#I just wanted to whine about it somewhere

[buckgasms]

Ok this is totally unrelated to anything that's happening 👀 but let's imagine Daddy and Princess are celebrating 😽

Also this wasn't meant to be all filth but it is... So there we go....

Maybe Daddy had a big contract he'd been working towards or something like that?? You know what this is about just go with it.

🎊

You were sneaky because you asked his PA Darcy to let you know how the meeting went so you could prepare in advance.

You squealed when she sent a thumbs up and rushed into your bedroom and tore through your wardrobe to find your prettiest lingerie and a skimpy dress that you didn't mind getting ripped later. You also grabbed a few items from the bedside table and left them on the bed, for Bucky to choose later...

You'd baked a cake in anticipation but now you could decorate it with sprinkles and candles that were more in keeping with a celebration.

You didn't really know what was appropriate for this kind of thing, but you knew you wanted to show Bucky how proud you were of him and make him feel good.

He'd been pretty stressed in the lead up to the meeting, working late and hardly sleeping. Now he needed a chance to blow of steam, and you were a more than willing participant to help him do that.

When you were finished you couldn't decide between waiting by the door, or on the floor near his chair or in the kitchen by the cake. You were mid-decision when Bucky came in, making you squeak again and decide to rush at him, leaping into his arms and pressing a kiss to his smiling lips.

You giggled as he chuckled against your lips, "thanks Princess..."

Smiling as you pulled him into the living room you told him all about your preparations. He tugged you into his lap as he sat on the couch, pushing up your skirt and gripping your hips.

"What about these preparations? Is that for me too?"

You bit your lip and gripped onto his shoulders. "Hmm yes Daddy... All for you..."

🎊

You slipped down onto the floor, leaning your arms on his thighs as you beamed up at him. "Gonna make you feel so good daddy..."

He chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair before running a thumb over your lip.

"Go ahead princess... Show me..."

You giggle as you pull his zipper down and pull out his stiffening cock, rubbing and stroking it as his gruff sighs fill your ears. As you press kisses and licks to his tip his head drops back and his eyes flutter closed. All the tension from the past month leaving his body as you take care of him.

As much as you are supposed to be treating him, you can help but lose yourself in your task, using your mouth and hands to feel and taste every bit of him. You desperately try to take as much of him as possible, inhaling his musky scent and moaning a little as his hands drag through your hair, tugging a little as he groans.

"Fuck princess... So fucking good at that huh?"

You moan in agreement and heard him hiss as he becomes more sensitive to your touch. Your own need kicks in as you wriggle your hips, arousal flooding your lacy underwear as his hips thrust a little upwards, choking you a little.

"Alright princess..." He mutters, pulling you off with a satisfying pop, his face a picture of desire as he takes in your flustered state. You whine as he takes his cock away from you, stroking it as he watches you.

"Maybe if you're good I'll let you have a taste later. But for now, I want to see what's under this pretty dress...."

🎊

He's got you on the floor, ankles somewhere by your ears and he's dipping his thick, fingers fingers into your aching, desperate heat.

"So this is my reward is it babygirl? This messy little pussy?"

He lands a slap onto your heat before ripping your dress in half, slowly and firmly, exposing you to his hands.

"What about these baby" he grabs your breasts and squeezes hard, making you whimper. But you nod, eyes glassy as he takes his prize.

"Yeah, that's it baby. You lay there and let me have my fun hmm?"

He grips your hips and drags your heat to his face, diving into your folds and obscenely sucking and licking. You shriek at the sensation, hands flailing to grab into anything but finding nothing. He growls, sending a vibration through your body that drags you to an immediate and unexpected climax, your body convulsing as he continues to drink you up.

Your body is suddenly dropped to the floor and you heave a sob at the loss of contact.

"Hush baby, you wait right there, daddy's coming" he mutters as he stands up, towering over you, and you watch as he kicks off his trousers. Your hands drift over your body and he tuts, leaning down to push them away.

"Don't touch, that's for me, not you..."

You whine again but this time his hands are back on you, pushing your thighs back as he presses his fat cock into your sensitive hole. His body is glistening with sweat as he fucks you. His hands press yours down trapping you under his heavy body, lips stealing kisses as you can barely function under his actions.

Tears slide down your cheeks that he kisses away, cooing in your ear about how good you are, he's got you, he loves you. His pretty girl.

He leans back a little, cupping your cheeks as grinds his hips, slow and firm. Your hands are free now to glide over his chest, dig your nails into his golden skin and pull at his hair. He grins as you tilt your head to watch where your bodies meet.

"Do we look good Princess... Tell daddy..."

You nod, "looks so good daddy... Love it... Love it..." Your breath catching as he chases his high. His hips stutter a little and then you feel a warmth as he fills you up, your own release following quickly after.

He drops and rolls so you are cuddled up against his chest, fingers loosely gripping his body as your breathing tries to return to normal.

His lips find yours and you both lay there, lazily kissing and panting as the world catches up and stops spinning quite so much. You giggle as he tickles your ribs gently, making you smush your face into his neck and whine a little.

"I guess we don't need the stuff in the bedroom" you giggle as he cups your cheek, stroking your pretty face with his thumb.

"I think we will princess. I'm not nearly done celebrating yet..."

[champagnecherryblossom]

• Behind Closed Doors: His Shyness, Your Awakening •

Pairing | jisung x fem!reader

Word Count | 1,048

Summary | Having not been told about the shy, quiet men, you were in for a rude- or should I say, eye-rolling-awakening. Behind the doors of your shared apartment, you are welcomed with nothing but pleasure.

warnings | non idol au, dom!jisung, fem!reader, clit rubbing, free use (?), deceiving?, raw fucking (wrap it up), pet names (love mostly), overstimulation.

A/N - honestly, I feel like Jisung would fuck hard despite the image he gives out. Ykw I mean? Anyways enjoy aha 🧎‍♂️‍➡️

After moving into your new apartment, you were unaware of the roommate that came with it. At first he was a shy and quiet guy, asking questions with a politeness . He made sure that you were comfortable even when he had his buddies over.

It was all great, that was until he started to act weird. It was a subtle change, he became more flirty. It wasn't long until he started acting like a hormonal teenage boy, at first it was funny- at least that’s what you thought. But somewhere along the line of being his roommate, it went beyond just that. Small touches turned into long lingering ones that made your skin crawl with desire and need.

Today wasn't any different, when you heard the door open and close with a soft click and a long deep sigh coming from no other then Han Jisung. Your body tensed, that familiar crawl on the skin sent a shiver down your spine.

"Jisung, is that you?" Your voice thrumbled slightly, the palms of your hands damp. You almost forgot that you were in the kitchen doing dishes.

Although there was no reply you got a hand to your waist and the movement of your hair to expose the skin of your neck as your reply. It wasn't long until you felt light kisses on your neck, the feeling sending a wave of pleasure through you. You were a bitch for neck kisses and Jisung took advantage of that.

"A heads up would be nice, you know?" You said in an airy tone, your head slightly tilted to the side allowing Jisung more access to your overly sensitive neck.

"A heads up? No need, me walking in through the door should be enough as a heads up." Jisung spoke against your skin, his hands began to roam over your body in that familiar rhythm. It was gentle and smooth until it became needy and rushed. It was now that you realized that his day was nothing but stressful.

With a bite on the neck you whined, the feeling making you thrumble and limp in his arms. Pushing you against the kitchen sink, his hard on pressed against your ass. His movement desperate, his breath hot as he pants against your ear.

"I had a rough day... can you handle it?" Jisung asked, his voice overly sweet laced with need. Oh how badly he wants to bury himself inside you, to use you like his personal cum-dump— which you were, when he wanted that is.

With a hum and the press of your ass against his confined cock, Jisung wasted no time on slipping his hand into your joggers. You were already damp with your arousal, your black laced panties allowing Jisung to feel more of your wetness and the uniqueness of your mound.

"Wait..." You moaned out, Jisung chuckled under his breath.

"We haven't even started, love." Oh how much you loved when he called you love, Jisung chuckled again. His fingers rubbing you through your laced panties, he groaned. God he just loved how wet you got for him, even in the slightest touch he gave.

"I know... I know..." You breath out, your hips bucking against his fingers to get the friction you desired. Jisung was more then happy to give you what you wanted, so with a swift move Jiusng took off your joggers and panties. Goosebumps appear on your ass cheeks and legs, the sight making Jisung moan with desire.

Griping your ass, Jisung squeezed and pulled as he spreads you. The view made his mouth water, he did this a few times before he finally slide his hand down to your wet and needy pussy.

"Oh god..." You knew Jisung played guitar but you always seem to forget just how good his fingers were, he rubbed your clit with precision before he slides his two fingers into your hole, the feeling making you jolt slightly before you began to fuck yourself on his fingers.

Jisung watched with a smirk, his free hand undoing his pants as best they can. Curling his fingers you moaned, your body hunched over the kitchen sink as your movements become more needy.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not yet, love." Jisung said with a menacing smile as he pulled out his fingers— bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. Nndoing the rest of his pants, Jisung pulled out his average size cock. The thickness made up for what you thought he lacked, either way you loved his size and would without a doubt sit on it time after time.

In a quick move, you found yourself being stretched opened. The feeling made you moan, you felt as if a bitch in heat. Jisung noticed and didn't hesitate to pound into you, his hips snap in rough, quick thrust that made you see stars. Your eyes roll back, to focused on the pleasure you were receiving you didn't noticed how Jisung’s left hand kneaded your breast and his right between your legs playing with your clit, timing the rubs with his thrusts.

"Ji-jisung~!" You cried out in pleasure, your legs becoming wobbly as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Groaning Jisung pushed you more against the kitchen sink before his hands grip your hips.

His thrust rough, quick and unforgiving as he fucked the shit out of you, this was definitely not what people would think of when you say you had a shy and quiet roommate, 'had' being used loosely.

Each thrust jisung did— he pulled you onto his cock, hitting deeper into your heat. The feeling was so overbearing that you came on the spot, a loud whiny moan slipping pass your lips. Jisung only smirked as his movements didn’t slow or come to a stop, he was going to keep going until he was satisfied.

"That didn't take long huh?" You pant, your hand reaching back to move him away but instead you moved him closer despite already coming. Jisung laughed as he fucked into you harder.

"We're not done unless I say so, love." His leaned forward and whispered into your ear. “Can you do that for me?” He added knowing just how much you would let him use you as he pleases.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 10.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 2k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, infidelity, flirting, kissing/making out, there is trouble everywhere quite frankly…. gonna dip once i post bcos i know this is bad but there’s def another future 0.5 chapter that might be worse

⇢ POSTDOC | YR 2.5

"Babe." Iseul whines a bit, making San mimic her pout before tapping her nose.

"Love. How about I take you out this weekend to make up for it? We can go somewhere, just us two."

"Okay, but it'd be better if you could do that and come hang out tonight, too." 

"I'll try."

"San." 

"I'll try." He chuckles. "I should really finish up behavior tonight and that review for the paper we're working on. I'm already behind."

"Who said? You still have time."

"I have to get this done by next week." He gives her a sympathetic smile before placing a kiss on her forehead. 

"Next week."

"I'll try and get it done so I can hang out with you two, k?" He cups her cheeks. She can't help but continue to pout and cross her arms, even when he kisses her on the tip of her nose and on the lips. Part of her continues to have a soft spot for her man, the love of her life. 

Part of her wants to continue being supportive because she loves seeing San excel in his craft, she loves being by his side throughout all his achievements and vice versa. She feels like together, they can conquer the world together— be unstoppable, reach the top.

The other half, maybe more than half at this point, is sad. Empty. She longs for the man she fell in love with, she longs for his company. His time. His effort. 

His kisses, his cuddles. Everything.

Iseul never thought the lines would blur.

"Okay?" San repeats, causing Iseul to return her full attention on him. She gives him a small smile and nod, San's thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Better." He subtly bites his lip before caressing her chin. "C'mere." He leans forward to peck her lips again, and again.

And again.

Before they're both standing near her car, kissing under the late afternoon sun. Iseul tugs on San's shirt, deepening the kiss as she pulls him closer. He softly groans against her lips, Iseul's hand slowly traveling down to his belt. 

"Baby." He pulls back and chuckles. 

"We can be quick." She chases after his lips and presses small, repeated kisses against them before he's gently prying her off and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, baby. I gotta go." She whines again before he's kissing her one last time on the lips and forehead. "You can have me all you want later tonight. And tomorrow. And the weekend."

"Ugh. I hope you know how much I'm sacrificing so you can hurry and finish." He laughs.

"I love you."

"Love you, too." She sighs, watching as San waves before doing a light jog back to the building. She slips into her car and connects a call to the bluetooth just as she pulls out of the parking spot.

"Yo!" Yunho answers the call almost immediately.

"Hey. What can I bring to your place for tonight?"

"Hm. Soju? I think I'm almost out." Yunho hums. "Chips and any other snacks."

"Okay, so everything? What do you even have at home?"

"Me, myself and I." Iseul laughs. 

"Uh. So much for inviting us over when you don't even have anything ready."

"I'll whip something up, don't worry! Why the doubting?"

"Alright, boss. Counting on you then."

"You know what else I need?"

"What, Yunho?" He chuckles.

"You." It’s meant to be a lighthearted joke; nothing more, nothing less. But, it does something to Iseul and Yunho knows it well enough by this point.

"You're so sappy. Quit it." She blushes to herself, biting her bottom lip even though she playfully scolds him.

"Nah. It's kinda fun seeing you all flustered."

"Hate you."

"Sad. I don't." She shakes her head and smiles. "Sliding through soon?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna freshen up and change at the house first after grabbing groceries."

"San is coming?"

"He said he'll try and wrap up quick so he can join."

"Ah, okay." Yunho sighs a bit. It's been awhile since he's been able to hang out with his bestfriend, but he understands how important his work is right now. He tries to be, at least. He knows how it all goes. 

He just wishes San would give himself more time to relax. Enjoy life a little bit, just like he used to.

"I'll see you in a bit then."

"Mhm. I'll text you when I'm on the way."

"How exciting."

"Shut up." She ends the call. Suddenly, those dark, sad feelings she felt earlier are gone. Suddenly, she's happy. She feels a bit giddy. Excited.

Iseul isn't really sure when the line started to blur. 

But somehow, they're here and Yunho isn't sure how they'll go back and undo whatever they've created between each other. He knows this shouldn’t even be a thing. He should feel like some sort of last resort, a rebound— like he's the cushion that keeps Iseul company solely because San isn't around. Yunho knows there shouldn't be much to it.

So, why is there more to it?

It must have been all the kick-its with friends, all the lunches and casual dinners. It must have been the exchanged texts with stupid [but silly] memes or tweets the other would appreciate. It must have been the calls just to check in with each other. It must have been the subtle, lingering looks. 

Accidentally brushing hands.

Teasing and poking fun at each other.

Flirty undertones.

Saying shit to make the other smile or laugh.

San would have just assumed they were being normal around each other. They had always been close anyway, but he says that because he doesn't catch the small acts in between. 

The very small, but clear and intentional acts.

For a minute, Iseul thought it was a phase because Yunho was there like he had always been. But then, the feelings and the thoughts stayed for longer than a phase; piled up over weeks and weeks.

Until she realized what it meant.

So, she tried to distract herself and force herself to understand that it was truly just a phase. When San was around, she'd affectionately hug him. Kiss him. Cuddle him. Pull him to bed and make him cum over and over again to feel satisfied, to feel like she was still wanted by her man.

His moans and the loud calls of her name the only thing granting that satisfaction. Even though, could she say the affection behind it was genuine?

Clear, intentional?

Who's to say?

Especially when she's happily skipping down the aisles in the grocery store, grabbing the soju that both she and Yunho like; the one that San doesn't really like as much but he'll deal and make do. Especially when she's throwing on a form-fitting zip-up and leggings, trying to come off as comfy, but alluring. Especially when she sprays her perfume and dabs on a bit of lip gloss for a lazy kick-it that’s staying behind doors and enclosed walls.

Especially when she walks through the door to greet Yunho with a big hug— one that has him swinging her around before they plop onto the living room floor and get started on the drunk, scary indie movie and short film marathon the three agreed to do as a way of de-stressing.

Especially when Iseul gets the dreaded but expected text from San, and she can't help but welcome back the same feelings of emptiness and disappointment from earlier.

san: running behind. i don't think i'll make it, love. i'm sorry. tell yunho i’m sorry, too.

san: i'll be home tonight - i'll make it up to you. this weekend, too. 😘 i'm all yours.

"He's not coming." Iseul says, taking another huge swig from their third soju bottle of the night, making Yunho nod silently.

"I'm sorry—"

"It's fine, don't be such a debbie downer." She laughs, playfully punching him on the bicep. Yunho catches her hand in his when she attempts to pinch him the second time around, making her pout in return. "Ouch!"

"Says you who was just about to punch me on the bicep, meanie." She giggles when he lets go of her hand. "I'll let it go. At least you're laughing and smiling."

"Yeah." She looks up at him. "You surely do make me laugh and smile."

"Good or bad way?"

"Good. How could that be a bad thing?"

"I don't know, you could just think I'm stupid." She snorts.

"Never."

"Well, good." Yunho smiles. "I like it when you laugh and smile."

"I like it when you make me laugh and smile, Yunho."

"Yeah?" He drunkly rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, elbow on the surface of the table. "What else do you like, Iseul?"

"A lot of things."

"Mhm." He hums in a sing-song tone before leaning closer to tease her a bit. "What are a lot of things? Name a few."

"Yogurt soju, melon bread, being in bed after a long day and letting the sheets engulf me. Reading in a hot bath with candles lit up. To name a few." She leans forward to match him. "I don't think I can say anything else."

"Why not?"

"Because other things could be bad for me."

"In what way specifically?"

"Just cause." Her voice is barely above a whisper, lips only inches away from Yunho's.

"Just cause? How bad could it be?" She subtly shrugs before her eyes are dipping down to his lips, back up to his eyes. 

"Dunno. You tell me." She distractedly says. 

"What if.. maybe.. it isn't a necessarily a bad thing at all?" There's a thick silence in the air, but no one wants to address the tension, the elephant in the room. So, after a few minutes of said silence, Iseul leans forward and just kisses him— somehow thinking it could address the tension or whatever elephant is hiding in the room.

And at first, it shocks Yunho.

He freezes because he knows this shouldn't have happened. It fucking shouldn't have happened and he should’ve put a stop to it ASAP. Because Iseul was San's and vice versa, they made vows and devoted their lives to each other in front of him, and they were good together.

Yunho isn't really sure when the line started to blur. 

But then, he finds himself chasing after her lips to kiss her again, and again— until things can't be stopped and San's texts are going unanswered while Iseul's phone sits on the coffee table and vibrates away.

Her and Yunho are no longer sitting around watching the short film that's on. It eventually plays a random video next because no one is paying attention to what’s happening in the background. Empty soju bottles are spread across the surface of the table, along with open bags of chips and empty bowls. TV serving its purpose as background noise, almost fighting with the loud kisses and subtle moans leaving their lips while Iseul continues to make a place for herself on Yunho’s lap.

Meanwhile, San tucks his phone into his pocket, shrugging off the entire thing after he had sent her a few more follow up texts with all his ideas on how to make up for tonight. And tomorrow. And the weekend. He felt bad, but he was genuinely excited to do things with Iseul. To take her out on dates, travel near and far with her just to be alone. Rekindle the flame. Bring back that love, passion, that had been slowly dying because of his own fault. 

It wasn't entirely uncommon for Iseul to let texts go unanswered, but he was only worried because he knew that initial 'sorry can't make it' text upset her. She was probably trying to distract herself and lean on Yunho. Which, San can't help but think that Yunho does a way better job of being there for her than he actually does as her husband. It kinda aches him to think about it, and he's not sure how to navigate his own feelings when he keeps replaying that bar scene in his head.

For San, there’s no use in figuring this out because he knows they're good friends. They get along well, and he should be glad that they do. There isn’t anything to worry about despite his mixed feelings and confusing thoughts.

But for Iseul and Yunho, there’s no use in figuring out when this all happened, why this all happened— because everything has become perfectly clear and defined. 

The small acts gone unnoticed no longer small and unable to be hidden.

Clear, intentional.

Now, the lines are no longer blurred.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme

[psychslvt]

teacher bf teacher bf teacher bf !!!!!

no matter how hard i try in this class i just keep failing :( i study for hours every night but i guess i just don't understand the material. but my teacher offered to help me! hes so sweet and he tutors me after school and im so relieved to have a support figure in my life that i ignore when he touches me weird and stares at me. until one day he tells me to come over to his house for tutoring instead of meeting in his office and suddenly im sitting on his couch with my homework on the table in front of me and his hand around my waist, resting slightly on top of my upper thigh. he tells me that hes gonna help me with memorization and takes my flashcards, telling me about a game he plays with students to help them retain memory. i get a little confused when he makes me close my eyes and maneuvers me into a more vulnerable position but i go along with it because i really need this grade. the minute his fingers touch my cunt over my underwear my mind goes blank. i whine and open my eyes, confused about what hes doing as he asks the first question. i stutter and try to remember whats going on as he pushes my panties away and shoves a finger inside me. i moan and then catch myself and gasp as i struggle to realize whats actually happening. 

"whats the answer huh? cmon we went over this i know you remember it somewhere."

he starts to slowly move his finger in and out of me as i whimper.

stopp it i dont knowww this is so weird and wrong stop touching me !!!

"ill stop once you tell me the answer. thats how this works."

and he keeps fingering me while i get more and more braindead do my best to babble different answers but i cant even remember the question anymore, much less the answer. one finger turns into two turns into his dick while my soft protests turn into moans and whimpers. he fucks me there on the couch, where he told me he'd help me understand my schoolwork but now spits insults into my ear about how im just a stupid whore and if i wanted better grades i should have just asked for his dick in the first place. he tells me all about how if this gets out he can ruin my academic record and my life will be over so my only option is to become his personal toy if i want to pass this grade.

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 10

Chapter 10: adamant Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: depictions of a panic attack. PLEASE AVOID if that would end up harming you i beg !!! dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. I am being serious when I say that arthur is bad at handling this situation. he does not think he has done anything wrong. if youve been reading so far you know that that is BAD. please do not read if you can't handle it, im putting a giant RED FLAG on this WC: 4753 SNOW ANGEL DROP TN??? everybody say thank you to @emerald-ranch CHAPTER 10 !!! we did it !! it took me a while to churn this out and get it to a place that i liked. im still not even sure i like it LMAO thank you for all of the lovely little niche questions i get about my strange snow angel arthur, he is everything to me and i love to speak him into existence. first time writing angst soooo Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol You and Arthur clear the air.

“Caught me a little bunny, pretty one too,” you can feel his excitement behind the fabric of his pants, his belt digging into you uncomfortably. Arthur’s features, although covered in shadows from the dusk drawing in, still reflect his anticipation. He takes his hat off, his hand drags his hair back, damp with sweat, darker than the usual lighter brown. Some of it still flops over into his face anyway. 

Your hands push at his shoulders weakly, whining as he dips down to kiss you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the roundness of your cheek, you can feel the scrape of his stubbly hair on your face, the dimple at the tip of his nose brush over you. 

“Arthur, please, I just- I wanna go home, you won, you got me,” he hums, running his tongue over your neck, his arms prop his body up over yours, keeping you warm in the cold chill. He covers you well enough, shields you from the winter with his frame, wide and heavyset. You can feel the rumble in him when he says ‘you’re damn right, I did,’.

The sky is a pretty shade of purple, a little like lavender. You look up, feeling his body tilt to one side, held up on his elbow, his other takes the opportunity to roam over your body. “We can go to our home, Arthur,” you try to pull at his desires, but he won’t have any of it. 

“Wanna see my prize first,” he says between puffs of air, his tongue pacing over the delicate skin of your neck. His hands tug your skirt upwards while you try and keep your legs closed. His hands grip the fat of your thigh, dipping under the dainty fabric of your stocking. Between his legs is the rather stiff press of him and his arousal. You don’t like how easy it is for your body to respond to just the notion of him taking you like this, like an animal.

His rough fingertips skim over the mark he left on you, the one your mother saw. 

“All you had to do was say you liked it. I know you did. You like everything I do,”

“I-No, I…I couldn’t-” You couldn't make it stop. Couldn't make your body stop reacting to him is what you want to say. But to say so would admit that some part of you liked what he did. You snap your mouth shut like a coin purse. You can’t bring yourself to say such a thing. Not that his ideas deserve to be validated. He gives you a knowing look which sends a tremor down your spine, your legs shifting nervously. 

“Quit your lying’, girl, you ain’t fooled me yet. Shouldn’t be ashamed, sugar; I might be a bastard but I ain’t the worst thing coulda happened to ya,”

“I’m not trying to…I told her not to say anything,” you whine and push again at his shoulders but he doesn’t budge. 

“Mhm, how come I don’t believe that for a second,”

Either way, he drops his mouth to your neck, sucks another painful mark just under your ear, the sensitive skin tingles with sensation, pulling pain from your nerves. You tilt your face away, you can’t get him to stop. You can hear the wetness of his tongue moistening your skin before he's sucking a deep red mark, which will be another bruise on your skin. You pull at his hair, but you’re held down just as easily while he nips away.

Your back arches, your skin tingles. A lewd whimper is all you have to offer, keening for him. The quiver inside you isn’t mindful at all. Pure reaction, pleasure rising to the surface. 

 He gives you more than one this time, leaving them at his leisure. He's ripping your blouse open next, so he can leave more on your breasts. The soft flesh is alight with nerves, rippling desire through you. 

“Think you’re starting to like it, angel,” you still your body, disconnected from its actions, which until then was moaning, clutching his shoulder for dear life. The tide of your emotions rises higher though, ice cold water crashing down on the pleasant warmth gathering on your lower belly.

Like you’ve stepped in front of a wagon train, the panic sets in, more than any other time before now. A shameful part of you; an awful desire that burns for Arthur somewhere inside of you, wants him to keep going. To make good on all of his promises. But it’s too difficult to indulge that part of you. The shock of what happened in your family’s home is too much. It drops on your head like an anvil or a blacksmith's hammer. You’re entirely too aware of how your father’s blood dripped over his own fingers. Your mother crumpled to the ground as she watched Arthur take you away. 

“I don’t-don’t want to do this right now, please,” It’s maybe the first time you cry at his insistence. And the first time you’ve been utterly clear about what you do and don’t want. In the most explicit terms possible. You feel the tears well up in your eyes. You cried like this when he first told you what he wanted. They drip down the sides of your face. You hadn’t been able to stop him on the first night. And after he made you all too aware of how things work between a man and a woman, you hadn’t tried to, overwhelmed with how good he was at dragging pleasure out of you. But now, it’s like the world has come closing in and there’s nothing that can stop it from swallowing you whole. Not after what he did, simply because your father thought to stop him from taking his only daughter away. 

Your breathing comes far too quick. Your head feels like it's full of air and it begins to hurt. The cold stings your finger tips. You have no regard as to what your face looks like, letting it bunch up in what is probably an unsightly expression of your reactive sobbing.

“Hey, hey, I-” He’s no longer using that husky tone with which he usually addresses you when he gets like this. It’s trying to be soothing but a certain panic underlines his words. You can see him take his hands off of you, as if he’s burning you with every touch. But he still keeps you underneath some of his weight, his mouth opens as if to say something else, furrowed brows 

“Get off…Get off me,” you push at his shoulders and at first he doesn't move an inch. When you don’t immediately feel his weight move from pinning you down, your sobbing becomes volatile. Struggling to breath through your tears and your desperate wails, you inhale faster but it still feels like it's not enough. Thrashing mindlessly at him, uncaring of his anger or his punishments, is what makes him ease off of you a little. 

“Woah, easy,” he tugs your skirt down, shielding you from the cold as much as he can without touching you but you can’t stop yourself from being consumed by the physical reaction your shock evokes from you, wrenched from you. Like a child and their toys infected with scarlet fever. 

His soothing does work a little, now that you know he’s stopping, that he’s covered your legs. You sniff and writhe, your fingers grip at his upper arms. You can finally blink through your tears to see his expression, worry clouded with something you’ve never quite seen. The pull of his mouth tugs towards a guilt he’s never shown you before. 

You’re starting to breathe way too much, all of the air makes you dizzy and the cold still burns your lungs but you don’t care, letting the pain ground you. Your arms wrap around yourself to cover your breasts, trying to fix your ruined shirt to no avail. The frustrated fumbling of your fingers has Arthur softening more, but his voice still intonates with his natural authority.

“Sweetheart, you need to slow down. Jus’ breathe, you’ll be alright,” his commanding voice controls you more than you thought it would. He sits back on his haunches, hoping the distance might do you some good, crowding you isn’t in his best interest. You gasp for air, sitting up a little with the space he’s afforded you.

Arthur comes closer to calm you when he notices you can’t seem to do it all on your own. He’s slow, shushing you, his hand pets your hair, down behind your ear, to the side of your neck. He keeps his eyes low, the warmth of his hand helps you a little, so does his own rhythmic breathing, slow and steady.

He doesn’t say much for a minute or two, a ‘that’s my girl,’ tingles your ear, warms you up. You sigh, trying to regulate your breathing, appreciating his help but still feeling frightened and confused. Especially when you consider that he is the source of all your troubles. Arthur is close enough so you feel body heat, his fingers brush your tears away. Sweet in this gentle moment. How could you stand to take comfort from a man who shot your father? Who could have missed, who could have killed him? As always, you doubt that you’re right in the head. Something must be broken within you.

It’s hardwired though. Arthur is all you have left now. The only one here with you.

He doesn’t seem excited in the same way he was before. The adrenaline from his chase dies in your blood, leaving behind the residue of stress, a headache forming. The pace of your heart does slow down now, the puff of the air in your lungs. He watches you with an odd expression. Glad that you’ve calmed down but still disappointed. Perhaps with you, having ruined his plan of taking you, of spreading your legs in the snow, burying himself inside of you. If things hadn’t gone so wrong today, you might have let him.

The thought makes more shameful tears drip down your face. Despite any calm summoned from you, you still feel the curl of disgrace, laying in your tattered shirt underneath this man, shrinking away from his stare.

“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” You can at least appreciate that he is worried about you, even if he has no clue why. You can see a fear in his eyes that he tries to hide from you, a fear that he’s caused you real pain. At least you know now that if you had done more screaming and crying, he might have stopped that day. You didn't think him to be so thick as to not understand why you are as emotional in this moment as you are. 

“Arthur, no, no, I just- I don’t want- I want to go home…now,” You had wanted to come away from this moment, maybe just a bit touched at how he had helped you through your foolish hysterics. But as always, some part of Arthur balances it out. 

“Just tell me why you was cryin’. I know that ain’t all of it,” He narrows his eyes. Your jaw drops, unable to hide your outrage. Your anger, which you keep in check most of the time, pushes at the lid of the pot you stuff it in. Every single grain of it threatens to spill out. Your fingers scrunch, your face does too. 

“Shooting my father and then hunting me like an animal; pushing me in the dirt for- for your desires- that’s not enough?” You realize now that dusk is here and it’s colder in this dark valley than it was before. You move to stand, he’s upright before you and he does try to help but you refuse him. Unfortunately, your anger hasn’t been honed into a point sharp enough to cut. It’s only wet and girlish, it makes you cry and tremble, your throat thickens unpleasantly.

“You did what you wanted with me, like you always do. But my family… I never wanted-” You wobble onto your feet, closing his coat in front of your chest. You should never have indulged him. You should have bitten and chewed and snarled and spat until he left you alone. 

You aren't sure why you didn't. You suppose it felt nice to have a man notice you, to call you pretty. To want you in some way other than to just ignore or to leer at disgustingly like the lonely trappers at the trading post, even when they were friends of your father. How pathetic of you. 

Yet, nothing about what he did felt disgusting. It was the expectation on you as a woman to reserve these affections for marriage that lashed against the inside of your ribcage. That whispered that it was wrong; it was anything but the pure and gentle lessons you received as a girl. Opening your legs so willingly for a man because he called you pretty, called you all sorts of saccharine praises, was tearing away at you. You hadn't fought him harder and at first you thought it was because there was no point, that he was too strong anyway so why waste the energy? But now, you aren't so sure of that resolve. 

He was handsome in his own way and he didn’t seem like all the boys your mother told you to keep an eye on in case you should marry one day. Lanky and thin, sparse hairs on their chins which they stroked like great beards. He wasn’t a drunken fool or witless boy.

Arthur was a man. He acted like one, he smelled like one, looked like one. He wasn’t afraid to muck stalls, to cook. And he acted like you were married already, like you loved him and he loved you. Perhaps you liked the idea of having a man such as him, a man who didn’t need you to replace his mother’s duties, a man who wanted you to simply be with him. And those glittering moments where you played house with him, sat on his lap and let him kiss you. You could have stayed with him there forever, buried in the snow. You would have been happy if spring’s thaw never came. But now, he stands, with an almost resentful look at your accusatory tone.

Everything has dissolved into a coagulated mess, like spoiled milk. 

“I do what I want with you? The hell does that mean?” He’s more upset now, at the insinuating circumstances. 

“Arthur,” you recoil at the anger in his voice. You don’t even know what you meant particularly but Arthur fishes a meaning out from your words, even if you hadn’t put too much stock into your own words. 

“You’re sayin’ that I violated you, is that it?” his hands rest on his hips as he moves to keep staring you in the eye, you’ve never seen him like this before. Really angry. 

“I didn’t ask to do that with you, I told you to…” It’s like he can sense how noncommittal you are with your own sentiments. Your own certainty doesn't linger with you. As much as you would like it too. He sniffs it out like a bloodhound, throwing the truth in your face. 

“You know what I think? I think- fact, I know. You’re one of those gently reared girls, think they’re better than this, above any of this low down ruttin’ us sinners do. You can’t even say it, can you? All that we got up to. That’s called fuckin’ , sweetheart,” The word curls into his vicious smile. You’re scandalized, can feel how your hands pull his coat even tighter. You don’t think you’ve heard anyone talk like that to you. It’s a dirty word but you suppose that is what it felt like to be with him. Dirty. But that rush, you can’t deny that. The one that shoots up your spine when you remember how it made you feel. 

 “Can’t say you ain’t like it, can’t say you did; and I get it. Ain’t the first time I met a girl like you. But you can’t lie to me,” 

You ignore the hind-brain jealousy that pokes your mind. His words are truer than you want them to be. You said stop once or twice, although you can’t recall too well about things you said. Instead, you told him you belonged to him. You had meant to endear yourself to him. It worked far more than you wanted it to. 

Pretending like you didn’t want him to do what he did protected your own self important image as your father and mother preferred you, not how things really were. And now that you don’t have them anymore, what use was that image? You try to cling to the truth of your old life, crumbling to pieces around you. 

“It’s not just about that. I…I didn’t say yes…I thought you would hurt me, you told me you didn’t want me to fuss. When you told me I had to stay…” you stun him, he seems like he hardly remembers doing that. In that low voice, his startling command. It scared you to the bone then, but it did shake something awake. You had never felt so wanted in your life as that day. Both of you are some type of wrong, you think. Maybe he recognized the same kind of wrong in you.

Carefully, he mulls over what you said. It affects him, you can see how that same guilt settles in the creases of his face. It roots around his eyes, the harsh lines soften. How his boots scuff against the ground. One of his hands scratches at his beard. But all too soon, it’s gone and a resolve hardens on his face, like he’s dashed the guilt away. Made room for something else. 

“Am I just supposed to believe you was lyin’ when you said you liked it? I don’t make you talk, darlin’. You might be pretty as a doll,” He looks over your features, over your hair and your pouting lip. “But you ain’t no string puppet. Wouldn’t hurt you, honey, not like that, not how you’re meanin’. It’d do you some good to remember that ain’t true ‘bout most anybody else,” He lets his body naturally intimidate yours, looking down his nose at you.

You don’t know how he can have such a prideful stare. Like he knows he’s right. He pushes the memory of your father, kneeling and gripping his wound to the front of your mind. 

“You didn’t have to shoot him. Heaven forbid my father from trying to protect me from you. Wouldn’t be the first time a father tried to keep his daughter from marrying you. Arthur, why exactly is it your first instinct to go waving a gun around when something goes wrong? I don’t understand what drives someone to do the things you do,” He chuckles darkly, as if you told a morose joke at a funeral. He does let a quiet frustration come over him, a glare gets leveled at you. But he holds himself tightly in his own restraint. Your retaliation against him; he treats it as a minor slight. You cross your arms while he brushes it off. All too good at letting insults slide off his back.

“That makes the two of us. I ain’t been a good man most my life and I ain’t sure I’ll ever be any good at it. I try to be good to you, I do, but maybe it ain’t enough. That’s just fine with me,” He steps closer to you, sensing your shock at his words. He’s back to that prowling wolf from before. His demeanor changes on a dime. He bends at the waist to grab his gloves and hat, dusting the bottom of the brim casually against his coat before placing it back on his head. His gloves are shoved haphazardly in his pocket. “I don’t know if I need that from you, some fairytale love story, where your Pa hands you over to me and I bring you up to the altar dressed like a government boy,” You’re almost afraid of him, how he carries himself. There's a dread hanging in the air around him, a foreboding poke in the back of your head. 

“Used to be an outlaw, around New Austin, Heartlands, all over…” you look at the cold look in his eyes. Colder than the snow that dusts the ground. Frozen stiff like a corpse, but you tremble anyway. He shifts his legs, widening his stance and placing one hand on his belt, next to the shiny revolver. “I’ve killed people, robbed them, or both…done things I wasn’t always proud of. I ain’t too proud of what I done with you neither. Tellin’ you that is…just about as good as bein’ married. Can’t let ya go wanderin’ off knowin’ the truth, now,” Arthur raises his arms in something like a shrug. The nonchalant air about him has that wet anger rising in your throat again.

“You ain’t goin’ back home. Least the home you had. Me puttin’ a bullet in your Pa don’t change that. I’d advise you to make your peace with the fact. I keep havin’ to tell you. I hate repeatin’ myself,” You continue to stare, eyes wide with the realization of his truth. An outlaw. You must be the most unfortunate girl in the state. To walk into the home of a killer. Your thoughts trail back to how he disposed of the body of the man who had tried to rob you. The cold and careless manner of dealing with death was telling then. It screams at you now.

“I-I’m not some belonging for you to collect, for you to hang on your wall. To put up on top of your fireplace, Arthur,”

“No, you’re much more than that,” You aren’t completely sure of his meaning. But it’s something that entails you being with him how he wills it. No better than being chained to his bed, really. He nears you and you do take a wary step backward, a little afraid of the neutrality on his features. He schools his reactions, tells you of his past with no remorse. 

“If you care for me, care for me at all, wouldn’t you- wouldn't you let me go?” you ask but you know his answer, when he finally closes in on you, drags one finger down the curve, the roundness of your cheek. His thumb rests on your lips, his other fingers curl around to almost the nape of your neck. His hand makes you feel entirely too small in his hold. Guides you to look up at him, as your fingers clutch the fur of his coat tightly around you. 

“See, that’s the problem right there,” he has a strange twist to his voice, a light lilt while he smirks down at you, the darkness dipping the shadows across his face into an even darker tone. “I care about you too much. Maybe it ain’t right, can’t say I give a damn either way,” the fragility of this moment isn’t broken until he puts a kiss on your lips that’s a thousand times lighter than the precarious air of this conversation. But you should have known being so restrained isn’t permanent with Arthur. 

A strong hand closes on your hip, drags you into the front of him. His breath quickens, it flatters you how much he likes you so near to him. Your hip aches pleasantly as he squeezes it. Your heart swells, you wish you could will yourself into rejecting him.

“Tell me you don’t want me, honey. Tell me to leave you alone…” You’re stiff as an iron rod when he pulls you to him. You brace yourself on him, hands compelled naturally to lay flat on his chest. Something about the full form of his body is so pleasing to you, the breadth of him against you. The warmth you feel and the strength lying in wait. The smell of him, leather and hide, tobacco and mint. It closes you in. You open your mouth to say something. Anything. 

“Arthur, that’s not fair,” you whine. Your anger might have caused you to lash out at him for once. But you’re back to the docile thing he liked to chase around, too occupied with his body so close to yours to realize that you’ve dropped all pretense of that strong front, that you haven’t answered his question. You wish you could continue being the kind of person who could tell someone like Arthur what he's asking. Strong willed, not so swayed. But you’re moved in the opposite direction by whatever is inside of you, some deep buried want of yours. And the constant tone of knowing that he’s bigger and stronger than you. It’s always there, rain pattering on the roof in autumn. He had no trouble chasing after you like this, in the encroaching dusk. It was more a game than any real challenge.

“Just say it, you keep tryin’ to, don’t ya?” you look away. Why can’t you say it? When he’s inviting you to rebuff him. You look up at him. A knot gets tangled in your insides. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. What is wrong with you?

“You can’t cause you don’t mean it, not when this little pussy gets wet when I touch you, when you kiss me back. You don’t remember when you was touchin’ all over me? Those kisses you put on me?” he teases you, a more smug exhale is what you get. The night weighs on your shoulders like a heavy blanket and so does his reality check. He has a sigh and a faint groan, as if thinking of all that you’ve done with him in the privacy of his home. 

You think to defy him, to spite his words but you can’t when he gives you another kiss. The dryness he licks away. This one is a wet sloppy mess, it doesn’t last long but he’s as right as he knew he was, you melt into it, grab onto him, tilt so he can kiss you deeper. His teeth nip at your soft lips, his tongue rubs over yours. A warm shame fills your belly and crawls up your face. You can’t bring yourself to hate his stupid smug lovesick look, the way he rubs the scar on his chin as he pulls away.

“You like me, don’t you, sweetheart?” He’s mocking you now, he knows the answer just as well as you do but he likes to feel like he’s wrenching it out of you. He’s caught you and he’s holding you up by the ears while you dangle uselessly; a rabbit caught in the hunt. You stare up at him, caught in his pretty blue eyes, the little nicked scar on his nose bridge. You have a very reluctant almost imperceptible nod. Despite the raging heat in you at such an admittance. You like the man who locked you in his home, who wants you to marry him while hardly knowing him, who used to be an outlaw. 

“Even after I shot your daddy? You’re somethin’ else, girl,” he revels in your reaction but with his own version of pity, an endeared expression at your warbling chin and heavy sniff.

A bad feeling curdles in your belly, you bite your lip. You shouldn’t do this. How could you ever do this to your family? Turn your back on them like this? But you didn’t see another choice. Tears bead on your lash line. He has to rub his inevitable victory in your face. You don’t know how you’re going to continue. How you can even stand the sight of Arthur: of yourself. Now that he’s twisted everything out of shape to suit his needs. You should spit on him. Curse him until he gets struck down by the powers that be. 

But you don’t. You aren't sure there’s any end to that. You hope to never repeat this cycle again. Where you try to pull against his control and he overpowers, strong-arming you into doing as he pleases. He gathers your tears, brushes them away. Rough calluses over the little sensory hairs on your skin. 

“C’mon, sweet thing, it’s time you get what ya want, huh? Time to go home.” 

UGH this arthur gets on my fucking nerves but i am so weak for him i hate his corny ass. god dark arthur is just too much for me lmaooo feedback is more than appreciated, please let me know your thoughts im begging wahhhhh

[thevoidstaredback]

Danny couldn’t tell you when he joined the team. The first time he’d met Zatanna, she’d invited him to join the Justice League Dark. He’d denied, but had decided to stick around anyway. Then, somewhere along the line, Constantine had given him a JL communicator and that had been that. There was no initiation, no paperwork, and no official title given. One day, Phantom just showed up.

The Justice League, according to Raven who heard from Red Robin who was told by Nightwing who’d been in the room when Batman had found out, had had a bit to say about not going through the official process.

Phantom still wasn’t an actual member of either team, but he wasn’t upset about that. Sure, he didn’t get any of the perks that everyone else did, but he wasn’t the slightest bit upset about that.

As far as legalities and technicalities were concerned, Phantom wasn’t a part of the Justice League Dark. So why, pray tell, was he in a meeting between the JL and the JLD? Again?

The threat was an unknown being of supernatural origin. At least, that’s what he’d been told. Deadman had contacted him half way through the meeting to tell him that they’d probably need his expertise on this matter. Which, Danny would like to point out, was a very niche area. But, Deadman is one of his team - whenever that had happened - as well as one of his people. He was inclined to believe him.

Turns out that showing up to that meeting when called was a good idea. It was a larger scale than when he’d first dealt with something like it, but he knew this particular pattern anywhere.

As King, the Infinite Realms fed him information about where his people were and what they were doing. If they were in one of the infinite realms, if they were in the in between they all called home. She even let him know when someone joined or rejoined their chosen afterlife, seeing as the Realm Between was first and foremost an Afterlife. What She told him most, though, is where Concepts and Gods were and what they were going. The Observants were supposed to keep track of everything, especially because he was dealing with Living business, but they were doing a horrible job.

“Comas.” Superman was explaining, “We don’t know the cause, and none of the people have anything obvious in common.”

“So we need to find the source and take care of it, yeah?” Constantine said. Superman nodded. The Brit turned to Phantom. “So, Phantom, you recognise this?”

Phantom sighed tiredly. He so needs a pay raise for this. “Yeah, I do.”

The heroes in the room straightened up. Deadman smiled, “See? I told you we’d need ya here!”

“Shut up, man, I was having a good break,” he whined. “Besides, I’m not even a part of either team.”

“No,” Zatanna nodded, “But you agreed to be a consultant for the JLD. Now do your job; consult.”

Groaning again, Phantom let his head fall to the table. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go take care of it.” He stood, “C’mon, Deadman.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I want ice cream after I’m done and I’m gonna make you buy it.”

“I’m dead!”

“And? So am I.”

“I-”

“Just go with him, Deadman. Unless you’d rather be stuck in the House?”

It was Deadman’s turn to sigh. “Yeah, fine, alright.”

“I told you I’m a younger sibling, right?”

“Gasp! No. My own King? The betrayal!”

***

Phantom thought he and Nocturn were on pretty good terms. The king of Dreams had been pretty chill since they’d first fought, never really stepping on any toes, but he just had to go pull shit like this!

Well, Phantom wanted to be mad at Nocturn. However, this wasn’t the king of Dreams’ fault. In fact, this wasn’t even the fault of any of his people! It looked like the work of a Realms Being, but closer inspection proved it to be a really good fake out.

“This isn’t Nocturn.” he said to Deadman, “This isn’t anything I’ve seen before.”

“So, it’s just a really good fake?” the ghost asked.

Phantom nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for doubting you, Nocturn.” There was no response, but he didn’t expect one. He knew the ghost heard, however.

“So, what do we do now?”

“We should probably report back and get a bigger team on this.”

“You’re going to willingly work with the teams?”

“I do anyway.”

“Fair.”

“C’mon, let’s go get ice cream and call Mister Battison.”

“I still can’t believe you don’t call him ‘Batman’. Have you called him that to his face yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you ever going to?”

“Maybe.”

As it turns out, being dead does, in fact, prevent you from buying ice cream. So, Phantom had to go as Danny to get ice cream for himself while Deadman contacted the Justice League. Can he call discrimination? Too much paperwork.

Someone has a huge pair of balls to copy Nocturn and blame him. How, was the question. How did they know how Nocturn operated? Was the copy on purpose, or was it a complete accident? How were they knocking these people out? How were they doing it on such a large scale? Was it one person? Was it an organization? Was it actually supernatural? He knew for a fact that it wasn’t the Realms or Her people, but that’s all he knew.

Half the job is detective work, which is why the Justice League operates as a team. The Justice League Dark keeps their information close to their chest, working with what they know because they already know everything they need to about the cases they work on. And if they don’t know something, the JL has someone find out for them while the JLD figures it out as they go along.

Danny’s never been good at investigative work. When he was a kid, all his heroing was punching the problem until it went away. And if that didn’t work, he got back up and punched harder. Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and Valerie had always been so much better at the whole ‘gathering information’ aspect.

He worked well with a team, but he liked to work alone.

“Constainte,” he said as soon as the man answered his phone, “It’s not sourced from the Realms.”

“Hello to you, too, mate,” the magic user grumbled, “Deadman just finished telling the League. You enjoy your ice cream?”

“Would’ve been better if I didn’t have to buy it,” he muttered. “Are we sure this is a supernatural problem? It looks like Nocturne's work, but it’s got ‘human made’ written all over it.”

“Batman’s been looking into it with his team, minus Red Robin. He assures that it’s magical.”

“Well that limits exactly nothing. I can head to the Realms and see if She can tell me anything, but I doubt it. Maybe try asking the City Spirits?”

“Not every city has a spirit, Phantom.”

“No, but they all have graveyards. Try the protection spirits in the cities of the victims. Maybe even try seeing if the hospitals they’re staying at are haunted.”

“And talk to Hospital Ghosts? No thanks.”

“They’re not that bad.”

“You only say that because you’ve never had to deal with a pissed off Hospital Spirit.”

“Don’t piss off the Hospital Spirits and you’ll be fine!”

“Easier said than done, kid.”

“Send Z if you’re really that nervous about it.”

“She’s even less likely to.”

“Then go with Nightwing.”

“You’d trust a Bat to talk to a Hospital Spirit?”

“I trust Nightwing to talk to a Hospital Spirit. And a Graveyard Spirit. Besides, isn’t one of the victims from Bludhaven?”

A sigh. “What’d he do to get your trust so easily?”

“He’s just a little guy, Connie!”

“He’s a grown ass man. And don’t call me Connie!”

“Exactly!” Phantom’s grin was audible. “He’s just a guy!” His energy dropped a bit. “Seriously, though, take Nightwing and talk to some Graveyard and Hospital Spirits. Also see if Lady Gotham can help out. I’ll go see what the Infinite Realms can tell me.”

“Alright. You’ll be back for dinner?”

“If you’re buying.”

Part 14 Part 16

[bobasbn]

𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

1k words | rafayelxfem!reader | Rafayel gets a new lip piercing, cutesy, brat Raf

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When your boyfriend, Rafayel, sent you an overly thrilled message about some surprise he had, you weren’t really expecting much. Perhaps he was going to showcase a new painting in the works for his next exhibit or maybe a new trick that he taught Reddie the fish. 

What you definitely weren’t expecting was to be met with a foreign sight of metal that adorned the corner of the bottom lip. A small, silver labret that sticks from his skin, glimmering every time he spoke or smiled. You stared at him with your mouth agape for a few seconds longer than intended and almost made him sob when he believed you didn’t like the new feature on his face. 

“I wanted to try something new. I’ve seen countless humans with these tattoos and piercings and I thought it wouldn’t look so bad on me,” Rafayel tried to explain when you asked why he had impulsively gone to pierce his lip. Not that you didn’t like it, in fact, you found it to be an immensely attractive sight. The piercing moved so hypnotically with every motion when he spoke. 

The only downside was that you couldn’t really express your affection with a peck or a kiss due to his healing process. Rafayel’s been going insane without your kisses and everyday he wished the piercing would heal at lightspeed. 

Today you decided to be a thoughtful girlfriend and encourage Rafayel to take care of his health by exercising. His lips were a bit swollen after getting the piercing but now that it’s been a few months it’s been gradually getting better. You’ve become increasingly enticed by the sight. The way it glimmers when he talks, when he plays around with the piercing using his tongue or teeth. It seamlessly fits on his face somehow like a puzzle piece you didn’t even realise was ever missing. Despite that, he’s been flopping around his studio like a fish out of water whining and groaning about the pain in his lips and the lack of kisses he’s receiving. 

“Come on Raf. You need some exercise,” you say, trying to convince him to step outside and go to the gym with you. Rafayel, albeit dressed in workout attire, stands with his arms crossed and a petulant frown on his face. That new lip ring he put on catches your eye, the metal hugging the pliable pink flesh of his lips.

“Exercise is not what I need right now to rejuvenate me,” he protests, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. You feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his black tank top. He leans his head down a bit but all you see is that lip ring drawing closer. 

“How long has it been since you’ve stepped outside?” You ask. His hand trails lower, resting on the small of your back. His mind seems to be wandering somewhere that’s not this conversation you’re having. You decide to negotiate with him. Instead of a strenuous workout at the gym maybe he’ll settle for a walk for some fresh air. Rafayel can read your thoughts through your eyes and it deepens his frown to know that you want to drag him outside his studio.

“Does it matter?” He questions. “Can’t we just stay inside, watch the sea from the comfort of my studio?” He tries to steer you away from wanting to go exercise. 

“I’ll give you a kiss if you come walk-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Rafayel is fixing a black cap on his head and practically skipping out the door. He looks back at you and gestures for you to follow him. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” He says impatiently. 

You roll your eyes at his sudden change in attitude. Taking his hand in yours, you two stroll out, the breeze brushing against Rafayel’s face for the first time in who knows how long. He keeps a tight grasp on your hand and leads you to the pristine beach of Whitesand Beach. The sun’s rays are a welcoming warmth against your skin, the light coruscating off the ocean across from you. 

You turn around to admire Rafayel. His soft purple locks wavering in the breeze, pink-blue eyes lovingly staring back at you… and that lip ring. It throws off the entire ‘soft boyfriend’ look he was previously presenting as. Such a small piece of jewellery somehow shifted his entire facade. 

“Are you sure you don’t secretly hate it?” Rafayel asks, giving a small squeeze to your hand. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I like it,” you reassure him for the umpteenth time. 

Rafayel looks at you in disbelief. His eyes are narrowed and eyebrows curved down as he turns his body to face you. He steps closer, his intention clear as day when he starts to lean down a bit. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” Rafayel asks. You can’t deny him, you would never. Especially not when he looks like a kicked puppy begging for a kiss. 

You give him a simple nod. He immediately jumps at the chance, arms encircling your body and his lips smash against yours. 

It’s different. It’s exhilarating. The way the cool steel poking at your lips contrasts with his warm, supple lips is dizzying. When you reciprocate a second after, you can feel the small tug of a smirk on his lips as he indulges in you. 

“Rafayel-” You mumble between the kiss, “we’re in- public-” 

“And?” He inquires. He pulls away only a fraction, your lips still about a centimetre apart. 

“And? It’s not empty,” you whisper. Your eyes dart about around Rafayel, spotting a few other people casually lazing around on the beach. Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to really care about anything else but he straightens his back again. 

“Okay. Then let’s take a nice, relaxing walk back to my studio and spend more time together,” Rafayel suggests, a brazen smile plastered on his face. He sensed you were just about to protest so he acted quickly. His arm secured itself around the back of your knees, hoisting you up over his shoulder.

“Wha- Hey! Rafayel!” You almost screech when you find yourself slumped over his shoulder like you’re a bag of potatoes. This was the last thing you were expecting from him.

“Relax, cutie. We’re just going to… make sure my lip piercing is fully healed.” 

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inspired by the random thought I had that what if Rafayel got a lip piercing bc he already has so many ear piercings. ♡⃕ first post of 2025. hope you enjoy!!!

[columblorbo]

.

[bisexualfagdyke]

Adventure time fans when you enjoyed the Fionna and Cake finale and don't want their miserable unnecessary nitpicky opinions on a silly happy cartoon ruining ur joy and love for the show:

[chiikinwing]

when your boyfriend's an overgrown puppy

[roselightfairy]

why the writing is so bad :(

[lesbiancharliedalton]

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[the-busy-ghost]

Petty rant this morning- I can understand that somtimes even the nicest noises can be a nuisance, even painful, and believe me I have become cranky about all sorts of innocuous noises at the wrong time.

That being said, I have heard a surprising number of people complain about bellringers practising, when they moved into a house next to a mediaeval English church

[the-travelling-witch]

Every Character i ever wanted INCLUDING “FATHER” is coming back and am sobbing i need her

luckily i have scara already and could not care less for baizhu, so letting them go isn’t painful for me; lyney and arlecchino however… that’s a completely different story…

when will hoyo bring back shenhe and furina (in that order please) so i can finally think about pulling for someone else again without bad conscience

[terpia]

Having a very uuuugh sort of day for no reason 😓

[mental-illness-bingo]

If you think it's a personality trait or a good or even a neutral thing to hate children just fucking block me. You're pathetic and you don't even deserve for me to bother to argue with you. Enjoy your weird obsession with vilifying a group of people with next to no neurodevelopment or life experience I guess. The rest of us will be here having a real personality, a life, and being tolerable to be around.

i feel like a lot of the 'i hate kids' crowd would be more tolerant if they understood that due to a kid's limited experience of the world that 4 hour flight might just be the longest they've ever had to sit still for or that trapped finger might literally be the most pain they've ever felt in their short life or they might not have ever seen a person with pink hair ever so of course they want to touch it or nobody's told them yet that they can't run around the museum and they only just learned cheetahs are the fastest animals so of course they want to put that to the test. how were they supposed to know etc etc.