#bubbly ghost face

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Fast n' dirty painting I did after work today, based on a goofy picture I saw

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 question! How's clone Dami and Tim here? I mean Tim's terrified of getting re-stabbed, but this Damian is infinitely chiller, and skateboards like him! Maybe there's a chance!

For sure! I like to imagine that baby dames after chilling out with Danny would be so bratty towards the Waynes if they found out about him while he was still little - but the chance of him stabbing Tim would be so much less. He'd be like, regular little sibling bratty. Not "i'm going to stab you at any moment" bratty.

(If you've seen the solo clone damian post, tim shows up with batman at the end and Damian's a little shit to him - but that's only because he's asking a lot of questions towards Danny, and Damian has been perfectly content with his awesome older brother, and doesn't like that father and co have now found out about him. His entire internal monologue is essentially "what are YOU doing here?!? >:(( Go Away!!!")

But as teen? There's for sure a chance for them to get along. I think he'd remain a little shit to them to an extent, just because I think it's funny. I have this image superimposed in my brain of teen Damian - wearing ripped jeans, a band tee, and a flannel, his hair slightly shaggy but still maintained - leaning against a piece of furniture lazily and saying to DW; "You need to get that stick out of your ass, dude."

Like, Clone Damian as a teenager is so funny to me to think about because he's so... American teenager to me. It's a testament to how different his upbringing was since he moved in with Dany (and Danny and his friends' influence on him). He uses slang, he speaks casually, he wears grunge. He skateboards and spray paints, he volunteers at an animal shelter and uses specialized ghostified spray cans to spray glitter and paint in the eyes of the ghosts he fights. He still uses his swords, that's not something he'll ever give up, but like, he has all of these other things too.

[bxby-ju]

[wein-bitte]

Billy takes bubble baths. He installed four extra locks on the interior of the bathroom so that he could do it in private and Stu wouldn't have a way in to see what he was up to. The original Ghostface often found himself like this, in the hot water, covered in bubbles, drawing little shapes in the fluff of it all with his index finger--he would die if anyone saw.

[batsinurbelfrey]

.

[witch-of-fanart]

Haloween Party page 2

[screampied]

‘ HIT IT LIKE IT'S ALL MINEEE ?! ★

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, sukuna. jjk men as ex boyfriends ‘n how they fuck.

cw. fem! reader, ex bf trope, unprotected, possessive themes, brat taming, p spanking, manhandling, size kink, brēeding, ōral (f! receiving), impact play, degradation, praise, squírting, doggy, mīssionary, mating press, overstim, petnames.

wc. 4.8k

GETO ☆ the sloppy ex.

“said ‘m sorry,” he’d hiss, watching as your legs voluntarily snake around his neck. geto’s got the most smug grin, pretty batted lashes fluttering as he’s being fed his favorite meal that he’s been craving for so so long..

but he’s not sorry. in fact after every argument, it would always end up like this. he’d always make it up to you by eating you out, savoring your taste and giving you the most toe-curling climax. it was the least he could do, right? scorching hot breaths of his fan against your drooling folds as you sat upright against the edge of the mattress. you’re whining, gripping at his unkempt, black strands tightly as your thighs jitter. “mhm, could never stay away from my girl for too long.”

you vigorously shudder, feeling his crooked, pink lips ghost against your soddened folds. with geto, he was a messy eater. you were the only person who could get him on his knees. “i’m very sorry, pretty,” he whispers against your cunt, lengthy tongue swirling and delving deeper inside. you whimper, your grasp against his hair growing tighter and firmer. his darkened roots rise up from the secure grip and you start to grind against his face. “ohhh, my. seems like you missed me too,” and with three wet kisses pressing onto your swollen entrance, he glances up at you. humming, he swipes his nose against your pussy before lolling his tongue out allll the way to show you how messy he was for you. “or you jus’ missed my tongue, huhhh.”

he was so smug, so fucking smug. even whilst being buried right between your thighs, slurping you up like he hasn’t eaten a proper good meal in ages. “s- sugu,” you moan, your sudden attitude disappearing the moment he whisks his tongue against your nub. his other favorite girl, your eyebrows that was once arched from arguing was now curling together from such calamitous pleasure. he’s so sloppy too, taking every few pausing seconds to spit right into your cunt, lapping it up with his tongue, only to spit right back on it again. “f- fuckin’ hate you.”

“yeah yeah,” he whistles against your cunt unfazed — warm breath tickling against your folds that seep with slick juices. so wet, he pries your legs open even further with two hands before making a sheeny trail of saliva with his long, lengthy tongue licking from top to bottom. he stares dead at you too, dark sable irises never leave yours while he’s enjoying his treat. a free hand creeps between your inner thighs and he starts to ease a single thick finger inside. “i take back my sorry then, baby.”

your back arches - feeling his thickset digit easily soak into your clingy walls. you’re already coating a majority of it with your slick, rutting your hips against his mouth and his finger now. the stretch had you feral.

you despised his sassy mouth, and yet he’s always despised yours. the perfect match. if it was anything you and geto could come to terms with, it was the simple fact that you both craved each other. crave was a strong word, but it was the right word.

“s- suguru, fuck— i feel something, ‘s gonna come,” you babble, feeling an unfamiliar sensation bubble up into the deep pits of your lower abdomen. it felt like an intense, spiraling pressure building up before gradually starting to press down onto you. your jaw drops, feeling like you were about to gush right out. his tongue returns to slurp against you, luxuriating your sweet, syrupy taste as you’re practically just fucking your cunt onto his face. he darkly chuckles, feverish breath going against your dripping folds before he literally makes out with it. “s- suguru did you hear me?”

“oh, i heard ya, baby,” he whispers, another finger vanishing into your tight walls. with black strands of messy hair running all down his face, he french kisses your cunt thrice, groaning at the feeling of you pulsing right on his lips. “i just don’t care,” and your legs shake out of nowhere. you felt like you were floating — cloud nine, all the clouds, you felt like you were flying.

your mouth remains open, stupefied and all. with a squealing gasp, you drag his face further against you before spotting a shimmery trail of your own slick running down his chin. again though, geto doesn’t care. in fact, he licks it clean with no shame, swiping a thumb across the crack of his lips before he starts to spank your pussy. “well?” he eyes you, his voice growing low. “you gonna make a mess or not?” pat. “i’m waiting,” pat. “oh c’monnn, don’t tell me you’re scared ‘ta make a mess. we’ve known each other for how long, princess?”

and before you could reply with a snarky comeback — it happens. you end up gushing right on his face, watching it trickle all down his chin and your eyes roll back in nirvana. everything feels so quick, you’re barely able to breathe regular breaths as your eyes grow droopy and your legs break into a fit of spasms. “suguru, suguuu,” you pant, losing your grip in his hair. and like the sloppy eater he was, he laps your cunt clean. savoring the taste, savoring you.

“did you just squirt on my face?” he rasps, pulling his fingers out to watch the mess dribble straight out. you’re so wet, just a puddle and you were laying right in it. you don’t respond and he rolls his eyes, giving your cunt an ‘encouraging’ swat with his palm before purring. “mhm, how ‘bout you do that again? for old times sake, messy girl.”

TOJI ☆ the nasty ex.

“y’know the drill, babygirl. bend over. uh huh, gimme that slutty arch like always, attaaa girl,” toji grits. intently, hooded green eyes are staring at your back. you moan, feeling just how quickly your body submits. toji could never get enough of you. the second your gummy walls swallow his girth, you suck your teeth in salacious rapture. it’s almost carnal. toji groans, gazing right before his eyes as your back slumps forward just for him ‘n only him. “mhm, good girl. sluttin’ y’rself out all fuckin’ on me.”

the crimson red sheets bristle against your skin as he drags your hips closer - raspy breaths pour from his lips as he’s gradually plummeting his thick cock inside of your grippy, welcoming cunt.

oh, you missed him. but more importantly — you missed his cock. if it was anything toji knew how to do, it was to fuck. you whimper, immediately bawling up the sheets into the smooth pads of your palms with your hands imitating a fist shape.

he’s just so fucking big, you feel the fat of his girth stretch you open so good that your mouth starts to salivate. “ngh, fuck toji,” you mewl out in desperate sobs, smelling his loud cheap cologne that never fails to waft right into your nostrils. within an instant, his rude sharp hips snap into you meanly. your jaw hangs open as he’s shoving such lengthy inches into you at once. “mmhhh, right there, ‘toj.”

“still the same cock drunk ‘lil slut i know ‘n love,” he huffs, watching how your body responds to his crazed rhythm. again, he’s so rude, just a single piston of his hips and you’re a slobbering, numb mess. toji always had the stamina of a horse, you feel the pulsing sensation pulsate on his angered cockhead and you shiver. “missed my favorite pussy,” he gruffs, dark thin brows curling together. “fuck back against me, good girl. make me fuckin’ proud, princess.”

you’re a whiny mess. with such ease, toji snatches out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it was nothing. nobody knew your body like he did. he left you in a stupid state, so stupid to where the only words you’re murmuring out is just blurbs ‘n blurbs of incoherent babbles.

“fuuuck,” you suck at the air, feeling how every few seconds he’d bring a mean swat toward your ass. oh, that was always his favorite part. the way your cute recoil always bounces back against him, always responding to his palm. and as he’s continuing to mercilessly plunge his cock in and out of your sopping pussy. it takes no time before you’re creaming down his cock. “t- tojiiiii.”

the moment you’ve successfully milked him dry however, he never fails to plug you full of his hot, sticky cum. you gasp, hearing the wet squelches overflow into your walls. your back still arches itself forward as he’s spewing such stringy ropes deep into the depths of your womb. such a mess,

“aht aht, bring that ass back here,” he lowly snickers, dragging your hips back into him once you try to crawl away. “saved so much cum ‘n i wanna give ya all of it, baby. mhm, let’s listen to it together, yeah.”

you whine, feeling his hovering weight press right up against your ass.

toji swipes a thumb against your entrance, sloshing sounds exiting right from your pussy. he makes you listen to how filthily soaked you were, purposely growing silent. his thumb was fat, it curls its way against your sweet ‘lil labia before he gathers a nice amount of dribbling cum near the print of his finger.

“fuck, ‘s pretty,” he grouses through gnawed teeth. you’re taken by surprise once he flips you over to where you flop right on your back. landing with a surprised oof, you’re met with the hungry eyes of your ex-boyfriend who’s not exactly done yet. “go on. spread ‘em,” he does a swift hand motion with one hand, flicking his tongue against his thumb with the other. you felt your cunt shamelessly twitch at the sight and you moan once he dives right in between your trembly legs. “good girl, now lemme see what ‘m workin’ with.”

the moment he pried your legs open—he wastes no time, smearing his face right against your sloppy cunt. “s- shiiiit, toji,” you sob out a sweet syllable of his name, feeling the edge of his scar tickle against your swollen puffed folds. his long tongue slithers its way down your full slit, relishing in your taste, your taste of his cum. he didn’t care, his tongue happily laps up the honeyed mixture of both sweets that dance on his tongue. you whine, grabbing a fistful of his hair, hearing him groan once you give his head a light tug. glancing down, he spits on your cunt, swirling his tongue around before slurping you right up, cleaning you. “toji y- you’re so nasty.”

with a teasing him, he pats your twitching cunt before the pat turns into a rough spank. “gotta be nasty ‘ta deal with a cunt this wet,” and he gives your folds a single kiss before flipping you over again. you moan, still feeling remnants of cum ooze out of your entrances before he smacks a broad palm against your left ass cheek. “mhm, now now. be a good girl ‘n bend over one more time. wanna clean ya up from the back. just like i always used to, babygirrrrl.”

GOJO ☆ the annoying ex.

he’s just as stubborn as you, maybe even worse. “yada yada less talkin’ more riding, sweet thing,” and you moan once you feel a stinging smack ghost against your ass. you’re riding him, swirling your hips around him back ‘n forth as you’re pressed up against his bare chest in classic cowgirl. one hand of his grips onto your waist, watching you throw your hips back in such obscene rhythm. the roll, you’re so pretty like this, especially whenever you were on top. your knees bury themselves into his thighs as you’re bouncing up and down his cock, taking in many inches of him effortlessly. “you’re so hot,” gojo smugly grins at you, continuously bouncing his left thigh just to see your lewd reaction. you loudly mewl out at the staticky friction, feeling him pump into you again ‘n again. “heyy, pretty girl.” he slyly says as you finally meet his stare. gojo brings a hand against your ass, gripping it tightly before spanking it again - his way of telling you to go faster.

with satoru gojo as an ex, you’d never hear the end of it. hear the end of him,

he craves you more than anything. even better if you let him fuck you just for the night. but that night turns into one, then two, then three.

he’s purely infatuated, your pussy never fails to make him drunk. your arousal was always his favorite dessert. whining against his ear, your tremulous hips create haste a bit quicker as you shift your weight onto your bent knees. “s- satoru, mhh. gonna cum again, fuckk.”

“aw, already baby?” he coos to you in a faux, caring tone. gojo grabs both of your hips, peering intently at the way your abdomen tenses in front of him. you’re gaping, recognizing the stretch like no other. you’re so pretty, your tongue rolls itself out as you’re preparing to make a mess on his cock. like you always do, your arms throw over his shoulders before the moment gets abruptly ruined by a ring. not just an ordinary ring but it’s your phone. gojo raises a white brow, you’re still rocking your hips against him in a circular rotation before he hums. “oh, and who’d be callin’ my baby at this hour?”

“s- satoruuu,” you make a weak attempt at grabbing your phone but he beats you to it — he squints at the screen, an unsaved number that only you recognized. it was one of your old flings and for some reason they still thought they had a chance.

a wave of ripples surge all throughout your core as he’s buried to the hilt. “yo,” he answers, a hand still attached to your rear. you’re completely stupid, forming into a state of sheer dimwit as you moan into his neck. his fattened tip steadily repeats its movements to kiss and kiss near your sweet spot, yanking out such pretty harmonic whimpers. to gojo, the guy was speaking a whole lot of nothing, and he yawns, fingers combing straight down your feverish waist. “uh huh, well anyways, she’s busy. she can’t ngh—come to the phone right now but she’d loooove to leave you a mes- uh, don’t cut me off. do you know who i am?”

you wanted to face palm. he could be so dramatic, but you were being too stuffed full to even think about that. it’s been far too long without his cock, and each hit he created against you had you drooling for more. gojo’s thrusts were so good that it’s got you whining ‘n whining like a broke record until your voice grows strained. you’re having a competitive race with your own breath, blushing throbbing crown continuing to bury its way into your sopping cunt. gojo leans back, grabbing onto the headboard and his pectorals flex. “fuckk, i mean we’re busy,” and he shoots you a teasing grin as you straddle him.“ain’t that right, angel? say hi.”

and you moan loudly, a force ripping out of your windpipe the moment your orgasm comes. gojo puts the phone on speaker, letting the caller on the other end hear all of you. your sweet, sweet climax. you’re going crazy - feral.

it sounded so pretty nonetheless, a five second syllable that’s neverending and it makes his dick twitch. you feel the twitch — you also feel the vein that runs down the curve of his heavy shaft. “s- satoru, fuck fuuuck,” and with your eyes squeezed shut, your jaw tightens. he hums, watching as you coat his cock down with your slippery slick, squelch after squelch wailing out from your cunt. “ohmygoddd.”

“that’s it, baby. make me just as messy as you, yeah,” and you’re met with wet lips crashing onto yours. weakly moving yourself against him at a much slower pace, he delves his tongue inside your hot, warm mouth. you shiver, still feeling the pleasurable after effects before he pulls away, ending the phone call before tossing it near the other side of the bed. “heh, she’s such a good girl,” and you gasp once you feel a hand of his slither between your thighs. maneuvering a few circles against your stuffed cunt, gojo nibbles on your chin. “mhm, who’s pussy is this?”

“y- yours,” you whine, feeling your thighs shake from just his touch alone.

“my name isn’t ‘yours’, pretty girl.”

“m- my pussy belongs to you, ‘toru. satoru.”

“yeah she fuckin’ does.”

NANAMI ☆ the unforgettable ex.

nanami’s the type of ex where you couldn’t forget him even if you tried. he’s got the looks, the charm, the romantically deep strokes.

prefers to have you right underneath him, right where you belonged. you’re so pretty, he can’t help but blink twice because if this was a dream, he didn’t want to ever wake up.

“sweetheaaart,” he lowly groans into your neck, his body gradually rocking into you. he didn’t wanna go too quick or too fast - nanami’s pace was always just right. “you dunno how much i missed you,” and you moan, feeling him hide his face into your chest. he playfully nips against your breasts before sighing gruffly. “missed my girls too.”

“k- ‘kennn,” you moan, going into a short split second daze once the leaky tip of his cock glissades past your clit. you’re so sensitive, clenching your teeth as he’s rolling his beefy body against you. with his weight on top of you, you’re in perfect sync, perfect harmony. he huffs and puffs, hot clouds of breath tickling against your skin before he licks a damp stripe from your chest to your neck. “mhm, i- i missed you more.”

“oh, my sweet, that’s impossible,” he whispers, stretching out your gloopy walls with all his might.

like always, you opened up for him - the stretch was always there. nanami hissed faintly, feeling your cunt cling onto him tightly. so tight as if you never wanted to let go — and you didn’t.

he looked so pretty like this though. dirty blond hair that’s mostly neat and parted was now all ruffled, strands everywhere - strands running past his eyes and forming into thin bangs. as translucent beads of sweat race down his forehead, they pour down each side of his face.

whilst his tense back muscles flex at every sharp thrust he’s giving you, nanami groans—his adam’s apple bobbing as he tossing his head back, biting his lip. as he does so, he feels the little charms of your anklet he bought you years ago with his initials of ‘n. k.’ engraved on it, run down his skin, hearing the dangles sing out a tune as he goes faster and faster. with his chiseled hips going faster, so does your breaths.

“you drive me crazy,” he almost pouts, cupping the curvature of your jawline. nanami holds your face as a single thumb strokes your cheek. “no one m- makes me feel as good as you do, my love.”

“kentoooo, ngh,” you moan out, fuzz deafening the insides of both of your ears. it’s so loud, the sounds of skin slapping and groaning groans fills the room — bouncing and reverberating against the thin walls. the neighbors would probably file another complaint, yet alas, you started to not care. maybe he was what you were missing. you’re throbbing not only from his touch but his voice. nanami could call you the prettiest girl in the word and you’d cream all down his cock, like you’d always do. “breed me, ‘ken. ‘s okay, you can finish inside.”

“s- sweetheart, careful now,” he sheepishly says, feeling the way you wrap your arms around his tense shoulders. your words made him hot, incredibly hot. his entire body feels shivers, just from a few simple words. “fuck,” he swears, delicately pounding you into the bed you two once both shared. with an abashed expression, he peppers your collarbone with soft kisses before whispering up against the sensitive shell of your ear. “ah, i shouldn’t s- say such foul language in front of you, forgive my filthy mouth,” and you cut him off with a tender kiss, rocking your body against him ever further. he moans in your lips, feeling the thumping of his heart accelerate. oh, you had him whipped. he never fell out of love with you - he couldn’t.

calloused fingertips graze against your neck as he holds you close. with thick inches of cock plummeting in and out of your walls, he’s seconds close to shooting into you raw. he sucks in a breathe, bucking his hips as your tongue battles with his. “mhh,” you whimper, feeling his sculpted abs grind against you. nanami still had on his blazer — yet, his tie remained on and his collar was roughly tugged out. in some cases, you forgot why the two of you even broke up in the first place. but with nanami, one or the other would always come crawling back. “kento, ‘s okay, baby,” you murmur between kisses in a shaky voice, feeling him circle a palm around your tummy. he’s envisioning you with a plump belly already and it does something to his brain.

“okay, okay,” he huskily grunts, your legs tightly wrapping around his waist. you heard the timbre in his voice, how it’d always get low whenever he was close. underneath him — your knees buckle, and your cunt was pulsating. each individual nerve prods and pulses, making you whimper out his name in such a sweet manner. the way you’d whine out his name, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes in debleating rapture - it was pure bliss. the moment he cums, he sees nothing but snowy white. nanami’s eyes grows murky, almost doe-like before he’s dumping such a satiny load of ropes into your pussy. “hngh, oh- ‘s so much, sweetheart. ‘m gonna fill you up so g- good.”

and he does — barred big hands grab onto yours as he’s overflowing your weeping pussy with his warm seed. it’s so much that it spills out, dribbling down the sides of your thighs. the smell was almost potent, a milky ring forms its way around his base before he collapses onto your chest. nanami’s eyes were closed and yet his lips latch onto your bare, swollen nipples. “i- mph, love youuu,” and judging from his slurred speech, he was already pussy drunk. he leans into your touch, feeling the way your fingertips massage his scalp. the same hand from before rubs a circle against your tummy, and his head moves its way down before planting a pecking kiss near your stomach.

“and i’ll love our future little one also.”

SUKUNA ☆ the possessive ex.

“tell me,” he purrs in a raspy voice, raking a few fingers over your shivering frame. you moan, watching as he’s preparing to pounce like an animal does right before its prey. you meet the demon’s gaze and he cups your chin, his damp tip brushing against your folds. “anyone touch her?”

coyly, you shrug both shoulders as your legs remain sprawled open. “huh,” you murmur out, sheepish grin curling against your lips. “touch who, ‘kuna?”

“woman, don’t try me,” he snarls, baring a single fang as he spoke - the same exact fangs that would always bury into your flesh, gifting you with a plethora of individual fang marks. your breath hitches once he’s sinking his dick inside, feeling how quick your walls were to tighten. your arms toss over him for support, sweeping the edges of your fingertips against the ancient markings that paint the blade of his broad shoulders. “ah,” he whispers against your ear, an almost growl. you whimper, feeling his forked tongue ghost against your earlobe before he nibbles on it. “talkin’ about her, my other stubborn girl who’s always soaked.”

and as he finishes that sentence, a hand squeezes against your cunt before giving it a rude spank. you gasp, a single thrust of his hips and he’s fully inside. it felt so good, it’s probably been months since he’s seen you, since he’s been inside.

sukuna was the kind of ex where he’d never let you forget him.

the sharp rims of his claws gently and delicately scrap against your skin and he leisurely moves his mouth toward your neck. now, he’s got you right where he wants — mating press.

“s- she’s missed you, ‘kuna,” you finally whine out, the gripping pressure of his cock rummaging through your insides so thoroughly, so fully just makes your brain short circuit. he’s just so big, as he’s expanding inside of your walls, already, your body underneath him starts to grow limp. sukuna stares at you, watching as your facial expressions twitch and contort in gratifying pleasure. “fuck, fuck. i missed you.”

“i know you did,” he groans, and it’s a bit of sincerity underneath his tone. you had the audacity of stealing his breath away and his heart.

having you sprawled out like this . . on his royal bed, screaming out his name like you always did, he’s missed it. he’s missed you, but last of all, he’s missed your sweet, sweet pussy. the bed creaks ‘n creaks until it can’t anymore, creating a sort of beat with each croaking grunt it wails out.

sukuna’s weight is right on top of you — crashing against your skin, barely hovering over your own frame as he’s driving his hips into you speedily, fucking you deeply into the kingly, regal sheets. you’re babbling out candied cacophonies of ‘ryooo’ — ‘kunaaa,’ and a majority of other colorful swears that sound so melodic coming from your tongue. “still got a filthy pussy but an even filthier mouth, i see.”

and as he’s pounding you into the mattress, he grips your chin. he’s so rough, snapping hips rut into you all at once to where you could barely get an audible word out. you’re stammering pure lewd gibberish, skin against skin and he’s sticking right against you like sweltering hot glue.

“f- fuuuuck, harder,” you egg him on, jerking back against the bed at each powerful hit. it doesn’t take him long to locate your g-spot either, you squeal out that same squeak he’s grown to love and that’s when he starts pummeling into it. again, and again, and again. his sloppy thrusts against your pussy gets so repetitive — he feels your legs snake around his waist and he growls into your neck.

“hah, you sound so stupid,” he jibes, pearly fangs nipping the inner part of your neck. your taste, he could never get enough of it. no one had your flavor, your taste — your sweet arousal that forevermore lingers on his demon tastebuds. you were sukuna ryomen’s favorite treat. as he’s grinding into you, you’re already a puddled mess. you whimper, moaning into his ear before he starts to bite near your neck. “all mine. mine to breed, mine to kiss, mine to love.”

as he’s grunting his ‘possessions’ into your ear, your sloppy cunt flutters. his reddened tip thrashes in ‘n out of your core before you start to spasm.

with his weight still pressing onto you, you felt his heat everywhere. his toned body, his muscles colliding against your soft, tepid skin. “i- i love you, ‘kuna,” you whimper out, and he has a smug cunning grin at your sudden blurt. so cute, the way it rolls of your tongue. as he’s continuing to ravage into your swollen, needy walls, he throws your leg over his shoulder. fingers of yours wisp near the nape of his neck whilst another hand cups his face. “never stopped.”

“oh, yeah?” a low voice rumbles out of him, and he starts to flick his tongue near the numerous of fang marks that were slowly forming near your collarbone. you were so sweet, he could just eat you up. “i have a strong liking to you too, i guess.”

“you guess?”

“i . . love you too, brat,” he says through gritted teeth, it was like saying those simple eight words were about to kill him. he felt a weird softness pool its way into his heart before you both reach inevitable climaxes at the same time. it’s abruptly euphoric. he groans, using your bare shoulder to suppress his moans. twitching, he remains like this the entire time. strong arms, all of them wrap around your body, pulling you close.

“all mine,” he repeats, and you watch with glossy eyes as he pulls up your ring finger. with a huffing blow, he has a cute pouty pout. the demon was fucked dumb just as much as you. he rests his face into your chest before grumbling. “does this mean you’re staying this time?”

“maybe.” you pant.

“tch. maybe she says.”

[ghostsangel]

your new neighbor has taken a liking to you

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

tags/warnings: mdni, infidelity (ghost’s marriage sucks), size kink, breeding , unprotected sex, degradation/dumbification, squirting, corruption kink if you squint

Simon is in a loveless marriage.

It’s sad—he knows that. Ever since he got back from deployment, things with his wife weren’t the same. She would stay at work late, come home smelling of someone else’s cologne, trying to hide her swollen lips.

Military service took a toll on him. The torture, the abuse, the loss of life—sometimes it was too much for him to bear. His wife didn’t understand, and he certainly couldn’t talk to her about it. She was too busy being fucked by other men to speak to him anyway. So, he kept his trauma close to his chest.

Then he met you.

You moved in next to him while he was away. When he left for service, the house was empty—vines withering up the creaky wood, yard overgrown and barren. As soon as he drove into his front yard, he knew that changed.

The house was fixed up, vines trimmed. A new coat of paint covered the old wood and made it look new. A hammock hung between two large trees in the yard. And one other thing was different.

Flowers. They were everywhere in your yard. Rose bushes, lavender, tulips, sunflowers—the yard was a rainbow of color. Simon could smell them from his front yard when he went outside to smoke or to get away from the confines of his house.

It wasn’t until he was smoking one afternoon that he saw you. Fresh-faced and young, gloved hands trimming back your rose bushes. It took him a while to say hi, but he did eventually. You were everything his wife wasn’t—kind, bubbly, thoughtful…innocent.

He found himself in your front yard more than he was at home, offering to help you trim your flowers or plant new ones. He was always filling the heavy watering can and watering for you—“I got all this muscle, sweetheart, let me use it for somethin’.”

Simon wasn’t sure when he began spilling his trauma, but one day, he sat on your couch with a glass of lemonade telling you about the war. The torture, the loss of his military brethren—everything. He told you about his past and his present, about his failing marriage; and most importantly, that he trusted you.

The first intimate actions were small. A brush of a hand, a squeeze of a thigh. Lips brushed against an ear. Small actions that made your tummy clench and his face grow hot. Eventually, it led to something more. Soft kisses on tender lips, hands running over scarred skin and muscle, strong arms wrapped around you.

And tonight, you kissed him with a hunger he couldn’t ignore anymore. Your tongue swiped so slowly along his that his knees buckled and his heart slammed against his chest. His fingers gripped your ass so tightly, you thought it would bruise, but it sent heat to your core all the same.

That’s how you find yourself now—on your back in your bed, sheets sprawled around you and Simon eating you like a man starved. His tongue flicks so deliciously against your clit that it makes your toes curl and your grip tighten in his hair.

“Simon,” you whine, hips bucking as he sucks hard on the sensitive nerves. His response is a grunt, his middle and ring finger gathering your juices and teasing your tight entrance.

Your breath stills when he pushes his two thick fingers inside of your pussy, back arching and hips drawing back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon mutters against your clit, tugging your hips down with his other hand and curling his fingers inside of your wanting cunt.

All you can do is whine as his fingers scissor and stretch your squelching pussy, juices dripping down to your ass. His tongue rubs circles around your clit like he’s painting a fucking picture, and you can’t help but moan out at the pleasure. His fingers hit that spongy spot that sends an electric jolt to your toes, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure.

“S-Simon, I can’t—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence, your voice breaking off in a moan as he speeds up.

And then you’re coming, babbling nonsense and his name like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You don’t even comprehend that you squirt all over his hand and mouth, or that he’s rutting his hips against the bed and moaning into your cunt as he tastes you.

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his hands running up to your waist. Your eyes flutter open—when did they shut?—and you look up at him staring down at you, his lips curled into a smirk.

“Such a nasty fucking girl,” he murmurs as he leans down, teeth grazing across your neck. “Squirting for me like that. Gonna do that on my cock, too, sweetheart?”

All you can do is moan in response, and Simon chuckles before pulling back and tugging down his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take in his fat cock—thick and veiny and leaking precum. He holds eye contact with you as he moves to hover over you, rubbing his tip along your soaked folds.

You squirm and whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Simon grins, positioning his tip against your throbbing hole. “Gonna make it fit.”

Your lips part as he slowly slides his fat cock inside you, stretching you out in such a painfully delicious way that you almost forget to breathe. You can feel every vein in his cock, and Simon lets out a guttural groan when he sheathes himself fully inside you.

“Relax, doll. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight and I haven’t even moved.” His voice is strained, and he lets out a breath as you try to relax.

His hand moves to your throat, squeezing slightly as he begins to move. Slow at first—painfully slow. You hold eye contact with him as he slowly ruts his hips against yours, his lips parted as breathy groans slip past. When you start to whimper and moan, he speeds up, his pace becoming almost animalistic in nature.

The tip of his fat cock hits a spot that makes you see stars, and you let out a soft cry as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It feels so good, and you drag your nails down his chest because you don’t know what else to do.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” He asks, grip tight on your throat. “You like my cock stretchin’ you out?”

You can’t even answer him, responding with whines and moans, tears sliding down your cheeks from the pleasure. Simon smirks, fucking you faster, and you cry out.

“Didn’t think I’d fuck you dumb, sweetheart. Can’t help it can you? Cock makin’ you stupid?”

You whine out, hiccuping out a moan as his other hand moves to your clit to rub in precise circles. Your eyes glaze over and you’re gone—submitting completely to him as he fucks you with his fat cock.

Your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, stealing the breath from your lungs as your legs shake. Simon grunts and groans as you come on his cock, throbbing so tightly around him that you almost force him out. He simply fucks you harder, pressing against your cervix as your juices gush out of your cunt and you whine out, hips jolting.

Simon moves his fingers from your clit to your face, wiping your tears away and leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is hot and surprisingly sweet, and when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Good fuckin’ girl. My girl. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up so good, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his arm hooking through your leg to open you up wider. His hips slap against yours, his breathy moans hitting your skin softly.

“Please, Simon,” you breathe out, voice catching as he fucks into you. “Need it. Please.”

That’s all it takes for Simon to crumble, moaning out curses and your name as his cock throbs inside of you. He gives one, two, three more thrusts before he buries his fat cock inside you, tip against your cervix, and you can feel his hot seed pumping inside of you.

He thrusts lazily for a moment before sliding out of you, pulling you to his chest. Your lips meet in a sweet, lazy kiss, and you feel his cum dripping out of you. Simon’s fingers trace down your back, and he looks at you so delicately, he’s afraid you might break. His hand moves to cup your face, thumb brushing right underneath your eyes. Then he utters four words that make your heart stop.

“I’m getting a divorce.”

—————————————

see this one shot’s counterpart here

[dmitriene]

simon riley with a mommy kink, it's simple, when everything get's too much, suffocating him as if stuck in between tapering walls, and hiding under ghost's identity doesn't help anymore, he turns into a little boy.

back into his young years where he missed his mom, always too alone, having no one to address to, pour all the gnawing throughts and vile things that keep stalking him, instead ending up swallowing it back, curling up into himself, even through it's chokes him.

it was a routine for simon, something he was used to, learned to cope with it despite the breakdowns, the bubbling nausea from himself, the ringing in his head, what he thought he would never change, until there's you.

he doesn't know what exactly happened, how to explain it, all the sharply bubbling feelings, tingling in his fingers, hot flashes all over his body, but these are your touches on his bare, leper skin and soft words of endearment whispered in his ear.

you were all that softness that he wanted for so long, pleaded under his breath with hushed whispers when he was a little boy, wanting nothing but a warm chest to lean into, someone to soothe him, coo at him.

you do it all, calling him your sweet boy, something so silly that makes him melt, turn into a gooey puddle in your soft arms, face pressed into your supple breasts, the need to be cared for and touched carefully turns into something more.

carnal, in the way simon wants to possess you, hear all those praises without end, let your hands explore his naked flesh, all scarred and bulky, sometimes making him remember things he shouldn't.

making him crawl to you like a baby, needing his mommy, which he indeed needs, because only you have the power to shoo everything that haunts him, letting him carve himself into you, his meaty cock sheathing itself into your soft pussy, sucking him in, letting simon burrow his face into your neck.

he turns into something different from himself, huffing and puffing into your sweaty flesh, slurring broken moans of — “pleas', mommy, pleas'„ as you coo in his ear and pat at the crown of his head, letting him lose himself in you.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[wyvernest]

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning. 

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased. 

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck. 

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress. 

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions. 

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him. 

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear. 

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go. 

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips. 

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it. 

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts. 

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

[stargirlo]

𝓙 UST A LITTLE SQUEEZE? ─ MULTI CHAR.

"PLEASE LET ME FUCK YOUR TITS!" he whined, practically on his knees begging for you to finally give in to his little fantasies. you sighed exasperatingly. "i'll give you one rule though," you lowly spoke to him, hands on your hips. "don't cum on my hair." holy shit, you agreed!? was he dreaming?

content warnings: fem coded reader, a lot of mentions of you having big boobs, begging, boob job, blow job, teasing, facial (he can't control it so he cums in ur face >:( ), cum eating, snowballing, etc etc.

💌: a little appreciation 4 my big titty girlies <3 && thank u sm for 100 followers, never had been so happy !!! the sudden wave of motivation is soooo rare 4 me ohemgee! :oooo

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊ "pleaseee let me just squeeze them, jus' a little bit! pleasepleaseplease,"

he was constantly nagging you for just a simple squeeze of your perky tit, but you kept on refusing. its not like you were weirded out by his needy actions but it's just that you didn't expect someone to be so obsessed over your tits. you were a little insecure about them a while back because in your own words, you said that you looked "too fat" or "too disoriented" but honestly, your boyfriend loves them! he doesn't see any issues about your big tits, wether they're saggy or not.

he loves it whenever you wear his oversized shirts without a bra supporting your perky breasts, nipples poking out of the cotton fabric of his shirt immediately makes him huff like a dog. he loves it when your boobs jiggle whenever you make the simplest moves, wether its you swaying your hands around while you talk, or when you walk around the house.

his eyes will always land to your bouncy tits.

he loves giving you hugs, having a great opportunity to feel your tits pressed against his chest, he could practically feel the softness and the plumpness of your swelled tits. ughhh, it just makes his mind go blank!!!

"please let me fuck your tits!" he whined, practically on his knees begging for you to finally give in to his little fantasies. you sighed exasperatingly. "i'll give you one rule though," you lowly spoke to him, hands being placed on your hips. "don't cum on my hair." holy shit, you agreed!? was he dreaming?

𝜗𝜚 ‧ . ° "h─holyyy shiit, ohmygoddd... f─fuck ye'r tits feel s'good mamiii.."

he moans like a literal slut, your breasts hugging his cock and keeping it warm, the tip of your tounge flicking the head of his cock. pre-cum beading through he slit of his pinkish tip before your tounge eagerly swipes away his essence. you softly moaned, cupping your breasts and rubbing his shaft slowly, creating a delicious fricition. "d─didn't know it'll feel t─this good─ ohfuck!"

you giggled, beady eyes locked with his as your filthy mouth wraps around his cock, sucking the head of his cock. his body jolts, hips bucking up as more of his cock easily slips further in to your mouth. "mami─ oh shit, don't stop, don't stop, don't stoppp," he begs, a trembling hand coming up to move your head downward as his fingers desperately tug on your scalp.

your choked moan vibrates against his cock, tears bubbling on the corner of your eyes as it was already too much for you to handle. reluctantly, you withdrew your mouth away from his cock, leaving him to elicit a needy whine. "babyyy─ why'd you... why'd you stop?" he breathlessly spoke, looking down at you with a small pout. but you didn't stop, not when you moved your tits up and down his cock in a subtle rhythm. he clenches his jaw tightly, his pearly whites grinding against one another to stifle out a whimper. "what a naughty boy you are..." you cooed, and holy shit you could feel his cock throbbing at your words. "so dirty." your breath ghosted against his cock, feeling a subtle twitch.

"please─ need to feel your warm mouth againn.." he beckoned you, eyebrows pinching together as the overwhelming feeling slowly starts to frustrate him. "please mami─ oh!" his body tenses up again, your mouth wrapping around his cock again. the tits and mouth combo sent him to cloud nine, his thighs trembled as your saliva coats your cleavage. he hissed in pleasure, throwing his head back while he swallowed a lump of saliva that brewed in his mouth, his adams apple flexing in his throat.

"g'nna cum, holy shit─ 'm cummin' mami, fuckfuckfuck..!" his moans grew slightly louder, his free hand clasping on the bedsheets as if he was holding on for dear life.

you pulled your mouth away from his cock, once again. jerking him off with your tits before he couldn't take it anymore, his hot and steamy cum spurts from his flushed tip as the thick strings of his cum land all over your perky breasts and on your face . . . and hair . . .

"ay─!" you gasped, closing one of your eyes as he just couldn't stop cumming. he's so nasty, sooooo disgusting!! a stifled giggle elicits from your lips, watching as he becomes putty into the bed, the aftershocks of his mind shattering orgasm leaving his body limp.

he softly gasped once he realized the mess he had made, on himself and on you. "fuck─ heh, my bad..." he chuckles dryly, your tounge swiping on your bottom lip to give his release a little taste. so bitter.

"i told you not to get it on my hair, pendejo!" you playfully smacked his knee, looking up at him with a pout. your expression tempted him, the way you just look at him makes him want to ruin you next. "c'mere baby, gimme a kiss..." he leans forward, placing his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. you yelped, his tounge quickly slipping into your mouth as he took a little taste of himself, the bittersweetness of his own release.

how fucking nasty you both are!!!

💌: satoru gojo, kazutora hanemiya, tartaglia, könig, chifuyu matsuno, souya kawata (idk how to spell his last name :( ), aventurine, bokuto koutarou, kenma kozume (hear me out!!), sanzu haruchiyo, manjiro sano, jj maybank, ++ your favs!!

[charlietheepicwriter7]

G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̏̃n̵͙̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀Wa̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉

It was a simple mission. Damian was working with Father to confirm the existence of a Lazarus Pit below Gotham, as Ra's Al Ghul speculated. And they had found it, deep in the caves below Gotham. A Pit the size of an Olympic sized swimming pool, bubbling and steaming. He'd only looked away for a moment.

"Kin-slayer."

Standing waist deep in the water stood Damian's reflection. The hair might be white, and the eyes glowing with the waters, but it was his face. But not his face alone.

Danyal's ghost glared at him. "Get in the water."

Father threw a batarang at him, but the metal flew straight through his head like it was air. Danyal didn't even glance at him, his eyes fixed on Damian. "Get in the water," he ordered again. He stepped closer to the shore and the green water sloshed up the bank higher than it was before. "Or I'll raise the tide so high, all of Gotham will die. So get in the water."

Damian's heart jumped into throat. "Wait-"

"Get in the water."

Father shoved Damian behind him, as if it would protect him, as if he could stop Danyal. "Stop this, please-" If he could just explain-

Another step and the waters surged forward, nearly touching Father's boots. "I'll make whirlpools so profound, your entire family will drown," he promised.

"NO!" Not his brother, his kind brother-

"THEN GET IN THE WATER!" Danyal snarled, revealing monstrously sharp teeth and a black tongue from Damian's poison. "G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̟̰͙̏̃n̵͙̝̟̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀w̵̜͍̤̌a̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉͜!̷̡͔́̀̽" He lunged and Father pushed them back down the passage they'd come. "Don't mistake this for a bluff, brother. You've lived more than enough. Just get in the water." Damian swallowed, throat dry. Was this Danyal's revenge? Did he finally have to face what he had done?

"Robin, who is this?" Father snapped, trying to keep retreating down the cave. But Damian wouldn't let him; the waters, and Danyal with them, would only follow.

Danyal looked between them, scowling. "G̴̩͍͆͆̈́e̵̹̣͆t̷̬̋ ̸̻̮̎̒ĭ̸̟̰͙̏̃n̵͙̝̟̋͐ ̸̛̳̃t̶̪̣̅ḣ̸̳̇͜è̵̠̲͖̔̑ ̶̢̹̖͗͐̀w̵̜͍̤̌a̵̬̞͝ṫ̴̩̣̣e̶͉̲̯͂̏̎r̴̉͜!̷̡͔́̀̽" he snapped again. "I'll take your father and gouge out his eyes, unless you want to stop being a coward and choose to die. Now... get in the water."

[landojpg04]

MDNI slight suggestive and language

Ghost definitely has a motorcycle and a truck. He'll drive the truck when he knows it'll be a long day doing intel and paperwork. But especially on a Friday when the workload is light, he’ll come in on his bike knowing he’ll be able to enjoy the ride.

He started riding the bike more when you gave the comment-

Guys who ride motorcycles are ten times more attractive with their bike

You didn’t say it to him per se but rather to a friend of yours on base, and he overheard. He likes to think that the bike is his good luck charm, as you agreed to a first date when he drove it. But despite you loving the bike as much as you loved him, he never let you on it. Always exclaiming it would be too dangerous.

He's in the garage, music playing lightly from the speaker as he cleans and messes with some of the gears. You watch in awe at the door. Never in a million years did you think you would be here. In Lt’s old t-shirt, sipping tea and watching him indulge in normalcy on a Sunday afternoon. When you transferred to the base, you always heard rumors about the man behind the mask and the name Ghost. But behind that was this man full of love.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” He said, looking up from the bike to see you.

“Just admiring.” You said.

“The bike or the rider?” He said smirking.

You admired and mirrored that smirk. Something you thought you would never see in your lifetime. But after trials of trust, the mask and guards came down, bearing all the luggage, and past to your welcoming arms. 

“Both,” you said, walking over to him. He was seated on a chair and leaned back to welcome you in between his legs. 

He peered up, his eyes glimmering in the sunlight that peaked through the window.

“Let me ride.” You said, peering down.

“You can ride me anytime.” He said, being cheeky.

You groaned at his antics and pouted towards him.

“Do you not trust me on your precious baby, Si?”

He looked between you and the bike. It wasn’t that he didn't trust you. He knows how dangerous riding is. He doesn’t want to let you on just in case something happens. He’s come to terms with something happening to him a long time ago. But you. He just got you and would put you in a bubble if it meant keeping you safe. 

“I trust you. I just don't trust others.” He says, moving a piece of hair from your face. He moves his hand to cup your jaw. He guided you to his lips for a quick peck.

You leave your forehead on him while he moves his hands down to your hips.

He can tell you were annoyed with your answers. You guys bonded over this bike and he truly believes that being able to ride it one day was the only thing keeping you around.

That was far from the truth. You just wanted to straddle something other than Simons's dick.

He stood up and moved you to the side.

He pushed the brake down and moved to the back of the bike.

"We can start with basics. Posture and positions." He said looking at you.

Stunned by his answer and quick change in answers, you didn't move till he said, "Ok, I guess you don't want to." You feet quickly moved to stand by him.

He went through the basics, teaching you how to mount and where to keep your feet. After, it was your turn to demonstrate your understanding. You go to the side and lift a leg to straddle the seat.

Simon from the back saw how you were a natural at this. Your ass is plump on the seat you lean to hold the handles with a slight arch in your back. Simon thought to himself why he hadn't let you do this earlier. He was so caught up in how good you look he didn't even hear you ask him if what you were doing was good.

You looked over to see him in a daze. He quickly grabbed his phone and took a photo of you on his bike, clad in his boxers and old t-shirt; every inch of you screamed that you were his. And he never loved anything more than this moment right now.

He walked to the front of the bike.

"Is this alright Si?" You asked him when you finally are met with his face.

He just smiled and leaned in to kiss you.

"My gorgeous girl on my bike," He said in between kisses.

You giggled and removed your hands from the handles to his neck and shoulder.

"Get off the bike and get inside right now." He said, pulling away. Laughing, you got off and felt a slight smack hit your ass. This was definitely not your last time on his bike.

[witch-of-fanart]

Halloween Party pages 10 and 11

Snake and Bubbles hang out

[devil-in-hiding]

now i need yall to stick with me. bimbo!reader who truly just finds joy in being the pretty soft thing the 141 gets to come home to, they don’t let you lift a finger or spend a dollar of your own money, and all they want in return is to see you dolled up in whatever new outfit they just bought with whatever new makeup you got to go along with it

Gaz will absolutely indulge in skin care with you, bubble baths every saturday night, sitting between his legs and whining “keep your eyes shut dummy it will sting!” while applying a face mask for him

“okay okay, i’m sorry baby.” he coos, brushing away some of the bubbles so he can watch the way your tits sway with the movement of your arms

Ghost loves helping you paint your toes, though if you ask him to help choose a color-

“They all look the same love-“

“No they do not Si! Look! See! This one has sparkles!”

I can and will go on but actual life calls (i crave being a sweet bimbo on god, @sherriesherbet you have created a new monster)

[charliemwrites]

A Thought™️ that I had yesterday after watching those AITA videos and babbling in the discord:

(This is also babble to be clear. I’ve been writing this throughout the morning so it might be a bit incoherent)

The 141 is shopping for a new team member, someone to round out their four person squad into five. They have a dozen candidates, pick one that looks promising, and transfer him over under the military equivalent of “probationary” status.

Pretty quickly they decide his personality alone might not make him a good fit but whatever, if he’s good at his job, they’ll suck it up. The “alpha male” posturing bullshit is kind of amusing in the meantime at least.

Well, first mission comes and goes. The guy isn’t too bad, honestly — apart from almost picking a fight with Gaz. Skills-wise he’s as advertised, so he gets to stay a bit longer while the 141 decides if they can stand him.

Post successful mission, though, they go out for drinks at the guy’s insistence. He invites his girlfriend — who he dragged along with him — to the bar to meet his new squad. (Because he thinks there’s no way they’re not making him a permanent teammate.)

And the 141 may be barely tolerant of him, but they decide almost instantly that they adore his girlfriend. She’s incredibly charming and bubbly, doesn’t even blink at Ghost’s mask. One of the first things she does is thank them for the opportunity they’re giving her boyfriend and for keeping him alive.

Which is about the time the real issue starts.

The boyfriend says some rubbish about “an alpha doesn’t need protecting, he does the protecting. He looks out for his pack.”

And you smile a bit awkwardly, looking embarrassed, and try to usher the conversation along.

It doesn’t take long for him to quickly fall out of what little favor he accrued. You’re a bright spot in their group, laughing and chatting with them all like you’ve known them for years. Incredibly sensitive to asking any hard questions and sort of forcing the conversation through the weird patches where your boyfriend interjects with some inane comment.

Eventually, your boyfriend gets sick of your chattering and tells you to fetch them more drinks. Soap instantly sits up, saying you don’t have to do that, but you gently wave him off. Chirp that you don’t mind doing it as a thank you for their service, and weave into the crowd.

The table goes uncomfortable quiet — apart from your boyfriend, who makes some ghastly comment about how you have a pretty face but an annoying laugh. When you get back, drinks expertly balanced in your hands, Ghost goes out of his way to drop puns that get you giggling like mad.

As the night ticks later, and your boyfriend gets drunker, he reaches the point you always dread.

“Garrick, le’s arm wrestle.”

“Baby, I don’t think that’s…”

“This is between us men.”

You groan a bit and sit back. Gaz looks befuddled but shrugs and agrees. It’s not even a contest; your boyfriend’s arm is flat to the table in all of ten seconds. Flustered, your boyfriend demands a rematch. And when he loses again, scoffs and demands a go with Soap.

You practically sink deeper and deeper into your seat before the secondhand embarrassment starts to weigh and you have to excuse yourself to the restroom. When you get back, the impromptu arm wrestling seems to be over, though your boyfriend is sulking in his corner of the booth.

When you gingerly slide back in, Price nudges you with his calf.

“Would you like a go, luv?”

You grin and shake your head. “I don’t fancy a broken wrist, Captain.”

“C’mon luv, you might surprise yourself,” he teases and you can’t resist the playful glint in his eye.

So you lock your thumb around his, elbow on the table, and push. And his arm incrementally goes down… down… down…

“Well would you look at that,” he muses.

You burst into laughter, flattered and endeared by his indulgence.

“That tough, eh?” Soap muses, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s see it, then.”

So you roll your eyes, fully expecting to get trounced. But just like with Price, he starts to relent when you put up resistance, making a show of straining and panting as he “loses.” When you’ve won, you finally play into the joke.

“Serves you right,” you tease.

By your side, you hear your boyfriend huff derisively. “Oh, come on.”

Before your fun can be ruined, though, Ghost is offering you his hand, dark eyes sparkling. You bite your lip, but it doesn’t hide your grin as you accept the unspoken challenge. His hand is huge around yours, but shockingly gentle. He goes down easiest of all, whistling in amazement.

“Look’it that, you’re a pro,” he says, “think we should all be buying you a drink.”

“She doesn’t drink,” your boyfriend interjects.

You huff and settle back into the booth. “Maybe some other time, Lieutenant Riley?”

“Count on it.”

You get into an argument with your boyfriend that night. He thinks you were “challenging his dominance” and “stirring the pot,” trying to sew discord and strife amongst the men to get them fighting over you. He says something about being the alpha of the group and that he would win but it’s insulting to him as your “provider” that you would question his authority.

He’s tipsy as he says it though, working himself up. You just follow the usual routine of soothing, reassuring, simpering — and then considering leaving when he’s finally asleep. But you’re far from home, don’t have the means to leave, and besides, you won’t be finding any support from your family on this front so…

Well, it’s not so bad, you remind yourself. He can be an asshole, but so can you and it takes two to fight. Besides, he only gets really bad when he’s been drinking and that’s only once a week? 1 out of 7 isn’t a bad ratio.

—

The 141 pretty much collectively decide that they adore you though. You get regularly invited to team outings, wherein your boyfriend keeps challenging (and losing) arm wrestling, while the boys coax you into “winning.”

They’ve also become rather adamant that you don’t bring them drinks anymore.

“You’re not our personal beer wench, yeah? We’re able to get our own pints,” Gaz soothes.

Your boyfriend chuckles and shakes his head, imparts his “wisdom” that it’s a female’s job to serve her man and his friends. As a sign of respect or something. You know it’s not an argument worth having and just sip at your drink in silence.

But you love going out with them. Love knowing the men keeping your boyfriend alive and they’re a good bunch. Respectful and funny and disciplined — you’re kind of hoping they snap your boyfriend out of this weird “alpha male” phase he’s been going through. On the other hand, you’re thrilled to be making something like friends. Sure, your boyfriend has made it clear that the 141 are his friends, but they’re always so conscious of keeping you involved and comfortable.

Then one night your boyfriend mentions what a “good little cook” you are and that instantly has all the boys perking up. Smiling, you offer to host during the Saturday League matches. They gleefully accept over your boyfriend’s protests about other men in his territory or something like that.

But when they do come over they’re horrified by the unspoken expectations. You tell them to sit, that you’ll bring them all drinks, with snacks on the way. They’ll be having none of it.

Ghost helps you with drinks, Gaz chops the veggies for snacks (and dinner). Soap pops in to keep you company while you babysit simmering pots. Price helps to tidy as you go, despite you’re fussing that he really doesn’t need to, he should be enjoying the games!

They end up spending more time with you in the kitchen than out in the den with their own teammate. You barely notice, swept up in the busy currents of playing hostess. When your boyfriend shouts that he needs another beer, you come back to find Price getting plates and utensils for dinner. It’s so thoughtful you could cry.

Even worse is when they help you clean up afterwards. Each of them taking and clearing their own plates. Soap on washing big dishes, Gaz on drying. Ghost is packing up leftovers. Price is turning over the dishwasher, asking you where dishes go and tutting when you insist you should be helping.

All the while, your boyfriend stands in the doorway telling you all the ways you could improve the meal next time. And how you definitely ate too much for your body size, etc.

He only stops when Price makes a pointed comment about standing around looking pretty.

When they leave, they each sweep you up in a hug and drop a kiss on your cheek, praising your home and cooking and hosting. Soap promises that he’ll get you a little souvenir on their next mission as a thank you.

And sure enough, three weeks later, the boys are coming by. Except your boyfriend is nowhere to be found — out with some other guys from the base that he says he hit it off with. The 141 insist that he agreed to a football watch again, the empty headed muppet.

And of course you’re not going to turn them away! They’ve brought you flowers, a little matryoshka set from their last mission, chocolates and wine. Not one of them is empty handed.

“Do you even like the game?” Gaz asks as you put it on.

“My favorite team isn’t playing until tomorrow but I don’t mind watching,” you answer, shrugging.

But somehow no football is watched at all. Instead they convince you to tell them your top three favorite movies, then claim none of them have ever seen any of them and they have to watch all of them.

Which is how your boyfriend finds his whole team enjoying a little movie marathon with you. You’re on the ground with Johnny (it’s Johnny now, for you) doing his eyebrows. Gaz is braiding your hair. Ghost (Simon) is sharing a bowl of candies with you. You’re sat against Price’s shins, the captain sitting in your boyfriend’s chair, lounging like a king.

When you welcome him back, telling him the boys are staying the night, he tries to throw a fit about it. How dare you let four strange men stay alone with you?! You calmly remind him that he promised he’d be home by 11 and it’s already nearly 1. And besides, he trusts them with his life, you’re allowed to trust them to be polite in your own home.

With all four of his teammates watching, tense and nearly hostile, he mutters something about being tired and storms off to bed. You end up falling asleep on the couch with ghost despite yourself.

And your boyfriend becomes absolutely haunted by his team’s (is it even his team? It feels more like yours!) affection for you.

They always invite you out even if he doesn’t plan to invite you. (When did you get any of their numbers?! Never mind Ghost’s. He doesn’t even have Ghost’s number.)

They stop by the flat constantly, sometimes dropping in. Other times staying for hours. Soap tells him that they’re all one big family; that includes you. (“Alright then why don’t we go hang out with one of your girlfriends?!” He had an actual nightmare about the laughter that gets him.)

And the fucking gifts. It’s not just soap bringing you things anymore. It’s all of them. Magnets, mugs, sweets, pretty rocks. Just garbage to your boyfriend but you treat it all like treasure. They’ve even got you sending them on hunts for specific things. Something blue, something with nuts, something with the flag.

Then there’s the base.

They bring you on one day — Price picks you up, the boys greet you at the barracks with coffee and breakfast. You’re put into a big 141 hoodie that says “Riley” on the back and toured around. You’re supposed to be “surprising” your boyfriend, but he’s busy with recruits and generally seems uninterested in being around you.

Not to worry though, the 141 is happy to show you a good time around base! Gaz and Johnny walk you through one of the obstacle courses, Simon lets you sit on his back for pushups during the last of his workout. Price takes you to the range and shows you the basics of shooting, then lets you catnap through the adrenaline drop in his office.

Your boyfriend only bothers to find you when Johnny and Simon are teaching you basic self-defense. Your boyfriend scoffs that you’re plenty protected by him, but you point out that he’s away too often to be of any real help — at which point Johnny tags you and bolts before your boyfriend can get all up in arms.

You only recognize that this little hurdle in your relationship has become a chasm when something happens. A big argument with your parents over the phone — you barely even remember what about. But instead of calling your boyfriend afterwards, your first call is to Gaz. (Because you know he’s the most likely to be free and paying attention to his phone.) You’re almost shocked when he picks up on the second ring. Your boyfriend has never answered on the first call.

When you try to explain through poorly-restrained tears, he coos at you to find a warm coffee shop and that they’ll be right there. “They” ends up being him and Johnny, since Simon and Price are locked up in an important meeting. They buy you hot chocolate and pastries while you vent to them, and end up leaving feeling better for once.

But you can’t break up with your boyfriend. Because if you do, the 141 will surely stop hanging out with you, and you value their company enough to put up with it.

At least until you come home one day to find all your little gifts gone. When you ask through a tight throat where everything is, your boyfriend says he was just making space. That you’ve been complaining that you two need a bigger flat, but now he’s solved the problem without wasting money.

You actually raise your voice for once, throwing an entire fit because this. This is the last straw. You storm into your bedroom, slam and lock the door, and call the 141.

A small part of you expects they’ll take his side or something. But nope. Simon soothes you on the other end, that the whole squad will be there in fifteen and to pack your stuff.

You do so while Price takes over and keeps you level. Reminds you of essentials to pack and explains that you’ll be coming to stay at his place, since he’s got off-base housing. It’ll be quiet and cozy and safe while you recover.

Five minutes away, they promise to be right there and end the call.

You could absolutely scream when your boyfriend — ex boyfriend — starts banging on the door. Demanding that you open the door to him. That you’re being over dramatic and blowing everything out of proportion. Using the “your emotional and irrational” line that you’ve heard a thousand times and are just about sick of.

Your heart stutters with relief when you hear the knocking at the apartment door, confused silence as your ex goes to see who it is. You take that moment to slip out, packed suitcase in hand.

You startle a bit at some commotion, round the corner to see your ex’s shirt bunched up in Johnny’s fists, looking ready kill him. No one seems inclined to pull him away; neither are you.

“How are you holding up, luv?” Gaz asks gently as Simon takes your bag.

“Been better,” you admit, sniffling as Price wraps you up in a hug.

“It was just things, luv,” he soothes, “we’ll get you a million more, if you like.”

You pull back to give him a miserable look. “But they were my things and they didn’t have to go anywhere. He just threw them out.”

Johnny snarls something out, but Gaz is already ushering you out the door. You tell your family about the break up through text and then shut off your phone, bundled into the backseat of an SUV with Gaz in the backseat. Price is in the front, all of you waiting for Simon and Johnny to come down.

“What now?” you ask quietly.

“Well, about time we cut that knob loose,” Price muses. “But that’s not your problem anymore.”

“Oh…

“And you, luv.” He looks at you through the rear view. “You get whatever you want.”