#so he's not really sure what to do and just behaves like his usual self

[dells-hells]

regarding the previous post i made

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuu Needs a Hug 1

SUMMARY: What their comforting hugs are like when you're feeling sad or under the weather? And how would they behave if you started crying in their arms?

CHARACTERS: Heartslabyul (Riddle, Ace; Deuce; Cater; Trey); Savanaclaw (Leona; Jack; Ruggie) & Octavinelle (Azul; Jade; Floyd)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Comfort; Bullet Points; In a Relationship

WORD COUNT: An average of 280 words per character.

COMMENTS: When I feel a little sad and under the weather, I often imagine these things to help me fall asleep. I thought you might like them too. 😘

Yuu Needs a Hug 2 (Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia)

CONTEXT: They are already in a relationship with you.

All of Riddle’s hugs happen in private, and comfort hugs are far from the exception.

If he is in his dorm uniform, a very characteristic hug from him is using the cape to cover you like a blanket and as a sign of protection. With his left arm around you.

His most common hugs are the ones where he hugs you with one arm while continuing his duties with the other, like homework, or some dorm-related paperwork. And with the hand that hugs you, absently caressing your back or head.

If you are really feeling very under the blue, he will occasionally kiss your forehead.

He's not the type to hug you tight. His arms will generally be very relaxed and loose around you, as if resting. For someone who is always so uptight and strict, that means a lot.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, then yes, all his attention goes to you immediately and his hug tightens. One arm around your waist and the other on your head, encouraging you to cry all you need on his shoulder.

He will be extremely understanding and act calmly as he knows, and shows you, that it is a normal thing and that he knows it will pass, that you will be fine because he will always be there for you. He himself knows from experience how crying can do a person good, and you were always there for him at those times.

And when you feel better, he will wipe your tears with his handkerchief (I'm sure he carries one somewhere in his clothes) and kiss your forehead with a sweet and reassuring smile.

Ace will gladly give you all the hugs you want. But he will always tease you saying that he wants something in return for every hug. But if you're really sad, he'll say he was joking.

If you really want hugs to make you feel better you'll have to ask in private, because in public he only gives you those more relaxed and playful hugs.

He can give you hugs standing up, but the ones he likes most are the ones when you're both lying on the couch. He likes to have you on top of him with your head against his chest and both of his arms around you, or to lie on his side between you and the back of the couch with one hand supporting his head and the other arm on top of you.

His main strategy to make you feel better is to talk about things that distract you. Generally silly things to tease you or make you laugh.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will panic a little and try to find out if it was something he said. After that, he will stop the jokes and hug you tighter and kiss your forehead.

He will be quieter than usual until your crying stops and only then will he return to his normal self.

Deuce will be slightly awkward at first. This is most likely the first time someone has asked him for a hug as a form of comfort. And since he doesn't have much experience with hugs either, he's afraid of messing it up.

He will start by hugging you standing up. You will feel his arms feel more comfortable around you as you explain to him that there is no way he could do that wrong. There is no therapeutic technique, he just needs to act as he feels he should.

If you are on the couch you will be sitting side by side. Your head on his shoulder, one of his arms around you, and the other he always not knowing what to do with it.

It will take a long time for him to have confidence in his comforting hugs because he knows that he is not the type of person who knows how to comfort others, much less physically. But he will always try his best for you.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will panic a little and, if he only had one arm around you, he'll quickly put the other one around you too. And he will hug you like you are in danger.

Maybe you will calm down by trying to calm him down and you'll both end up laughing about it.

Cater is the #best hugger! And as he is a person who likes to show affection, it doesn't matter if you two are alone or in public, he will give you all the hugs you need regardless.

Get ready for him to talk in that cute little voice like someone talking to a child. Not that he sees you as one, but he likes to talk and act cute.

And that's why his comfort hugs are also very cute, like someone hugging a teddy bear. He also gives you lots of kisses on your forehead and cheeks while hugging you.

Although he speaks in a cute way, he doesn't do it in a way that seems like he's minimizing your feelings, but rather in a way that tries to show that everything will be okay, that whatever it is will pass.

He can do this whether the two of you are standing together or if you are sitting on a couch. But in this last option, he will be so close to you that the most comfortable way for you to sit together is with you on his lap.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he won't change the way he's acting, as if knowing he was doing everything right and you crying was a good sign and an important part of you feeling better in the end.

When your crying calms down or stops, he will smile at you, wipe the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs and say phrases like "Are you feeling better?" and "Everything will be okay."

In the case of hugging you to make you feel better, Trey has no problem doing it in public if you need to. And he also reacts to your request as naturally as he would if you asked him to make you a sweet dessert.

You might even be surprised by how naturally he hugs you and the way he rubs his hands comfortingly on your back, if you didn't remember that he has younger siblings and probably has some experience comforting them.

He smiles and laughs softly the whole time, as if he finds your attitude cute.

He can do this standing up or, if you are sitting on a couch, sitting next to you. But only if you are alone will he let you sit on his lap.

The relaxed way he comforts you is almost parental, it must be that older brother side of him.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he may become a little more serious, but he will always act calmly and comes across as having everything under control. One of his hands will also come from your back to the back of your head.

Once your crying calms down or even stops, he will wipe your tears either with a handkerchief he has or with his own blazer or shirt. He will smile at you, showing that everything is fine and ask if you would like one of his sweets to make you feel better.

Leona cares so much about being seen hugging you publicly that the botanical garden became your spot to take naps together as unbothered as a lion in the middle of savannah. He always wants you to be his pillow, whether it's your thighs or your chest. BUT showing genuine affection is only in private.

He had already noticed that you were sadder than usual, but you were the one who had to ask him for a hug, he was too proud to offer you one non-ironically.

He will open his arms and smile smugly, but he won't be the one to initiate the hug. If you want it, you have to take it.

But as soon as you do, he'll wrap you in a surprisingly affectionate hug. If you're lying down like when he takes a nap with you, his hands will encourage you to come closer and lay your head on his chest. You've just discovered the only way you can reverse your usual roles.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will remain calm and surprise you again. He'll start giving you soft kisses on your face and forehead, the equivalent of when felines lick each other's ears as a show of affection.

His tranquility can be contagious, especially because the calm beat of his heart is a reassuring sound.

Only when he is sure that your crying has stopped and you are better will he speak again: *sigh* “You just give me work, herbivore. I just hope you at least thank me in some way.”

Jack only hugs you in private! And if he ever does it in public, it's because he somehow forgot that you were in public and will quickly break the hug.

He is the complete opposite in private, after all he can be like a puppy: extremely affectionate if he feels comfortable with you. So it was always very common for you to cuddle on the couch.

His comforting hug ends up not being much different from usual, perhaps just less enthusiastic and more delicate. He likes having you in his arms, but he likes having his face close to yours more.

If you're sitting, he won't have any problem letting you sit on his lap and lay your head on his shoulder. He won't take his arms from around you, nor stop kissing your forehead and cheeks softly and affectionately. All his attention is on you, and his main purpose at that moment is to dedicate himself to you.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will hug you tighter and the small and calm kisses will turn into love attacks on your face. Do you know when service dogs jump at their owner when they are having a panic attack, for example? It's something like that he's doing, without fully realizing it. Ok, maybe just not as intensely as service dogs do, but with a lot of affection.

This gesture will most likely make you laugh and start telling him you're okay so he can calm down. Which will make you calm yourself down as a result.

Ruggie doesn't really care if you're in public or not, he'll hug you regardless. And there's the bonus that when he hugs you in public, it's like marking territory and warning others.

He loves being cute and affectionate with you because he loves you being cute and affectionate with him back. He often does for you what he knows you would do for him. And a comforting hug is no different.

He will always tease with you a little at the beginning. "Aww, you want one of my special hugs? That’s so cute. But remember they are expensive, okay? You have to reward me later as a thanks.” He says this in a good mood that tries to put you at ease.

He will open his arms for you to hug him first and he will hold you in his embrace. He will be smiling playfully the whole time because he thinks it's funny how you can be so cute. And he will kiss your forehead with that same smile.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, his smile will fade. It was too serious for him to treat you with humor. He will tighten the hug and start saying sweet, soothing things in your ear like: "hey, don't worry. I'm sure everything will be fine."

When your crying calms down or even stops, he will smile at you again and say that it all made him hungry. What if you two went to eat something? Maybe, just maybe, he'll share some of his food with you if it's something you really like. But DO NOT get used to it!

ONLY when you are alone, in the VIP Room, Azul likes it when you sit on his lap while he does the Mostro Lounge’s paperwork. It's a healthy balance between the stress of business and the pleasure of having you in his arms.

The only two exceptions to the rule that he doesn't like others seeing you two like this are Jade and Floyd. Why? Because he likes to brag to them about having you all to himself. ("By all means, cry about it.")

He will hug you like he always does when you two are in the VIP Room. One arm around your waist, surprisingly firm, and the other on the papers. His attention is divided between reading and signing the contracts and turning to give you sweet kisses on your face and/or, if you allow it, on your neck.

If he feels you hugging him in a more clingy way than usual, he will comment in a soft voice: “You know, if I could be in my merman form, I'd let my tentacles do the paperwork and give you all the attention of my arms. The inconvenience of having two legs. No offense of course.” If this can get even a little giggle out of you, he'll be very happy.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, his right hand will immediately let go of the pen and join his left in hugging you. He hugs you so tight it's like you're trapped in his loving embrace. He is worried about you, but he does everything he can to not show himself too worried.

“Just never forget that if there is anything I can do, you can ask. Anything. I will solve any problem for you... just for you...”

When your crying calms down or even stops, he will wipe your tears with a handkerchief and give you a pack of tissues. And when you're better, he'll give you one of his most tender kisses on your cheek.

Jade doesn't like to draw attention, he prefers to observe others than to be observed. That's why his hugs are private, especially those comfort ones that you are asking for.

“You know you can open up to me whenever you need to, but keep doing it only when we're alone, okay? You never know who might be watching you looking for a weakne- I mean, a sensitive moment to use against you, my love.”

He's not much of a hugger in general, so all of his hugs end up being special. And since you're alone, he has no problem having you sit on his lap if you want.

His arms and hands are premeditatedly affectionate and attentive to you, as if he knew exactly how you liked to be hugged at that specific moment and he fulfilled these requirements to the letter. If there's one thing he knows how to do in a frighteningly perfect way, it's how to study and please others. And you are his biggest study interest.

Whatever you wanted him to do, he will know and do it. The way you want him to hug you, whether you want kisses or not, and how you want them.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, you will feel him, in a way, disappointed. With you or with himself, you don't know. “What is the mater? Did I not predict your desires correctly? It seems like I still have a lot to learn about you. How exciting.” He will kiss your forehead and let you cry on his shoulder.

He'll probably compare your crying to Azul's, making fun of him in that passive-aggressive way he does, and end up making you laugh.

When your crying calms down or even stops, he'll help clean your face and suggest that you two go to the Mostro Lounge, where he can prepare your favorite dish to make you feel better if you want. For free? Hmm... he can think about it.

Floyd can be VERY clingy. He loves to hug you, especially in public. Whether he’s in a good mood or not. Which means that, as he hugs you a lot, he also has many different types of hugs.

The vast majority of his hugs are to satisfy him, but they end up satisfying you too. Don't worry, he never squeezed you. He jokes that he will do it, but never actually does.

No matter what mood he's in, he never refuses to give you a comforting hug. For 3 main reasons: 1st  an Octavinelle student never refuses someone's request for help. 2nd He thinks you're so absolutely cute asking him for a hug! It even makes him smile if he's in a bad mood. And 3rd You always give him the hugs he needs, it's only fair (even in terms of a deal) that he does the same for you.

He'll hug you, but he'll do what he wants in the meantime. Playing with your hair, resting his head on yours, swinging his legs if you are sitting down. And if you are, he will make you sit on his lap, it’s easier and more comfortable to hug you like this. He will probably also say silly things to pass the time or try to make you laugh.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will immediately shut up and if he was swinging his legs he will immediately stop too. He will straighten up, even if your head is resting on his chest. “You'll wash my clothes if you get them dirty, right Koebi-chan~?” He says this while stroking your head.

Even though he likes to provoke others, he has a perfect sense of limits, he just tends to ignore them most of the time. But it's different with you and that situation too.

When your crying stops, he will make you look at him, as if to check that the crying has stopped. If he confirms it, he will smile at you: "Is it over yet? YAY~! Can we make something fun now?”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[beloveds-embrace]

(non-sexual smell kink with simon riley 🙂‍↕️)

Simon wasn’t used to softness.

His life had been a long stretch of damp alleyways, stale cigarettes, and the kind of bars where the floor stuck to your boots if you stood still too long. Even the so-called clean places had a lingering scent of old beer and sweat, clinging to the air like a bad memory. He’d spent years thinking that was just how life smelled- musty, metallic, a little rotten around the edges.

Then you came along.

Simon never thought of himself as a man who cared much for scents, but you ruined him without even trying. It started with something small- your presence shifting the air in a room before he even saw you. A whisper of something clean and soft, clinging to your skin like an invisible halo.

You used body powder, he’d eventually learn, the kind that puffed into the air like smoke when you dusted it over your skin, leaving a faint, lingering trail wherever you went. He’d caught the scent of it the first time he stepped into your space, expecting the usual mix of cheap air fresheners or laundry detergent. Instead, he was hit with something warm, almost nostalgic, like fresh linens and a touch of vanilla.

It drove him mad in the best way.

Simon found himself leaning in when you passed by, subtle at first- just a slight tilt of his head when you moved close enough for your scent to brush against him. Then, less subtle- pulling you against his chest after long missions, face buried in your neck, inhaling deep enough to burn the memory of you into his lungs.

“You smell so good.” He muttered once, almost embarrassed by the admission.

You’d laughed, fingers brushing against the back of his head, free of the mask. “Yeah? What do I smell like?”

He hesitated, unsure how to explain it. Saying soft didn’t make sense. Neither did safe, even though that’s what it felt like. So he settled for: “Just… really good.”

You didn’t tease him for it. Just smiled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and let him breathe you in.

And the first time Johnny met you, he almost had the same reaction.

Simon had warned him ahead of time- half because he wanted Johnny to behave and half because he wasn’t sure how his best mate would react to seeing Simon with someone so different from everything he’d ever known.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Simon had said.

Johnny had grinned at him. “Wouldd nae dream of it.”

You’d met at a quiet pub, one of the few places Simon could tolerate. Johnny had been his usual self, easygoing and full of charm especially for Simon’s missus, but the moment you’d leaned in to shake his hand, his expression shifted.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny blurted out, blinking at you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and your eyes shifted in hesitance towards Simon. “Uh. Nice to meet you too?”

Simon sighed, already knowing where this was going.

Johnny sniffed the air- actually sniffed- then gave Simon a look of utter betrayal. “You never told me she smelled this good.”

You let out a startled laugh. “What?”

Simon groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t encourage him, lovie.”

Johnny, the bastard, ignored him completely. “I mean it, love, you smell incredible. It’s like-” He inhaled deeply again, thoughtful. “Powdered sugar. Or fresh sheets. Or- hell, I dunno. Just really, really nice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, I do use a lot of body powder.”

“Where do you get it?” Johnny asked immediately.

Simon shot him a glare. “…Why?”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows. “So I can get some for myself, obviously.”

Simon muttered something under his breath that made Johnny laugh, but he ignored them both, turning to you instead. “Sorry, love. Just didn’t expect my best mate to be walking around smelling like a bloody bakery all the time.”

You smiled at Simon, amused. “You didn’t tell him?”

Simon crossed his arms, feeling warm in a way that had nothing to do with the pub’s heating. You looked lovely. Content. Happy, leaning into him without fear. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”

Johnny scoffed. “Not relevant? if I had a lass smellin’ this nice, I’d be bragging all day.”

Simon just shook his head, reaching for his drink. But later that night, when it was just the two of you, he tucked you against him and pressed his face into your neck, breathing deep.

You smelled like home. Like warmth. Like the one thing in his life that had never felt dirty, no matter how much blood and grime he carried with him.

And he would never, ever get enough of it.

[crescenthistory]

hii 🫶🏻🫶🏻!

im not sure if you've written for james potter before, but if you're up for it, could i request d5 with him? i thought like, reader is a slytherin and she fooled around with barty while she was with james. also not sure if you're okay with writing cheating, (feel free to ignore this is you're not!)

hi lovie! thank you for your request<3 i don't vibe with cheating storylines, but this inspired me to write a one-shot of james pining for reader but thinking she's with barty because they're such close friends. i hope that still scratches your itch!

Prompt: D.5 "But do you love me?" changed into "But you are in love with me?"

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, slytherin!reader (sassy/feisty), use of y/n, james pov which includes relentless pining and silly comments, genuine yearning, miscommunication, bsf!barty, slight jealousy/envy, some self-deprecation, background skittles rosekiller and dorlene

The Boy with the Glasses is Blind

James could have kicked himself.

Despite what some professors insinuate, he is usually quite bright – he just so happens to prefer dedicating his intellect to good-willed humour and pranksting rather than gruelling essays that have already been written a thousand times before. He felt he had properly demonstrated his abilities for creativity and strategy with everything he had pulled off over the years, both the pranks he took credit for and the ones they were never able to pin on him.

Yet, here he was.

Sitting in the Transfiguration class shared by most Gryffindors and Slytherins in their year, where Professor McGonnagal in some horrific – in James' previous sentiments – attempt to bridge some gaps and mend some fences, seated a Slytherin and a Gryffindor together at every table. Sitting beside you, the one Slytherin he had never seemed to fully dislike nor target with his more insidious of pranks, but a Slytherin nonetheless, and attached at the hip with one Barty Crouch Junior.

Yes, here he was, sitting beside you and staring at you with what most look like cartoonish heart eyes.

It was not something he necessarily expected to happen, at least not to this extent. You had always held his interest, a fascinating person from who you were to how you spoke and where you placed yourself in society, but it was easily brushed off in the flurry of everything else that surrounded the young boy. In here, he couldn't escape you as easily, and once he realised just what he had been depriving himself of in his avoidance of you, he couldn't escape you even when you weren't around. To him, you were everywhere.

James Fleamont Potter was falling more head over heels in love with a Slytherin with every passing minute. Sirius would have kicked him blue and yellow had he dared open his mouth and voice what was running through his mind when he admired you. Though, James supposed, some of those thoughts were perhaps best never uttered out loud to anyone.

He really couldn't help himself, he thought, it was all your fault for being so sodding angelically flawless. From the first lesson when you playfully threatened him to "behave, Potter, and not soil my education with your unruliness" with that glimmer in your eyes that felt like it must have been reserved for him from a previous life, he has had to pick his jaw up from the floor whenever your eyes meet. The way you carried yourself with a lightheartedness and crackling self-assurance, the way your hair cascaded around you as you turned to him, the way your occasionally crude words towards him were softened by your exuberant tone, as if you took as much pleasure from your back-and-forth exchanges as he did, but with none of the guffawing – a stronger man would have faltered, and James had no qualms about admitting that for you, he was rather weak.

And then there was the way you grinned with your whole body whenever you spoke to your friends and your–

And therein lies the issue.

No gem can sparkle that brightly and not be picked up and admired. To anyone with eyes, let alone ears, it was painfully clear that one Barty Crouch Junior had already snatched up his Treasure, as he called you. James was too late.

The nickname felt tacky in James' mouth as he silently felt around it, trying to figure out what it would feel like to have you as he does. It felt too cheesy, not elegant enough for someone like you, not perfect enough, though James supposes nothing quite could be. Nor was he any better himself, angels and loves had already slipped from his tongue, only to be laughed away as a quip and not a confession – and he didn't even have the right to, not the way Junior did.

You were seated beside James, he could imagine himself feeling your body heat seeping through your clothes and into his if he inched even a centimetre or two closer to you. He could hear your laughter in his ears, he captured the smile in your eyes with his own as often as he could, but even here, within his direct vicinity, he saw the effect Barty had on you. How the two of you seemed to be able to communicate with limited words, mostly through glances and silly facial expressions from where he sat a few rows ahead, fully twisted in his chair to get a good look at you.

James couldn't blame him. It was how he wanted to turn around and stare at you whenever you were near him as well. That maniacal grin on Junior's lips was something James wanted to resent, but also wondered if he would be wearing himself, if he was allowed to brandish it on you.

Unlike Junior, though, he couldn't. James is not a jealous man, he felt he owed his father not to be, but there were few words to describe the sensation building in his throat other than envy. And, perhaps most painfully, a yearning so significant it ached its way through his bones until he was left pliable and broken.

"You with me, Potter?"

James' smile smacked right back onto his lips, albeit slightly more forced than normal as he forced his eyes away – from what he hoped seemed like Junior's general direction and not him specifically – to lock onto yours. There was a quizzical expression on your face and mirth playing over your lips, your soft, beautiful lips.

"Yeah," James made out hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Early mornin' s'all."

The mirth stretched out into a wide, teasing grin on your face, and although James was certain it was at his expense, it melted his own smile into a more genuine one. "Uh-huh. What's made you so tired? You're usually caffeine incarnated first thing in the morning."

"Are you saying you're missing my usual self, love?" Easy, easy, keep it easy.

"I'm saying you're suspicious," you replied with a gleam in your eyes. "Although, you always are. Perhaps it would be suspicious if you weren't behaving suspiciously."

James laughed a bit too loudly at that, warmth spreading in his stomach. "Don't go philosophical on me, L/N."

"I won't, if you don't go boring on me. Transfiguration's enough of a chore as it is."

Pride bloomed out of the spot envy inhabited in James' throat. Somehow he felt just as guilty for both of them, and was just as unable to suppress it as it flowed into his bloodstream.

"Well, when I know you're missin' me so, I can't very well let my best girl down, can I?"

"What a presumptuous young man," you say, words becoming a whisper as McGonnagal walks in to begin her lecture. Despite your smug smile as you said so, James couldn't help but feel slightly rattled at you pointing out the truth to him.

He righted himself in his seat and attempted to dedicate his attention to the Head of Gryffindor, which, unfortunately, he had never been good at even before his entire mind, body and soul seemed to be possessed by the stunner sitting beside him in class. His eyes kept darting over to you, smiling at your facial expressions, even more so when you occasionally caught his gaze with a smile of your own. A strand of hair fell out of your hairstyle as you cocked your head to look at him. James couldn't decide whether he wanted it to stay messy or if he wanted to be the one to tuck it back in for you. His hands remained drumming on the desk.

He attempted to focus up on the lecture, but poor Minnie's voice simply became droning to him when his nose was filled with the smell of you, making him slightly lightheaded. And Merlin, the way you were biting your lip while you took notes – it was an actual miracle he hadn’t melted into a puddle on the classroom floor by now.

Then, his attention was abruptly captured by a small piece of parchment whirring right past his face to force itself into your hand on the desk. You were shaking, smiling over the lip you were still biting as you opened it.

James – in a totally cool non-creepy fashion, of course – tried to get a good luck at the note, but couldn't without giving it away. What he definitely could tell, though, was how Junior was snickering at you over his shoulder like a hyena. Not the borderline scary snicker James had been victim of before, but a fond one, like you were sharing a secret together just the two of you.

Unable to watch more of your reaction, James looked back onto the desk, willing himself away.

You were never one to allow him reprieve, giving him a discreet poke with your wand. When he looked up, your head was in your hand and you were leaning your head sideways to look at him. “Daydreaming again, Potter?” you whispered.

His cheeks burned. “Not a chance,” he responded a bit too quickly, causing you to smile in delight as you leaned closer to him. His heart gave a particularly hard thud at that.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been staring at my notes for a few minutes, and last I checked, you don’t even take notes. So it's clearly no ruse to copy me.”

“I take notes!" James tried to retort, but when you levelled him with a stare he just smiled indulgently at you instead. "Occasionally."

"Yeah, you're a total swot, babe," you laughed quietly, shooting McGonnagal a quick glance to make sure you're still being discreet.

He knows you're messing with him, he knows it's just colloquialism, but he would have paid embarrassing amounts for you to call him that again.

"Very well might be, you're quite contagious, angel." The slight snort that escaped you at that probably made his day.

“Uh-huh,” you said softly, for the second time that lesson. “Whatever you say, Gryffindor.”

By the grace of Godric, McGonagall dismissed class before James combusted like he thought he would. He exhaled in relief, but it was short-lived as his nerves shot up as you began to pack your stuff, knowing he won't see you again until dinner. Not that he had memorised your schedule, or anything.

He opened his mouth, hoping to think of something clever and smooth to keep your attention for even a second longer, when your usual company approached your shared desk. He heard Junior's laugh before he saw him, eyes still trained on you, and when he turned Barty, Dorcas and Evan had formed some circle around you, chattering away with a casualness he rarely witnessed up close.

“Tomorrow’s going to be incredible,” Dorcas exclaimed almost-giddily, pulling her scarf up around her neck. “I can't wait to let off some steam finally."

“Oh, I'm sure you will, Cas,” you replied teasingly, pointing a finger at her teasingly. "Asked a certain blonde to join you yet?"

"How about you mind your business, Missy?" She shot back trying to shove your face away, but you dodged, using James' arm as a shield. He felt like a mannequin the way he stood beside you, almost dumbly, frozen by the exchange.

Evan just snickered. “Good luck prying Barty away from the game section, he's still pissy about last time."

"You mean when he gambled away all–" Dorcas was shut up with a quick silencio from Barty, which she quickly fought through and stuck her tongue out at him for.

"Hearsay and goss, I tell you!" Barty declared, shoving Evan aside to come stand beside you, arm circling around your waist. "I almost didn't go this year, I'm only joining because Treasure here practically threatened me to."

"Yeah, how dare you even consider leaving me to the wolves," you retorted to him at the same time as Dorcas murmurs something about "yeah, didn't wanna go because you lost so bad".

"Nah, we can't have that," Barty agreed with you while shooting Dorcas a glare, and then he – to James' utter pain and heartbreak – pressed a kiss to the top of your head while squeezing your hip.

Nevermind that it was a quick kiss, nevermind that you laughed at him. James just saw lips against skin.

Now that Junior was basically cuddling you standing up (James wanted no corrections calling this description an exaggeration), James had gravitated further away from you. He may have lost his mind with this whole lovesickness, but he respected you, your choices and your space. With the way you were throwing your head back laughing with your friends about some plans James didn't even know about, he knew he was not wanted nor needed here.

Pulling his bag closer towards his body, he gave a quick nod to no one in particular and turned around, headed towards the door.

"James, wait up!"

Your voice cut through his mind's ramblings, as it always does, and your use of his first name brought flowers to his vision once more. He turned around, hoping to look mostly casual but he's sure his face was an open book. His eyes zeroed in on you walking towards him, leaving your group of friends and Junior behind, but he heard a telltale laughter and he hoped it wasn't at how stupidly in love he looked with someone he could never have.

James blinked at you in confusion as you stopped before him, but you just wore the simplest smile on your face.

“Want to take a walk with me?” you asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

There was mirth in your gaze when you repeated your question. "We both have a free period now, I usually spend it in our common room. But I'm asking if you want to take a walk with me instead?"

James had to physically restrain himself from replying "I know" when you disclosed your habit, while also wondering how and why you came to know his schedule.

He managed to sputter out a response. “Yeah, yes, of course.” He couldn’t quite stop the grin from spreading across his face, and he felt a bit like an overeager puppy, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you looked rather pleased, which only made his heart race faster.

"Enthusiasm gets you everywhere, Potter," you responded calmly, falling into step with him as you led him out of the classroom, leading him down the less-frequented hallways. The road less travelled by.

The two of you strolled down the corridor, side by side, with the chilly autumn breeze filtering through an open window. James wanted to say something witty, something that would make you laugh, but he was mostly in his head, confused about everything that transpired the past few minutes.

"What's that about the fair?" He decided that was safe territory, though he feared having you recount all your plans with Junior there.

"Oh, you have no idea," you started excitedly. James pretended it didn’t cut a bit that he had no idea. "It's this annual fair that Pandora – you know, Rosier – discovered back in fourth. It's got the weirdest, coolest booths and games you'll ever see, with performances from unique professionals. It usually changes every year, last time it was a fire manipulator and a necromancer."

Upon James' quirked brow at you finding fire and necromancy the coolest, you continued. "Come on, you Marauders would have loved it. There's prank ideas and props to last you for months. And there's great food as well."

"Okay, okay," James laughed as he maintained eye contact with you. "I believe you, sounds fun. I hope you guys enjoy it."

If James wasn't as bright as he was, he might have mistook the flash of emotion across your face as a small bout of uncertainty or insecurity.

"Actually, that's something I wanted to ask you about," you started, trailing off as you stopped by one of the larger windows in the hallway, leaning against the windowsill. He followed your example, attention wholly on you. "We have this tradition, my friends and I, that we use the fair as an opportunity to challenge ourselves in some way, do something that... I guess something that scares us."

James just nodded, keeping his attention on you as his heart beats in his chest. Your smile turned a bit rueful.

"That's actually what I was messing with Cas about earlier," you continued. "She's finally asking your friend Marlene out on a date, to go with her to the fair."

That's what you wanted to talk about? James admired you almost more for how dedicated you were to your friends.

"I can tell you without a doubt that Marls would say yes," he reassured you with a smile. "Those two have been a work in progress for ages."

"For so long, it's been physically painful to witness," you laughed. That sound is anything but painful to witness.

James hummed in response, laughter rumbling through his chest as he continued to take you in, scanning your face.

"What are you doing that scares you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

You took a deep breath, chin up in that almost defiant way as you held his gaze. "I'm actually following in Dorcas' footsteps... or I guess perhaps beating her to it, seeing as she hasn't yet."

James blinked at you, clueless as to what you're leading up to.

"I wondered if you wanted to go with me to the fair?"

He felt as if he had been slapped in the face and like he was coming up for air after a long snog. He didn't really know what he felt, just that it was a lot, too much, even for him.

"I'd love to," he blurted out with a breath, words scrambling together. Then, his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to understand your sentence. "I mean– with me, are you sure? Aren't you going with, erm, with Junior?"

You gave him a puzzled look, cocking your head at him as if he had said something entirely irrelevant. "What do you mean?"

James looked sheepish and couldn’t quite meet your gaze over the sound of his own heart breaking. "I mean, it would be really nice to go with you to the fair, anywhere really, but wouldn't Junior mind?"

"Barty–" You cut yourself off, still looking confused. "Barty's the one who's been encouraging me to ask you out, actually. What are you on about?"

"Why?" was all James could breathe out, world unravelling in a way that made his stomach twist with painful hope.

"Um, because I like you? And unless I have suddenly lost all my interpretation skills, I am quite certain you've been fond of me for quite some time too, Potter."

"I am, but– wait– you are? What?" James guffawed. His intense confusion irritated his skin apparently because he had a sudden urge to scratch the back of his neck, his upper arms and pretty much any other piece of flesh. Maybe the embarrassment could be peeled off that way.

Despite it all, you laughed heartily and, what James was beginning to realise, bemusedly maybe even adoringly at his failure to speak. It seemed like you had pieced together everything he couldn't.

"Yeah, I like you, you sod. Think I just flirt with everyone?"

An "I hope not" lies on the tip of his tongue, but instead he shook his head in admonishment.

"Snake's got your tongue, babe?" you asked him, taking a taunting step closer.

"Looks like it," James mumbled, eyes zeroed in on your face as heat rose to his own. Growing bolder in your declaration, he continued, "I suppose I'm just confused. I always thought you were with Junior? That you two were... in love."

The last words brought a grimace to his lips, like it pained him to say. As if on instinct, your hand shot forward to wipe beneath his bottom lip to coax the frown off his face. His lips parted in shock and suspense at your touch and when you seemed to realise what you had done, you pulled your hand back quickly. You had the decency to look slightly flustered after that, allowing him some semblance of a more even playing field.

"No, James," you whispered with a smile as you shook your head. "Barty is my best friend and I love him with my whole heart. But I never have, and never will be in love with him. Him and Evan have been an item for, like, ages."

Finally, a brilliant smile – one you would later describe to him "shone like the sun" to which he attacked you with kisses because "that's so sodding cute of you to say, you sappy romantic" – took over his face.

Without thinking, he stepped closer to you, hand coming up to brush carefully against your cheek as you looked wide-eyed at his positivity and adoration now radiating off of him. "But you're in love with me?" he whispered with rapture, up to speed at last.

It took you a moment before you chuckled lightly, sheepishly looking down at your feet before once more meeting his piercing gaze.

"How about we start with that date, and see where it goes from there, huh pretty boy?"

So, yes, James most certainly could have and probably should have kicked himself – but right now, he found that he had other business he would much rather attend to.

[ozzgin]

Types of delinquent boyfriends

Dumbass with brute strength

This one is usually the protagonist. He's clumsy, comically dumb, yet somehow he's the strongest of them all. He seems to attract trouble, though he always comes out victorious.

While he is your boyfriend officially, he acts more like your best friend. Always goofy, always teasing you, and has no idea how to be romantic. He will, however, become serious if you're in danger or hurt. You can see the easygoing smile instantly fading to an angry frown; whoever messed with you is going to regret it.

Bouya Harumichi [Crows], Kawachi Tesshou [Worst], Hayato Misaki [Clover]

Cool and smart combo

This one has put the reckless days behind him. You wouldn't think this guy used to be an angry troublemaker. He will still fight if he has to, but he's overall laid-back and prefers to avoid conflict.

As your boyfriend, he's thoughtful and patient, despite the initial awkwardness of having a partner for the first time. May be self-conscious about his delinquent ways, so he'll often try to impress you and be on his best behavior. Until, of course, someone flirts with you or approaches you the wrong way; oops, he did not mean to knock that punk out cold.

Takeda Kousei [Crows], Tsukimoto Mitsumasa [Worst], Kiyohide Sanada [Clover]

Unhinged bad guy

Oh, he's a broken one. Whatever happened in the past has caused this guy to really act out. He's ruthless in fights and won't stop until the opponent is nearly dead and bloodied.

While he won't openly show it, he's a terribly jealous and possessive boyfriend. He'll huff with indifference at some guy flirting with you, but make sure to hunt him down later and break his bones. Honestly, you're probably the only reason he hasn't gone to jail yet. He does behave when you're nearby and will always stop when you ask him to, because he doesn't want to scare you.

Bitou Tatsuya [Crows], Amachi Hisashi [Worst], Naruga Takamori [Clover]

Quiet and mysterious powerhouse

Just a regular guy, really, until you test him. He doesn't like to show off, nor does he start fights on his own. If someone approaches him, however, he'll be done with one-two blows.

He's quite the stoic boyfriend and prefers to listen instead of talking. Despite the cold appearances, he's very caring and surprisingly gentle. He'll follow you around and do whatever you want to do with a reserved smile. If you get into trouble, he'll be quick to fix it. Some guy keeps pestering you? He won't even bother with warnings; the stranger will be laying cold against the asphalt before you can even comprehend what just happened.

Kunou Ryuushin [Crows], Fujihiro Takumi [Worst], Kyouzou Maki [Clover]

[livlaughloveluke]

DARK!LUKE CASTELLAN NSFW ALPHABET..

warning! this fic contains- a lot of nasty, dirty, dark nsfw headcannons, all varying, so read at your own risk. also a touch of angst and unrequited love? dark!dom!luke. afab/fem reader.

NOTE: this takes place after luke’s betrayal, and luke & reader don’t have an established relationship, it’s more of a sneaky link situation. reader is also definitely in love with luke. oki baii

personal note: i’m back!! kinda. just finishing drafts, so don’t expect me to post much more. sorry for making you guys wait a year 😭 i don’t even know if the luke fandom is still alive

A = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

even though his whole persona is this mean demigod who wouldn’t care about your feelings for more than a second, he’s not too shabby when it comes to aftercare. he likes to hold you until you fall asleep, and occasionally he’ll run a hot bath for you as a sort of apology for being so rough.

B = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite part of himself would have to be his muscles, specifically the ones on his arms. he loves how the veins pop out when he’s rutting into you relentlessly, grasping onto your hips to keep him stable. other than that, luke doesn’t look at himself often, partly because he doesn’t care and partly because it’s a reminder of what he’s been through, the choices he made. he’s more focused on you during sex, specifically the way your tits sway around, the perky nipple bouncing up and down. it’s hypnotizing, really. he can’t help but suck or grope on them from time to time, the tip hardening in his warm salvia.

C = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

surprisingly, he almost always pulls out and finishes somewhere else on your body. there’s just something so degrading about being drenched in cum that turns him on. it’s a nice reminder of who has control during sex.

D = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’s had an embarrassing amount of wet dreams centered around you. hypnos must have blessed cursed him, because he can’t go a week without seeing you rutting against him in his dreams. if he wasn’t so ignorant, maybe he’d consider the possibility that he was in love with you, but he was never known for his bright ideas anyways.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s well experienced. let’s say his body count is about 5, which is decent for his situation at camp. there’s very few girls of age, and even less straight ones. but i mean, he knows how to pull and charm girls into getting what he wants. he knows what he’s doing, how to make you squirm and beg.

F = favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy, for sure. you’re his pillow princess, head always pushed down while mascara streams down your cheeks in black chunks. he’ll buy you the silk pillowcases, too, so it doesn’t mess up your hair. sometimes he’ll switch it up and go cowgirl, but don’t think that gives you control. he’s the one guiding your ass up and down on him, and he’s happy to manhandle you into a different position if you aren’t behaving.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

not too serious, not too silly. he’ll crack a laugh every so often while you beg, or make a dumb comment about you getting desperate. although, he’s the only one who finds those funny.

H = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

not clean shaven to say the least. he’s got a decent amount of hair growing down there, but nothing unhygienic. he doesn’t mind it 🤷‍♀️

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

not big on intimacy. luke’s usually just down for a quick fuck and nothing more. although if he has time, he savors everything and it seems a little more romantic.

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he rarely jacks off, mainly because you’re always nearby and would get down on your knees with a snap of his fingers. sometimes he’ll make you masturbate in front of him to tease or see what you like, but that usually ends in him fucking you anyways.

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

luke into a lot of shit. he loves to tease and deny your orgasms, to watch you beg for mercy as he pulls away completely. degrading words are also frequently thrown around in sex, although he never actually means any of the insults he spews out during the moment. bondage is iffy, but he likes to throw in some handcuffs here and there

L = location (favorite places to do the do)

his cali king bed on the yacht, your bed, the shower, basically anywhere he pleases. sometimes it’s in the privacy of his suite (although your moans can definitely be heard from outside), and sometimes it’s a quickie in the storage closet.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

when you start training on the ship and sweat is beading on your forehead, your breaths shaky and muscles tense. he literally goes feral, like something primal in him snaps. don’t even get me started about when you lose a practice match and you get all bratty and snappy.

N = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing really dirty like piss or vomit; it just grosses him out. as for other things, if you’re down to try something new, he is.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he’s really big on oral, both receiving and giving. most of the time it’s you on your knees while he grips your hair and face fucks you, a mixture of precum and spit dribbling down your chin. he adores your beady eyes and how your eyelashes flutter as you take him down your throat. if he’s feeling nice, he’ll go down on you, messily licking and slurping your juices. and you bet he’s a fucking god at it, too.

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

luke’s definitely on the faster side, his thrusts quick and sharp. before he finishes though, he’ll switch it up to a slow and hard pace, every movement sloppier than the last.

Q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

oh he’s definitely down for a quick fuck. anytime, anyplace typa guy. you come up to him begging during training? he’ll fuck you in the equipment closet, metal banging around with every thrust. he has a meeting to attend to discuss his plans? he can multitask and make you suck him off in the shower.

R = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

absolutely. usually, he’ll pretend not to be interested as you slyly mention a new position or kink you want to try out. luke will brush it off, continuing on with his conversation like nothing happened. but when you get into bed later that night, he’ll initiate whatever idea you suggested earlier. just don’t mention it, or he won’t go so easy on you next time.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

as long as he pleases, baby. it ranges, but it frequently consists of 3ish twelve minute rounds where he’s consistently fucking you. unless he decides to drag everything on and torture you, in which it’ll last a lot longer, although it’s mainly just teasing.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he own a few vibrators for you and a pair of handcuffs in case you’re feeling bratty, but other than that he’s not really invested. if he can’t make you squirm with just his body, he’s doing something wrong.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

luke absolutely loves teasing you, for what feels like hours on end. it makes him grin when you beg, every plea from your lips going straight to his dick. especially in public, where he’ll run his hands up and down your thigh, drifting dangerously close to your core. he’ll whisper nasty things into your ear, knowing you won’t get to hook up until hours later. but could you blame him when you looked so sexy in that dress?

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s a grunter, loud and proud. although he definitely prefers your pretty sounds, he just can’t help letting out some noises of his own. contrary to popular belief, he rarely moans, unless he’s caught up in the moment and a few whines happen to slip.

W = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

when he’s feeling reallyyyy kinky, and if the moments right, he’ll pull out a knife during sex. he wouldn’t actually hurt you, at least nothing too serious, but he definitely teases it. luke will carefully drag the blade across your glossy skin, testing the limits as much as possible and watching your tense expression as he presses down every so often. you know he wouldn’t hurt you, but the look in his crazed eyes as he holds the dull side to your throat while pounding your insides tells you otherwise.

another completely different wildcard is that occasionally, he’ll stay up real late after sex, just staring at you and thinking. there’s something about your messy hair and puffy cheeks that captures his gaze for hours upon hours some nights. he knows you love him, he knows you wouldn’t put up with his bullshit if you didn’t care at least a little. and yet he still can’t find it in his heart to care for you. well, he can’t admit that he cares. he can’t admit that he makes sure you eat every day, he can’t admit that he leaves advil on his nightstand for when you sneak out in the early morning, and he sure as hell can’t admit that he knows all of your favorites inside and out. so instead, he’ll stay up all night and coddle you while pretending you’re just another warm body.

X = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i mean…. he’s definitely packing. nothing insane, but a good 6-8in? he’s got a large build, so i wouldn’t be surprised.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

holy shit, it’s pretty high!! i usually try to avoid unrealistic headcannons given to every character, but damnnnn this boy can go all night. he doesn’t usually, since he mostly uses all his energy for training, but even then, it’s still high.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if he’s not spending the night thinking of you (and questioning literally everything about himself) like i mentioned before, he’s out like a light. luke’s a busy guy and he gets sleepy, what can i say? he probably snores too, idk he just gives off that vibe.

[luveline]

Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him. 

Plus, you’re awfully shy. 

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days. 

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea. 

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks. 

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle. 

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight. 

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?” 

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask. 

“Three, two, one.” 

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy. 

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him. 

“What?” he asks, perturbed. 

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.” 

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option. 

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again. 

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?” 

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.” 

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.” 

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret. 

Spencer waits. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out. 

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised. 

“If that’s okay.” 

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.” 

“Really?” 

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder. 

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him. 

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t like touching.” 

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.” 

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh. 

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?” 

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back. 

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

[princessbrunette]

˚˖𓍢ִ🐰໋✧˚.🎀୨୧ ⋅˚₊

let’s go back to my roots. let’s talk about girly, prissy, spoiled bunny!reader with rafe.

you’re untouchable, kook royalty just for your attachment to the cameron’s but you don’t even care about all of that. all you care about, is rafes time money and attention.

he loves you a lot, but more so — he puts up with your shit. whilst you don’t have much of an attitude, soft in all corners of your life, you can still manage to be a nightmare. you clutter his sink with your makeup and skincare, decidedly a maximalist when it came to your self care and beautification rituals. he plucks a clump of mink eyelashes from the side of the sink, something he nearly mistook for a spider and sets it aside— only calling out a “jesus chr — bun, told you to clear out your shit. my bathroom looks like fuckin’ sephora. in here, now.” before he hears the soft padding of your feet come tottering along, happy to do as your told.

if that’s not making him huff and puff — it’ll surely be the outfits, moreso scraps of fabric you parade around in. expensive, according to his black card, for items of clothing that cover so little — and he can’t say you don’t get your moneys worth, toddling around in strappy powder pink dresses that leave nothing to the imagination or white mini skirts that cling to the fold of the bottom of your ass cheeks, giving not only the chumps at the country club a good look — but his closest friends too. his life had become a sequence of tugging down your hem, manhandling you to be decent. “you—y-you think i need my fuckin’ friends getting an eyeful of your pussy each time you move? are we gonna have to have another talk about what’s appropriate, bunny girl? huh? or maybe the belt will help you learn a valuable lesson. fuck.” he sulks, stomping around after his threat. you’re clung to his bicep with a dazed smile only five minutes later because his mean treatment usually flew through one bedazzled ear and came out the other. soft and dopey as ever.

back to him ‘putting up with you’, there’s a ton of reasons why that is. like aforementioned, he does love you a lot. you’re his little prized possession, his trophy. you were soft in all the ways that mattered and understanding, always listening when no one else would, even if he was admittedly in the wrong. that, and you really did fuck like a bunny rabbit.

you had a libido that was constantly set to high, all hours of the day. you were a chronic pillow humper when rafe wasn’t available to sate you, the man often times walking in to find you teary eyed with a white lacy thong binding your spread knees, pulled down just enough to grind your messy, glossy pussy against the fluffed white pillow from his side of the bed. because really, you were a chronic rafe humper— but you were well behaved enough to know that sometimes he had to handle business and didn’t have the time to feed your greedy cunt.

you’d grown accustom to taking him in any position too, whether it was in doggy style — waving your plush ass in the air, pointing that fluffy pink bunny-tail butt plug straight at him as you mewl into expensive pillows, or you’re crouched on his lap on the couch, feet planted either side of him, a high pitched whimper punched out of you each time you slam your hips back down on his cock, mushroom tip thumping your cervix. you said you liked the pain, liked when it bruised, liked when you could still feel him the next day when you missed him. reminded you of how grateful you are to have a boyfriend who dicks you good.

you had a little obsession that was serving as a problem though— having to give you plenty of ‘sit down talks’ when he talks to you real slow like you’re stupid because you keep begging him to breed you. it seemed no amount of “sweetheart, i’on know how many times i have to say this to get it through that head, but you are too young for a baby. i—i gotta get my shit together first, alright? promised you as many babies as you want after i secure tannyhill did i not? i…i really need your patience… okay?” would stop you from bouncing on his cock with a feverish and determined look in your eye, or locking your legs around his waist when he’s about to nut— babbling tearfully as you beg “please daddy, please gimme a baby. please want — want your babies!”

you’re lucky he was so much stronger than you, often wrestling you down to straddle your face and aim his cock at your mouth before he blew his load, gritting out a spiteful “well you’re gonna have to fuckin’ swallow them ‘til the time comes. fuck.” through gritted teeth as you mewl miserably (but lap it up nonetheless)

you gave him trouble, but nothing he couldn’t handle. he wouldn’t trade his spoiled bunny girl for the world.

˚˖𓍢ִ🐰໋✧˚.🎀୨୧ ⋅˚₊

[rafry]

Euclydia, Cults and Need for Control

Disclaimer: this analysis raises sensitive topics. if you are/were a victim of a cult and the topic triggers you, please refrain from reading further(/seek help). Additionally, I am not a specialist on said topic, nor am I a clinician. But I am a survivor, so part of the narrative may or may not be just me projecting the trauma on a silly yellow triangle. That said, reader discretion is advised! :)

The take: Euclydia is likely to be a cult-like society and the reason Bill, after years of abuse, grows up to be as he is: a power-hungry monster. Let's analyze!

For the starters, The Start. Each state has its own anthem. How lucky that we were kindly provided with the Euclidian hymn (hidden under the code "FORGETTHEPAST")! Lets take a look:

"Two dimensions to and from, You always know which way to go If you're lost, don't be afraid, In Euclydia you've got it made! Run too far too right of frame, You'll appear on left again! Jump too high, don't fry or fret, You'll pop up from the ground, I bet! In this place there is no fear, Roles and rules, always clear, Euclydia, we hold you dear…"

That tells us way more than we could've asked for, really. The most important: Euclydia is a state of Clear Rules™. Everything works perfectly thanks to The Rules and The Roles, and the state is loved by it's citizens. It's might be a caricature 2D utopia, but how it reacts when the rules are questioned?

"Eye doctor of a different kind, who wants to make his patient blind The doctor says: 'three sips a day will make the visions go away' Fussy eater, baby Billy Wouldn't drink unless it's silly..."

If there's anything about cults and the way they make people behave, is that the "wrong" ones in the community are usually ostracized and/or heavily medicated to not cause any troubles. Those people are sometimes called 'heretics', but may as well just be called crazy or insane by their peers. Oh look completely unrelated picture:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane Starting fires with his brain"

Honestly, the other time it would be it. Euclydia, if not Is, then sure does Act like a cult in some way. I could've finished here, easily, but there's something missing, isn't?

"The hell do you mean by 'The Need to Control', OP?"

I mean that the BILLVILLE is important.

There's the thing about trauma survivors: some of us, after living a life with no control over ones societal position (ostracization/isolation), body (forcibly medicated) or even mind (feeling of inadequacy), crave for some form of control to be regained.

It can turn toxic very quickly when the only form of control one has ever seen in their life is being The Leader (cult leader/shitty parent/armageddon overlord/you get the idea, it's about becoming an authority figure).

And so, Bill becomes a cult leader! Very possibly covering up the need for control and admiration with what I call "The most inefficient way to build an Interdimentional Portal ever", since, well, he's got to lie to himself every now and then, that's his thing (trauma response).

As for the details:

He uses the dead mans body — the body that wouldn't cause any resistance, thus being perfect for taking under control.

He sees the position of the interviewer as more authoritative than the position of the interviewee — and he swaps the roles. That wasn't enough though, so he demands (politely) to be called "My Lord And Master" for a good measure.

He very possibly recreates some of Euclydia-like order in his own "Town" in terms of expressing individuality. They might've been pretty decent in following scripts, I think.

So, I don't think Euclydia has ever been religious in any way, since that would left some other scars on Bills psyche for sure. But highly authoritative, ignorant, strict in its rules to the point of self-damnation? That checks. That's the place that has formed Bill, after all.

That's the place that he wishes to rebuild.

Maybe not consciously, maybe distorted by his illness and broken memory of a loving-paradise-home that has never actually been that way, but he seeks the comfort of familiarity — most of us do. Familiar stings are better than an uncontrollable too-bright future, isn't?

I hope he does well on therapy.

[writerinthewoods05]

Sylus Qin NSFW Alphabet

Sylus x Fem Reader

So this is the first of the NSFW Alphabets for the boys. At a certain point I'll do a SFW version so keep an eye out for that.

~~~~~~~~~~

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

If it's just a fling I think he would still clean you up and stay the night but I think that would be about it.

If you both are already in a relationship or if HE decides that he wants a relationship he would be so sweet it would border in love bombing. It's not though cuz Sylus is perfect. He would offer you a bath, get you water, cuddle you and massage your lower back. I don't think he's leave you to get you breakfast but once you wake he would carry you to the kitchen and cook for you then.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Sylus's favorite part of his body would probably be his chest or his abs.

1. He likes his abs because you like them, end of story.

2. He likes his chest because you sleep on it, kiss it, an just in general replace the memories of what happened in your past life.

His favorite body part on you is probably your hips. Double points for hip dips. He has much less 'wholesome' reason for loving that part of your body. Of course he loves laying his head on your lap, or holding your hips while out but the amount of hickeys and bite marks that cover your hips and thighs showed his other motives.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I don't think he likes to cum on you cuz I personally think he has more than most and let's be real he's too fancy to make the mess. So usually tends to cum inside. Now if you happen to let him cum down your throat he would probably die and go to heaven, or wherever the hell dragons go. Just the feeling of your throat closing around his tip as you swallowed made him hard and heavy all over again.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's very open with just about everything when it comes to you but one thing that even he is hesitant to telling you is the fact that hes had a very specific fantasy since he met you. I'll set the scene.

Imagine you come home from a hard day of fighting wanderers to a completely empty home. Upstairs you find Sylus laying on the bed waiting for you, naked of course, with a brand new dildos next to him. But surprise, it's not for you. No no, tonight your fucking him up the ass. End of scene. (I could be persuaded to write a fic about this but we will see)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

The man is sex appeal on legs, he's had more experience than anyone should ever logically need to be frank. His body count is probably as high as his body count if you catch my drift. Not to say he's a hoe, but you know, he had to learn somewhere.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

The hook position for sure. He can pin you down, still be able to kiss you and sink balls deep all at once. I also come bearing a 'gif't. If y'all get me banned for this then I'll quit so behave! https://images.app.goo.gl/H5zaL6LcrcunEwMZ7

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's goofy in the sense that he will tease you and he might make a joke if you fart or something but for the most part he is very focused on make you lose your fucking mind.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

They do match the drapes. White, and neatly trimmed. I do think that he actually has a bit of hair that goes down the top of his shaft but just a little bit. This man is literally the most well groomed man in the game, there is no way he doesn't help himself trimmed. Maybe if you ask nicely he'll add it as a personal spa day activity...

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sylus is always romantic to an extent but it really just depends on the occasion. If you are just having a quicky he will be romantic with his words but that's about it.

If it's date night, he would rent you both a nice hotel, rose petals, champagne, the whole nine yards. Again he's a romantic person in general so it kinda comes natural.

Now if it you anniversary he would put everything he has to up his game. Now shockingly I don't think he would rent a place. I think he would clear the manor and leave you a trail to the bed room in petals. He would actually be much more emotionally romantic than normal. He would be slow and sweet and if he's not careful might actually cry from how grateful he is to have you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don't think he jacks off that much now that he has you but he will if your either gone or tired. Or if you are on a mission he will tell you call you and Jerk off while listening to you talk about what fast food you had for dinner. He just needs to hear your voice no matter what your saying. You would most likely be a little confused when you here him stop responding but after a moment he reassures you that he's still there. Just don't ask why he's out of breath or he might just have to hop on a plane to get to you early.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Ok if I were to give an explanation for all his kinks we would be here forever so imma just give you a list. If you want me to elaborate on any later please let me know.

Breath play Breeding Somno Anal Biting Gun play Public sex Bondage Knife play Dom/Sub Evol play?

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Everywhere. Just everywhere. If you decide to tease him in a public setting that's not his fault that your getting fingered under the table. It's not his fault that your getting fucked senseless in the closet hallway. If your anywhere in the manor though the he will just bend you over the closest piece of furniture, staff be damned. They learned real quick to listen and look at the floor when they enter rooms.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I think we all know by now that this man is always half hard so I don't think it takes much to actually get him going. Usually biting him or kissing him will hit you on your back but if you really wanna rile him up, pull the dominant card. He will play along for a bit cuz you acting all sexy and in control makes him painfully hard and he fucking loves it. Just don't forget who's actually in charge.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Sylus would never share you. You are his kitten and he would rather you kill him again then ever let another person touch you. He wouldn't care if someone walked in on you both as I previously mentioned but if someone tried to actually join he would probably shoot them, and I mean that literally.

0 = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Listen, Sylus is a munch, don't get me wrong. He's great at eating his kitten and he would never turn down a chance to taste you... But, he's a sucker for you swallowing his cock in your pretty mouth. He would hold your your chin and guide you into him again and again until he a groaning mess. His hips would jolt wanting to fuck your mouth but not wanting to hurt you. He never lasts long in your mouth and cums with a growl in record time. You better believe he's not even near done with you once you decided to swallow his cum, your in for a long night.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sylus isn't usually very fast paced but he can be rough. Not in a bad way but he will fuck you hard and usually leaves you with a couple fresh bruises from how hard he holds on your hips. He doesn't fuck you fast unless he jealous or drunk.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

For Sylus quickies are like vines, still enjoyable but their just over so quick. He likes to take his time with you. If he had his way he's have you impailed on his cock for hours. Of course he would never turn down a chance to touch you considering how long it took for you to even feel comfortable in the same room with him, but he will always prefer to not be rushed.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He would most likely be down for anything you were up for as long as it doesn't involve hurting you in any way. He'd be fine with even using an (unloaded) gun or a knife if you really wanted it but again he would NEVER agree to engaging in any lasting pain play. Also like I said he would never let anyone else touch you. Your his kitten and his woman and there is no one in the world that he would trust you with other than himself and even then he had his doubts at times.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Contrary to popular beliefs I think Sylus would only last about 2 rounds but only because he edges the bottom the of you so much that by the time he gets to round 2 it's been 4 hours and he's spent. Granted if your still wound up he would eat you out or use a toy on you until your satisfied but I genuinely don't think his poor dick could have more than 2 rounds.

I think he has a fair amount for both you and him. Not like a Christian grey type of stash but he has a chest that lives under your bed. He has multiple different dildos, vibrators, handcuffs, blindfolds, plugs etc. for you and has a strap on dildo a vibrating cock ring and a butt plug specifically for him. No cross contamination because health reason obviously.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It really depends on your preferences because if your cool with it he will edge you to the point that your eyes are rolled back and your babbling nonsense. If your not he won't tease you while your having sex but he will tease you just during the day. Whether your at a restaurant and he whispers dirty nothings in your ears or he's just being a little shit in general to annoy you. He will find a way tease you no matter what.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Canonically Sylus it a growler, and I do agree but I also think he can be very loud by moaning. That is reserved tho to when you blow him Because it just makes him feral. He definitely talks you through it and I just don't think there's any chance that he could even try to be quiet. You just make him feel so good, he just can't help himself.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

So we know that sylus is a undercover switch, I think he would really get off to you being controlling with him too. I don't think it really matters whether it's sexual or nonsexual dominance, if your taking control he would probably be painfully hard. Also if someone is either flirting or being mean to him. If you act protective or possessive he would probably cum on the spot.

Sylus is about 7 inches soft but he grows to 9 inches once he gets his hands on you. Yeah he might be human now but he's still a fucking dragon.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

How high can ones sex drive be, I think is a better question. Lets be real, Sylus is a master of control. Because of this he can turn it on REAL quick. He always wants you but even if for whatever reason he wasn't in the mood, try kissing his neck, it's not that hard to get him going.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

That really depends on what your schedule is. Sylus is literally nocturnal so if you have a schedule like a normal person he would stay up to give you that dick to start off your morning but I think he would pass out pretty quick after cuz when he fucks he fucks hard and for a while. It's his bedtime, just spend a few minutes and let him snuggle you and he'll be out like a light.

Now on the other hand if your also a night owl then he would definitely be up for a while. He would most likely let you cling to him and just do work on his laptop while you nap. He wouldn't leave you though, even if you are out for hours, even if his ass goes numb, he's gonna stay with you until you wake up.

Thank you so much for reading, it means so much to leave a like and if your feeling generous maybe a comment! Again I know I've been gone for a couple months but I am back down that life has decided to stop shitting on me for a bit. I hope you enjoyed this work and I hope to get y'all some more soon!

[enbyfvcker]

[Porn star puppy]

𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 (𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩!𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1,8k

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Wade helps to distract his grumpy boyfriend from alcohol withdrawal by forcing orgasm after orgasm from him.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: Smut, rim, anal sex, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise kink, slight degradation kink, hair pulling, sex tape, sub/dom subtones, bottom!logan, top!wade, fourth wall break.

It was a rough fucking day. When Logan normally tags along with Wade at his casual hit jobs, they don't usually stress him out so much. They just get the job done easy, peasy. Kill some bad guys, yada yada and all that. And it was nice to do something once in a while so that he wouldn't just rot in the apartment he now shared with his mouthy boyfriend and a blind old lady. (Logan was definitely not used to calling Wade that but it was a working progress. Besides, it has just been a few weeks since they put a name to what they have.)

But no, today drained him. He's been more testy lately if he actually thinks about it...

It was probably the fucking withdrawal. It was getting worse.

Turns out the cons of having a boyfriend now is that for once, when he acted like the self-destructive little shit that he is, he now felt like he was dragging Wade along. Fine, it wasn't really a con... It's just that Logan was used to being miserable, used to kicking himself down and drowning himself in bottles and bottles so he could escape from his own thoughts for a little while.

But Wade 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 cared. Wade cared, and Logan could see it whenever Wade took care of him when he'd come back to the apartment stumbling and barely able to hold himself up until he passed out on the couch after spending hours on a random bar. The seventh that he had been banned from in this universe already.

So maybe he hesitantly gave in and let the merc convince him to try and stay sober.

And fuck if it isn't hard as hell.

Logan was exhausted and pent up and grumpy and god he craved a drink more than anything. Several, actually.

But Wade... Well, he had his ways to distract and ease him. So it wasn't all bad.

Al was out for a date for plot convenience, and right now they were on the living room couch and Wade has his grumpy boyfriend with his back glued to his chest and grunting as Wade pumped his over-stimulated cock mercilessly. Logan's thighs were trembling, and he could barely form any coherent words, his eyes rolling back into his head as he rested it on Wade's shoulder and Wade was fucking mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

"You don't look so scary when you're all pliant and desperate in my arms, baby girl. You're just a little kitty cat, aren't you?" Wade coos in Logan's ear.

"Shut the f-fuck up-" Logan grunt in annoyance but Wade could feel his boyfriend's cock twitching in his fist and he couldn't help but smirk. Logan mind was dazed. He's lost count of how many orgasms Wade pulled out of him, his thighs and abs in a mess of his own cum. The pleasure was bordering on painful, and yet he couldn't get enough, his body overwhelmed and desperate for more. His healing factor aiding his torture, reliving his libido right after he thought he couldn't take anymore.

"Can't take you seriously when you look so sinful covered in your own juices, princess. God, you look pornographic. You think we should make amateur videos? I think they'd be a hit. The freaks reading this would surely eat it up."

"Wade-" Logan warns through gritted teeth. He lift his arm and his claws pricked out an inch and threatened to come out, but Logan's mind was too focused on the overwhelming stimulation to get them out properly.

"Ah, ah, ah. Down, boy." Wade scouts, tightening his fist on Logan's cock and using his other hand to rub the palm of it against the sensitive tip, earning a desperate whine from his lips, the claws coming back to his arms fully. "Behave."

Logan could hear the grin in Wade's voice and he wanted to fucking mutilate it out of his face, but he didn't had the energy to do much more than whimper like a bitch in heat.

"That's a good boy." Wade praises and Logan felt his cock throb at the words. "God, if you had a tail it'd be fucking wagging right now. That's it, peanut, take it like a good puppy."

"Fuck-" Logan growls, and his hips rut desperately into Wade's hand before he stills and shakes while another stream of thick ropes of cum paint his thighs. Wade 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 loved digging into Logan's praise kink.

Before he could even catch his breath he gasped out a strangled whine as Wade's hand returned to it's previous movements, unrelenting.

"W-Wade!" Logan cries out, his legs trembling.

"Tapping out already, baby girl? Come on, give me one more." The merc coos, licking and nipping at the back of his neck and suckling marks that desapeared in seconds. "Do you want me to stop?"

"N-No... Please," Logan whines and he hates how desperate he sounds, but he also don't fucking cares. Right now, his mind's all fuzzy and his inhibitions said goodbye long time ago. He felt safe with Wade, like he could just let go. "Don't."

Wade rewarded him by pumping faster, his free hand squeezing Logan's pec and pinching his nipple in a movement that made Logan arch his back and whimper, his ass rubbing against Wade's raging hard on. 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺.

"W-Wade, I..." Logan pants, his cheeks warming as he tries to find words that wouldn't make him want to blow up in shame.

"Hm?" He feels his boyfriend tightening the grip in his cock. "Use your words, peanut, go on."

"Shit- Wade... Want your cock." He moans, his cheeks flushing as he clench his fists tight. He could just feel Wade grinning behind him.

"Yeah? How do you want it, baby cheeks?"

"You know how." Logan grunts in response, whining when Wade slows down his hand almost to a stop, pumping in a torturing slow pace.

"Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it, baby."

"Just fuckin- Fuck me already before I impale you in my claws, jerk." He growls.

"Good enough." Wade shrugs with a grin and switches their position in a quick movement, putting Logan on all fours on the couch, making him gasp. "So pretty for me." Wade praised, spreading Logan's cheeks. "You're dripping all over my couch, baby girl."

"Stop fucking calling me th-" He's interrupted by his own groan as Wade dives in and licks his rim, opening him up with his togue, reaching as deep as he could. Logan cries out, not sure if it was too much or not enough. "Wade... stop fucking teasing me, just do it already before I regret it and rail 𝘺𝘰𝘶 instead."

"You're extra bossy today, huh?" Wade chuckles, giving one last lick before moving to grab a bottle of lube in his pants pocket and desposing of them right after, spilling the liquid over his lenght. "Don't worry, I'll turn your brain mushy soon enough, cutie. Be patient for daddy."

"I swear to fucking g- oh 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬." He growls as Wade slides in roughly, his initial grumpiness replaced by a rush of pleasure. Wade takes a punishing pace, forcing desperate moans and whimpers out of him. Logan's arms were trembling, and he slacked his torso onto the couch, his back arching in a filthy angle that has Wade drooling.

"God, I wish you could see yourself right now..." Wade grunts behind him, a clear grin on his voice. "All strong and tough and fucking slutty just for me. Such eye candy."

Wade looks into an invisible audience and grins. "Yeah, I'm talking Hugh Fucking Jackman on all fours in the goddamn void level type shit, but like 10 times better."

Logan snarled but he could barely think of a retort to reprimand Wade, his mind buzzing in pleasure, lewd moans escaping from his lips that would have him blushing if he weren't completely cock drunk right now. He could feel himself leaking pre-cum at the merc's words and 𝘨𝘰𝘥 he feels pathetic, but he fucking likes it.

He shivered as he heard a goddam camera sound behind him and when he turned his head to the side he saw Wade grabbed his fucking phone and was taking pictures of him in this position, and it really shouldn't have sent all his blood straight to his cock the way it did.

"The fuck are you doing, bub?"

"Oh this one's definitely going to my wank material album." Wade just smirked in response.

"I'm gonna rip your fucking fingers out-" He moans loudly when Wade grabs his hair in his fist and tugs it back, arching Logan's back even more. Fireworks pop inside Logan's head as Wade's cock hit his prostate and brushes against it over and over in a quick pace.

"Shh, now kitty, just take it." Wade moans as he presses the record button. "My little porn star, so fucking hot."

"Shit- fuck, fuck, fuck," Logan whimpers, his cock twitching repeatedly, his balls growing tighter as his body prepares for yet another orgasm, probably the fifth of the night or something, he wasn't sure.

"Go on, Wolvie. Show me the good little cockwhore you are for me, kitten.

"Gonna cum, gonna-" A series of whines leaves his throat. His claws come out in a flash and dig into the cushions as he paints the couch with his seed, his eyes rolling back at the intense wave of pleasure hitting him like a train.

"God-" Wade wasn't far behind. He gaps and thrusts roughly a couple more times before spilling inside Logan with a desperate moan, as if he's been holding back just to bring his boyfriend to the edge first.

Logan was now boneless in the couch, his mind fully empty as he swims in the afterglow. He wasn't thinking or worrying or craving any drink, and it just felt like heaven. When his heartbeat comes back to normal he unsheathed his claws from the poor couch, sliding them back into his skin.

After a few seconds catching his breath, Wade pulls out with a grunt and records with a smirk as his cum leaks out of Logan's puffy hole before tossing his phone aside. He leans down and wrap his arms around Logan, settling them until they're spooning in the cum soaked couch, barely fitting them both layed like this.

"We should get up and clean this mess before Althea gets home wonder why the house smells like bleach." Logan sighs gruffly, but he doesn't make any move to leave, his body too exhausted.

"Mhmm. Just five more minutes, mom."

Logan roll his eyes.

"God, you're insufferable."

"Yeah, well, you love me anyway, peanut."

And he doesn't reply anything, not a mean retort or an annoyed growl because it was true.

He does love this idiot.

[fearcvlt]

❝disdain❞

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader note. hi hi !! um... this isn't the greatest probably?? trying to work myself out of a really bad case of writer's block rn. this fic has literally no reprieve at all, so don't go into it expecting literally anything good to happen. sorry :/ any feedback is appreciated !! tags. nsfw, mdni. stalking. obsessive behaviour. unhinged!rafe. rape/non-con. no use of y/n. p in v. creampie. gagging. no prep. no resolution :/ 2.9k words.

Rafe has never had a good handle on his self-control. 

His restraint is barely hanging on by a thread when it comes to you, a pretty little thing he stumbled across at the Country Club. He finds it a little irritating, how you don’t seem to fall at his feet as easily as other girls do. Like, ouch? He’s even been nicer than he usually is to you, all sweet and gentlemanly and so not Rafe-like. 

And he’s been behaving  recently, alright? Hasn’t beaten up any of your little Pogue friends in a good while — if only to avoid the way you’d look at him for days after. He doesn’t really understand why you’re so hung up on those losers, but he’s willing to take a step back (or get better at hiding the bruising on his knuckles after a fight. He’s not picky). 

Doesn’t he at least deserve a little kiss for all his trouble?

The point is, Rafe has tried the right approach. Asked you out with his best charming smile, dressed up all nice and shit. You’d rejected him. Him. He doesn’t know what about it got him so worked up, but he’d been keeping an eye on you almost obsessively since then. 

He’s not a stalker or anything. It’s not weird if he follows you as you slip out of a party, or if he checks up on you through your windows late at night. He was in the area — it comes from a place of friendly concern, and he’d swear that ‘til his dying breath. He’s not a good guy, but he can be if it’s for you. 

But he fucked up a little bit one night, and he’s noticed you acting all skittish recently. It wasn’t his fault, honest. He’d had a little too much to drink, and enough coke that it fucked with his head. He got a little trigger happy, might’ve called your phone on no caller ID. Or, well, FaceTime is more accurate. 

Didn’t have his face in frame, though. Just his fist pumping his dick, flushed and leaking for you as he panted into the phone speaker. Not enough to give away it was him, he hoped. Not that you stayed on the line for more than three seconds, anyways. Seeing your little sleepy face was enough to have him making a mess of his screen only moments later, so it was fine by him. 

Rafe wants to have a talk with you about leaving that window of yours cracked. It’s summer, it gets hot. He gets it. But it really was too easy for him to get into your bedroom to steal a few things for himself. Panties, a half-used bottom of perfume, maybe a sweater or two. He’s building up quite a collection, you know. He’d like to think you’d be honoured if you knew how down bad he was for you. 

He’s gotta figure something out. He’s pretty sure he’ll be able to charm you into getting with him — then he doesn’t even have to worry about you finding out he was the one that’d been watching you this whole time. Win-win. 

Shame shit never seems to go right for him. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Rafe’s a little surprised when you show up to his party. You haven’t been around at the last few, but you chose to come to his. His chest puffs out a little with pride, his mind suddenly focused on you rather than whatever bullshit Kelce and Topper are spewing this time. 

He’ll have a couple of drinks before he approaches, he reasons. Get himself a little more loose and confident, give you a chance to settle. He can be a patient man when he wants to be, and he’s got a whole lotta time when it comes to you. 

It can’t be that long that he takes his eyes off of you — fifteen minutes at most? Yet, as his gaze flicks over the crowd, he’s instantly livid. You and some shithead are trying to make your way upstairs. That can only mean one thing, and Rafe isn’t fucking stupid. 

He peels away from his friends, following after you immediately. He climbs the steps two at a time, pushing open the door until he finds you. 

Nothing’s happening when he gets there, thank god — Rafe isn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands off of the guy if he was. He looks at him, jaw tensing. “Get the fuck outta my room.”

At least the dude isn’t stupid, because he’s ducking out a moment later. Rafe’s satisfaction doesn’t last long when he notices your uncharacteristic quietness. He follows your line of sight, frowning as he realises it’s on your missing perfume. Ah, shit. 

“What? Think a girl left it here one time.” He scoffs, swallowing as he notices the look on your face. He’s normally good at lying, but he feels pretty damn tongue-tied right about now. “I look like the kinda guy to use that shit?”

When your eyes flick to his sheets, he grows even more nervous. He has plausible deniability for the perfume, sure, but you’re looking at the sheets like you recognise them (that little video call is really coming back to bite him in the ass) and he isn’t sure what to do. 

“Hello? Anyone home?” Humour’s about all he’s got right now, so he waves a hand in front of your face. Hoping it’s enough to make him seem like he ain’t got a clue what’s going on in your pretty little head right about now. Good thing your panties are securely hidden away in his top drawer. You definitely wouldn’t be happy about that development. 

“It’s you.”

His heart sinks a little at those two words, his mind going into overdrive as he tries to think about how he should react to that statement. Honesty is absolutely a fucking no-go, especially with that expression starting to twist your face. 

“Yeah? You’re in my room. What’re you getting at here?” He’s hoping acting dumb will work. It’s about the only thing he can think of doing at this moment. “Shit, princess. Think you need to slow down on the drinking.”

He takes a few steps towards you, brows furrowing at the expression on your face. His hands drop to your hips, keeping you close. The feeling of your warmth is enough to have him barely suppressing a shudder.  “You’re being stupid, c’mon. I’ll take you home so you can have a lie down—”

“No. Are you fucking insane? Do you honestly think I’m that stupid? God, I knew I recognised your voice in that call.” You reply, shoving him away with every intention of getting the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

The second you shove him, Rafe’s jaw tenses before he’s pulling you against him. He’s far stronger than you and he has no problem using that against you. At your words, his eyes narrow, lips drawing downward into a scowl.

“You’re mine,” he hisses at you, grip tightening. “I like to have things that prove it. I’m not sick, you’re just ungrateful.”

“You spend all your time hanging around those fucking Pogues, as if they deserve your time more than us. More than me.” He sneers, voice cold. “But you never give me the time of day. It’s not my fault if I had to start keeping a closer eye on you, make sure you’re not mixing with the wrong crowd. That’s on you, princess.”

He presses you firmly against the wall, his jaw set tight. “Should’ve just said yes to me when I first asked you out. Maybe then things would be different.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach, eyes wide as you meet his gaze. Any confidence you had had confronting him before quickly simmers away into nothing. “Rafe… I’m sorry. Just let me go and I’ll forget this, alright? Promise.”

“Ah, baby. You’re hurting my feelings with that kinda talk. I don’t want you to forget about this…” One of his hands slips away from your hip and grabs a handful of your hair, tugging at it lightly as if to emphasise his point. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. You — us. I’m gonna be good to you. I’m gonna keep you.”

“You… You’re sick. A freak.” You hiss, wincing as he yanks your head back, his fingers grasping your hair tighter.  He’s starting to get really sick of you talking to him like that.

At your wince, he only grins, the manic edge of his expression cutting into his features. “You’re gonna like me, baby. I’m not the sick one, no… You’ve just got the wrong impression, princess. That’s all. I’ll show you how good this’ll be for you, you’ll understand. I know you will.”

You shake your head quickly, tears brimming in your eyes. He makes a small, amused sound at the sight of them, leaning down to press his lips to one of the droplets as it begins to slide down your cheek.

“Oh, my poor little thing,” he coos at you, expression almost sickeningly gentle. Rafe’s hand moves from your hair, gently cupping your cheek. “Poor baby… Course you’re my girl. You always have been. I waited for you — I’m being so good to you, and all you’re doing is calling me a freak.”

He pauses, brushing his nose against your hairline and inhaling deeply. “I forgive you, princess, don’t worry. I love you so much, you know. I know how to be patient.”

You feel sick, bile rising up in your throat so rapidly that it hurts when you force yourself to swallow it down. His hands slide up and down your body, mapping out the shape of you and squeezing at your flesh. You open your mouth to protest, but all you can manage is a strangled whimper as he starts to tug at the fabric of your top, pulling back just enough to look down at the skin that he's exposing.

Your shirt is bunched up above your tits now, and his hands are coming up to grope at them through the thin fabric of your bra. He leans down until his lips brush against your ear, breath hot and carrying the scent of alcohol as he speaks. “You wear this for me, baby?”

His thumb rolls over your nipple under the fabric now, and the tears start to fall more rapidly, hot and heavy as they roll down your cheeks. There are people downstairs, you know that. Probably a few upstairs, too, that have snuck away to have fun. You could scream — someone would have to hear over the music, right? And then they’d come to help, and you could get the hell away and hopefully never see Rafe Cameron again. 

Except as your lips part, three fingers force their way down your throat harshly, muffling any attempts to gain attention you had in mind. He isn’t gentle about it, the roughness of his fingers jarring your throat and making you gag. Nails scrape against the sensitive flesh as you choke and splutter around the digits, drooling obscenely from the corners of your mouth. 

“Cute, baby. I’ve been watching you, remember? I know you. Ain’t nothing in your pretty head you can think of doing that I haven’t thought of first.” Rafe walks forwards until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. You try your best to stay upright, but all it takes is a little push from him to get you to buckle and fall back against the mattress.

He’s on you in an instant. His hands are everywhere all at once, pulling on your clothes, exploring your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t have to watch it happen, your body going rigid as you attempt to block out his touch. Rafe doesn’t seem to care, just happy that he’s touching you at all. You feel a cold air brushing against you as he strips you down to nothing, knee pushing your legs further apart so that he can settle between them.

His body is heavy as he cages you in against the bed, bearing down on you while he unbuckles his pants and slips them down. He doesn’t bother with taking them off, sliding them down along with his boxers until he can free himself from the fabric. He pushes forward instantly, impatient, sliding into you with a string of mumbled curses. He doesn’t go slow or give you time to adjust — he thinks he’s waited long enough. And he deserves this. Deserves you.

“So good, so good… Fuck, baby, see? Don’t even need to stretch you out, you fit so perfect… Fucking… made for this.” He grunts, hot and heavy against your cheek. He noses into the flesh there, dragging wet trails across your face with the tip of his nose and he spreads your tears further, sniffing at you like a damn dog.

It burns. Your body is struggling to accommodate his size, but he’s pushing past the resistance. Rafe’s lips find yours as he starts to move, fucking into you desperately. He groans at the taste of you, slipping his tongue into your mouth. In a desperate attempt to get him away from you, you bite down on the offending muscle. It barely makes him pause. He laughs all breathlessly against your mouth, then he bites you harder. You make a pained sound in the back of your throat as his teeth sink into your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, his tongue darting out afterwards to lick away the mess.

You don’t have the courage to bite him this time as he slides his tongue into your mouth again, letting you taste your own blood. The tang of iron only makes it harder to shut this all out, to pretend it’s something else. Your cunt aches between your legs, even as it drools helplessly in an attempt to ease the intrusion. You only feel sicker at the thought that your body seems to be inviting this.

Rafe pulls back slightly, forearms resting either side of your head as he fucks into you more desperately. You’re practically folded in half — his hips smacking against the flesh of your ass with each thrust. “Fuck, you’re tight. Relax a bit, baby. Think you’re cutting off my circulation or some shit.”

He huffs out an easy laugh, like anything about this is funny. The simple fact of it is, he just doesn’t care. He only moves faster with each pained little gasp that leaves your mouth. There’s no gentle touches or movements. He doesn’t rub at your clit to at least attempt to make it into something that feels good for you.

Rafe Cameron takes. He takes and he takes what he wants until there’s nothing left of it, and no matter how deep his obsession for you runs, that’s all it is. An obsession. There is no love or tenderness in his actions, and there never will be. He’ll use you until he’s satisfied, then you’ll be tossed aside like every other toy he’s gotten bored of over the years. You know that, and he makes no attempt to hide the fact from you.

“Fuuuck, baby. Gonna make me cum. Y’want me to fill up this pretty little cunt?” He groans, forehead dropping against your own. His gaze meets yours as you shake your head weakly, but he just grins. “Yeah? ‘Course you do, baby. Good girl.”

He bites his lower lip, brows furrowing as he continues to rock into you. You can feel every drag of his cock along your walls, and you feel yourself begin to tremble as it starts to twitch inside of you. “Yeah, baby. Yeah, that’s it. Fuck, that’s it.”

He presses his hips flush to yours with a groan, hands fisting in the sheets beside your head as the tip of his cock presses painfully against your cervix. His length kicks with every hot spurt of cum that fills you up, but you’d long since lost the energy to fight it. You lie there limp and frozen as he finishes, whispered words of praise hot against your face.

When he’s done, he pulls away from you swiftly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tucks himself back into his trousers. He doesn’t even spare you a second glance as he rises up again, running a hand through his sweat-slick hair.

“Do me a favour, yeah? Stay here?” He asks, already getting ready to go back downstairs. “Wanna see you once the party dies out. You’ll do that for me, right?”

Rafe doesn’t wait for a response before he fixes up his shirt and makes his way towards the door. He doesn’t need to worry, not really. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and he knows your type. You don’t have the kind of resources it takes to get into a fight with the Camerons — even if you did say something, he’d only walk away with a slap on the wrist.

So he returns to his party with a sense of satisfaction that’s only amplified when he makes his way up to his bedroom hours later only to find you passed out on his bed still. He’s got a great idea on how to wake you up.

[hai7ani]

haitani ran, gojo satoru, bakugou katsuki, shinazugawa sanemi, kuroo tetsuro, your faves

thinking about the salarymen who comes home to you after a really, really long day at work and all he wants to do is to just hold you and listen to whatever you are rambling on about and maybe kiss you a little. a lot. he wants to kiss you and kiss you and maybe fuck you both soft and hard in the shower...

but you refuse to let him do so while you're cooking and you tell him you absolutely cannot focus if he kisses you while you're at the stove. you keep slapping his face away when he comes too close so he does what he can with what he has. he drags a chair over from the dining table ー all the way to where you're standing at the stove cooking dinner, situates it behind you, sits down, and he just wraps his arms around your waist, buries his nose into your ass and just hugs you like that. kisses your back, inhales your scent like a dog and he reaches a sneaky hand over to the front to shove it into your panties when you're not paying attention. (he does make sure to wait until you're away from the stove, in case you burn yourself from his little antics.)

you kick him away then and he watches in amusement, in pure joy, as you nag his ear off and give him a horny ban for ten days. you tell him no sex until he learns to behave himself and he figures he can amuse you for a bit. lets you walk around the house with your chest stuck out, thinking that you win and your horny ban is final, doesn't fuss you when you're showering despite the burning desire to head into it with you and fucking you silly, even letting you go as far as to taunting him when you emerge from the shower all wet with nothing but his towel wrapped around your body. he doesn't make a move though, not even when you wiggle your eyebrows and throw the same towel to his face after getting dressed and he has to go hang it up himself because his self control is gooood. it's great.

not when he's sleepy though.

when it is time for bed he decides he can't take it anymore. yanks the comb away from your hands and throws you on the bed, hikes up your nightgown, and he eats you like it is his very last meal. fucks you like you're the only one that he loves. (you are the only one that he loves.) doesn't let you rest until he's had his fill and he listens with a prideful chest as you pant and moan and whine with no constraint at all. usually you'd still have the self control and remorse to keep your bliss down for a bit in fear of waking people up, but this time you don't. not at all. even moaning into his mouth when he hits that spot just right, arching your back prettily and driving him nuts when he flips you over. and perhaps this was what you wanted as well. you knew he fucked a lot better when he was stressed out, or whenever he was under your horny ban and just wants to slide in your warmth because the more you tell him no the more he wants to.

and you let him do whatever he wants with you until he's finally satisfied enough to go to sleep and he finally gets to kiss you on the lips then. it starts with a sweet peck until a full blown make-out session and you whine when you taste a bit of yourself on his tongue because it's embarrassing but he doesn't let you shy away into the covers.

"gonna eat you again in the morning. 's not enough."

perhaps you'll implement the horny ban a little more frequently... maybe...

i dunno what this is honestly. just needed to get it out cus i had caffeine earlier in the day n was functioning on 110% of my usual self

[jimmyscanongf]

what are your headcanons for jimmy having an obsessive crush on the (preferably fem) reader (but not necessarily being a yandere about it)? do you think he would tell curly about it? i kinda wonder how jimmy would behave if he had the feelings of envy and admiration he does for curly but for a woman

hmmm jimmy obsessive crush, envy and admiration? horribly long rambling thoughts below 👇

i think you’d fall victim to the other end of dehumanization: youre Not Like Other Girls. total manic pixie dream girl. youre on a pedestal so high that if you deviate from his image of you even a little, only pain awaits you below.

it’s less about your eyecatching style and more about your attitude. (though having a unique look about you certainly helps to catch his attention). i think that if you were like curly; high achieving, successful and attractive with little (to jimmy’s eyes anyways) effort, his envy would probably just mix with hatred. what the fuck does he need another goody two shoes picture perfect reflection of his own deep and terrible inadequacy in his life for anyways? and this one’s a fucking girl, to add insult to injury!

but say you were a little more like him, shitty childhood, rough start to life, downtrodden, broke, not overly successful, life comes harder to you than most others, maybe not the most attractive (i mean i think hes shallow enough that you would still have to be somewhat good looking), or even attractive but with an otherwise offputting aspect to you (maybe like, the Autism Look, or some alternative style that doesn’t try overly hard to remain conventionally attractive), cant really find love. and all that with like, a genuine intelligence, a genuine potential, still working towards a good life for yourself against all the odds, he might find himself attracted to you.

the thing that would make him envy you would be your attitude, your outlook on your situation. because say all the above about you were true, sure, he can relate to that, but if you had an easygoing attitude about it? not stressed about your status, not pressured to be more than what you are, not scrambling and striving to prove you’re worth something, just rolling with shit as it comes, stand up and dust yourself off when you fall, enjoy the good things in security when they come. not grasping desperately for every little bit of control that comes your way. yeah hes envious. here he is, beat down by life, mired in his own self loathing and feelings of powerlessness so deep he can barely see it himself, so deep that he hurts and steps on every single person around him trying to claw his way out, and you breeze through every awful thing life throws at you, a little scratched and bruised, but you continue merrily on, trying again and again. he wants what you have. he wants your fucking secret. how, HOW do you do it?! (and remember how unreliable he is as a narrator, so whether you’re actually so unaffected underneath his perception is another thing 🤔)

what would make him obsess over you is your understanding nature. if you were kind to him. say he says something scathing and hurtful on impulse due to his own insecurity, you don’t necessarily have to be a pushover about it, but if he sees the words roll off of you… and the next day you come back again. here he is, a complete dickhead, weird and unpleasant to be around, and you reaching out anyways cause, hey, you know everyone has a reason for the way they are, nobody is born an asshole, everyone has triggers and limits, everyone wants connection deep down, and everyone has the capacity for kindness. this outlook will kind of, stun and confuse him. cause girls usually tell him to go fuck himself when he acts like a piece of shit. i really think he might soften up a bit, we only see him in his absolute worst moments but he can’t be that awful to be around 100% of the time, there has to be something, like a sense of humour, maybe he’ll help you out with something (if he thinks he’ll get the same in return at some point) maybe he knows your likes and interests cause it makes it easier to get what he wants from people.

what would really seal the deal is if you were able to see and strike deep into the heart of his insecurity, and try to soothe him. opening up, with vulnerability, about your struggles. laying out some genuine commonality between the two of you and then telling him, with the utmost sincerity, that he doesn’t have to be defined by his past. that he’s valuable for the simple fact that he exists. that he doesn’t have to fight to prove himself, that he is already worthy.

and oooh jimmy is a man who is incapable of believing that any of those things can come from inside, that they are inherent to him. (he literally actually consumes a part of curly to try and subsume curly’s good traits into him.) you made him feel worthy and now he needs you, needs to have you, needs to consume you and make you a part of his life, a part of him! because he cannot possibly be valuable and worthy without you there to believe it. its just not possible. for all he tries to be otherwise, he’s a deep dark void inside and he knows it, so he needs you to fill him up with your goodness.

and you guys are like, just friends at this point right? but now he thinks about you all the fucking time and his eyes are always on you and he’s daydreaming about stupid sappy shit like you holding his hand, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you, he’s seen you smile at him but now he thinks about you smiling at him and it makes his heart palpitate. he barely even thinks about you sexually because you’re so pure to him, you’re his madonna, not a whore. but yeah. he’s watching you constantly, taking notes, plotting, scheming to make you his. cause he knows he can’t just swoop in and demand it, or even force it, he knows that’s a burnt bridge waiting to happen. he wants to make you want him. he wants to really seal the deal, and he feels like he really, genuinely has a chance. he just has to manipulate you juuuuust right.

i’m not sure if he would tell curly. because on one hand, curly is way more charismatic and better at romance and picking girls up than he is, so i can see him coming to curly for advice. hey man, help me out here, how do i win this chick over? on the other hand, he feels really weak for you, he doesn’t just want a fling to fuck or eye candy to hang off his arm, he wants you to fill him up because hes so fucking empty, and the last thing he wants is for curly to think he’s weak like that. and on the other other hand, he wants to keep you and curly far far apart because like, you’re just like Jimmy except better in every conceivable way and he’s paranoid curly might realize how hopeless he is, then steal you and drop him.

once he starts wanting you the change is noticeable to you and to curly, and everyone else around him. he’s suddenly nicer and more pleasant? he just seems to be in a better mood all around. he smiles more, its kinda nice. he jokes around. he’s more thoughtful about your wants, kind of pathetically fumbles his way through trying to meet your needs but hey, he never even tried before so that’s a win right? he cleans up a little bit. goes less time between hair washes, shaves more, picks up some drugstore cologne. fresh fit. he splurges money he doesn’t really have trying to attract your attention. he still can be a dickhead but now you can see him trying to proactively make it right (he looks absolutely pained and strained doing so) (also he does this for you and you exclusively). hes trying so goddamn fucking hard to act like the kind of person he thinks you’ll want to love. he’s giving you compliments that have you taken aback, giving you encouragement, giving you little gifts. hey i thought you’d like this. he looks away while giving them to you. is he blushing???

eventually he might even ask you out. but what happens next is up to you. you don’t know this, but if you reject him, you’re in for a hellish ride. because he’s not giving up on getting you, and NOW hes gonna be a yandere about it.

[arbiterlexultionis]

Prompt: Oops I’m a King Now

So, I absolutely love Ghost King Danny fics. The way the zone just kinda points at this kid like “that’s him officer! That the one who now where’s the crown!” With Danny unwillingly becoming king and either being really good at it or the ultimate gremlin. Simply Magnificent.

But what if Danny accidentally became the king of ghost without becoming the High King Of Ghost, successor of Pariah Dark?

It started off real simple. Danny started to (somewhat) civilize his rouges gallery, getting them to almost behave while in the human realm. Just enough for him to be able to live his half life and not spend the other half shoving them into a "Cylindrical Container Of Doom". Desiree could grant all the wishes she wanted so long as she did so in a way that could be passed off as luck, usually good but with the Phantom seal of approval when it came to monkey pawing the wishes of people who are due for some karma. Lunch Lady getting the chance to cook for people in need so long as she didn't go full Murderous Mystery Meat on them for having dietary restrictions. Getting to try and beat the stuffing out of him at regularly scheduled intervals that don't just so happen to fall on the days he needs to study and take important test and the like. That sort of thing.

This all resulted in him spending more time in the Infinite Realms then ever before. Learning about culture and society in the zone, making friends and figuring out how to do the whole Be A Ghost thing. Most of that was done in a small community not to far from where the Fenton Portal opened up in the Realms. They weren't the most important society, they didn't have some valuable export, no advanced industries like the Far Frozen's technology, no exceptionally strong ruler or ally like Necropilis had with Pandora. But what they did have in spades was kindness. They taught him what they knew, shared what they had and treated his wounds the best they could when he wasn't in a good enough condition to make the long trek to the Far Frozen. They were some of his first actual ghost friends, rather then just being people that kept trying to beat him to half death but occasionally helped him out, usually for the sake of their own self interest.

So when he found out that a small gang of ghost(small by Danny "Guardian of the Dead, Protector of the Living" Phantom's standards, so not small at all) had been launching periodic attacks on the community, he just couldn't sit back and do nothing. But even with time in the Realms passing around seven times faster then it did in the Living Realm he straight up didn't have the time to sit around and wait who knows how long to defend the town the next time the gang attacked and, hopefully, take them all down in one fell swoop. Even if he did, What good would it do? He couldn't just End every last one of them, and they would know it would only be a matter of time before he was need back in Amity. Fighting them off himself would be a stop gap measure at best.

So, plan B it was. If he can't protect them himself he would make sure they could protect themselves. Run some drill, teach some tactics, set a patrol schedule, that sorta thing. Nice and simple. In theory. In practice, it was anything but simple. His friends were a simple and very small subsistence farming community. They grew what they needed and not a single grain more, and they all worked together to do it. it was a group effort because it had to be, with them only having what by modern standards would be considered incredibly primitive farming technology, tools and knowledge. If someone put down their plow and pitchfork to pick up a spear, someone else would starve. Ghost naturally filter feed ectoplasm from the air in the zone, which provides them energy and a small amount of some simple nutrients so starvation isn't as fast and serious a threat to them as it is to humans. But their bodies, cores especially, need proper food and water to function and being deprived of food for to long can and will bring about their End. Slowing food production to train a militia and protect the town would, once again, be a stop gap measure at best. A stop gap measure that required torturing his friends via starvation in every way that mattered to Danny.

Plan B won't work, but Danny doesn't have a Plan C so he'll just have to figure out how to make it so Plan B can work. The village can't spare any farmers because they can barely produce enough to feed them all as is with their less advanced farming technology. The answer to this conundrum, like most issues the modern teenager faces, is the smartphone. Or rather, is modern technology. Danny spends days at a time in the village pouring over every textbook he can find on agriculture, its history, the technology, modern practices, bribes Ghost Writer into letting him browse his library for long forgotten and not yet written human texts and tomes of food-bidden ghost knowledge on crops and agricultural sciences in the Infinite Realms. Spends a day or two getting his parents to consider Ghost Trees an imminent enough threat to make a purpose built gadget in the form of an overgrown stake with an egg shaped head that when pounded into the ground would evenly spread anti-ghost herbicide across a large area and deep into the soil but with a little modification could easily be used to spread fertilizer and plant seeds at record speeds.(and promptly Gasslit, Gatekeept, Ghostbossed them into thinking they dreamed making the device and it was a bad idea after removing all evidence and saving the blueprints.)

The whole nine yards, and not an inch less for his first true friends on the other side. When he was finally ready he brought it all before people of the village, by the end of the night he had them all agreeing to give this fancy shmancy "Techmogy" a try, and by the end of the week, Living Time, is well on his way to revolutionizing the villages agriculture. They can not only afford to start training and maintaining a small(again, small by Danny's standards) defense force but also export extra produce and begin to develop other specialized, though still low tech, industries. When they've finished dealing with the raiding issue the village starts regularly just kinda handing over a small percentage of their harvest, and at first Danny's super confused cuz like Why??? but then just convinces himself "Oh, they just want me to keep maintaining the militia. Yeah that checks out."("How much taxes did Mister Phantom say we're supposed to pay for all this?" "He just kinda... Didn't? I don't think he expects us to?" "Thats unicorncrap and you know it. And we are not taking advantage of his kindness. Sherral had to give him that 'I'm not Mad, Just Disappointed' look for twenty minutes yesterday to get him to stop working long enough to eat." "You know what, fair. He's gonna be properly compensated whether he likes it or not.")

Danny uses the extra to have a few of his Friends in The Militia keep an eye on the Fenton Portals opening in the Realms, keeping the non-sentient ghost from wandering into the human world and keep track of who passes though/keeping people on the no go list from going and kicking up a fuss.(A Neverborn who has never been to the Living Realm: The Fucks a Passport? What do you mean you have to search me for contraband? Why are you putting on a rubber glove? What's a cavity sear-*High Pitch Traumatized Screaming.*)

As it turns out the reason they had to deal with all the raids in the first place was because the two larger communities to the northwest(well, the "Northwest" as Danny calls it, he just kinda considers towards the Far Frozen to be north) are in the middle of a minor war that initially started due to food scarcity issues, with all the fighting destroying farmlands and bringing laborers away from the fields and into the battlefields only worsening the problem. The so called "Dangerous Bandits" were just starving people fleeing the war and bloodshed that had consumed the only home the Neverborns had ever known and Last Wills had known sense all that they had ever been and knew was ripped away from them. Upon hearing that all this trouble is a result of a famine that's been going on for the last few years Danny just lights up like "Starvation? Food scarcity? Those things that I just spent ages figuring out how to help? I can Help Them? I'm Going To Help Them!" and promptly goes frolicking through an active warzone trying to befriend the locals and share his new found knowledge and technology. Full on golden retriever mode. He makes lots of friends! As the help he provides begins to show results word of him spreads and his reputation grows, more and more people of both waring communities begin searching him out.

It's not long before the oligarchy that rules over one and the queen that rules over the other start hearing about how much good this "Sir Phantom" has done for the people they rule over, hear that good being compared to they good they have done. Then they start hear whispers about people being being jealous of the first friends that Danny helped, jealous of their freedom, technology, lower taxes, safety and prosperity. They start hearing the peasants first whisper and then shout that they might just be better off under Phantom protection and guidance then theirs.

The next three times Danny wanders into the area to try and provide what is essentially humanitarian aid to the locals he is attacked. The time after that it's a full blown assassination attempt, poison coated blades and arrows seeking out his core. When he next meets up with all his ghost friends he complains about it because he's like 73% positive that that one book he read on ghost etiquette said that trying to destroy someone's core was a Big No No. All of a sudden a whole bunch of his "Friends in the militia"(His soldiers. He doesn't know they're his soldiers but they are. They will metaphorically and if necessary literally march along side him into the depths of hell, even if he doesn't actually know he's their leader. Yet.) are coming out of nowhere talking and absolutely refusing to let him head back out there without some sort of escort.

So he and a, by his standards, small escort start going into those territories. They eventually start establishing small outpost from which to distribute aid and leave militia men to protect the civilians. And they start giving him what food they can afford too, they’re so nice!

Word spreads about the Oligarchy and Queen signing some sort of temporary true to handle “A grave threat to their people’s future” and Danny’s so excited for them. Finally, they’re starting to put aside their differences and work towards giving their people a better future!

His good mood is unfortunately cut short when hears about a group marching on his friends community. He rush’s back and finds said group between his community and the warzone, coming to the conclusion that they are more bandits fleeing the conflict. They are also probably the most well put together and organized bandit group he’s ever seen. They’ve got uniforms, supply carriages, banners and even start getting into a battle formation when they see him watching. The people that seem to be leading them have him a little confused though. A lady that could be considered the personification of the term “overdressed” and a bunch of old dudes who a clearly from the wealthier side of society. Half the reason he noticed them at all was because of how shiny all their jewelry is and even from a distance he’s like, 90% positive that’s all worth enough to feed like half the villages he’s been providing aid to for months. So he’s not to sure why they’re leading a raid against his friends for food, but he guesses it doesn’t really matter in the end.

Danny figures that facing an organized force would be a good training experience for the militia and good practice leading for him so he gathers up the militia and leads them to battle. Dispute being out numbered by a pretty significant margin it goes pretty well. As expected of bandits fleeing a famine, most of the enemy is half starved and their morale is in the mud so despite being pretty disciplined they can’t really put up much of a fight.

Once the militia gets a hang of fighting against enemies in proper formation and seems to have learned all they can from the battle Danny calls them back and moves in to sweep up. Most of the “bandits” are captured and he sends the rich weirdos packing. Or rather, sends them flying at high speeds one at a time. Spends some time making sure all the captured “bandits” get some food and medical care. Works on the logistics of getting them brought into the militia at the suggestion of the commander he left to lead it.

By the time Danny gets back to the war zone it’s, apparently, no longer a war zone. Everyone’s partying and celebrating, as while he was off fighting those bandits a brave and mighty hero had freed the people from the rule of Wicked Queen and Oligarchy. He goes on a tour of the territories, just to do one final check for issues and stamp out the last of the fighting and such. But nearly every village and town he stops in are pretty worried about the future of their nations, what with most of their governments being metaphorically and literally kicked out of the country and what’s left actively collapsing. So he decided to stick around a bit longer, grows the militia to better keep the peace, spreads some more modern tech to boost the economy. “Man y’all’s infrastructure is falling apart. Ah don’t worry about it, I’ll get some people working on it.”

This process just kinda repeats. Slowly but surly Danny finds more and more people in need of help. So he helps them. Makes friends. Gathers allies. Princess Dorothea was for some reason worried that being his friend would come at the cost of her crown but once she finds out that’s not the case she was more than happy to work with him. Gave Walker a new rule book to enforce when it comes to those under his protection. Pandora was pretty happy with the technological advancements he brought to Necropolis.

Getting the Far Frozen under his protection is probably the easiest of them all, and he even gets a really cool helmet out of it. Or well, he calls it a helmet but it’s not really all that helmet-y, as it’s mostly just a ring with a bunch of spikes poking out he top but it’s a really cool ring with spikes.

Made from the rarest and most valuable form of Eternal Frost within the Far Frozen the Nihil Glacias, it normally reflects and gives off absolutely no light. But as his power flows through and fills the ice microscopic imperfections and impurities within it become places where his energy gathers and collapses in on itself, creating brief beacons of light winking in and out of existence like stars in the night sky. When Danny first gets it he spends three hours in front of a mirror learning how to control it so he can make specific constellations appear and in the process learns that if he pours enough energy into it the excess power will begin branching out in ribbons of light, wrapping around him and flowing out like an aurora borealis. The fact that is multiplies his power a few times over and greatly accelerates the rate at which he grows stronger too is cool and all, but it’s his favorite accessory because of the stars. Apparently Frostbite got it for him so that his people would always be able to identify him, which makes sense. He wants them to know they can always come to him when they need help, and having a nice identifying feature so they can pick him out in a crowd or find him in an emergency will go a long way in ensuring they can.

Apparently Pandora’s something of a competitive gift giver as not long after word about how much Danny liked his new helmet got around she presented him with an enchanted ring, forged from a piece of the hope that resides within her box. Allowing him to not only sense the emotions of his people and always know when they are in danger but also draw power from the hope and faith they have in him, it very quickly rises to the position of second most prized possession. Just behind his fancy helmet because ✨Stars✨(and because it was a gift from Frostbite, the first adult in his life to ever actually Adult Properly for him and be there to support him. But Danny’s not gonna admit that part.)

Eventually Danny

Creates rules and laws

Funds and organizes a force to enforce the laws

Manages the economy to ensure continued growth and stability

Funds the construction and maintenance of public works and infrastructure

Raises and trains army’s to protect his people from outside threats

Appoints officials to act in his name and carry out a number of jobs

Danny, wearing a crown, sitting on a thrown, in the royal palace: Pft, no. I’m not a king or anything lame like that. I just help out around these parts, make sure everyone’s okay and all that. They’re all my friends!

What Danny Says: You guys wanna be my Friends?

What people hear: I’m annexing you. Accept my rule quietly or End Screaming.

Pandora does wind up a competitive gift giver. At first the ring she gave Danny was a calculated political move, meant to ensure her and Necropolis remained in his good graces and that the Far Frozen wouldn’t wind up with to much of The Kings favor. But then she finds out that her ring, which she spent weeks crafting by hand, put her heart and soul into, forged from a piece of Her Hope, was only the second favorite gift not because of any practical or even political reason. But instead Because ✨Stars✨. Alright Frostbite you fuzzy bastard, this just got Personal. She Will be the best and She Will be Danny’s favorite. Frostbite is more than happy to compete if it means Danny gets more cool stuff that makes him happy and safer and starts actively making the best gifts he can. This eventually results in Pandora becoming the other Adult in Danny’s life who Actually Adults and Supports Him. One day when she was trying to get Danny away from his paperwork and in bed she heard him call her Mom in his sleep and she most certainly Did Not cry happy tears. Anyone who says otherwise Will taste the steel of her blade.

[spacedace]

Here have another dc x dp Super Serious Chaos snippet I remembered about lol

As always feel free to take this as a (too long) prompt if anyone is interested 😄

---

Ghosts and Kryptonians, as it turned out, had a bit of overlap when it came to biology.

Not much, admittedly, considering that ghost biology was largely…made up, as best as any of the League’s medical staff could figure and as best as the Yetis could explain. They were usually human shaped - at least those that had been human in life were usually human shaped - but they were made entirely out of ectoplasm, a highly mutable substance that could appear incredibly unpredictable in how it behaved if you weren’t intimately familiar with how it worked. A ghost’s biology, as much as it could be called, depended entirely on the ghost, what they thought their biology should be and how they felt at any given point of time.

Still, there were some things that were more or less standard that were familiar enough. Super strength and speed, heightened senses, flight. Fangs too, though those tend to vary a great deal more in size when it came to ghosts compared to Kryptonians. Most interesting of all though - at least as far as Jon was concerned at the moment - was the fact that like Kryptonians, ghosts could purr.

And they used their purring in much the same way as Kryptonians. Self-soothing, encouraging healing, expressing happiness or - as the case might be in the here and now - bonding.

That’s what Danny had said was the point of this purring when he’d shown up and taken stock of the situation. Elle, out of her mind on some weird strain of supernatural flower thanks to some demon deciding to try and drug her into compliance and marry her - gross, Jon was glad it had been torn to shreds, he was kinda disappointed he didn’t get to help really - was reduced entirely to very basic ghostly instincts. She’d lost human speech, lost understanding of the world around her, and lost grip on who she was. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous - and had been for the dumbass demon that had orchestrated the whole scheme, Elle had eviscerated it with a viciousness that threatened to awaken something in him if he thought about it too much - though thankfully for them Elle had some semblance of recognition of who they were.

Well. Some of them, at least.

She’d very much had not seemed aware of who most of the Justice League members that responded to the situation were and had been just as intent on doing to them what she’d done to the demon. Jon and Damian were for sure going to get a lecture later on it, but them jumping in between their out of control friend and the others had been the right call. They knew how she fought better than anyone, knew how to counter her without hurting her and how to use her own overwhelming strength and power against her if need be.

Besides, they knew Elle.

They trusted her. Even as she lost semblance of her form and started looking more like…well okay Jon couldn’t really say what Elle looked like at the time. Damian called it eldritch and Jon can’t help but agree that it was the right word for it. Looking at her straight on for too long while she’d been in attack mode hurt and his brain sort of just…slid off any attempts to describe just what he was seeing when he looked at her. So eldritch seemed the right fit, even if he felt a bit bad having to describe her as such. Elle hated Lovecraft with a fiery passion, she’d despise knowing that anything associated with him was applied to her.

Jon was getting distracted. The point was, even if Elle was reduced to base ghostly instincts and acting aggressive and trying to eat Green Lantern, Jon and D knew that she’d never hurt them. And for the record they’d been right!

She’d frozen in the air as they dove in front of GL and into her line of sight, furious screeching going quiet and form settling back down into a more familiar - and comprehensible - shape and let loose a series of chirps and trills and whistling notes. And while no one could understand exactly what they meant, Jon and Damian could feel the emotions she put into the sounds. Happiness and relief and safe-safe-safe that made them realize that some of her aggression must have been from thinking that something had happened to them.

The next thing either of them had known they were wrapped up in a whole lot of Elle - body significantly more human-shaped, though still a bit indistinct when it came to her features - as she gave low rumbling purrs. She wouldn’t let anyone else near them - hissing and growling warningly in ways that made ears bleed when his dad and Bruce tried to creep closer, pulling him and D behind her protectively - but she was at least content to not attack anyone so long as no one got too close.

“It should wear off in about a week.” Danny said, butting his head like a cat against Elle’s as he checked on them. Elle recognized her father as she had Jon and Damian and had been fine letting him close, though notable did not try and pull him in on their impromptu cuddle session. “Probably less if we can get her back to her Lair in the Zone. Having outsiders near her Grave after fighting off an enemy is probably making things worse.”

Danny drifted back towards where the League was awkwardly huddled at a safe distance, giving a comforting trill when Elle’s purring stopped and she gave a nervous little chirp. She clung to Jon and Damian a little tighter from where she’d wrapped her wispy tail around them, glowing green eyes locked on the League suspiciously, but she stayed where she was. Jon purred himself, trying to match the low frequency she’d been using earlier to draw her attention back to them and keep her calm. Damian, unable to purr but undeterred by the limitation of human vocal chords, hummed softly as well. Elle gave an adorable little mrrp and pulled them even closer to her, nuzzling beneath each of their chins in turn, purr starting back up again.

“I was under the impression Phantasma wasn’t dead in the…traditional way.” Jon’s dad said, face pinching in concern. “Or that her grave would be near…” He motioned to the dark cave around them, lit only by literal hellfire in shades of red and orange. They were roughly a fifty miles from any kind of civilization, in some mountainous location in Europe. Possibly Finland? Jon hadn’t been paying much attention outside of following Elle’s distress beacon as quickly as possible without the wind speed suffocating Damian in the process.

Danny shook his head. “Oh she’s not. She’s Mirrorborn.” He waved a hand blandly, unaware or ignoring the League’s confusion at the term, “I don’t mean that kind of grave. I mean her Grave, capital ‘G’ and all. It’s like, hmm,” He paused, looking considering before offering, “I guess the closest thing might be like a pack? Like wolves, sorta. She’s in my Grave, since I’m her Reflected.” Danny motioned towards where Elle was now happily purring again, running her very sharp - and disturbingly longer than usual - clawed fingers through his and Damian’s hair. It was soothing, even with the vague notion that he should be worried about getting sliced to bits lazily popping up at the back of Jon’s mind. “But she’s old enough to go out and make a Grave of her own, and she’s claimed those two as part of it.”

“Claimed?” Bruce asked, voice lower than usual and definitely more dangerous. He hadn’t looked away from them the entire time, even when Danny showed up.

The older ghost gave a reassuring smile, “It sounds way more possessive than it is. It just means that her Core recognizes them as people she cares about a lot.” He glanced over towards them again expression going soft and fond. “The claiming is less a mark of ownership and more of like a ‘Back off’ sign for anyone who might try and fuck with them.”

Danny waved a hand in their direction again, “It’s what she’s doing now with all the cuddling. There was danger and she couldn’t find her Grave, so she panicked and lashed out. When they showed up she went into protection mode, it’s why she won’t let you near.” He glanced over to make sure the League understood, at their various nods he continued, “The cuddling is partially letting her know their safe, but it’s also making sure they’re absolutely covered with her ecto-signature so that anything that can sense it thinks twice before trying to go after them.” Danny’s grin went cheeky, “She’s basically giving them the Infinite Realm’s version of Scary Dog privileges. There’s not much in the Zone that’d be willing to fuck with the Grave of someone in our family.”

“Hn.” Bruce said, though Jon could see that some of the sharpness had left the line of his shoulders. “She doesn’t recognize us as members of her Grave?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. She likes you guys a lot - you’d probably be dead right now if she didn’t, even with those two keeping her calm - but there’s a difference from being friends with someone and having them as part of your Grave.”

No one looked terribly reassured.

Possibly due to the implication that Elle could kill them all more than the idea that she’d try while in such an altered state. And probably Jon should be worried about that too, but it wasn’t all that much of a surprise, really. He’d seen Elle beat Damian at Go before. They were usually tied 50/50 these days. If she could do that, there really was no hope for the Justice League - even his Dad, though he probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

Oh well. Point was, Damian absolutely could destroy the entire Justice League - Kryptonians and all - probably without even lifting a finger if he really put his mind to it and Elle was just as brilliant when it came to wily plays and unbeatable strategies and overwhelming force.

Okay so he might, a little bit, be totally in love with the both of them and believe they were the single most impressive and unstoppable people in the universe. That had no baring on his estimation on their abilities to take over the world if they ever decided they wanted to. It did, admittedly, probably skew his thoughts on if they ever would try their hands at world domination, but only a little.

Anyway he was 95% certain he could convince them to knock it off before they actually launched any world domination plans.

99% if he had time to get Ma to make cinnamon rolls before he went to talk them down.

Not the point, really. The point, right now, was that Elle had made him and D part of her Grave. That she cared for them enough that not even being reduced to her most dangerous, aggressive state, almost completely unable to distinguish friend from foe, was enough to keep her from knowing who they were.

(J’onn J’onzz - scanning the emotions and surface thoughts of the three young heroes to make sure no one was in danger or distress - would like to note to the young man that that was also not the point.

He had the distinct feeling, however, that any attempt to bring that up would go entirely over the young Kryptonian’s head.)

“So!” Danny said clapping his hands together decisively as he flashed a wide grin at Jon's dad and Bruce, “Who wants to pack these two some bags while I get them all moved to Ellie’s Lair?”