early on, he already feels separate. he doesn't have all the memories Danny has.
this slowly turns into horror. into rage. sorrow, mourning a life he never got and will never get to have. forever trapped behind the eyes of someone else, never able to interact with the world. Phantom's rage eventually boils over until it allows him short bursts of taking over Danny's body. it starts out small–a stray hand moving without his consent, knees locking up, ghost abilities going awry. Danny can start feeling emotions that don't belong to him. get vague impressions, almost hears a voice inside him.
and eventually, Phantom is able to fully take over. this is when Danny “transforms". at first, Danny blacks out because his consciousness isn't used to being shoved into the back seat. but eventually, he's awake for these “episodes", trapped in the back of his mind while Phantom controls his body. this only happens when ghost stuff is happening, when Phantom feels threatened enough. he's not protecting Danny, he's protecting himself. Phantom knows instinctively that if Danny dies, he dies too. he's not a normal ghost, he wouldn't be freed. he'd simply disappear.
at one point after a fight, Phantom can feel Danny struggling to take back control. and he talks to Danny for the first time, acknowledges he's there. asks how it's fair that Danny is the one that gets to exist. but Phantom is tired and weak, he slips back into the passenger seat.
over the next few days, he's able to start talking to Danny even while he's not driving. though he's not chatty, it's only when necessary. and Danny knows, can feel it across the link between them–Phantom hates him. the ghost he created is desperate to find a way to take over completely. and as time goes on, Danny realizes with horror that it might actually be possible for Phantom to do that. he grows stronger every day, can stay transformed longer, controls Danny's body with much more ease.
it's only through a chance meeting with Frostbite that Danny and Phantom fully learn what happened to them. Danny feels sympathetic towards Phantom now. this isn't a malevolent ghost, it's a person who was never given the chance to live. who's trapped. who has to watch someone else live a life they're just as deserving of.
and Phantom feels that emotion from Danny. is so shocked by it, he doesn't know how to handle it at first. it takes him a while to contemplate, to talk to other ghosts like Frostbite. until one day, Phantom realizes… he feels sympathy for Danny, too.
neither of them asked for this. both of them deserve to live. Danny didn't do anything wrong. they're both villains to each other's story. and if anything… doesn't Phantom owe his life to Danny in the first place?
Phantom takes over less often. Danny doesn't feel hatred from him anymore. anger, yes–but not aimed at him. in fact, Phantom starts controlling their body in little ways in order to protect Danny from things that aren't even dangerous. just to avoid pain that would only affect the human tethered to him.
it isn't long before they're separated, either thanks to another ghost or Danny's parents. they're thrown apart in the middle of a horrific fight, and when Danny sees Phantom's equally shocked expression, he's terrified.
this ghost that hated him for so long–at best, Phantom would leave him defenseless. at worst, surely some part of Phantom still wants to kill him for stealing away his chance for autonomy.
and yet, when fire rains down on them, Phantom risks it all to grab Danny and get them both to safety. they're still both shaken and stunned this is even happening, but Phantom is able to nervously be like shit shit shit okay stay here don't go anywhere or I can't protect you, okay?
after the fight is over and dust settles, Phantom offers Danny his hand. they stare at each other and god if this isn't the weirdest thing. like, uh, okay, what now? they decide to go see Frostbite, who confirms that they're fully separate now. they ask if there's any chance of merging again and Frostbite assures it's impossible.
Phantom asks, even if I overshadowed Danny? or stay real close? yes, it's nothing to worry about. they leave, and back in the quiet of Danny's room, they talk. Phantom isn't sure what to do. now that opportunity is in front of him, he feels paralyzed. Danny does his best to let Phantom know that… they might be separate now, but if he ever wants help or even just a friendly ear, he's here for him.
Phantom is quiet for a while. then says maybe he just needs to rest first. he'll think about it tomorrow. they're both exhausted and injured. Phantom asks quietly… if he could rest in Danny for the night.
Danny's shocked, and–really confused. Phantom blushes and is like I don't know what my haunt is yet, I don't know where to go, but I know… you're kind of my home. now that I know I can leave whenever I want, it's not something bad anymore. I miss feeling your heart next to my core, just a little bit.
and Danny is just as surprised when Phantom overshadows him, then quietly nestles into the passenger seat again. he didn't realize how he got used to feeling Phantom with him. it's a feedback loop of contentedness, and Danny sleeps easily. (they also find out while sharing a body, Danny gets to reap the benefits of Phantom's supernatural healing)
anyway that's all I got for now thank u for coming to my ted talk
#I'll be honest. it has interested me. I've read fics. I'm just more interested in other stuff for dp#but the prospect of pitch pearl 'enemies to friends also maybe they kiss about it' has me sweating nervously#the struggle and angst of defining yourself against your progenitor. the defiant sorrowful anger funneled into misplaced hatred#only to slowly realize your progenitor is a sweet person who didn't condemn you. they even fight for you to have your own agency#so once you finally have your own body you'll do anything to protect that person you've come to truly care about#and because you shared a body for so long. because you had the same origin. you know them as well as you know yourself#you're not incomplete but you still hold half of each other#HAHA WOW anyway I'm in danger :)#don't. don't look at me#should i even tag this. yeah okay#Danny Phantom#pitch pearl
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