#the bad ghost

[pandasleepy07]

Ghostober - Day 12 [River]

"I just want a nice, easy life. What's wrong with that?"

WC: 1K

It was weird to have a new Papa, to have Ghouls switched around, following someone different. And weirder to be retired. Well at least for River. Lake was adjusting easily, having already dealt with a new Papa once before, and had taken to bouncing between playing pranks and watching the new summonings happen. Air and Alpha were normally busy, having been brought into Terzo’s ghouls, but the fire ghoul still made time for his packmates, claiming that nothing would break their bond, not even a new Papa. Omega was even busier than Alpha, helping Terzo constantly, whether it was with the new ghouls, or if it was explaining any mystery questions the Papa had, Omega was there. Earth was, well Earth, doing his own thing and keeping to himself. And River? He was struggling. He was used to his packmates being around all the time, used to the stupid things that they’d get into. He became quieter, often sitting at the window in the common room, staring outside blankly or sitting at the lake, on the dock, his feet in the water. 

So Alpha and Lake did the only reasonable thing they could think of, they started a prank war. Something that they knew River normally loved. They spent hours planning it, deciding to rack everyone’s brains for the pranks that River had played on the ghouls before reenacting them. They swapped the sugar and salt in the ghoul's kitchen, they created a soapy slip and slide in the Ministries hallway, they wrapped everything in his room with kitchen foil, they swapped out all the hand sanitizer with glue, they stabbed all the forks they could find in Primo's private garden and collected all of the photos that River had taken months ago of the ghouls sleeping in their rooms, spreading them on the kitchen island.

Once everything was set up, they called River to come downstairs from the common room. He had been sitting on the couch by the window again and it took a few shouts from Lake and one loud “River!” from Alpha to snap him out of his stupor. He came out into the hallway, still out of it, and immediately slipped, sliding a few feet and letting out a high squeak that sent a rumble of laughter through his two pack mates. He sat dumbfounded for a moment, before laughing softly as he struggled to stand up. He quickly found that it wasn’t worth it, and ended up just sliding himself across the hall to the stairs where he slid down those too. 

Alpha and Lake had huge grins on their faces when he finally got down to them. Lake handed him a towel so that he could wipe the suds off of his feet and pants. “That was beautiful,” Lake announced, patting his water brother on the shoulder with a proud smile.

“Proud of yourself?” River snorted, trying to dry off the best he could.

“Awww, come on! That was a classic!”

“How unoriginal.” 

Alpha shook his head at the two water ghouls. “I just wanted to know if you wanted some tea. Figured you might like something after a long week.”

River smiled at that. “I’d appreciate it.”

Alpha nodded and the three of them walked into the kitchen, River still snickering to himself. Alpha fixed some tea and passed a mug to River who walked over to the sugar and scooped a teaspoon into his tea, stirring it. He took a sip and spat it out, coughing. 

“What the hell? Is that… salt?”

Alpha chuckled and River's eyes narrowed as River grinned. “Let the prank wars begin! May the best ghoul win.”

The next week passed in a blur. Each ghoul falls for the other's prank. Lake used the hand sanitizer that he had filled with glue and had to go to Omega to get it sorted out. Omega couldn’t help a chuckle and called River and Alpha to the scene, allowing them to witness the stupidity of his actions before warning the new ghouls about the prank war happening through the walls of the Ministry. 

The longer the prank war drags on, the more they all lose energy. Looking over their shoulder every minute of the day was draining, and it hadn’t stopped. Not even when River put staining black paint in Terzo's room so when he tried to take off his paints that night he couldn’t at all.

River had come back from helping Lake teach the new water ghoul and headed straight for his room, walking past Alpha in the den. He closed the door behind him and climbed into his bed only to jump out of it, screaming a second later. Alpha and Lake burst into his room immediately, Lake looking confused and Alpha’s eyes dancing with laughter. River on the other hand had staggered away from his bed and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, clearly overstimulated as tears clouded his eyes. 

Alpha’s lips that had started to twitch up, turned into a frown and he stepped forward, worry clinching his eyebrows. “River?”

"I just want a nice, easy life. What's wrong with that?" he cried, burying his head in his hands. 

Alpha and Lake shared uneasy glances as Lake moved toward the bed to investigate the prank that Alpha had clearly played. He pulled the sheets back to reveal a whole bunch of toads. 

“I thought that they’d remind you of home,” Alpha grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Frogs are freshwater, not toads,” Lake cried, throwing his hands up in a ‘what am I going to do with you?’ motion.

“Aren’t those frogs?”

“They’re toads, genius!”

A sob rips through River's throat, snapping the attention of both ghouls towards him. They lower their voices and walk over to him, sitting down on either side of him, and gently comforting him. 

“I’m sorry,” Alpha murmured, kicking his heat up a bit in an effort to soothe the water ghoul. “I thought that this would cheer you up a bit. The whole prank war was just to do that, but I think we’ve let it get too far out of hand.”

“Guilty as charged,” Lake mumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” River sobbed. “Everything is changing so much. It's too much. I barely get to see our pack together. It feels like everything is falling apart.”

๋࣭🕸🦇🕸๋࣭ ⭑Ghostober Masterlist 2024⭑ 🕸๋࣭ ⭑🦇🕸 ๋࣭

[wanologic]

sorry danny, sam will never think you’re cool

[whinesandwhimpers]

down bad simon may look a little like this

You've stepped outside for some fresh air so when Simon walks out a few minutes after you and lights up a cigarette, your face immediately scrunches up in disgust.

He catches your expression. "Not a fan of smoking?"

"Came out for some fresh air."

"Hm, seems like more than that." He muses, turning his head away to blow out some smoke.

"I just think it's gross."

He's silent for a few moments and you think maybe he's offended even, but then he turns back to you and clears his throat.

"That one of your deal breakers then?"

"Deal brea—yeah. It is. Don't think I could bring myself to even kiss a smoker. Why? You interested?" You joke, expecting a laugh and dismissal of the conversation.

He immediately throws his cigarette on the ground and snuffs it out with his shoe, then walks over to the bin and pulls the half-full carton out of his pocket and throws it and his lighter out. Just like that. He walks back over to stand in front of you, his large hand coming up to rest on your cheek, an intensity simmering in his dark eyes as he looks at you.

"Yes."

[ghost-bxrd]

Headcanon that when Jason so much as says “ow..” on the comms the rest of the batfam immediately assume he must be dying.

[lovelyghst]

simon’s not a virgin by any means, but the first time he sinks his thick cock into your tight, sweet little cunt, he absolutely loses it.

the sugary tone in which you gave him permission to fuck you after he asked, begged you so nicely, like he was even deserving of it.

how he has to bite down on the rugged knuckle of his fist when he presses the head of his cock to your soaked cunny, failing to stifle down his groans but already too fucked-out to care whatsoever once he bottoms out (or at least as much of his cock he’s able to fit in).

the way his name spills from your puffy lips when he finally starts to move, just barely an inch in and out with each ‘thrust’ because you’re just so fucking warm and welcoming and he doesn’t want to separate from you for even a split moment.

how your fingertips lightly graze between the divots of his flexed, pronounced abs, nails raking over his skin with a softness no one has ever shown him. he’s turning greedy for you; needs more and more.

you turn dumb in a matter of seconds. so dumb, in fact, you haven’t even noticed he finished inside you the instant his cock was fully sheathed within your tummy, and how he’s already coaxing out his second load to join the first one fucked deep into your womb.

and you can’t even blame him, considering he was fucked utterly stupid from the moment he set eyes on you :(

[rusticfurnace]

// GHOSTSOAP x sailor song! (🔊 ON ) // suggestive imagery ⚠⚠⚠ individual panels:

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[konigsblog]

simon riley with a voice kink for you...

he absolutely loses it when you're talking to him on the phone about whatever; maybe something related to your friends, that they done something really funny, perhaps you're just checking on him, gradually getting suspicious of his voice as it turns more aggressive, desperate, deranged and higher. he's so fucking hard, listening to you ramble, and ramble for hours whilst he teases his sensitive tip, smearing pearly beads of cum over his dick as he drags out his growing orgasm.

don't ask him why he sounds nervous and shakey, beginning to get more hoarse, otherwise he'll cum all over his phone and all over his calloused fingers ...

when you're finally home, you learn more about this fantasy to do with your voice. sitting on his lap, jerking his big, fat cock off while speaking to him and that soft voice. it makes him feel even hotter when you're nonchalant, paying no mind as you pump and stroke him at an agonisingly slow pace.

he's not even submissive during this, just aggressive and hot, a smirk on his face when he throws his head back, your lips sucking hickeys and pressing kisses into his throat, speaking between kisses... :(

god, dollface... look at the things you're doing to him. leaving him a complete, utter mess as he spurts thick cum all over his chest and muscular abdomen, twitching in your hand when you giggle about his sensitivity.

[marzipanandminutiae]

"most allegedly haunted houses turn out to have gas leaks!"

no they don't. you are merely skimming the surface of mundane shit that can be wrong with old houses with your one puny little explanation that only fits a very small number of cases. try harder

[strawberryrnilk]

can u imagine riding Simon and he tells you a shitty joke because he likes seeing you smile and you’re all giggly like

“Don’t make me laugh with your dick in me”

but you actually do love it when he smiles and gets a lil silly too. You throw a couple of bad jokes at him but he has a full arsenal of bad jokes so you’re out matched but it’s okay, you two just enjoy the sweet, tender moment together 🩷

[tojisun]

you’ve just given me a thought

Reader sitting on Johnnys face with Simon fucking him. Johnnys pushing reader down harder on his face, all pussy drunk, smothered in her and it gets to a point where Simon has to physically pull reader off of Johnny just to let him breath because he wasn’t gonna do it himself and certainly wasn’t going to let reader go. He’s all flushed and breathing heavy getting air back in his lungs, face covered in squirt 🫣

oh lord i may have died and ascended-

and the way johnny’s got a vice grip on your thighs or on the dip of your hips, pushing you down on his face, either to muffle his moans on the hot press of your skin because simon’s fucking him so good, hitting his prostate so well, or to lick up at your pussy because it is so wet and warm, and your slick is so delicious, he can’t help but gulp it down because he wants more—

“joh-nny,” you hiccup, his name slipping from your gritted teeth in a slurred hiss. “stop! stop, please!”

it’s too much, too fast, and johnny’s frantic movements are only making you anxious. you can’t even feel his breath against your cunt anymore, and you tremble, wide-eyed as the cold wash of worry mixes with your desires.

you fist at his hair, trying to pry him off your cunt so you can get to your knees for a second, but your squirming just makes johnny grip your body harder. he digs his tongue in deeper, and you let out a drawled-out whine at the drag of his nose against your hardened clit.

“simon!” you sob, your breaths hitching as you tremble. “make’im stop! simon, make’im—”

“fuckin’ hell,” simon murmurs, breathless himself, his voice a rich timbre from somewhere close behind you. you feel his arms wrap around your chest before he pulls you towards him.

you lazily topple off johnny’s face and into simon’s space, your back pressed flush against his chest. you tip your head down, feeling the way simon does the same, and you two watch as johnny catches his breath.

he is flushed oh-so beautifully, his nose all flared as he gulps down air. his face is wet, messy with your slick, and you watch, with a silent gasp, johnny poke his tongue out to lave at his glistening lips, tasting the remnants of your euphoria.

you jump when you feel simon buck his body forward, jostling you and johnny together. johnny hisses, his face crumpling in his pleasure, and—

“oh,” you say, reaching down to stuff yourself with your fingers. “si, do tha’ again, please?”

simon hooks his chin on your shoulder, grunting in his own bliss when he pulls out, slow like he is deliberate in teasing johnny, only to punch his cock back in johnny. you three share a moan.

[milf-murdock]

Simon muttering "what have you done to me?" when he realizes he’s in love with you.

Maybe it's the first time he catches himself draping a blanket over your form after you accidentally fall asleep on his lap.

Maybe it’s the first time he finds himself hurrying home after a mission because he just can’t wait to see your face.

Or maybe it’s the first time he catches himself eyeing a beautiful bouquet of flowers in the shops. “Ten fucking quid for flowers? Are they mental?” He sets them down with a huff and walks away to finish his shopping…only to begrudgingly grab them anyways on his way to the till.

He knows they will make you smile—that bright beautiful smile you seem to reserve just for him.

And as he sets the soft pink bundle on the checkout counter he can’t help but mutter aloud, “what have you done to me?”

[sanguinesmi1e]

Everyone knows Jason likes Jane Austen and reads romance. Everyone assumes the romance he reads is historical. And some of it is, they're not wrong, but most of what he reads is reverse harem monster fucker smut.

When Red Hood gets sacrificed by a cult during a summoning ritual and the ghost king shows up in all his eldritch glory, Jason has never before been more grateful for his full face mask. He has never blushed so hard in his life. He's the same color as his mask right now, actually. He is way too into the tentacles. Like, way more than he ever thought he'd be. It’s honestly impressive that any blood is managing to leave his body with the way it’s all rushing to his cheeks. He's also about to swoon like one of the heroines in his favorite old bodice rippers. 

That last part probably is the blood loss, though. 

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #6

“I’m a twin”, Damian said one night. He could feel the narrowed eyes of his family drilling holes on his back in disbelief. Not that he could blame them. Damian had never so much as implied being raised with a companion, much less a sibling.

“I had a brother”. Damian paused to recollect himself. He had not said his brother’s name out loud in over 8 years.

“His name was… Danyal”. Damian hated the way his voice wavered, but he could not help it. Danyal was everything to him, his other half. Their heart beat as one and when one heart stopped beating, the other one died with it. At least until his family put his heart on metaphorical life support without ever realizing.

“Where is he now?” His father asked, voice filled with knowing grief and a hint of betrayal. It had in fact been 6 years since Damian first showed up on his doorstep.

“Up there”. All eyes shifted towards the specific star he was pointing to. “Right before he died, he promised me he’d guide me from the stars. Unfortunately, the stars are not visible in Gotham, so my brother is unable to be of much help unless I leave the city.”

“Your brother is Polaris, the North Star?” Tim questioned warily, most likely in attempts to not offend him. Damian was aware of how stupid it sounded, but Danyal had promised, and his brother never broke his promises.

“Yes. Danyal is with the stars now, just as he always wanted”

[yooo-lets-go]

Elias Walker father of the year

[naivegh0ul]

I'm obsessed with older!Ghost. Just a filthy, perverted older Ghost who's obsessed with you, his younger neighbour. He's in his late 40's, and you're just a young college student who has no idea that your neighbour, who looks like a friendly man, fucks his fist each night to the thought of you.

He's always peeking out of his window, a cup of tea in one hand and his cock in the other, slowly stroking as his eyes track you as you walk down the street. God, how he wished he could touch you, bend you over the nearest surface and show you how a real man fucks.

He hears when you bring people back to your home, the walls are thin, after all, and he hears the way you moan and whimper. He can imagine you writhing in your bed, back arched so pretty and those plush lips slick with spit and maybe even cum.

He imagines himself in the place of the person fucking you, imagines splitting you open on his thick cock. He imagines pushing his cock past those beautiful lips of yours, letting you suckle on his tip like a good little slut, before thrusting further in, letting you gag and choke on his cock. The things he'd give to see your gorgeous eyes, glazed over with lust and tears spilling out from how roughly he's fucking your face.

His fantasies are- like always- rudely interrupted by the sound of you moaning another person's name, and he brings himself back to the present, reminding himself that he's not the one currently fucking into that tight hole of yours.