#neck game in the third has me about to act up

[appropriatelystupid]

KATIE MCGRATH in The Ex-Wife, 2x01

[sundeathh]

Spicy Headcanons 🌶

MASTERLIST

Featuring: Shota Aizawa • Words: 1.3K+

CW: NSFW | 18+ only. MDNI. Kink description, explicit sex language, implied heterosexual dynamics.

Shota has a sensitive neck and ears. All it takes is a kiss on his neck or a lick on his ear to make him melt. He's also weak to nibbles or whispers - it turns him on a lot, and if you dare to do any of those things, you better not stop there.

Shota is a switch. He likes to take control in bed and enjoys being dominant, but he also likes to be on the bottom and be taken care of from time to time.

Shota can be quite the demanding one, but when he's not dominating, he likes to be gentle and sweet. He can act pretty much vanilla when he's stuck in a rough routine. (It doesn't mean it won't be good, though.)

On the other hand, he can engage in hard-core stuff as well. Gotta a rough, BDSM kink? Talk it out – he's in the game.

He likes to spank you and punish you when you're being a brat. (You're always a brat just so he has an excuse to punish you). 

Aizawa didn't have toys of his own aside from ropes he bought to use on you. He's not against using toys, though – if you have them and want to use them, he'll do so; if you'd like to acquire a new one, he'll buy it, too. It's just something he didn't have before you asked for it.

He sometimes lets (or explicitly asks) you to take the lead. Sometimes, he's just so tired and stressed out from work that all he wants to do is get home to have you ride or go down on him.

And how he loves your lips there! Don't get me wrong – he loves to give you oral, too. (In fact, he'll drive you mad and have you begging whenever he eats you out). But honestly, if he had to choose, he'd say he would rather receive it than give it. Your mouth is just too good. 

He has high stamina and can go on for hours, but oral is something that can bring him to climax and wear him out quite fast if you're not careful enough to let him last longer.

When he feels like himself, he usually goes for the second round. But when he's exhausted from work, he'll want to finish after the first. Sometimes, he goes for the third one, but it's rarer. He feels rather tired after the second one. Usually, when he goes for the third, it's way quicker than the other two.

Aizawa has a praise kink. He likes pet names, little compliments, and to be told about how good he is and how great he's making you feel. He wants to prove his worth, and hearing you praise him makes him feel good about himself. 

He loves your thighs. He'll squeeze them, nibble them, suck on the inner sides, and kiss all the way up to your core to have you squeeze his head between them.

Hair pulling is a must. Both yours and his. If you do it the right way (mild force but firm grip right above the nape), you might even yank a moan out of him. 

Shota likes to be marked and to mark you. He'll make sure to leave at least one hickey somewhere in your body every time you're intimate (usually, he leaves more than one). He doesn't like to show it around, of course. But he likes knowing he has a mark you left on his skin under his clothes. 

He didn't know this, but he has very sensitive nipples. Once you find out about this, it's a whole new world of pleasure you can unravel on his body for him. But be careful! It's a new sensation to him, and he can become easily overwhelmed at that spot.

He's not opposed to pegging. In fact, he likes it – but only if it's done with care and gently. He won't let you do that if he doesn't trust you enough for fear of getting hurt.

Shota LOVES to tease. To make you beg for mercy. To have you whimpering his name, hoping he'll grant you what you so desperately need. It makes him feel powerful to hold your pleasure like that. He'll let you reach your peak afterward, but not without a long road of pleading. 

However, when it's you who is teasing... God forbid the punishment you'll get once you're done with him. He is an absolute BRAT when he's getting teased and will misbehave a lot. (Still loves it in the end).

Aizawa doesn't care much about giving you anal – he'll probably never ask for it. He doesn't see much sense in putting unnecessary strain on your body, especially that you might not be comfortable with. So, if you actually like it, you'll have to ask him directly. (Maybe even talk to him beforehand, to let him know clearly that he won't hurt you).

Because, yes, he's terrified of hurting you unintentionally in that sense. He'll immediately stop if he senses that you're uncomfortable at any point.

And when he does inflict pain on you intentionally because he knows you like it, he'll always start gently and progress slowly to see your level of comfort. He will always check on you.

Talking is another must. Shota takes sex very seriously, and that's not something he does with just anyone. So, before you get to that point with him, you'll have to make things clear and set boundaries for the both of you to be comfortable.

Shota is not very vocal when he's on top since he gets too focused on pleasuring you. Usually, he only makes some low grunt sounds, depending on the intensity of the moment. When he gets closer to climaxing, he'll hold back his moans, but you'll still know he's getting close because his breathing gets a lot heavier and louder. And sometimes, he growls when he finally comes.

However, if you're the one on top, he can relax further and it becomes easier for you to get a moan out of him. Still, they're usually low and breathy. 

On the other hand, he LOVES to hear your voice. Whether you're moaning, whimpering, or whispering, it gets him really aroused and makes the whole experience a lot more enjoyable for him. He will also praise you for that quite often. 

Shota also has a breeding kink. The thought of getting you pregnant with his child makes him excited, but he'll never push it if you're not into the idea. Still, he likes to come inside you and will ask your permission for him to do so once you become regular with each other. He'll stop asking once you two get close (he tends to let you know when it's coming, though). If you don't like having him spreading his seeds inside you, he'll pull out and finish on your belly, back, or thighs. 

Shota is not open about which position he likes the most, but you can tell which ones he enjoys since he often goes with the missionary or horizontal cowgirl positions. He likes to have your bodies pressed together and to see your face when you're intimate. He loves the sense of intimacy and connection it gives him.

He's not very talkative during aftercare. However, he'll always ask you how you're feeling and if you need anything (like water, for example). He'll get up to provide you with whatever you ask him and will help you clean up, but afterward, all he wants to do is cuddle with you in silence and stroke your hair or rub your back. 

He also loves it when it's you the one caressing, but he might fall asleep pretty fast that way, so he doesn't always let you do that because he feels guilty for leaving you awake.

In general, Aizawa believes that sex is not something banal one does with just anyone but rather an activity to do passionately with someone he trusts and cares about.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[luminique]

the post abt tying a bow around lighters biceps has me thinking abt that thing where you test out different lipstick shades by covering ur partner in kiss marks n seeing what one looks best,,,,, and no I would not limit myself to his face

i think about this prompt like A LOT. as someone who lurvesss wearing lipstick, i genuinely think that he’d be the perfect candidate for it.

lucy prefers to ask you for makeup recommendations and purchasing it. not that she doesn’t trust lighter but after talking to you, you seemed to know more about it than he did. whenever it came to purchasing makeup, she’d ask you to go along with lighter to lumina square.

this was also a good way to buy some new products for yourself, a win win situation. there was a huge sale at the store for some products and many of them were lipsticks, you couldn’t possibly pass up on this opportunity. you both arrive back in blazewood, giving all of the girls what they requested for. with your own goodies in hand, it was time to do a little try-on to see which ones were worth the money.

back in your room, you began trying each one. swatching them on your hand then on your lips. the colors all looked good on you but there were a few things you couldn’t really test out this way. as if he magically knew, lighter knocked on your door, waiting for your permission before entering.

“burnice told me that there’s another nitro-fu- what are you doing?” he stopped in his tracks as he watched you try to kiss the back of your hand. he was confused at the sight, unsure of how to react. “did i… come at a bad time or is there a problem with my kissing?” he asked bluntly, thinking that there was some sort of explanation as to what you were doing. he didn’t think he was bad at kissing but maybe you were just to nice to tell him?

“oh, no. you’ve come at just the right time. i need to test these out and i think you’re the perfect test subject.” you held out your lipsticks to him and at first, he had flashbacks of when the girls put makeup on him because he lost in a drinking game against burnice. as your lover, he’d do anything you asked but he was ready to raise his hands up in protest to not be embarrassed again.

your smile never faltered though and you could see through his sunglasses. “just sit down and let me kiss you,” you reassured him and just like that, he was sat on the edge of your bed, obediently awaiting your kisses. in the privacy of your room, he could be as unapologetically needy and in love with you without having to act all cool.

your hand felt so gentle on his face, as if you’d hurt him in some way. you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, the lipstick leaving quite the mark on him. he was a little bummed that it wasn’t on his lips but hey, a kiss is a kiss. you continued peppering his face in kisses, taking a moment between each one to change your lipstick.

he was turning into putty, each kiss made his heart beat faster. he wasn’t sure how many different kinds of lipstick you had, they were all the same to him. by the end of it, his face and neck were practically covered with your kisses. you examined each one carefully, he was beginning to feel a little shy from how close you were to him.

“you’re turning red, lighter. i can’t decide which lipstick looks good if your cheeks are the same shade!” you told him jokingly. this made his blush even worse actually, trying to hide his embarrassment by clearing his throat. “i think you look good in all of them…” he mumbled to himself, knowing that you’d hear it too.

“i want to know which one would look good when i kiss you. i think the third one has the nicest contrast with your hair.” your fingers went up to his hair, twirling it as you took a good look at your ‘masterpiece’. when you kiss him…. his thoughts were everywhere now, just the idea that people know you left those marks on him had his head spinning.

he pulled down his glasses just a little to be able to look at you. “we can always test even more, i’m all yours,” the words fell out of his mouth with no hesitation. both of you had nothing else to do for the rest of the day, there was definitely a lot more of his body that you could try your lipstick on until you were satisfied.

[alltimecharlo]

If you’re interested, I would like to promo Will whump!! Like maybe Will gets hit during a game and it was really bad but he asymptomatic and the training staff lets him go back to the hotel with the team. But then he starts to act funny and collapses or won’t wake up or something and Mack almost loses his mind. Toff has to come in and get Will up off the floor and comfort Mack while they wait for an ambulance… angst!

oooo, yes this is scrumptious hurt/comfort 🩵 fic under the cut!

The hotel room smells like sweat, Gatorade, and the faint trace of whatever detergent the team uses on their uniforms. Mack slumps against the headboard, one leg stretched out over the comforter, the other pulled up to his chest. His phone is in his hand, but he’s not looking at it. His eyes are on Will.

Will’s on the other bed, sprawled across it like he always is after a game, legs dangling off the edge, hair damp from a too-quick shower, the collar of his Sharks hoodie tugged halfway up his neck. He’s talking—sort of. Low murmurs, half-laughed sentences about that third period scuffle, about how Toff still chirps like he’s in junior, about the guy on the other team who tried to slash his stick in half.

“You good?” Mack asks.

Will blinks over at him, delayed. “Yeah,” he says, slow and a little thick. “Just tired. My head kinda hurts.”

Mack frowns. He pushes himself upright. “Did you tell the trainers?”

Will shrugs. “Yeah. They cleared me. Said I probably just jarred it a little. I passed the test.”

It doesn’t sit right. Mack’s gut clenches, something cold curling behind his ribs. He remembers the hit—remembers how Will’s body folded under it, how the boards rattled and the crowd went quiet for half a second before roaring again. Will had bounced back up. Shaken, but upright.

Now he’s lying half-on, half-off the bed, one arm flopped over his eyes.

“You should be drinking water,” Mack says, already on his feet. He crosses the room, grabs a bottle from the mini-fridge, unscrews the cap, and presses it into Will’s hand. “Come on. Sit up.”

Will makes a sound—barely a protest—and doesn’t move.

“Will.”

He doesn’t answer.

Something sharp pierces through Mack’s chest. “Will?”

He drops to his knees beside the bed, grabs Will’s arm and shakes it, gentle but firm. Will’s hand slides off the bottle. It thuds to the floor.

“Will, hey. C’mon, man. Wake up. You’re not—”

He’s not joking. He’s not fucking around. He’s not asleep.

Mack’s heart spikes, panic clawing up his throat. He grabs Will’s face in both hands, tilts it toward the dim light spilling in from the hallway.

“Will. Will, wake up. Please.”

He’s breathing. Shallow. But his lips are pale, and he’s not responding, and Mack’s never felt terror like this in his entire fucking life.

He fumbles for his phone, drops it once, swears, catches it again, and hits Toff’s name with shaking fingers.

Toff picks up on the second ring.

“Mack? Everything okay?”

“It’s Will,” Mack says, and his voice cracks right down the middle. “He’s not waking up. I—I think it’s his head. You have to come now.”

Toff is there in under a minute. He doesn’t knock. Just shoves the door open and sees Mack crouched on the floor, hands on Will’s chest like he’s trying to anchor him back to consciousness.

“Jesus,” Toff breathes. “Okay. Okay, step back. Let me—”

He crouches, checks Will’s pulse, his breathing, the way his head lolls. Then he pulls out his phone and calls the team doc directly.

Mack doesn’t move. Just sits on the floor, fists clenched in the hem of Will’s hoodie, whispering his name over and over like that alone might call him back.

The sirens echo in his head long before they reach the hotel.

He doesn’t let go until the paramedics take Will’s hand out of his.

And even then, only because Toff wraps an arm around him and holds him upright when his knees try to give out.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Toff says, low and steady against the pounding in Mack’s skull.

Mack nods, but it feels like a lie.

Because he doesn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t true.

♡

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 35

A/N: The center photo is indicative of the reader's gown only. Not her appearance which isn't defined.

Part 35: Dance with the Devil

Series Masterlist

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, intimidation, dark seduction. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

"You are almost ready," Yelena said with a smile, just after the stylists left. "Now the jewelry."

You paused, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your gown was an exclusive creation by a top designer, a beautiful sleeveless, a-line creation in layers of tulle, sequins, and matte satin. Shades of pale blue and gold transformed you, enhanced by the ornate way your hair was done, the subtelty of your carefully applied makeup. Beneath you wore the most elegant little gold heels that were surprising comfortable despite their minimal style. The stockings were sheer, hugging your upper thighs just below the skimpy ice-blue panties you wore.

The mention of jewelry brought up an unhappy memory and you knew Yelena recalled it too when your gaze met hers. How your husband's ex-mistress smuggled her necklace in for you to wear on another special occasion had never been solved.Had it been Neal? Hansen? A reminder from the not-too-distant past that your enemies could reach you at any time. A reminder to be vigilant. 

"What jewelry?" you asked carefully.

Yelena smiled. "I picked it up myself," she told you, lifting a delicate strand of diamonds set in gold from a black velvet box on the bed. 

When she draped it around your throat, you smiled at the way it completed your look. There were matching earrings, diamond studs each with a teardrop diamond dangling and catching the light. The set was exquisite. 

"Harry Winston," your friend told you, admiring how they looked on you.

"Nice of them to loan these for the ball," you told her, grateful you got to wear them. 

Yelena reached for the golden mask on the bed, holding it to you. "No loan. Steve bought them."

What?

"These must have cost a fortune," you mused. They probably cost more than everything else you owned combined. "Glad you're going with us. I'd hate to get mugged for these."

Yelena grinned. "Security is going to be tight already with so many important people there. The mayor will be there. One of the state senators."

You scoffed. "Why am I going? I'm no one special."

"But you are," Yelena told you. 'The fact that everyone wants you has been a powerful motivator in this game of chess. Your husband is completely devoted to you. Barnes would love to get his hands on you."

"Barnes would ring my neck the first chance he got," you pointed out.

Yelena's expression was difficult to read. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Hansen would for sure kill me," you said, putting your mask in place carefully. The soft mask of golden sequins fit over your eyes. 

Yelena's gaze dropped at the mention of the name and you were ashamed. You needed to work harder not to bring that up to her. And you needed a subject change. Fast.

"Who's going to be here with Nat tonight?" You weren't surprised Nat didn't want to go. She'd been through so much between the horrific end of her abusive marriage and all trauma of years being left to the sadistic nature of Banner. You wanted to make sure she was well looked after while you and Steve were gone.

"Clint is staying here of course," Yelena said quietly. "Dyson will be here too. He's arranged for extra security for the house tonight."

You nodded your approval. "What about Scott?"

"He's coming with us," Yelena explained. 

You smiled. Scott going had little to do with keeping you and Steve safe and everything to do with spending time with Yelena. You were pretty sure Yelena was aware of Scott's infatuation with her. Would she ever return his affections? You didn't know. Considering her tragic history, you weren't sure she could feel the same way towards him or anyone. But in the time you'd known Scott, you learned he was a good man who always had your back and never once questioned your authority. You trusted him with your life. You trusted him with Yelena too.

But would she ever give him - or anyone - a chance after all she'd been through?

You blew out an exhale, preparing yourself for the night ahead. "I guess we should let Steve know I'm ready."

"He knows," a deep voice caught you and Yelena both off guard. 

Your husband strolled into the bedroom and Yelena stepped back to allow him a clear path to you. He looked breathtakingly handsome in the classic black tuxedo he wore, tailored perfectly to fit his tall, broad-shouldered physique. His tawny hair was perfectly styled, diamond cufflinks winking in the light. His tie was shades of gold and blue to match your gown, a subtle touch but one you appreciated.

Steve moved to stand behind you in the mirror of your vanity, bending to fit his handsome face in the reflection with yours. 

"You look so beautiful," he said with something like reverence in his voice. "I can't wait to show you off."

"I'll be downstairs," Yelena said, making her way out to give you some privacy. "We worked very hard on her, boss. Don't mess her up."

Steve smiled at what he took as a playful warning, his large hands smoothing over your bare shoulders. Slowly, you removed the mask, placing it in your lap with your hands. His watchful gaze didn't miss the slight tremble of their movements.

"Everything is going to be fine," he explained. "I've been to this event before. All the rich, politic elite of Boston come out to dance and drink the night away and wallow in excess. It's probably Tony's favorite night of the year."

You could see it. And you were excited to go to the annual masquerade ball, as Steve's wife and not his trophy, and to enjoy a fabulous night on the town. You felt like Cinderella, going to the ball in the gown that truly looked as if magic had created it.

But you couldn't fight back an impending sense of dread. It had been so quiet in the weeks of your recovery and Steve's. Life went on. You were included in all the family's business meetings. The family business had recovered and was branching out, deals with three of the other four families made things even better. 

Not that you agreed with all of it. You weren't crazy about the loan sharking or protection deals the family made. The casinos and restaurants didn't bother you as much. And at least the family wasn't making any money off drugs or trafficking. Some of the stories about the business and how other families operated you heard now were just horrific. You made up your mind early that no matter what, you'd never allow the family to make money off the misfortunes of women and children. Never.

It had been very quiet where the Barnes family was concerned. Too quiet.

"I'll  be the envy of every man there tonight," he murmured, pressing a kiss into your neck. The soft brush of his beard made you shiver. A sensual smiled curved Steve's lips. "Are you ready?"

You nodded. You trusted your husband. You were going to do your best to have a wonderful night, just like he intended.

And still that little kernel of dread lingered.

You felt like you were in an old Hollywood movie to walk down the staircase on your husband's arm with the gown flowing softly with your movements. Honestly, you were grateful for Steve's help in keeping you balanced, relieved when you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

Dyson, Yelena, Scott, Clint and Nat were a small crowd, watching in admiration as you approached. Nat's smile was all you needed to feel like a princess. Her lovely green eyes lit up as her gaze swept over you. 

"You look perfect," she exclaimed, carefully hugging you. "I knew that gown was the one."

Nat had been the one to find it when the two of you went out shopping for it. And you were all too happy to give her the credit. You knew very little about fashion. You would learn. Until you did, it was nice to have the advice of someone who already understood it.

As Nat stepped back, you forced yourself to smile. She still looked so small, so frail. She had yet to gain weight and regain her amazing figure. Your sister-in-law seemed fragile, even with the protection and love of the man she'd always wanted. Even with the full support and love of her brother. It worried you.

Dyson looked worried too, but as you did, he put on a quick smile. "You two had best get going. The line at dropoff takes forever."

"True enough," Steve said, nodding to Yelena and Scott.

You stopped to hug Dyson. "Keep her safe for me," you whispered.

"You know I will," he muttered.

Steve whisked you away to the sleek black limousine waiting in the driveway. Its glossy, jet-black exterior reflected the fading sunlight with a mirror-like finish. The long, streamlined body stretched gracefully, its tinted windows offering privacy and adding to its air of mystery. Scott climbed in behind the wheel and Yelena rode shotgun as Steve got you into the back seat, helping you keep your gown away from the doors. Once you were settled, you studied your husband. Something was missing.

"Did you bring a mask?" you asked him. 

Steve smiled, pulling a small black mass from inside his tuxedo coat. No sequins, just a matte black mask he could wear. But he wasn't interested in the mask as he fidgeted with it. He was too busy staring at you.

"Are you excited?" he asked.

You couldn't help the smile the question brought on. "Yes."

Steve looked pleased. "As time goes on and things settle down, we'll get out more. Do more things like this. You look like a princess tonight."

Tears pricked at the backs of your eyes at his heartfelt words. He meant them. He was taking you out to a society function, dressed you up like you were going to the fucking Oscars. A night out like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You'd been excited since he told you he got the tickets a few weeks ago.

"There are going to be a lot of people there, sweetheart," Steve explained quietly. "I'm sure Belova went over everything with you. But I need you to listen. You are going to be with me at all times. If you're not with me, you'll be with Belova and Lang. No wandering off to talk to people or sightsee. Okay?"

You nodded. Yelena had covered the plans thoroughly while she helped you get ready for the evening. 

"If I have to talk business for a moment, Belova will be with you. You have to go to the ladies' room, Belova will be with you," he continued. "Take it easy on the drinks. You're not used to alcohol and I need you vigilant tonight. We're going to have a wonderful time but..."

"I understand," you told him. "Besides, I don't want to miss any part of tonight because I'm drinking. It's my first masquerade ball. I'd like to enjoy every minute of it."

The smile Steve flashed you had your heart fluttering in your chest.

"There will be dancing, right?" you asked.

"Of course," he told you. 

"You'll dance with me?" Would Steve dance with you to a beautiful ballad or classic song?

Reaching over, he tipped up your chin with his fingers, his touch careful. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you when you smile at me like that. I love you."

"I love you, too." 

His lips were a teasing brush against your own but in seconds it deepened, filled with longing and need. 

The sharp wrap on the dark glass that separated the two of you in the back seat of the limo from Scott and Yelena up front scared you. Then the glass slid down just a couple of inches. 

"Later," Yelena admonished. "I worked too hard on her for this party, boss."

You froze thinking that was going to piss your husband off but he laughed. "Okay, sorry," he called back to her.

It made you happy. Ever since everything happened that day between your family and Barnes', your husband and your best friend got along a lot better. Steve was kinder to her, treated her with the same respect as he would any of the men in his employ. That being the case, Yelena felt comfortable enough to tease him about things like tonight. She worked hard on carefully picking her moments with him to tease. She did even better at being thoughtful when offering criticism or advice. The fact that they were getting along better just made your life easier.

"That's supposed to be privacy glass," he said, still grinning.

"Or she's just that good at her job." Honestly, she was.

"After the ball," Steve said once the privacy glass has slid back up, "I want you out of that dress. Especially if you want to keep it."

The sly warning had you grinning. "I would like to keep it. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen."

"Noted," your husband said. "I'll do my best to contain myself until you get the gown to safety."

The heated looks he cut you the entire way into Boston made you wonder if he'd be able to. You couldn't wait to find out.

Once you reached the venue, you saw there was indeed an endless line of limos in the que leading up to the door. It moved surprisingly fast. Within ten minutes, Scott pulled up to the door and Yelena darted out to open the door for you. Before you could reach for her hand, Steve was there, helping you out of the back of the car with ease and ushering you up the carpeted stairs with Yelena behind you. The decorations and festive lighting dazzled you as you moved along on Steve's arm. The way the soft light reflected off the gown you wore made you feel like you were in a fairytale. 

Steve stopped and greeted more than a few gentlemen on the way into the venue. One man you recognized as a senator and the easy way the two men spoke had you curious. Did the senator know who Steve was? Were they old friends? For a moment, the two of them seemed to forget all going on around them. Just as quickly, the senator's gaze fell on you and the handsome older man smiled. 

"Is this your new bride?" the senator asked.

"She is," Steve replied, introducing you with obvious pride. You meant to shake the man's hand. He kissed the back of yours in an old fashioned gesture. You found him completely charming. 

"Have you been to the masquerade before?" the senator asked.

You shook your head. "This is my first one."

The man smiled. "I hope you enjoy tonight. If I get the chance, I'll introduce you to my wife. It's one of her favorite nights of the year."

"I'd like that," you told him. "It was nice to meet you."

Was it your imagination that Steve watched you with such wonder? Once his conversation with the senator ended, he led you further into the venue where the main ballroom was all prepared, looking like a view from a movie set. 

Clusters of elegant tables arranged in a wide horseshoe shape framed the dance floor, each adorned with lavish centerpieces sparkling beneath the soft glow of the majestic chandelier overhead. The chandelier's light cascaded down like a shimmering waterfall, casting a warm, golden hue over the room, making every surface gleam. A full bar stood ready, offering the finest drinks, while an orchestra played a symphony of enchanting melodies, weaving through the air like a spell. The room was a sea of Boston's political powerhouses, movie stars, and the wealthy elite, all dressed in exquisite gowns and tailored suits, their masks concealing only their identities—not their status. As you paused to take it all in, your husband's familiar warmth pressed against your back, grounding you in the moment as the dazzling scene unfolded before your eyes.

"What do you think?" Steve's whisper at your ear made you shiver.

"I love this," you told him with enthusiasm. "Thank you for bringing me tonight."

"You don't have to thank me." Your husband took your hand, looking like a tawny-haired prince in his tuxedo and black mask, and led you to the dance floor. Your surprise must have shown on your face because he laughed as he swept you into his arms at the edge of the dancing crowd and led you in an easy waltz.

Steve was a wonderful dancer much to your surprise. He led you with an easy grace that you delighted in and found easy to keep up with given your own love of dance. You knew you had to be staring at him but he kept you close, enjoying your surprise.

"When did you learn to dance like this?" you had to ask after he twirled you around gracefully. 

"It's not so hard," he said, his attention solely on you. "Not nearly as hard as your type of dancing."

Ballet was discipline but dancing a perfect waltz wasn't easy either. You were impressed. 

"Is this why you got us all dressed up?" you teased. "So you could show off your dancing skills?"

Steve chuckled. "Is there something wrong with wanting to have a magical night with your wife?"

You were delighted. But you knew it wasn't the only reason Steve brought you here. And now that you were involved in the family business, you weren't offended by the other reason the two of you were there.

Not long before he married you, Steve had acquired a prized property on the outskirts of Boston. He'd been so involved with marrying you and taking over the families he'd neglected it for a time. Now his attention was back on it, plans were being made to develop it. Together, you'd decided on an exclusive resort with fine dining, glitzy nightclubs, and a casino for the wealthy. It was a massive investment and to make it work, certain permits would need to be acquired. The senator and a few key businessmen there tonight could make or break the project that would expand your family's wealth. 

It was a very important night for Steve.

He'd be spending some time talking to these gentlemen tonight which is why Yelena and Scott were there, to keep you safe. You really didn't mind. You felt like Cinderella at the ball in the beautiful gown that flowed and captured the light with your movements as you danced with your husband among the wealthy citizens of the city. As the two of you moved through the dance, you caught a glimpse of Yelena, dressed in her dark suit and standing next to Scott, blending into the background. Your best friend's gaze never left you. Scott's never left her. You smiled, enjoying the beauty of the moment, dancing with your husband at your very first masquerade ball.

When the dance came to an end, it took you a moment to realize it. One of the musicians announced the band would take a short break and be back in just a few minutes. Steve's hand at your lower back urged you to turn. The senator making his way towards you with a lovely older lady at his side. 

The senator's wife was polished from head to toe. Her gown was bright pink layers of satin that matched her lipstick. Otherwise her white hair and face gave her a cold countenance, like she was an ice queen dressed for her best guess at spring. Her eyes were dark, small and mean as her gaze swept over you. The senator assured you that you and his wife would have plenty to talk about. As the woman stood there studying you with pursed lips, you decided talking to her probably wasn't the best idea.

Steve's gaze met yours and he nodded as he let the senator lead him away, leaving you with the judgy woman before you.

"This must be a special night for you," she said tartly.

Straightening your spine, you smiled. "Why is that?"

The woman's white brows rose slightly but a smile played about her lips. "You don't belong here."

"Excuse me?" You kept your smile in place.

"My father was a direct descendent from The Mayflower," she informed you. "We're practically royalty here. We built our fortune through hard work and our good name. You, on the other hand, come from poverty and crime. You father crawled out the shadows and robbed good people blind. That's why you have the money to play dress up and act like you belong here. We all know your husband fancies himself some sort of underworld prince. But he doesn't belong here either."

Oh, no, she didn't just put you and your husband down. Lifting your chin, you looked her in the eye.

"Your ancestors came over on a ship over four hundred years ago and nobody cares anymore," you told her. "You can pretend to be royalty, and tell yourself you made your money working hard and protecting your good name. But the sad truth is, your family made your money the same way mine did. In fact, your family probably paid mine to keep from getting your hands dirty or to protect your interests. And my husband is the king of Boston's underworld and so was my father before him. You may be someone in society right now, but your husband is currently anelected official. If you were smart, you'd spending a little more time being respectful."

Gracefully as you could manage, you turned your back to the rude woman and marched off. Yeah, maybe you hurt your husband's chances of getting the permits you needed for the project development once she talked to her husband. But you weren't about to put up with someone like that. 

You looked all around for Yelena. You were dying to tell her about the conversation you'd just had. But you weren't watching where you were going and you collided with someone hard.

And whoever he was, he caught you in his arms, sweeping you out onto the dance floor as another waltz began. He was as tall as your husband and the scent of his expensive cologne was familiar. You realized who held you a beat before he spoke, a low purr by your ear.

"Did you miss me, beautiful?"

Barnes.

Easing back, you glanced up at your uninvited dancing partner, wearing an aura of allure and danger with ease. Barnes' chiseled jawline was partially obscured by the intricately designed black mask he wore, adorned with silver accents catching the light. Those steely-blue eyes were shadowed but still piercing, glinting with a cold intensity as his gaze met yours.

His tuxedo was entirely black and tailored to perfection, hugging his muscular frame effortlessly. His attire seemed to absorb the light, creating a sense that he came from the shadows. Even his shirt was dark onyx, subtle embroidery only revealing itself when he moved. And he felt strong as he held you, solid and healed.

Stop staring at the man and answer.

"I haven't thought about you at all," you told him, trying to sound nonchalant but not quite hitting that note.

As much as you hated to admit it, Barnes was undeniably handsome. From the way his hair was slicked back with precision to the confident smirk curling his lips, the man was... magnetic. But there was a sinister edge beneath the polished surface. There always had been. Barnes' posture was too poised, his movements too calculated. Every inch of him whispered danger, a wolf in the presence of unsuspecting lambs.

Pulling you close to him, Barnes chuckled. "I don't believe that. I think you I live rent free in that beautiful head of yours."

"Maybe," you said, feeling his smile widen. "I do think about how I wished we'd used more poison."

Now he laughed, a deep rich sound. "I don't doubt that."

"What do you want?" You looked anywhere but at him. Still, you were so focused on the predator that held you, you weren't really seeing your surroundings. The music, the lights, everything else seemed to fade into the background.

"What do you think I want?" Barnes asked.

As Barnes swept you around the floor, your mind scrambled for a comeback. "Your hands around my throat," you said, going with honesty. "And me dead?"

Leaning in, he ran his nose gently up the column of your neck, making you shiver. "Oh, I did. I really did. And I could have made that happen."

You were dangerously close to having him think he had the upper hand here. "No, you couldn't."

Again, he chuckled. "You've got it all figured out, don't you?" Releasing you only long enough to spin you in the dance, he pulled you back into him tightly. "You made peace with your husband. You're now involved in the family business. I would call Steve a pussy for even thinking about that if it were any other woman. But you're not just any woman. But you're special."

You missed a step in your alarm. How the hell did Barnes know you were in the all the family business meetings now? And that you and Steve had made peace? The questions triggered your anxiety, reminding you of the days early in your marriage when Neal had been Barnes' rat and you were always looking over your shoulder. Was someone else talking to Barnes?

"A long time ago, your mother seduced my father," Barnes whispered. "She tore my family apart. And when you came along and you weren't the poor disfigured little girl we were told you were, I assumed you were a little whore like your mother. You look almost exactly like her. Has anyone told you that?"

You didn't answer, trying hard to put a little space between the two of you. Where was Steve? It wouldn't be too conspicuous if he broke in on the dance. If Yelena or Scott came to save you, it could create a scene and unwanted attention. 

"I even thought maybe, horrible thought I know," Barnes went on, "that you might be my half-sister. But it didn't take me long to realize that wasn't true either. Besides, that devious little mind in there, hidden behind all that beauty? You didn't get that from your mother. Or my father."

"What's it to you?" you snapped at him, trying to pull off pissed even though you held anger and fear in equal measure. "I'm Steve's wife. He's your boss. You'd do well to remember that."

Barnes was unfazed. "You're Steve's wife. For now. But he can't handle you." Barnes leaned closer, his gaze locking with yours. "You should belong to someone stronger."

Now you really were getting pissed. "I don't need you or any man, including my husband, to tell me who I am and what I should be doing," you said.

"You may be right," he purred. "But it's that attitude, that fire. It got me thinking... I had the wrong idea about you from the beginning. Yeah, all the bitterness from the past clouded my judgment for a while. I wanted you dead and buried next to your loser husband." When you tried to pull free of him, he tightened his grip. His grin widened. "Now I realize you're exactly what I need."

"For what?" You didn't know how much of your glare he got from behind your mask.

"To finally take my rightful place," he said as if it were gospel. "The position occupied by your current husband."

Current husband? Who the fuck did he think he was?

"Our children will be kings and queens," Barnes went on. "That dynasty would rule Boston for decades."

"My children with Steve will rule Boston," you told him angrily. "And when we're done with you, no one will even remember the Barnes family."

"One day," he said with meaning, leaning closer, "you'll be mine."

Despite yourself, you shivered. Barnes caught it.

"You want me too," he whispered. "I'll make you admit it."

As the song neared its end, you were prepared to do whatever you had to do to get away from the bastard, the man who'd done so much damage to your family. As the last strains of the symphony ended, Barnes released you to bow. You did curtsy to him, then you straightened.

"I will never be yours." You meant it with every fibre of your being. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my husband."

Barnes' grin didn't fade. "Better find a way to keep him safe."

You spun on your heel, marching off the dance floor. You needed air, and a moment to calm down. You were blinking back tears, you were that angry. You felt someone on your heels as you made you way out of the main event room out ornate glass doors left open. It was chilly out there but you welcomed it, fighting back anger.

"Are you okay?" Yelena asked, her hand at your back as you gripped the railing and hung on. 

"No, I'm not... o-fucking-kay," you said, trying to regain your composure. "He came out of nowhere."

"He did," Yelena said. "He got to you so quickly after you talked to the senator's wife."

"Where's Steve?" you asked.

"Talking very intently to the senator," she replied. "It appears to be going well."

You had to wonder if that would still be true once the senator's wife caught a moment to tell her husband and your little "talk."

But you had bigger problems right now. Barnes.

"Barnes is all healed up," you told her. Looking beyond her, you saw Scott by the entranceway back into the ball. "And he's got big plans."

"He wants you," Yelena said it. "That much was obvious. It gives me some idea of his plans."

You nodded. "Don't say anything to Steve or Scott right now. I just want to find a glass of champagne to take the edge off and get through the rest of the ball."

With any luck, you could maybe enjoy one more magical dance with Steve before the evening ended.

You couldn't, however, complain. You wanted to be in on the family business and this was part of it. Barnes, unfortunately, was also part of it.  And he'd just announced his intentions to you and you realized now it was the pit that had been in your stomach the entire evening. 

Barnes would keep tearing your life apart until he was stopped. Somehow between his drastic plans and the animosity between you and your husband, you'd found your way to a happy marriage. A path to be queen in this world. And you'd be damned if you let Barnes threaten that future.

"You're going to tell Steve, right?" 

"I am." You didn't miss the concern in Yelena's voice. "I'm telling all of you. But not here."

Nodding her agreement, Yelena watched as you straightened, steeled yourself to return to the event. 

"Let's find you a glass of champagne, boss," she said with a wink.

Boss? Now that put the smile back on your face. 

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989 @curiousandjoyous @marvelouslyme96 @patzammit

[clawsdevour]

𓈒 ᩧ ◞ hakuba bf hcs

wc: 0.5k content warning: fluff, slight smut, aged up, post-time skip, not proofread

note: these hcs may definitely not be accurate since this character is still very unknown!! from what i'm thinking, he's like one of those more bubbly characters that give off golden retriever in a way :3

ೃ 𓈒 ࿔🐦

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to enjoy making snarky jokes around you a lot. of course, they're always going to be light hearted as he's actually a very kind person inside. though, if he sees one of his pals make one of those jokes to, or about you, he's one to exchange a glare in return to show that he's watching and hearing what they just said. he doesn't want you to be disrespected, especially by the people he's surrounded by. if someone's literally rude, he would say it to their face and defend you right up.

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to be impressed the more he learns about you. first date? he's amazed learning about even the surface level topics you bring up. second date? he's completely immersed and wowed by the fact that you grew up the way you did. third date? he's never failed to be amazed even though you could be repeating the same story, just in different words. 3rd year wedding anniversary? he will always be impressed by the way you're the first thing he sees in the morning. he would for sure let you know too, he'd comment and be like DAMN! NO WAY! REALLY? he's overall probably a super active listener.

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to literally act like he's drank a shot of expresso and an energy drink at the same time when he sees you in the stands of one of his games. he's definitely going to point you out from the crowd and tell his teammates. hakuba's trying his hardest to impress you on the court, making sure to keep his eye on you at the same time. he's doing goofy things hoping you'd also see and laugh from the stands.

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to be your hype man. anything could make him awe right? well anything you do can make him hyper and become your biggest supporter. you could be out and about, making him hold your shopping bags and ask him for his opinion on a new outfit, and he would never complain but would rather start applauding because that fit you just tried on was the best thing he's ever seen in the last five seconds.

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to always be around you. if he's just gotten back from his flight, he would never wanna leave the house because he just wants to bask in your presence till his next game. you're the center of his life besides his career, he wants to be with you physically and spiritually. he's probably always having a hand on you somehow, waist, shoulder, maybe around you from the back. he'd also love cuddling on the couch on lazy sundays for sure, anything physical since he's most likely away for volleyball most of the time. (would also tell you he misses you all the time)

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to a total flirt. okay don't hate me here but he would do a little pda here and there. out in public he'd probably look around to check if the coast is clear and sneak in a few pecks on your lips, maybe even neck. he'd also like to whisper some flirtatious comments in your ear to see your reaction while his face has that innocent look behind that face that knows what he's doing.

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to lock in and become completely serious upon meeting your parents. of course, this could make your parents feel a bit intimidated to know that you're dating a 6'8" man who seems to be too serious. but, once they get to know hakuba a little more, they see him as a silly and kind guy who loves to be around you.

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to talk to you through it when he first engulfs his cock into you. surprisingly, he is very gentle and doesn't want to hurt you when you're being intimate. hakuba would make sure you're prepped to ensure you're okay from the start, during, and after. of course, he would go totally beserk if you tell him to go hard, fast, or start whimpering for his name. hakuba would also come to a complete stop if you tell him to.

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to put his tall figure to use. he definitely uses every inch of his height in every thrust--every thrust is like getting striked with lightning to which he's also going slow but the cost of it will make your legs shiver. he's also probably one to give you kisses, starting from your forehead to further down to your neck and check while you endure his length and great strength from below. he'd find the height difference to be super arousing.

-Hakuba, the type of boyfriend to get you all washed up in the bath and pick out a fresh pair of pajamas for you to wear. he'd tuck you into bed and watch you doze off while he's battling his droopy eyes to make sure you sleep well. he'd also be playing with loose strands of your hair or give you soft pecks on your forehead or the surface of your hand, maybe he'd even rub little circles on your skin and speak a little nonsense here and there till he's asleep as well.

masterlist here

[dollfacefantasy]

Rookiepillz: Here We Go Again

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: almost a year after the rookiepillz incident, you and your now-boyfriend play some video games together. he's got a special strategy to help you win.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief cockwarming, daddy kink, rookiepillz

word count: 1.8k

a/n: finally. rookiepillz has come back to tumblr. the most anticipated come back of the century in my book. i just needed something silly as a break from school. we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming momentarily. part 1 is here.

“ANOTHER GOJO!” you yell at your tv, flinging your controller to the other side of your couch. You feign a growl and look up at your boyfriend who’s lap you were laid up on. “Another fucking Gojo killed me. Can you believe this? It’s like a curse or something.”

He chuckles right next to your ear and kisses your temple. “You’ll get the win soon. You placed third that time, that’s not bad,” he tells you as you ready up again.

He was one to talk considering he planned and acted out a whole revenge scheme on you when he placed second. But hey, look at the two of you now. Snuggling on the couch, you wearing one of his shirts, playing video games in his lap while he gives you little smooches and whispers sweet nothings to you.

Sure, he used to be your stepdad, but he’s your man now. Sure, he dated your mom just to get back at you for beating him in a Fortnite match, but he also gave you the best dick of your life. And plus, he was pretty sweet when he wasn’t being a total asshole, so who are you to complain?

His arms squeeze around your waist, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, inhaling your scent as you beat on some innocent player in the lobby for having the default skin. He smiled as he watched your eyes light up with glee. He took in every word you said about how dropping at the pool house was the best strategy. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Yeah, he had fucked your mom as part of a long revenge plot over losing a victory royale. Yeah, he did humiliate you by spanking you and then revealing said revenge plot in the middle of fucking. But it’s only cause he knew you’d be his girl in the end. He was just having some fun with his sweetheart, right?

He half-watches you running around the map, giggling when you drive a car off a cliff or start doing the weeknd emote. A smile breaks across his face whenever you kill someone because you lightly tap his forearm and go “Look! Did you see that? I gottem.” And then he’d whisper to you, “mhm, that’s my girl” before planting another kiss on your cheekbone.

But what really got him going wasn’t the precious moments of joy or the sweet expressions of tension when you started losing health. No. What really fired him up was your rage. What could he say? It reminded him of nearly a year ago when he’d pulled you over his knee, the fire that had burned in your eyes. A day he’d never forget. 

All he had to do was be patient for your match to start winding down. Once that notification came up that said there were only 25 people left, that red monster inside you would start rearing its head. The “motherfucker’s” and “god damn it’s” would start flying, and in no time at all, you’d be wearing that adorable pouty expression.

Like right now. He watched your character explode into a pile of loot. You slammed the controller down on your laps and crossed your arms, sinking back into his embrace. “That’s such bullshit. At least it wasn’t Gojo again,” you grumble.

Fuck, it got him hard.

“I think I know your problem, baby,” he says. 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow. The one piece of certain leverage you had over your boyfriend was that you were a better Fortnite player. Whenever he gave you unsolicited advice on your playing, you made sure to bring up the fact that you had beaten him before.

“You’re getting so frustrated, y’know. I think you gotta calm down a bit. Let yourself relax so you can think and focus better. And I think I have a way you can do that,” he says.

“And what would that be?” you ask, tone growing softer as you start to catch on.

“How about you relax on daddy’s cock? I know you can only think straight once you’ve been filled up,” he purrs. His hands smooth up your stomach to your tits, coasting over your nipples that were already starting to harden out of instinct. Because if there was one guaranteed piece of leverage he had on you, it was that special word that you’d seemed so averse to just a few months ago.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you answer. It felt shameful that he could get a rush of arousal from you with just a simple word said in a particular tone.

You stand up, still working the controller as another match starts up. He tugs down your shorts for you, grinning like the madman he was at your lack of panties.

“Look at you all prepared,” he coos and kisses your hip, “You knew you’d be getting a treat from daddy today, hm?”

“Lucky guess,” you respond as he guides you back down. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs. He lines himself with your entrance and pulls you down until he’s bottomed out. You whimper and bite your lip, locking your eyes on the tv to focus.

For the beginning, he really does just let you sit there, nice and full. And maybe he was sort of right. You feel pretty calm so far. Everything is less stressful when, in the back of your mind, you’re noticing the way he twitches within you or the small grunts he lets out when you tighten around him.

You were so warm and tight. Felt just as good as the first time, and fortunately for you, there was no bombshell plot twist waiting around the corner. His fingers rub little circles on the outside of your thigh.

“What do you think? Is it helping, babydoll?” he asks.

“Mhm, thank you, daddy. Fits just right,” you say.

He chuckles at the cute way you say it. You work on sniping some people, he tests out rolling his hips. You sharply inhale but don’t protest. So he does it again. His cock slides through the warm embrace of your walls, kissing your favorite spots deep inside. You still seemed focused enough, so using his hands to hold you in position, he begins thrusting upwards.

Your breaths become longer and shakier, but you will yourself to maintain focus. The number of players was dwindling fast. He was bouncing you on his cock which normally left you empty-headed in seconds. But you needed this victory royale. You really were his girl.

He lets out a groan, leaning back against the couch cushions with his head tilted back. It wasn’t like he needed the win this time. He could let go. And so he did. He pistons his cock up into you faster by the moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Daddy there’s only two other people,” you whine in a plea for mercy.

“Almost there, baby,” he grunts. You honestly didn’t know if he was referring to your game or how close he was to cumming.

You don’t have time to think about that though because the circle is closing. You grit your teeth and grip the controller with all the focus you have left.

“Daddy, c’mon, I could win,” you whimper.

“I know, princess. You got this, pretty girl,” he mumbles while his eyes flutter. His abdomen twitches as he feels himself gearing up for release. “Tell you what. If you win this one, daddy’ll make sure you get a special reward later on.”

Now it is absolutely on. You can’t lose this. That’d be even more humiliating than the original rookiepillz incident. You’re dashing around the map as your boyfriend pumps in and out of you. It’s a difficult task, managing to hold off your release and try to win.

But soon enough you spot your targets. At the same time, it seems that Leon is reaching his. “Oh fuck, baby. So fuckin’ good. Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like,” he whimpers from behind you.

He bounces you, and you know your own peak is imminent. But you see the other players, and in an absolute miracle, you down one and then the other. The tv flashes gold with your victory as your body seizes with the white hot pleasure of release. Simultaneously, he unloads inside you, firing rope after rope into your tight cunt.

He fucks into you a few more times before actually coming back down to reality. You’re coming down too, melting back against his chest. He’s stroking your face when his eyes catch on the tv.

“Holy shit, you actually won?” he asks. His tone gives away that he’s actually impressed. and that’s your ultimate victory royale.

“Mhm, all for you,” you tease and lazily kiss his cheek.

“God, baby. Making me feel like the luckiest man alive right now,” he replies and reciprocates your small gesture of affection.

The two of you cuddle for a bit longer. You’re finished with the game, having finally gotten the win you wanted. And like always, he was such a sweetheart after, giving you kisses and praise, holding you close, even cleaning you up once he got up. Unfortunately, he had to go into work today, so it wasn’t long until he had to leave. He makes sure you’re content before he says goodbye with a kiss to your forehead.

Later that night though, you were alone at your place just as Leon was at his. You get a text. His contact lights up your lockscreen with the message “Get on Fortnite?”

You smile, hopping on your couch and turning on your console. You text back a “yeah hehe :)” He facetimes you, and you beam when you see his face, something you would have never thought possible when you met him. While you wait for everything to turn on and connect, you ask him about his day and how he’s feeling. He answers softly, heart melting at your interest.

To your surprise, when the game finally loads up, you have a gift. From rookiepillz himself.

“Leon…” you say excitedly.

“What?” he asks, playing dumb at first, “Just open it.”

So you do. You burst into laughter as Gojo appears on your screen next. “You’re so funny. I love you,” you giggle. It slips out so casually, he’s not even sure you registered what you’d let slip. He lets it go for now. He would tease you about it later. Right now, he was just so enamored with you.

As you prattled on about wanting to be the skin with the blindfold on and how he should get one for himself so you could match, he realized something. He’d lose every Fortnite match for the rest of his life if it meant he got you. His own personal victory royale.

[cuteandhughesy]

Hii congratulations on 1000 followers!! I love your fics, you're an amazing writer 🩷

I would like to request brady skjei + prompt 9 thanks in advance if you decide to write this 🩷🩷

prompt no. 9: “you’ve always got your arms wrapped around me” “so?”

brady has always been touchy. since you met back in new york when he played for the rangers, your boyfriend has always been sure to have a hand at you at all times.

when he got the chance to wrap his arms around you, he was taking it. wheather that was in the line at the grocery store, in the shower, while you’re standing at the kitchen island chopping vegetables, even simply just walking the dog around the block, brady has you in his arms.

sometimes it’s just one forearm resting casually over your shoulders—maybe your hips depending on the position of your body. other times it both arms, enclosing around your body and keeping you pressed against his.

but don’t get me wrong, you love it. the action stems from so much love and tenderness, and never fails at making your feel tiny and safe. it’s always been so natural between you—so much so that you didn’t even realize how often brady was touching you.

it’s not until years into your relationship, settled in your new nashville apartment, brady playing for the predators when someone mentions something. forsbergs girl said it so causally, baby bouncing on her lap while the sound of skates digging into the ice and cheering fans echo all sound you.

“brady’s always got his hands on you, you know. it’s so cute.”

to which your response came almost curiously, brows pulled tight. “does he? I don’t really notice…I guess i’m just used to it.”

but after that conversation with her, you really began to notice. brady touching you in some capacity was quite literally constant. his fingers looped through your belt loops at local bars while he orders you a drink, hand settled at the base of your neck while he talks to his teammates, arms around waist and face nuzzled into your neck while he’s falling asleep—and when he’s waking up in the morning.

and yeah, you suppose your boyfriend does always tend to touch you—in private and in public. there’s never any shyness about it, and if anything he prefers the subtle acts of PDA. and that’s just simply because he loves you—you’re his and he’s yours. that’s that. so why wouldn’t he touch you?

“you’ve always got your arms wrapped around me,” you say softly one night of the couch, cuddled into brady’s torso under your bedroom duvet that you dragged out to the couch for movie night.

he’s got his hand splayed over your hip, finger’s absentmindedly stroking your sweat pant clad leg. brady’s eyes flicker away from the movie at the sound of your voice, looking down at you with a amused pull to his brows, “so? is that okay?”

you smile, pushing up to kiss his lips. it’s quick and chaste, but still holds the usual tenderness shared between you. “of course, just an observation.”

brady smiles before connecting your lips again, kissing you once, then twice and the a third time, each kiss longer than the previous one. his hand slips up your body, squeezing the flesh of your hip as he pulls away. “just love you is all.”

his grumbling words have you stomach twirling. you run your hands through his salt and peppered hair—which you didn’t think brady could get any hotter, but this hair on him is just a game changer. “love you too, and your hands on me.” you tell him quietly, hand brushing over the shell of his ear before resting at the junction of his neck.

brady raises a brow playfully, guiding you down to lay flat on the couch cushions. you laugh breathily as he settles between your thighs, hand sliding over the waistband of your sweats, dipping below the band and toying with the lace of your panties, “oh trust me, these hands love being on you even more.”

—

(unedited)

[m0llygunn]

sore loser (eddie munson x fem!reader)

summary: teasing is a game– you refuse to be a loser

content warning: 18+! smut, oral (m receiving), pet names (baby, pretty girl), teasing, cum in nose idk, too much cock and balls, porn with very little plot an: ew who wrote this wc: 3.1k

“I just want a taste” you smile, lowering yourself from his lap to between his spread thighs. 

Soft woven nylon beneath your knees, level eye with his thick, hardened cock, you do what you promise. Tongue swirling softly over the smooth flushed skin, you lick the very tip, getting just a taste before pulling away. 

“Tease,” Eddie smirks, fist moving up his length, swiping his thumb over the very place your tongue just was. He sinks his heavy hand back down to his base, purposefully angling the head of cock towards you— an offering that you ignore.  

“Not a tease,” you pout. He blinks hard— it’s not quite a roll of his eyes but his disbelief is loud and clear. With a huff from his nose, his eyes glow with a heightened mischievousness.

“Open your mouth then,” he says daringly. 

Humoring him, you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out flat past your lower lip. Starved eyes devouring the sight, he lets the head of his cock sit heavy against your tongue, tapping it once, twice.

“Now close your mouth, baby,” he instructs as he pushes the tip further up your tongue, tapping it a third time, waiting for you to help him out.

You pull back, closing your mouth without his cock in it. His smirk returns as you further prove his point. 

“See, you’re teasing.”

“Why would I tease?” you retort, fluttering your lashes at him. “You know I love your cock in my mouth, Eddie.” You one up yourself, throwing on an innocent pout, eyes wide and round as you look up at him. “Love it in my mouth, love it on my tongue, love it in my throat,” you continue, reveling in the darkness of his eyes. 

“Yeah?” he questions. He knows you love it, he’s just taking the moment to humour you. “Show me how much you love it then.”

Big, sweet smile, you bounce a single time on the backs of your heels. “That’s impossible, Eddie. I love it so much, I couldn’t possibly show you. It’s like infinity,” you say, your overly saccharine tone making Eddie mirthfully shake his head at you. 

He reaches a hand forward, gentle in nature as his fingers thread under your hair, holding you just behind your ear at the base of your skull. He guides you forward until his cock is within reach of your lips again. Mouth watering, you swallow down the anticipatory condition, devoting yourself to your act. 

Heavy taps to your closed mouth, he watches you with amused eyes as your pinched lips curve up into a smile. 

“Open wide, princess,” he sings softly. 

You raise your brows at him and he mirrors you, doing the very same. When you faintly lick your lips, parting them just enough for your tongue to glide between them, he presses his cock more firmly to your lower lip, coaxing you to open up for him. You could walk away at any point, he knows that and you know that— that isn’t the game though. 

Like a silent draw, with eyes locked you both wait for the other to make a move. Eddie lightens the pressure of his cock on your lips, and you briefly think you’ve won until a sharp tug on the fine hairs at the back of your neck has you gasping, mouth opening up enough for his cock to push past your lips and sit against your tongue. 

“Hey!” you pull back. “Not fair,” you continue, wrapping your fist around the base of his shaft. 

“Just giving you a taste, you wanted that didn’t you?” he smirks, absolutely smitten with himself for that move. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you glower, running your fist upwards.

“So lucky,” he breaths happily, finally getting some much needed attention. 

You run your hand up and down his length, feeling his swelled hardness under the glide of your fingers. You sit forward on your knees, about to take him in your mouth but you stop short. 

“—and you started this. We were watching a movie— you’re the one who started touching yourself,” you say, continuing an argument that never existed in the first place. Sore loser. 

“You were watching a movie. I was watching you,” he states, sinking down on the couch, pushing his hips closer to you. You move in tandem, getting closer to him, feeling the warmth of his thighs caged around you. 

“We were watching a movie,” you glare, upholding your argument. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he hums with a charming insincerity. His hand slides further up the back of your head, guiding you forward with the intention of distracting you. You place a palm to his boxer covered thigh, looking up at him.

“You started touching yourself and now you need my help.”

“What happened to you liking my cock in your mouth? Thought you loved it?”

“I do,” you say faintly, redirecting your gaze to the pretty sight just inches from you. His weeping tip makes your mouth water again and you give in, closing your lips over him in a suctioned ‘O’. 

“Just like that, good girl,” he says, airing on the side of being too patronizing. Very sore loser.

You warningly flick your eyes up to Eddie but you keep your mouth on him, hollowing your cheeks in spurts as you twirl your tongue over the tip.

Flattening both of your palms on his thighs, you set forth your usual routine for when you want to give him control. Naturally, he brings his other hand to rest against your cheek, curving his fingers over your jaw, bringing you down to take more of his cock. You strain your neck, pushing back from his guidance, looking at him with furrowed brows and a full mouth. 

“What’s that look for, baby?” he asks, honest inquisition as you deviate from the norm. You take the teensiest bit more of his cock in your mouth, unable to answer beyond another pointed look. 

His gaze darts back and forth from your eyes and your mouth. You keep sucking, flattening your tongue to stick out just below your lower lip, shallowly bobbing. 

Enough time passes (probably a minute or less, but in blow job time that’s practically years), and he tries to push you down again. You let him, only another inch or so before humming your best ‘nuh-uh’. He lightens his grip, stomach hollowing as he lets out a deep breath.

“Gonna make me sweat it out, huh? That’s what this is?”

If you could smile right now, you would. You meet his eyes, humming again. 

“Tease.”

Your brows furrow on instinct, a scolding look sent his way immediately. His eyes swarm with amusement as he watches you attempt to scold him with his cock heavy on your tongue, mouth filled to the brim. His lips crook up into a smirk.

“Not a tease?” he asks. 

You hum an incoherent reply but Eddie understands.

“No, you’re not a tease. Look at you— a tease wouldn’t have her mouth full like you do, would they?”

“Nuh-uh,” you better enunciate, losing your suction on his cock but quickly correcting it by garnering a better, more overzealous suction that makes him hiss, fingertips tightening in the hair at the back of your neck. 

He steadies his breath as you bob your head, tongue lapping over the prominent veins born from the desperation that he’s doing a very good job of hiding. You meant it when you said you love his cock, and part of that love is knowing exactly how to read all its secrets.

“C’mon baby, show me how you’re not a tease, take a little more. Know you can, ‘ve seen you do it before,” he goads, spurring you on. 

You roll your eyes at him and he lets out a low chuckle, not mean, just amused. You pull in a deep breath through your nose, making a show of relaxing yourself like you’re about to deepthroat him… if only you were going to deepthroat him. 

He tries again, all too aware of what you’re doing. He guides you down, millimeter by millimeter. You’re sure he thinks he’s slick, doing it so slow, probably assuming you don’t notice as you focus on moving up and down. You let him have it too, the head of his cock reaching the tightness in the back of your throat, only for a second.

“Want these now,” you say through a huffy breath, pulling off of him, stretches of spit dripping down to your chin. You lower your face below his cock, nudging it to the side with your cheek, palms still pressed to his thighs. 

“All yours,” he says suavely, but you hear the break in his voice— a fresh deflate of disappointment from getting just a taste of what he wanted. He's set on refusing to give you the satisfaction of revealing that you’re getting to him. 

Tongue licking up the center seam of his sack, you place chaste pecks to each side, warming him up to the contact. His cock rests on your face, nudging your forehead and gliding along your cheeks as you confidently navigate the sensitive area. 

Soft suckling, heavy kisses, reverent rolls of your tongue. You usually would be pumping his cock alongside the gentle mercies of your mouth, but this time you let it bob and twitch freely, bumping against your face with each devised press of your lips to his sensitive skin. His breathing is heaving with constraint, refusing to beg for it, adamant to being the one calling the shots. 

“Good girl, like my balls in your mouth too, don’t you?” Not a beg, more of a spur. He thinks he knows how to maneuver the situation. 

You tuck yourself just under his sack, lips pressed to the very most delicate area as you hum an agreement, letting the vibrations of your lips tickle him. His stomach tenses, cock jolting up and coming down bruisingly to the highest point of your brow bone. 

You flick your eyes to him again and he’s never looked further from sorry, he looks desperate.

You graze your tongue further down and his eyes widen, hips tilting upwards to accommodate you. A dainty press of your tongue, testingly dipping towards his untouched hole. 

A broken ‘ah’ comes from his lungs as his stomach muscles convulse under the new feeling. You smile, retreating to lick up the seam of his sack and all the way up the thick underneath of his shaft. 

You await the name he’s been so fond of tonight— ‘tease’ but it never comes. Instead his hips settle back down to the couch, cock dropping to his lower stomach in a bounce. You chase it, tongue out as you wrangle it back into your mouth. 

With a squeeze of his thighs from both your palms, you await the reclaim of both his hands on your head but they don’t come. 

You hum to get his attention, meeting his gaze, squeezing his thighs again. He looks at you, eyes dazed and hazy, the way he does when he’s already been fucking your mouth— a split in his veil. With a lifted brow, he swallows before answering you.

“You’re doing good.”

The puff of air from your lungs breaks the seal of your mouth.

“I’m doing good?” you ask with an edge of outrage.

“Yeah, it feels good. Like what you’re doing.”

“Eddie,” you whine. 

“Keep going, please,” he says lazily, letting his eyes drift down to your mouth. 

“No. I want you to fuck my throat.” As soon as the words leave your lips, you realize you’ve lost again. Loser at your own game. 

Much to Eddie’s fortune, your loss is his win and his gloating smirk picks up as soon as he seizes the integrity of your whine. With heavy lidded, lust filled eyes, he stares you down.

“Get started then, I’ll help you when you’re ready.”

“M’ready now,” you mumble, annoyed by his answer. You wrap your sore loser lips over the head of his cock, tongue flattened out again, taking him back into your mouth, all the way to your throat. 

“Don’t push yourself too far, baby. Gotta ease into it.” Patronizing, as if you don’t know what you’re doing. You relax your throat, breathing through your nose, sinking deep onto his length. You narrow your eyes on the target, the thick patch of wispy hairs at his shaft— taunting you. 

Relax, palms flat to his thighs, you pull up and push back down. Closer. You do it again. And again. So close. 

With a heavy breath you pull off, filling your burning lungs and un-dizzying your head. You sink down again.

“Fuck— just like that,” Eddie groans, his words penetrating your focus better than his free flowing whimpers and moans have. 

Your nose nearly grazes the spot above where you want your lips to touch and your stomach pools with heat and excitement. Saliva coats down your chin, lips glistening in the sheen of your watering mouth and the salinity of his pre-cum. You pull up to the tip before dropping down. Eddie moans pathetically, a detail you would have crowed about had your goal not been so flagrantly within reach. So, so close. 

Another bob of your mouth, when you pull up, a heavy hand on the back of your head pushes you all the way down. He fills the expanse of your throat, pressing your nose to the softness of his pelvis, lips flush to the very base of his shaft, just like you needed.

“This what you want, pretty girl? Gonna take it all f’me?” he groans out, thighs tensing harshly under your palms.

You choke, filling your lungs with a pathetic inhale from your nose as he holds you down. You hum, doing what you can to not gag again and he pulls you up, scalp tingling from the force of it. 

“That’s good, take a deep breath, just like that, baby,” Eddie encourages and you're too busy sputtering to care about the condescending nature of his tone. His hand slides over your cheek again, reclaiming its spot on your jaw. “Deep breath. Gonna make you choke on my cock again, you ready?”

You nod, sticking your tongue out for him. He lowers your head, guiding you down slowly. His cock hits your throat and pushes further. Taking steady breaths through your nose until you can’t, you gag, throat convulsing around his girth. 

“Fuck. Fuck— such a tight throat.” he grunts, hips trusting upwards, gagging you even harder with his cock. 

He moves you up and down, the fat head of his cock pressing past your gag reflex over and over again until your vision is blurred with tears and your hands are squeezing his thighs. He pulls you off, watching you with an insatiable gaze as you sputter for air.

“Think you can take it again?” he asks, eyes gleaming over the wet mess of tears and spit that he’s made of you. His tone sounds close enough to a dare— you can’t refuse. 

“Please,” you answer, sucking in a deep breath.

“Good girl,” he laughs, regripping his hold on the back of your head. He lets you take one more deep breath before guiding you back down, deep. With your throat open and relaxed for him, third times the charm, you don’t gag— not until he wants you to. 

Hips lifting up, he drives his cock into your gag reflex with purpose, needing to feel the restriction and spasms of your throat. His cock throbs for it, its own unique way of begging. 

You choke, throat constricting and he thrusts through it, taking the pleasure he needs from you. With a heavy swallow as you struggle through his thrusts, he moans deep and gravely. 

“Just like that, baby. Swallow my fucking cock,” he grunts.

He pulls you up to the tip, bouncing you along his length. You feel the pulsing of the prominent veins and the hard constriction of his balls with every press of them to your chin. He’s getting close.

“Just— just like that. Doing so… so fucking good,” he praises through strangled breathes. 

His pace gets quicker and quicker, his grip on your hair tightening with each rise and fall. He meets the bob of your head with needy thrusts of his hips, desperate and oh-so-close. If you could smile, you would. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he hurls out quickly. 

He thrusts up into your throat, holding you there, flooding you with heavy streams of milky warmth. You choke, trying to swallow it down, but resolve to tapping his thighs, needing to be released. Whimpers and moans still heavy from his orgasm, he lets go and you pull off, sinuses both full and burning. Despite that, you bring your fist to his cock, helping him through his high, dropping your mouth back down to only take the tip again. He moans appreciatively, eyes pinching shut, head dropping to the back of the couch. 

Swirling your tongue over his slit, gathering the final seeps of his cum on your tongue, you swallow it down. His hips stutter from the overstimulation and you pull off, smiling wide at the heaping mess of a man you’ve made. 

Climbing back onto the couch, you lean into him, waiting for him to come back down to earth and rejoin you. He’s always pretty like this, so you reap the benefits, absorbing all the fine details like his fluttery lashes, speckled blush, the broadening of his chest with every heavy breath. Pretty. 

“So good, baby,” he mumbles, eyes still closed. His arm settles around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Liked that thing you did.” Totally not specific, but you both know what ‘that thing’ was and you’re not opposed to trying more of it.

“I liked it too,” you agree. He hums a drawn out groan that comes from deep down. Settling closer, liking the drama of it all, you press your ear to his heat radiating chest, catching the vibrations of his goofy appreciation. You smile, content with the moment, beyond fond for your silly boy. 

Cum filling your belly and starting to messily seep from your sinuses into your nose— you don’t feel like a sore loser anymore. Maybe you should, but you don’t. 

“I win,” you chide.

“Win?” he asks, eyes finally blinking open. 

“Yeah, I won. Made you cum.” 

He lazily angles his head down to you. Arm looking heavier than ever, he lifts his hand, bringing his thumb to your mouth. Swiping at the corner, he pushes the digit into your mouth, coating your tongue with some of the lost saltiness of his release. 

“You win,” he smiles. 

–––––

ty! reblogs good please feedback need love you bisous bye

[bahrtofane]

Prompt 17 trope 1 (friends to lovers) w/ Kylian pls 🤭🤭

- “I'll score a hat trick for you if you go on a date with me." - Friends to Lovers  i tweaked the quote just a little to "“If I score a hat trick for you will you go on a date with me?” sorrehhh

word count - 600+

watch it - misunderstandings turned to fluff and happiness yay !!

“You wanna come to the game?” Kylian blurts out, legs pressed up to his chest while he picks at his nails. He was never any good at facing you and saying things he ment. Not with his chest anyway. 

“Maybe.” you mumble back, playing with the edge of your screen protector that keeps folding upwards.

You sit at a mutual friend's place. In the back patio overlooking the pool. The water shines. You think his eyes shine brighter but what do you know.

Kylian is somewhat still of a complete mystery to you in a sense. You know the Kylian that you've come to call a friend. Introduced one hazy night on this same patio, down the steps and out at the fireplace on a summer night. 

You thought people were all joking, that Mbappe was here. But there he was. Head thrown back laughing at something someone had head while you squeezed into a chair and watched the embers dance on his skin.

He had found you first. Putting your arms out to catch some of the heat, sliding into the sleek white leather seat next to you and smiling. Reaching his arms out and doing the same.

“Cold isn't it?”

Friendship has bloomed since. 

Or well whatever you want to call what you have going on. Friendship that teeters on the edge of being more while the both of you dance around the implication of your gazes. 

You turn to look at where he sits beside you now. 

“Why do you want me to go anyway?” you wonder out loud, setting your phone to the side and facing him.

“You know why I think,” he gives you a weak shrug.

“What does that even mean Kylian.” 

A second shrug. 

“What if…” his voice trails off and he shakes his head, gathering his sunglasses and getting up.

You frown, “hey,” slinging your purse and following him back inside where some of your friends are in conversation. 

He waves you off, weaving between people to get to the front door.

“Kylian,” you all but yell. A few heads turn but you dont care all that much.

He stops at the hallway leading to the front door. “It was stupid okay you i know you don't want to come.”

Your brows furrow, “what makes you say that.”

He sighs, “oh come on.”

You cross your arms, “I'm serious, I don't know what this is about.”

“You look like you want to hurl when I look at you. It's like you tolerate me just for the sake of it.”

Your gaze softens, “I don't. I enjoy your company.”

“You don't act like it.” he dead pans. 

“I don't know, maybe if you didn't walk around eggshells when you see me it would make me feel better.”

He looks at you like you just grew a third eye. “Me, egg shells? I compliment you and you look like you want to throw a shoe at me.”

“Oh for fucks sake kKylian i act like that because im attracted to you. I have goddamn feelings you absolute idiot.” you spew out in one breath. Palms sweating. 

“Really?” he says softly, leaning against the wall. 

“Yes really,” you mumble, looking away. You're gonna be sick.

“That's good then, “he scratches the back of his neck, “it's mutual.”

You perk up at this, “actually?”

He reaches a hand out and you give him yours, “yes really.” softly rubbing his thumb over yours. 

You hum, “thats good then.”

“You'll come to the game then?”

You smile,”I will.’

“If I score a hat trick for you will you go on a date with me?” he teases. 

You roll your eyes, following him as he opens the front door, “where we headed?”

“Anywhere you want.” 

Sounds good to you. 

[4udit0re]

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

— Tyler Durden x female oc/reader

— Tags: MC is an rude edgy bitch lowkey, fighting, POV first person, dubcon, slight misogyny, Tyler is a real person, fight club, blood, not beta readed

— Tags (Smut): Humiliation, Degradation, Spit Kink, oral male receiving, Slight praise kink and use of good/bad girl, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Choking, Violent Sex (Slapping, Hitting/Punching) Begging, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, Manhandling, humping/grinding, Hair-pulling, dubcon

— Summary: Tyler Durden. Tyler Durden wasn’t normal. Nothing about him tells you otherwise. Neither was I.

— A/N: I already published this on ao3 (Here's the link if you want it) but I haven't really re-read it again. I'm gonna copy paste the author note there to not miss anything. First, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes. Second the whole fic is in first person because this was made for my own enjoyment. You can read this as an x reader but the oc has a name and it's Winter. Third, this is my firts time publishing anything so sorry if I missed a tag..

Tyler Durden.

Tyler Durden wasn’t normal

Nothing about him tells you otherwise.

His way of thinking, of acting, of speaking. It’s his own.

Tyler Durden plays his own game. He creates the rules.

The first rule of Fight club it’s we do not talk about fight club.

I met Tyler Durden on a Saturday night. Little did I know what I was getting into. I was bored walking the street . The night was dark, too dark. The air was heavy; I knew that night was different from the others even if I didn’t know it yet. My boots kicked a stone down the road, the sound the only thing I heard around me. The only sound till I found Lou’s tavern.

In Lou’s tavern I met Tyler Durden.

Loud chatting, the smell of beers and cheap lighting fulfilled my senses as I got inside. This place reminded me of the pub my dad took me to once in a while when I was a kid. I looked around, the place was full of men. Grown men. Not the romanticed, rich, hot grown men. The grown men that are repulsive, that are deadbeat, whose beer bellies and sweat marks speak for themselves. There were a couple of young dudes that eyed me up and down. At least their glances were less creepy than  the other men. I walked to the counter and asked for a beer. The woman behind it was slightly surprised. Was it because I wasn’t drenched in sweat? or because I was a woman too? The woman poured me a beer, she didn’t even ask for my ID.

With the glass on my hand I walked to an empty pool table. I felt their eyes on me, their gazes like predators stalking their prey. I’m not prey. Their eyes go up and down, observing how my hip swayed while I walked to the pool table. In some way, I Liked the attention these strangers gave to me. It was creepy and unwanted but I was getting seen. I put the beer aside as I grab the pool stick, the beer still on my eyeview always. I prepared the table and started playing.

I couldn’t hear the door opening between the people talking, the balls clicking and the tv blasting some shit program. I didn’t notice who will become the man that changed the course of my life getting inside. Fool of myself, this would be the last time he would go unnoticed in my life. It’s not till I felt someone behind me that I noticed him. And it’s not until I felt his body over mine, bending over me, that I realized he was trouble. 

“If you hit it like that, you won’t score anything, sweetheart” I felt his breath near my neck. It wasn’t nasty, but it was overwhelming. His light stubble on his chin brushed on my neck, his sunglasses hit my ear slightly. “Don’t you wanna score? or are you just trying to provoke?” 

I chuckled bitterly, pushing him off me. I turned, expecting to see one of the grown creepy men or maybe one of the young ones, but he was different. Different to any man I’ve met before. He radiated confidence to the point of cockyness. His mesh top left little to imagination, covered by a red leather jacket. His hands were pocketed on his camo jeans. He was relaxed, leaning back.

“I don’t need your help” I answer, grabbing my beer to take a sip “I know how to play pool already”

“So you play incorrectly on purpose?” he smirks as he talks. I could see his chipped tooth, it added a certain charm to him. He took off his sunglasses, hooking them in his shirt. His eyes were deep but light blue, like the sea. They pierced through me, like they were trying to undress me on the spot.

“If you are trying to flirt with me like that, you are failing” I chuckle and that makes him laugh. His laugh it’s sour and proud. He bites his lip, rolling his eyes.

“Ah, love, I don’t think I am your type” My eyebrow quirks up, curious. I put down my beer beside me, my hip leaning against the pool table. “You want someone that’s easy, your ideal boyfriend is in an office right now, what are you doing there?” He winks at me, he leans into me and he grabs the side of the table to stabilize himself.

“You don’t know me” I mutter, slightly intimidated by his presence I ask, letting out the air I didn’t know I was holding. His body gets closer to mine, his eyes looking into mine like trying to get into my soul. “What do you want?”

He chuckled, eyeing me up and down one last time before turning away and leaving my side. I look at him walking away. It’s almost like light radiates out of him. I felt my throat dry so I went to grab my beer.

Sucker.

He just stole my beer.

I tidied up the pool table. My head started to feel dizzy and my tummy felt funny. As soon as I got out of the place I took a deep breath. It’s like I forgot for a hot moment how fresh air felt. I started to rush home; it’s not like I was scared, but I felt like I needed to leave as soon as possible. His words spinned on my head. 

My ideal boyfriend is in an office right now.

Now it’s too late for normal shifts.

He does night shifts or is he a workaholic?

Lies. I don’t like office workers.

Before I could realize it I arrived at my apartment. I climbed the stairs and rushed inside. I took off my shoes then my jacket then I stripped off to just my panties. Man how I love not having a roommate. There was nothing to eat on the fridge and nothing to see on the TV. Not like there was something on there usually. I don’t know why I keep paying for this thing.

I walked to my bedroom and laid in bed. I wasn’t trying to sleep; I knew I couldn’t. The same way I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Him.

Mesh top. Red leather jacket.Camo jeans. Red sunglasses.

Before I could think of anything else, I took off my panties. Why was I doing this? I’m not this kind of girl. I don’t care why. My lips parted slightly when I feel my fingers on my clit.

How he smirked with every cocky comment he made. I let out a whimper. How the mesh top showed off his body. Another moan. Him bending over me, his thighs against my ass, his chest on top of my back. A finger slipped inside. His breath on my neck, how his stubble felt. Another finger in. How would his fingers feel? His hands were surely big. I was moaning as my fingers worked on my pleasure. I don’t even know his name. If I knew it, I would be moaning it. I would love to moan it. He’s a creep. I’m a freak.

After I came I stayed still, laying in bed, panting. He’s a creep. I just masturbated thinking about him. Wasn’t even about him naked. He’s erotic in nature. I’m a pervert.

6 am. My alarm sounds. Today is Monday.

Before I get out of bed I stay in there for half an hour, then I walk to shower. My shower takes longer than needed and I’m running late. I don’t care. I put on whatever then I grab my things. Most of them aren’t mine anyways, I haven’t brought a single pen since sixth grade, I just find them around.

I get on the subway. The walk there is 35 minutes long and I waited around 10 for it to come. I didn’t pay for it. I sometimes think about why I choose to live this far from my college. I don’t know and I don’t care. It’s a quiet zone. I hate going to class, maybe I’ll drop out.

This wagon is full of people. Overcrowded. I hate that. I think about how many of them have paid for this. Paying to be uncomfortable. I paid for college and I don’t like it but I think that’s different from this.

I’m different.

I’m going to have a future.

I get out of the subway and I start to walk to my college. I see the coffee shop I always pass by and my stomach growls. When was the last time I ate something? It’s going to be now. I end up leaving the shop with an espresso; it’s mid. As I walked to the building I remembered why I never stop to buy there.

I get to class, it’s the third one of the day. I hate this course.My class is full of people who believe they have a chance to succeed. They think their life has a meaning; worse, they think that said meaning will be found in books.

I skipped my last class after suffering two full classes. I’m almost dropping out but I have to prove I’m better than them.

I’m better than that.

I’m better than my family.

I’m better than the men from Lou’s tavern

I’m not prey.

Every Saturday I think about him.

Who is he? Is he at the tavern?

Every Saturday I go to Lou’s tavern.

I get here, I buy a beer, I play pool, he’s not there, I go back home.

Am I turning into the men there? No.

Life has no meaning.

I hung out with Lisa, a friend. I haven’t seen her in what felt like ages. She’s really nice, I knew her from grade school. She’s really excited.

“It’s so sad that you couldn’t come to my wedding!” Lisa says. She’s drinking some orange juice and asked me not to smoke in front of her. That’s weird coming from her.

“Yeah, I don’t know how the invitation got lost in the mail.” I lied. I received the invitation but hid it between all the shit I don't want to go to. I don’t like weddings. They are meaningless, histrionic acts.

“Well, I have news!” She seems so happy, her smile is from ear to ear and she grabs my wrists from excitement.

“Are you leaving Michael?” I chuckle, but I’m not joking. I hate that man. He has no personality, all he does is work, watch sports and lawn his backyard. Michael and Lisa are highschool sweethearts, he would be playing football professionally if he ‘didn’t break his foot in that highschool football match’. That’s a lie. He’s mid.

“Don’t be silly!” She laughed it off, her hands going down to grab my hands. I look at her lightly furrowing my eyebrows. “I’m pregnant!”

I click my tongue then I smile “Oh, that’s… good”. That makes her smile drop and she rolls her eyes after. I don’t get what she expected, I hate Michael and I don’t think having a baby will do any good. I get up and leave some money to Lisa to pay for my part “I don’t feel like lying to you more, so I’m leaving. I also have shit to do, so I’ll see you later or whatever”

Then I leave. I can’t stand her for long. There was a time we were on the same page. Now we are not. Since she is with Michael she changed. Before she told me about this pregnant nonsense, we talked about the tavern dude, but she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get he’s special. She thinks he’s just like any other man. Michael is like any other man, he’s not.

Now I am in class and the man who usually sits in front of me is beaten up. His lip is bursted, his right eye cannot open, and both his eyes have dark purple, red and yellow like it was makeup; but clearly it wasn’t, it was bruised. He has cuts on his eyebrow and cheekbone, framing his face.

His friends ask him what happened. After much back and forth and a lot of hesitating he finally tells him about a club. A fight club. A fight club in Lou’s tavern on Saturday night. He’s not supposed to talk about it.

That night I went back home and I couldn't stop thinking about it.

A fight club.

Saturday night I go to fight club. I go down to the basement, a lot of men are waiting for something. They circle around one man.

It 's him.

“I look around, I look around, I see a lot of new faces” His voice resonates in the room, then the room fills with laughter “shut up!” I flinch then the room quiets violently “which means a lot of people have been breaking the first two rules of Fight club.”

It’s hypnotizing his way of talking, how he can give a speech on the spot. All eyes are on him, the attention undivided and drowning him but he floats over it effortless. His eyes turned to me. We look at each other's eyes directly, making him smirk.

“The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club.” He starts to explain the rules, direct and clear. “The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club!” I listen to him like I’m one of his men, his followers. “Third rule of Fight Club: if someone yells “stop!”, goes limp, or taps out, the fight is over.” he crosses his arms, flexing his muscles. I hate to admit it but he looks good “Fourth rule: only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule: one fight at a time.”the rules are reasonable, I have to admit. “Sixth rule: No shirt, no shoes. Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to.” After this, his gaze goes directly into my eyes, piercing through me “And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight.”

Oh no.

He gets out of the circle and lets a fight start. They are bloody, brutal, to say the least. Two dudes charging their anger against each other. Fighting for nothing. Nobody wins or loses. Nothing gets solved. It’s violence for violence. I try to blend with the mass of men, trying to hide, hoping he had forgotten about me being in there.

1 am.

“I didn’t catch your name” It’s him. I froze. I don’t know what to say.

“I didn’t catch yours neither” 

“Tyler Durden” He answers, then he hooks his hand on the back of my neck “if this is your first night at fight club, you have to fight” he taunts me, pulling me to the center of the circle, clear as the last fight finished already. I try to escape, but I can’t.

He throws me in the middle then he strips off his shirt and shoes.

“No shirt, no shoes”

I sigh, accepting my fate. I take off my shirt. I see all the men around me drop their gazes onto me, some of them whistle and others yell. Tyler shuts them off. Hypocrite, he whistled too. But I don’t mind him.

As soon as I push off my shoes, Tyler punches my face. It stings, makes my head spin and I see everything blurry, the pain takes over any thought I previously had.

“Come on!” Tyler yells. He makes my mind come back to this moment, and I punch him back.

It quickly turned dirty. I could feel the blood on my face . I could feel his hand hit my face and I could feel how I could barely punch back.

If someone yells stop, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.

I didn’t yell stop. I didn’t went limp. I didn’t tap out.

I felt the floor hit my head, and as soon as I tried to get up, Tyler was on top of me. I pushed him off and I climbed on top of him. One, two, three punches. Then I was back under him. He pulls me back up and I take advantage of the moment to hit him back.

“Yeah! That’s it!” He laughs. He spit blood then another hit landed on my face when I was too distracted by his smile. I don’t know for how long we fought, or how long we went back and forth hitting each other, but I tripped over in some moment and I hit my head.

Next thing I can feel is two men dragging me to the side. I don’t know if Tyler told them so or if it was what always happened.

I wake up and the first thing I see it’s the basement. I touch my head, my hands still have blood on them. I barely can make sense of where I am, my head spins from the pain and my vision is blurry. I can barely get up, and I only made it up by supporting myself with the wall.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty” I flinch when Tyler’s voice fills the room. I turn my head to the side to look at him as he looks as bad as I probably look. I remember the fight, how he was the beast and I was its prey.

“Who are you?” I ask, dragging the wall for support. I have trouble breathing and I don’t want to look directly at Tyler. I don’t want to see what I did to him again.

He steps closer, he’s smirking probably, he’s always smirking. His movements are lazy but cocky. He walks with confidence. He grabs my face forcing me to make eye contact with him.

“The real question is, who are you?” He asks ¡, smirking. I wish I could punch that pretty smirk out of his face.

“I am Winter, I study literature in college” I say as vague as possible, I don’t remember right now the name of my shit college and it’s not like I care that much. He clicks his tongue.

“So you base who you are as a person on what you study? You are more than that” He is still gripping my face, holding it still.”You are not your degree”

“Then tell me what I am, If you know me so well” I challenge him, hissing. I try to move my head but he doesn’t let go.

“You are decaying organic matter, the same as everyone else. You are not special. You are not different” That hurted. What hurted more was how he was smirking and how he tilted his head in amusement.

I slapped him. That makes him laugh, that sour mischievous laugh. He squeezed a little more my face as he leaned in a little more. He is sickeningly close. He makes direct eye contact with me, looking into my eyes like he’s trying to pierce my soul. I could feel his breath hitting me, mixing with my own. Then, he closed the gap between us. He kisses me. He tastes like cigarettes and mint gum. My first instinct is to kiss him back but instead I force myself to push him away.

“You are a crazy pervert!” I yelled at him, using the little motivation I had to leave the basement. As I left I could hear him laugh.

As I rushed back home I felt everyone looking at me. Was the bruising or the fact that I was shoeless and shirtless?. I felt like it was elementary school again. You are the weird girl already, but on top of that you mixed the dates of pajama day so everyone is laughing and pointing at you. As soon as I was back in my place I rushed to my bathroom to clean my face.

I stopped going to class. I wasn’t feeling like going anyways. Sometimes I thought if my classmates were noticing I wasn’t going to class lately. I doubt it; and I don’t care either.

A knock.

Someone knocked on my door.

As I open my door I realize my mistake; it’s Lisa. I didn't show up to the hangout days ago and I’m not answering any calls so naturally she came to check on me. Her eyes widen when she takes in my state.

“Oh my god! What happened? Was that bar guy?” She asked horrified, her hand reaching out to caress my cheek. I slap her hand away.

“No, and it’s none of your business” I answer back. I don’t want her to get in my shit, she doesn’t understand the real world. She hasn’t got a real problem in her life. She married her highschool “sweetheart”, she’s in her dream job and she’s having a baby.

“Please, winter” Lisa whines, I can’t stand her when she gets like this. “I just want to help you!” I scoff after she says that. Help me? Does she seriously think I need her help? Either way she can’t. I don’t need it, and even if that was the case I wouldn’t want it. Why would I want her help? Why would I want to feed her saviour complex?

“Lisa, just get out of my place” I say as I close the door. She blocks the door pushing the door with her hand. That makes me insanely angry, I don’t know why exactly. I grab her by the collar of her shirt “Get out of my fucking place!” I growl, pushing her away. I don’t let her speak as I shut the door.

I am an asshole.

I don’t care.

I go to the bathroom. I am still bruised but I really don’t care. It doesn’t feel wrong. My wounds don't feel wrong. My bruised face doesn’t feel wrong. My wounded knuckles don't feel wrong. Tyler kiss didn’t feel wrong.

Tyler Durden 

Tyler Durden kissed me.

He kissed me after beating me up and it felt good. I'm a pervert.

My visits to the fight club started to grow, not always to fight, but like the visits my participation in fights were more frequent, I could see the men I fought against staring at my chest. I use that to my advantage, when their eyes go down to my tits I land a punch to their face. Then another punch. And a third and a fourth till they punch back.

I haven't seen Tyler in a while, and when he came by he never fought. I miss his knuckles on my cheekbones, I miss feeling his weight on top of me. It was dirty, perverted and kinky. There were no other words to describe how I felt. How I felt every time I saw him on that basement. How I felt when I was two fingers inside me, two wounded knuckles fucking myself while I fantasizing about Tyler. Fantasies of Tyler on top of me. Fantasies about his fingers fucking me instead of mine. Would his fingers feel as good inside of me as they felt hitting my face? Would his weight feel as good on top of me when he would be thrusting inside of me instead of holding me down?

Tyler Durden made me orgasm just by the thought of him.

After more fights I got used to the stares on class. I didn't care anymore. I wasn't that little girl who got days mixed anymore.

Saturday night and I went earlier than usual to Lou's tavern. Now men didn't look at me like prey. They knew I wasn't their prey, but only I knew I was Tyler Durden prey only.

I was sitting alone in a booth, I was considering ordering a beer but before I could it was like he could read my mind. As he put a glass of beer in front of me I knew it was him; his broken knuckles, the sleeves of his red leather jacket and the mix of tobacco and cologne spoke for themselves. It was Tyler Durden.

“I owe you one, don't I?” Tyler sat down in front of me. “Any luck on finding your corporate-slave prince?”

“I hate those guys” I scoffed and he laughed. “All day in an office, no other personality than complaining about their boss. Idiots, they signed up for that”

“They are not idiots, though” He smirks, tilting his glass slightly. I drink from my own beer while I try to decipher him. “Do you know what they are? What they are when they do nothing but work to buy, buy and buy, they do nothing but consume”

“So.. consumers?” This is a test and I'm bullshiting it. I'm blind guessing the answers and my only feedback are Tyler smiles.

“Right, consumers” Minipoint for me. I smile when he says I'm right, it's automatic by this point, it's a natural reaction. “We are the by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty” he made a pause to click his tongue “these things don't concern me”

“Then what concerns you, Durden?” I ask back. My forearms rest on the table and I lean into them, resting my weight on them to look closer into Tyler.

“What concerns me” he drinks from his beer “are celebrities magazines, televisions with 500 channels, some guys name on my underwear” my eyebrow furrows, how he can't stop surprising me? It's impressive “Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra… fuck Martha Stewart. Martha polishing the brass on Titanic. It's all going down, woman. So fuck off with his office jobs and white collar shirt”

Wow.

I drink my beer, then I look at him directly into his eyes.

“Living with the fake belief of freedom” I say a little lower “They call freedom the act of isolating themselves unwillingly after working 9 to 5, 5 to 9”

“The consumer curse” he chuckled. His eyes wandered to the tavern that's emptying on its own.

“It's getting ready” I say, finishing my beer in one sitting “Aren't we consumers too, in some way?” I ask. That catches his attention, his interest peaking up. I like that “We consume the fights, it's a show, almost a performance”

He chuckled in response as he got out of the booth. He leaves and his scent lingers in the Air, it's a mix of cigarettes, cheap fragrance and some type of chemical.

I got out of the booth too, feeling like I was sitting in that booth for too long. I go down to the basement and get inside the circle. Angels face is there already so today I got to fight him.

No shirt, no shoes. If someone yells stop, goes limp or taps out the fight is over. Fight will go on as long as they need to.

This fight was different from the rest, not because of angel face or me, my knuckles still bloodied, and he would still throw me around then I would yabe to get up again. The difference was Tyler Durden. Tyler Durden saw; not saw, observed, me hitting Angel face till he didn't look so angelic. Tyler Durden observed me getting thrown around. Tyler Durden observed me get up again. Tyler Durden observed Angel face screaming stop after the last punch hitting his face was too much.

I got out of the circle, I could hear the men walking into it behind me but I couldn't care less. My undivided attention fell onto Tyler.

Tyler Durden.

I like how his name sounds.

“Nice tits” Tyler comments and that makes me blush slightly. Oh my god. What am I? 15? “Even nicer with angel face blood over them”

His eyes roamed my torso, shamelessly staring at my chest. It feels like everything around me goes silent as I look into him. He is bold, arrogant and free. But he’s not like those men who call themselves carefree then they are chained to their worries, he is truly free. Free to disappear. Free to act however he wants with everyone. Free to not care.

I only put on my shoes before he grabbed my arm and pulled away from the crowd up the stairs. He walks determined, every step has intention. I don’t know where he is taking me but I don’t care.

He pulls me into a car, opening the door to hop on. I look at him, his blue eyes, his cocky smile. I could walk away; but I didn’t want to. I hop inside the car and as he gets in the driver side I realize the car smells just like him too.

He goes to a part of town I’ve never been to before. It’s a lonely part, I almost can’t see any cars and the houses are old. He pulls in front of one of them. This one it’s almost falling down on itself, it’s old and clearly abandoned.

He pulls me out of the car and brings me inside the house. As soon as the door closed behind me his hands were on my waist pulling me into a kiss.

His tongue didn’t waste time, pushing my bruised lips apart and finding its way into my mouth. His hands grab my waist and squeeze it. My tongue gets inside his mouth too, needynes washing over me. My hands grab the back of his neck, pushing him closer.

Tyler's hands were warm against my skin. I could feel his fingers wander over my skin. The house was quiet, only muted breaths and whimpers could be heard. I gasp when I feel his fingers brush against my bra as his lips start to trail down. His hands grab my chest over my bra as he kisses my neck. His lips go down to my chest and licks off angel face blood. That makes me whimper, every second more and more turned on. 

“Bedroom” He commands, rushing me to follow him. I take off my shoes on the way there and he drops off his jacket after his own shoes. Tylers room was simple, his mattress was on the floor and there was barely any furniture apart from the ones strictly necessary. 

His hands are on me again. They squeeze my hips pulling me closer again. I kiss him first now, hungry and missing how he tasted. His hands move to my ass and squeeze it, pulling a moan out of me. His hands fondled my ass and it was like they were made to fit each other. He chuckled as he heard me whimpering, messing over unbuttoning his shirt. 

He leaves open kisses on my neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. I gasped softly when his hands left my ass to unclasp my bra. My breasts are freed but soon after they start to be fondled by his hands. As his hand squeezed and caressed them soft sighs came out of my mouth. His mouth trails down and captures one of his nipples on his mouth. His other hand pinch the other one, rolling it between his fingers. My hands tangle in his hair, pushing him closer as I let out sweet whimpers. He moves to my other breast, not neglecting any of them.

He freed my nipple with a pop and picked me up grabbing me by my ass. He dropped me into his bed then dropped to his knees. He takes off my jeans, exposing my wet panties. I can see him lick his lips before he turns me on my belly. He presses his clothed bulge against my ass as he pulls down my underwear.

I can feel his jeans against my bare cunt, making me whimper as he grinds against me. He grabs my ass firmly then chuckles when he feels my hips grind back. He turns my face to the side, grabbing me by my jaw forcing me to open my mouth

“Fucking slut” He spit and it landed on my mouth, which I swallowed. Before this I thought whoever was into this was nasty, but now I could only pray about another one, another that I wish landed on my face. He has that pretty smirk on his face, showing me how well he knew I was his. He grabs me by my hips, and as my face is still turned to the side he can see how it contourns in pleasure and pain when he smacks my ass firmly “damping my jeans, so horny and wet only by grinding”

Tyler keeps slapping my ass a couple of times, giving equal attention to both sides. My cunt drenching, Tyler’s jeans wet from my fluids.

He abandons my ass as he sits beside me. He pulls down his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free, it’s big, not too much length or thickness, it’s balanced perfectly. I turn to face his lap, licking my lips.

“Good girl, doesn’t even need to be told what to do” he praised me, making me even more wet. My hand wrapped around his shaft and I gave it a few pumps which raised a few groans out of him. I looked up to him, opening my mouth so he could spit again on it.

His face was red from arousal and a moan escaped out his mouth when I gave a teasing lick to his cock, spreading on it his own spit. I wrapped my lips around the tip and lowered my head down his cock. First it was more shallow, then I could low my head more, bringing his length deeper, his tip tipping my throat. His hand tangled on my hair, pushing me deeper while his hip thrusted up. He was everything but quiet, moaning and groaning while he fucked my mouth. After a while I could start tasting the saltiness from his precum.

“Bitch, I’m gonna fill your mouth up so good” He groans, hitting my throat with every thrust.

I am Tyler Durden bitch and I love it.

“Fuck!” He moans out as she shoots his load down my throat. I swallowed his warm cum as it filled my throat. After a second I pull his cock out my mouth. He grabbed my jaw and pulled me up. “Open wide” I obey, showing him my empty wet mouth “good”

His hands lowers from my jaw to my throat and he throws me into my back. He gets on top of me, and without freeing my throat, he grabs his shaft and lines it up with my entrance teasingly.

“You wanna have my bare cock inside you, hm?” He teases. I nod, whimpering. He squeezes my throat “Bitch, use your words. Do you want me raw?”

“Y-yes, please” I whimper. I let out a moan when he slaps me. My cheek burns but that makes me smile.

“Did you like that, whore? Do you want me to hit you while I breed you?” He laughed, going inside me in one swift motion. I let out a loud moan when he starts to thrust inside me.without warning. 

His thrusts start shallow, fast, pulling almost out then back inside. His hand on my throat squeezes from time to time. My legs wrap around his hips pushing him closer.

“More… please Tyler” I plead, whining.My whines shutted up when he punched my face. My head dizzy from the combination of the choking and the hit, and I loved it. I could have never guessed I was into this, but here I was.

Tyler thrusts grew more brutal, rough and animalistics. My cunt gripped him like a vice, clenching around him. My moans were dirty, perverted. This wasn’t normal sex, we weren’t dating and this wasn’t romantic. This was rough, kinky, animalistic sex.

I closed my eyes, lost in the sensation of him in and out. Another hit landed on my face, forcing me to open my eyes.

“Look at me” Tyler commands, squeezing my neck again. I gasped as he increased his pace “Don’t waste this moment being somewhere else”

“I’m here” I whimper. I grip on his back, digging my nails hard enough to leave marks.

“You’re here?” He mocks me, smiling playfully. His smile holds lust, game and trouble. That smile mocked my pleasure and that made my body shiver in pleasure. As his cock pushed deeper and harder, he grabbed my thighs and pushed them to my belly, my knees over his shoulders. In this angle he can go deeper, his pelvic bone hitting my clit. I could feel the warm tension on my tummy, my orgasm building up.

“Ya wanna cum, huh?” he groans, his pace quickening. I nod and he punches me a third time “I told you to use your words, bitch. Bad girls don’t get to cum” He threatens, his hand going to my neck to choke me again.

“Y-yes, I wanna cum!” I pleaded between pathetic moans. His fingers find my clit, circling it. “Fuck-k, I’m cumming Tyler”

“Yes, bitch, be my good girl and show me how much you want me” He moaned, getting closer to orgasm too. I could feel his pace quickening and becoming even more erratic “cum for me”

I came around his cock, moaning loudly his name. With a final thrust, he pushed his length deep inside my cunt and filled me with his cum to the brim, riding out my orgasm.  He gave a last couple thrusts to make sure his cum stayed inside before collapsing on top of me.

This sealed the contract; I was already his and he knew it. I can’t escape him and I can’t avoid the obsession building up. I never knew I could want a man like this. This wasn’t normal.

Tyler Durden wasn’t normal.

Neither was I.

[occasional-yan-stuff]

He was always there. Every time you went back, he was always there. You don't know what kept pulling you back to that abandoned old house down the road. Maybe it was the mystery of the place that enchanted you, maybe it was the strange beauty of all the old, worn-out surfaces, or maybe you just couldn't stand to abandon him.

The kids in your neighborhood said the house was haunted, but that couldn't have been right, could it? You were old enough to know that ghosts weren't real, and yet... he was always there. Always sitting at the grand piano in the ball room in that exact same position, always acting as though he hadn't seen you in years whether you'd only been gone for a few months or even just a few minutes.

"I thought I would never see you again!" flinging his arms around your neck with the exact same intonation every time, but ghosts weren't real. You knew ghosts weren't real.

Sometimes you'd catch him staring at a rectangle on the wall that was slightly less faded than the rest of the wall paper. Around the third time you saw him doing this you finally decided to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

"This is a painting of my mother," he responded. It wasn't, of course, but you decided not to push the question.

There were also times when you'd see him blow on the golden candelabra that sat on the little table by the window. The candles were melted to stumps and never had flame in them when he did this. When he did it the first time it resulted in a cloud of dust that he didn't seem to notice, and when you asked about it he simply took your hand and said "more romantic lighting, my dear." You asked him what he meant but all he did was smile at you as the two of you started dancing.

It always ended with dancing. The world- or possibly your mind- filled up with music that you could find the source of, and he took you, and he twirled you, and the hours fell away into nothing. By the end of it he always begged you to stay with him, pleading for you to remain in his home forever. It was a cute little game between the two of you... you think.

One night you actually did try to sleep in one of the old creaky beds in the mansion, but it was far too cold and the whole thing made you itchy and uncomfortable. You checked the other bed rooms but there was no sign of him. Finally, you returned to the ball room. Even at that ungodly hour he was still there, sitting at his piano. You called out his name and he turned around in surprise. "I thought I would never see you again!" And so the cycle repeated and the two of you danced the night away.

He never seemed to like it when you talked about your friends.

"We see each other so little, my dear," he'd say with crossed arms, "can you not lend a bit more attention to me instead?" The way he pretended to be grumpy always made you chuckle. He was pretending, wasn't he?

Each time he held you, he acted like it was the last time he ever would. He took in every part of you, your smell, the feeling of your skin, everything. There had even been a few times that he had licked your neck but he always denied it when you asked. When you were just getting to know him, he would always cry when you wouldn't kiss him.

"What has changed?" he would ask, "have I done something wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" you would respond, "we've never kissed before."

"Oh, how I hate when you play this game!" was all he would say in response. Always the same intonation. Always the same expression. Always the same.

You started going back more and more, longer and longer. You always felt tired after leaving the mansion. Fatigued, like waking up from a dream. Sometimes you would return home with wrinkles you didn't remember having or a band aid you could have sworn you never put on. Scrolling through your friends' social media pages, you'd see pictures with you in them. Pictures you didn't remember being taken.

every time you went back things seemed just a bit different. The candles grew taller and taller, the wall paper more vibrant, and a painting of a woman was placed on the wall. When did that get there? Every night was just the same. You danced, you kissed, you loved. It was paradise. He was paradise.

One night, after a particularly long visit, you returned home. You hadn't wanted to but you had a life outside the mansion... didn't you? You stepped back into your home and a man was there, a man you had never met. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you.

"so, how was work?"

No. This was wrong. You pushed him off of you and rushed into the bathroom. Your eyes fell onto the mirror and you clapped your hand over your mouth. The person staring back at you was near unrecognizable. It was you, sort of, but at the same time not at all. You stared down at your shaking hands. Your left had a golden ring on one of its fingers. You hadn't put that there. You hadn't put that there! This was all wrong. All so very very wrong. Tears played at the corners of your eyes as you rushed out of the house and back down the road. The mansion was the only place you felt safe anymore. The mansion was the only place you were yourself anymore. You ran and you ran all the way to the ball room. Your breath was heavy and sweat glued your hair to the ball room.

"I never thought I would see you again!"

The night played out as it always did. You danced, you kissed, you loved. Just as always, he begged you to stay. This time you said yes.

[succubus-hansol]

.₊•✧˚┊ ChanLix X Mn ┊˚✧•₊.

This is a continuation of this post xx

Felix would be wearing a black lacy thong with a pretty butt plug. Chan has assless boxers on for easy access 😏

There would be so much biting, slapping, scratching, drooling etc. Mn would either be a stylist, actor, or solo artist. And this idea could work in many ways. The boys are idols in skz, they are a little-known rock band, many more possibilities.

Chan and Lix are doing their photo shoot and keep sending Mn pictures and videos, Lix sends a video of Chan on set posing for his pic and he's lowly mumbling about their bad dog. Of course they send a video of them making out and grinding on each other to their third boyfriend, just to fuck with him while he's at work. Usually they're not allowed to touch but they look forward to the punishments Mn could and will give them for disobeying his orders.

Chan and Felix get back to their shared apartment with Mn before him. The nest of blankets and pillows from last night's movie marathon in the lounge still set up and a perfect stage for their fun. Hands roaming, teeth clashing, noises come so naturally. They're so excited for how Mn will react when he gets home, they love fucking with him. Felix showing his delicate body off with sensual moves and purposeful actions. Chan with words and attitude, acting like a tough guy who could break anyone.

They help each other get ready for what's to come, helping Felix stretch out and insert his butt plug. Getting on their panties and photo shoot outfits, how they managed to get them home god only knows.

The smirk on Lixxies face when Mn sees them still dressed up like that could make any man crumble, and the smirk would only widen as Chan fists his hand into Lix's hair to pull his head back for easier access to mark up his neck.

Three-way kissing is a fuckin must in this situation. Mn would 100% make them play with each other saying something like "You guys didn't need me earlier, keep going" and they would, but they'd keep looking at Mn and whining. Mn would make Chris stretch himself out in front of him and Lix, putting on a performance before commanding Felix to help him out. Knowing his small fingers wouldn't be much better but both boys are just too easy to please. They are bratty of course, very vocal in a way they think puts them on top. But Mn knows these fuckers, knows their games and how to slowly break them down into nothing

Again Bad Boy Power Bottom Chris, forced to ride Mn and finally he thinks he has the upper hand, like he's about to win this fight till Mn laughs at him and bucks up. Throwing Chan for a loop and losing composure.

Don't forget Lixxie tho, he needs some dick too. Mn would bend him in half, legs up against his chest as jostled with the force of Mn's thrusting. Drool slipping from his open mouth, which would be slurped up by Chris who might slip his cock into Felix's awaiting mouth. Felix loves to feel full.

And Mn telling Lix to suck Chris off like a good little slut. "Look at him Lixxie doll, you're making him such a dumb dog with just your mouth" and Chris would groan so loud with a drawn-out "fuucckkk"

[ririya-translates]

Kokuto Neji's Story

Translation of Neji's concept art short story (original) for his birthday on March 22nd. Story by Shin Towada (JJ lead writer and Ishida's sister). Art by Lownine. Much like the others, there aren't really any spoilers as it's at the very beginning of the game before the first play.

The stage is a gigantic machine. Jacks and Jeannes are the gears and I'm the mechanic who assembles them all.

The darkened room is lit solely by a clattering computer with light strong enough to rival the midday sun. The bookshelves along the walls are crammed tight beyond usual capacity. The remaining books that couldn't fit have been turned into a fort on the floor. "Hmmm." Out of that pile, he easily picks out a book while holding a cup of coffee in his other hand. The one craning his neck towards the computer screen is the owner of this room. He's a third-year at Univeil Drama School. Working under somewhat special circumstances, he's the leader of Quartz: Kokuto Neji. His classmates include the Quartz Al Jeanne, Sarafumi Takashina, and Jack Ace, Kai Mutsumi. Taking liberal advantage of Univeil's culture of respect for personal autonomy, Neji doesn't just write and perform. He's able to act as both a Jack and a Jeanne, using his many talents to bring the performance together. Even now, he's in the middle of making preparations for the newcomers' performance. His eyes dart around as he scrolls through the screen. He's fidgety inside his head. For this reason, a knock at the door rings out unusually strongly.

"Yes, yes, come iiiin!" As Neji snaps back to reality, he opens the door with a feeling of anticipation. "Thanks." Behind the door stands a person with pale skin and soft hair. So soft it's as if the colour has faded and dissolved. This utterly adorable person raises his eyes towards Neji. "Why on earth would you call me over here then ignore me? I have things to do too you know." The edge of criticism in his voice gives a very different impression from his outside appearance. "Sorry about that, Shirota!" Mitsuki Shirota. He's a second-year, one year below Neji. As one would expect from his looks, he's been assigned to female roles as a Jeanne. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd actually show up." Shirota's eyes grow sharper as he speaks without hesitation. "Using a first-year as your carrier pigeon, what kind of excuse is that?" Neji had casually requested one of the brand new Quartz students to send Shirota to his office. "Well weren't you the one who told me to stop asking Kai to do things?" "Obviously. You shouldn't be using our Jack Ace for your trivial errands." "Right, so instead I asked this new person to be a pinch hitter." "I said to stop doing that too. Ugh, what do you want?" "How did that kid get you to come here? What kinda trap did he use?" "…You called me here for no reason didn't you. I'm leaving." "Hey, wait!" As Shirota turns to leave, Neji holds out both of his hands as if to say 'I'm sorry, I'm screwed up!' Shirota's expression darkens, recognizing that Neji hasn't reflected on his actions one bit. "So? What do you want?" Neji prefaces his words with, "I guess I messed up a bit," before finally cutting to the chase. "What is your impression of the first-years?" Shirota furrows his brow. "You asked Fumi and Kai this too, didn't you?" "You're right, I did!" He had asked both Fumi and Kai the same question. "If you have answers from both the Al Jeanne and Jack Ace, that should be enough. Why do you need to ask me too?" "What are you talking about?! You're our Tresor. You're our flower too!" Tresor is the name for Univeil Jeannes with strong singing abilities. The title suits Shirota perfectly. His outstanding vocal talents add vibrant colour to their performances. It's popular with audiences too. "I am glad you're with Quartz still though. I know you're pretty in-demand with Rhodonite." Shirota stays silent at the mention of that name. Univeil is divided into four separate classes with their own special traits. As the "transparent" Quartz class, they are primarily made up of inexperienced performers who have yet to find their true colours. This could put the class at a disadvantage, but really there are quite a few who enrol brimming with hidden talents. Quartz gives them the space to let those talents free. The content of their performances are tailored specifically for the current state of the class. The songs, dances, acting, all of it.

In contrast, classes like Onyx and Rhodonite have clearly defined colours. Powerful Jack dancers are the main selling point of Onyx, whereas Rhodonite pushes the dazzling singing talents of their Jeannes front and centre. Considering Shirota's abilities, it wouldn't be strange at all for him to have been sorted into Rhodonite. Actually, Rhodonite's class leader is pretty taken with him. But whatever class you look at, all of them are desperately aiming for that top spot -- now more than ever.

"So? What do you think of this year's new students?" Neji's tone of voice drops for the first time in this conversation,"You know it won't be good if things stay as they are, right? What with Amber and all…" That's the name of the fourth Univeil class. But it's hard to act as if the others are on equal ground with them. Shirota seems to grasp the weight of these words. He grips the sky blue tie around his neck as he appears deep in thought. He finally opens his mouth. "…There are three people I noticed," he says bluntly. Starting with Person 1. "Orimaki. I don't know how he got into Univeil with his singing skills so low, but his voice is strong and direct." Onto Person 2. "Yonaga. Him being as he is, he's a late bloomer who's constantly nervous about how he even got into Univeil. But he also thinks twice as much about the meaning of each song. That being said…"

Shirota's immediate answer suddenly hits a pause. "It's possible both of them just got my attention because they aren't very good." "In that case, they should consider themselves lucky you graced your eyes on them." Neji jokes then stares at him intently. "And the third person?" Mitsuki sighs at being asked for his final answer. "It's the one you made into your little carrier pigeon." A voice deep in Neji's heart whispers 'I knew it.' "So then, does our carrier pigeon also have a glimmer of sparkle out of a mountain of problems like Orimaki and Yonaga do?" "No, that guy is…" Shirota hesitates a moment as he chooses his words carefully. "I still don't know yet." "You don't know, which means…?" "Exactly what I said." He speaks as if to say he will give no further comment on the matter. "Is that enough for you now? I'm leaving." Having finished what he was asked, Shirota heads for the door. "Ah, one last thing! How did this pigeon get you to come over here?" Shirota is the type who prefers not to group up with others in class. He keeps a distance between himself and other people. He's not the type someone could easily convince by just asking outright. Even moreso if it comes from a student younger than him. "……" Shirota responds to Neji's hastily thrown words with silence. He opens the door to leave. That's as far as we're getting today, is it? "…It wasn't anything special." Neji's mood suddenly shifts at the sound of a reply he didn't expect to ever hear. "I was just taking a short break during practice and he came up to me and said 'Neji was asking for you'." A surprised 'ohh?' slips out of Neji's mouth. "So in other words, he chose when to make the request based on timing that would work for you?" There are times when Shirota is busy singing of course; however, there are also a lot of times when he appears to be doing nothing, but is actually busy arranging music in his mind. Figuring out the timing of when he's truly taking a break is no easy task. Even aside from the music, there are times when he doesn't want to be hassled with having to talk to someone. Using this understanding of his quirks, that carrier pigeon was able to start up a conversation. "Isn't that actually quite special after all?!" Neji says with a nod of admiration.

Upon hearing this, Shirota restrains himself from turning around and calling him a bald-faced liar. "This was all part of your plan, wasn't it?" His eyes sharply say, 'You haven't fooled me.' "Turning him into your carrier pigeon worked out just as you planned. Getting me to show up here and to name him as one of the students I noticed. You already knew all these things. It was just a ploy to confirm them." Shirota states his assertions strongly. Neji grins. He keeps up the act that there's no hidden motive behind his actions, but it smells like a lie. Shirota's face fills with disgust. He passes through the door, speaking as if he cannot bear to be around Neji any longer. "Please don't use me as a ruler for measuring other people." He shuts the door immediately to not let the conversation linger. "My my, Shirota is quite clever isn't he." Listening to the footsteps fade into the distance, Neji stifles his smile. "But regardless, the fact that pigeon was able to navigate this sense of distance with Shirota shows he might have quite a number of uses." This could be precisely reflected on-stage too. Neji's mind overflows with so many different ideas at an intensity that could give birth to a whole other world. "However, the 'I still don't know' part is there too. Fumi and Kai said the same thing." It seems difficult to learn the true nature of this bird. Even for Neji, there's many things about this younger student he's still unable to grasp. "The stage is a gigantic machine. Jacks and Jeannes are the gears…and I'm the mechanic who assembles them all. What shape will these talents take? Just watch and see." Neji takes a sip from the coffee he's been holding all this time. It went cold ages ago, but in this moment it's just what his body needs.

[britcision]

So I made it 4 years without being struck down by AO3 Author Curse! But here we are. I’ll spare y’all the details but let’s just say “fuck this year” and leave it there. We’ve had the requisite Third Bad Thing and I will burn the universe down if it goes for a fourth

What this means for y’all, of course, is that there’s been a long ass break between last chapter and this one! Aaaaand this one is being broken in half because it is Longer Than Tumblr Allows

(And they’ve lessened how many paragraph breaks you get cuz this one is only about 9.5k and it made me add it in thirds, woe is me)

So, as usual, links to the first chapter, last chapter, and the link to the AO3 version is I think in BOTH, so if you can’t find it from there I can’t help you 😁

First Chapter:

Last Chapter:

And just a little recap where last we left off:

Bruce has gone to the Watchtower to debrief the Justice League about Amity Park and the Anti Ecto Acts, and been told that Jason has left the land of the living! But like, on purpose

Jason and Danny have gone to visit Frostbite and learned that they are ghost-bonded, which you should take seriously like being ghost-married, and that Jason is gonna pop out Pitty in a couple more days/weeks and have to emotionally raise a ghost-baby

Tucker, Tim, and Conner are all playing video games and hiding out from the Amity Parker/Bat Chat for Tim and Tucker’s mutual stalking ways, which Sam blew wide open by sharing Timblr, as punishment for Tucker not telling her they were all alive

(Danny’s off the hook cuz Tucker was haunting his phone with soundtracks for half the day)

And Damian’s off being Sketchy And Mysterious

————————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 1)

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought). Totally ignoring that she was 1000% usually one of “you lot”.

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one, and, being generous or not, winding Robin up was always a treat.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked innocently.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the waning daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol. Not being chatty was one thing, but if you were out on the town you had to call in.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little nudge. Totally not because she was getting impatient. And nosy.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

From the scowl he shot her he knew it too, and looked away quickly enough that he knew there was no taking it back. He folded his arms across his chest and sulked and fuck he was just adorable.

She’d bet anything Dick used to pout exactly like that.

Still, she tempered the grin down to a slight smile. Dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and letting go when he pulled away.

“Worried me too. Were you close enough to see anything?” Because yeah, if Robin was already at least on his way into uniform before the message arrived?

Spoiler would put easy, easy money on him having been already tailing Jason and Danny around. Last night too, probably. She and Cass had left early to take the night shift, leaving Tim and Damian with the Amity Parkers.

Damian had one hell of a dose of his father’s paranoia, and Steph considered it a solemn duty to teach him about personal boundaries to keep him from turning out just like the old bat.

Just a little friendly stalking from the rooftops didn’t really count though. Not between family.

Robin had tensed right up again too, but when she didn’t push the contact or needle at him he slowly relaxed back down. Scowled at her feet instead of his own.

“No,” he admitted bitterly, both at definitely having been busted and probably at having nothing to report, “Todd… Hood spoke to the magician. They argued, he went back inside Freeze’s place and did not reappear when his tracker went through the roof and into the sky.”

Spoiler blinked, mildly surprised.

“Hood was wearing a tracker? Didn’t think he was in the mood.”

“He wasn’t,” Robin corrected with a derisive sniff.

And… yeah, they were gonna have to do a little more work on that whole “boundaries” thing. Although the odds of Hood not noticing that he’d been tagged were lower than Robin probably thought. Keeping a tag on him that he didn’t want there?

Nah. She may not exactly trust Jason, but that was how she knew how good he was at finding and disabling rogue trackers. And sure, Damian was better than her at some things, but if Cass couldn’t sneak a tracker onto Red Hood no one could.

Kinda cute that Jason let the little guy think he’d successfully bugged him.

At least the constant mild stalking was just standard for the family.

Shaking her head, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“That’s rough. Flying’s cheating,” she commiserated with a sly look to the sky.

She’d heard a super cross Oracle’s radar. Conner, almost certainly if Robin was still out alone.

Too bad he’d not thought to call his own Superboy, though taking flight himself wouldn’t have helped if dimensional travel followed.

Robin made another disgusted little tut, then pushed off the gargoyle and stormed away. Spoiler watched him go for a moment, then shrugged.

“Hey, go get some sleep if you’re coming back out tonight,” she called after him. Grinned when he flipped her off without turning.

If he’d been off stalking Jason and Danny two days in a row, he’d need some rest.

“And don’t forget your report,” she teased and actually laughed when he raised his other hand to flip her off with both before leaping off the edge of the roof, swinging back towards the bat cave.

Stephanie Brown had never been prouder in her life than the first day Damian had said “fuck” in front of his dad. Far be it from her to demand anyone transform into a social butterfly, but she personally was pretty damn sure that nothing was gonna help Damian out of his “raised by assassins” shell than learning some good old fashioned swearwords.

And a little teenaged rebellion. The proudest day was totally gonna be when he finally told his grandfather to fuck off (or any suitable equivalent; Steph wasn’t choosy).

Leaning back into the gargoyle’s shadow, Spoiler surveyed the city below. Technically, she’d been out as long as Damian had; if she wanted to be out tonight she’d need a quick nap too.

Or, more fun, she could nip back to the manor, kidnap Cass, and they could find and bully Tim and Tucker in person. Yeah, that was gonna be it.

**

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep. (Not that he knew much about how that actually felt, at least not when not recovering from serious injury.)

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

Even after three separate courses of Bruce’s bullshit, both directly and through the medium of John fucking Constantine. Not so long ago, Bruce would never even dare call him, much less try and set up a bat cave ambush. That… was probably technically a good sign?

Didn’t feel like one at the moment, but Jason actually felt almost good enough to be charitable with the old bat. A little emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

Jason was self aware enough to admit he’d probably had more than one breakdown owed to him. Maybe not a “take to the bed”, “trip to the sea” full Victorian lady meltdown, but he’d had a whole baby dropped on him. Except somehow worse.

He damn well deserved that freak out, and now that it was over and he’d been given what kinda felt like the ghost equivalent of speed… He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. Which… he should have been doing anyway. At least this part wasn’t solely for his benefit though.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. In this way, even if the Great One is not beside you, all ghosts will know that you are the chosen protector of their King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

“And all the other ghosts can just… see this?” He asked, not really sure what he was hoping to be told.

Frostbite switched from giving Danny a fond smile back to Jason, nodding brightly.

“Oh yes. Ectoplasm is very easily influenced by emotion, and bonds can form quite quickly. I presume you took an oath?” He asked, eyes sparkling in a way that made Jason pretty damn sure he’d met Clockwork.

Which, now that he thought about it…

Jason huffed out another deep breath, running a hand through his hair. As much as John Fucking Constantine specifically could ride a cactus straight to Hell… the guy mighta had the faintest inkling of a point about one thing.

“Yeah… about that.” He pulled a face, gaze tracking away from the others and down to the floor.

Would they think he was a dumbass too? Danny had been there when Clockwork made the offer and he’d been pretty against it, but Jason had thought he understood why.

It hadn’t sounded anything like Constantine’s claims of what he’d signed up for.

In the end, it was easier to address the question to Frostbite’s large hairy toes.

“I, uh… I made an oath to Clockwork, but do I have… a contract or something? The asshole magician I mentioned earlier was going on and on about eternal fucking servitude bullshit but it’d be nice to have something to shove in his face,” he added quickly, arm slipping back and almost around Danny (but with his hand still firmly on the table).

He didn’t need to wait to feel the guilt in Danny’s aura to head it off.

Jason wasn’t having second thoughts. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d signed up for, and when it came right down to it…

He didn’t think people could lie through their auras. Even when he was trying to project something like “I’m fine” and he wasn’t, he was pretty sure Danny could tell.

He could sure as hell tell when Danny was bluffing through his, which had happened maybe once total.

He trusted Danny. He trusted Frostbite. He even mostly trusted Clockwork, because for all the guy had been a little sketchy, Jason had felt his sincerity. How deeply he cared for Danny.

Keeping Danny safe forever didn’t sound like eternal servitude. Eternal babysitting, maybe, if Danny was being a pain in the ass, but he’d never top Damian at his most bratty.

Jason woulda been trying to protect Danny anyway. As far as he knew, knighthood just made that easier.

Which was another reason he’d like a look at his contract. You didn’t make it onto the streets as Robin without learning to read for loopholes, hidden clauses, and fine print. He may have already signed on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some wiggle room.

Danny, about to say something either apologetic or self deprecating, huffed out a breath as Jason’s arm slipped around him. Winded up giving him a half smile instead.

“Yeah… that’s a good point. I still need to find out if I can fire your ass.”

“Still didn’t hire me,” Jason pointed out archly, bumping his arm to knock Danny forwards a little.

The other halfa huffed a laugh this time and bumped him back.

“Yeah, and I gotta work out how to hire you so I can then immediately fire you,” he shot back.

Frostbite cut them both off with a raised hand, though he still looked fondly amused. Like they were cute little kids or something stupid.

“You will have to discuss this with Clockwork directly, young knight, but I do not believe a knighthood typically comes with a contract. It is a duty one is granted, and one that may be rescinded if you fail, but it is not a deal,” he explained patiently.

Jason’s brows furrowed a little, but at least he could feel Danny’s confusion-puzzled-not sure beside him too. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Maybe he shoulda looked a little more into magic shit while he was with the League of Assassins. That would have been the time, especially if the Lazarus Pits were the just grunged ectoplasm.

“It kinda sounded like a deal when he offered it,” he said almost as a question, glancing back at Danny for confirmation.

Danny nodded. So it wasn’t just Jason.

“He gave me a cool magic gun in exchange for keeping Danny hale and hearty. Protecting him in the living and Infinite realms,” Jason added in case the wording counted, more sure as he remembered some of the reasons.

Fuck, had that only been a week ago? It felt like it’d been a whole year.

Frostbite gave them a neutral shrug, inclining his head.

“As I said, you will need to ask Clockwork directly. All I can tell you is that it is not innate to the position; a knighthood is not usually something bought and sold,” he explained patiently.

Danny hummed an agreement, cheek resting on Jason’s shoulder again.

“It’s normally all ghost-to-ghost too, so is there a way we can check if the halfa thing has changed it?” He asked Frostbite, leaning against the table too and totally not actually putting his arm around Jason back.

Jason felt a little more tension leech back out of him. Which raised another good point, actually.

“And not related or anything, but if you gave me a buncha those ice crystals could I just chew them to get the ecto for…” he hesitated, waving his free hand at his general chest area again.

Honestly, given half a chance he’d love to get a bowl full and try and pop the pit out in one go… it’d probably be easier to train from outside his body where it wouldn’t immediately know he was so full of shit… his own aura notwithstanding.

Yeah, he was still a little worried about being anyone’s emotional guide, but if he could just get the damn thing out in the world… maybe it could have other guides too.

“To answer the simpler question first, young knight, unfortunately the energized ectoplasm is only a short term boost and will not affect either of your cores. I will provide you with a small supply to assist your emotional control whilst you stabilize, if you wish?” Frostbite offered gently, a slight smile on his face.

Jason hesitated, considering things for a moment, then nodded. Sure, it wasn’t a solid “yes here is the answer to all your problems Jason just smack it in”, but it was a concrete solution to what had actually been worrying him.

Having another one of those weird “episodes”. He’d still be waiting to get Pitty all the way out, but at least he had a backup plan until then. He could pop an ecto-crystal each morning, get some energy, and worry less about night patrols.

Shit, he’d have more energy than he’d had since he died. The others were gonna be jealous as hell, but it wasn’t like they could steal and take his ghost meds. Probably.

Jason… wasn’t quite ready to think about the panic attack itself. He felt fine now, way better, and it wasn’t like it was the first he’d had.

Just…

Just the first that he remembered. That his heart started racing, his head rushing, ears filled with rushing static and the world hadn’t just melted into a green haze of blood and violence.

His early training with the League of Assassins had involved a lot of losing himself to the Pit. He’d wake up days later, body aching with exertions he couldn’t remember, and be told how many he’d killed.

Good news: no fear of that either, apparently. Pitty wasn’t pulling for control anymore, so the green haze was all Jason’s own.

Joy.

He had a nasty feeling that Danny would notice him spiralling from anywhere in Gotham. And probably ditch class to come check on him.

Like Hell. Jason’d fucking call Harley first, put himself through some breathing exercises or whatever, he did not need an emotional support Ghost King.

He gave Frostbite a quick nod, a small smile forming almost without thinking about it. The yeti was just… so caring and helpful. Not exactly something Jason had a wealth of experience with. He’d probably be a great example for Pitty.

Frostbite returned the smile, making a quick note on his tablet.

“And of course, your ghostly parent or a mentor should also be able to assist you. Spending time with those who are important to you, especially a comforting figure will help both your control and your core formation,” the yeti added in a slightly pointed way, like he’d read Jason’s mind, and Jason had to stifle a laugh.

Frostbite might be an eight foot tall hairy yeti, but he’d get along with Alfred like a house on fire… he was even as stubborn about not using their names as Alfred was about nicknames.

And when Jason thought about someone comforting, the beacon of emotional maturity and constraint… it could only be Alfred. He was more grandparent than parent, but certainly the only mentor Jason still looked up to. And a paragon of control besides.

Alfred could help him with Pitty. Model a little actual emotional restraint and control for the both of them. The only question was if Jason could just be up front and ask him, possibly revealing the secret early, or if he’d have to come up with an excuse for them to hang out.

Stupid thought. Jason knew damn well he could just walk into the kitchen and Alfred would be more than happy to spend time together. He wouldn’t need a ruse; he wouldn’t even need an excuse.

The knowledge settled warm and soft and happy inside him, until his brain caught up with his ears and stopped him short.

Wait.

“Ghost parent?” He asked cautiously, looking from Frostbite to Danny again. Danny pulled a face but Frostbite beat him to the punch.

“Ah, yes. We did not discuss that last time either. Your ghost parent, young knight, is the second strongest bond a young ghost can have. They are the ghost who welcomes you into the Infinite Realms, who will guide your steps and protect you until your own haunt has formed.”

Brows furrowing, Jason twisted to frown more directly at Danny, not quite sure if he was looking for confirmation or asking a question of his own.

Cuz, y’know, other than the whole “protecting until his haunt formed” (and Jason certainly didn’t need protecting), that sounded a lot like what Danny had been doing. Which would totally make it weird if Jason was a knight to his own ghost-dad.

Clearly following the same lines, Danny raised both hands and shook his head, almost but not quite stepping out of reach.

“Oh no, it’s not me. You’ve had a ghost parent long before I came along,” he said emphatically, the sudden panic on his face making Jason feel better about his own response to surprise parenthood.

He magnanimously decided not to tease Danny about it, turning instead to give Frostbite a questioning look.

“Should I know who my ghost parent is? Who gets to decide?” He asked cautiously. He’d never met another ghost before Danny, but he had this awful sinking feeling that Ra’s al Ghul might have more to do with the realms than just the pits, and he was the closest proxy. Even Tallia would be better. Maybe even Bruce.

Reading his tension, Frostbite clapped a massive furry hand on Jason’s shoulder, smile and aura both full of comfort-reassurance-calm.

“Normally yes young knight, though yours is a special case. Usually when a young ghost first finds its way to the realms, one of the first ghosts they encounter will take them under their wing. It is an honour to care for a young ghost, and a halfa even more so,” he explained gently.

Beside Jason, Danny snorted loudly.

“Oh, yeah, they totally come running to play happy families. Super wholesome,” he grumbled, arms folded as he leaned back into Jason’s weight.

Honestly, Jason could kinda spot common threads between what Frostbite just said and what Danny had told him about Fight Club; the play fighting was supposed to be about sharing powers, right? Just, y’know, between people with shit verbal communication to actually check in that everyone was on the same page.

The yeti sighed fondly, his hand moving from Jason’s shoulder to rest proudly on Danny’s. Given the width of Danny’s shoulders respective to the hand, the last two fingers were back on Jason’s other shoulder.

“Again, Great One, your circumstances were also exceptional. You did not explore the Ghost Zone until after you had established yourself to many as a competent fighter and protector of your haunt, which along with certain… adventures led most to believe you were far older than you are,” Frostbite explained patiently, with just the faintest hint that they’d been through this before.

Danny rolled his eyes and shot Jason double finger guns.

“Yyyyup, which is why I don’t have to deal with any of this “ghost parent” business,” he agreed brightly, tipping Jason a smirk, “get good.”

Jason flipped him off, but there was something… not in his aura, Frostbite’s was still very carefully toned back all calm medical professional, but in the creasing of the yeti’s eyes. Now, ghost yetis were definitely a new species and Batman drilled them all on the dangers of extrapolating body language on new species, but Jason had done his time on alien planets.

Something in the change, something in the shift, a little quirk of the brow Jason had noted when the yeti was amused. There was something funny here, and it wasn’t Danny’s quip.

Putting his suspicions aside for now, Jason settled on the more pressing matter.

“So who is my ghost parent? When do I get to meet them?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t accidentally imprinted on Ra’s or Tallia. Cuz he hadn’t been in the Zone before Danny either.

Danny himself, much less concerned, waved a hand vaguely.

“Oh, we’ll deal with that on the way home. Go do a proper meet and greet, that sort of thing,” he said nonchalantly, and Jason’s shoulders settled a little.

“They’re in the Zone then?” He prodded a little further, not fully willing to let the matter just drop. If he had to ghost-emancipate himself, he’d rather be ready sooner than later.

Danny grinned toothily at him.

“Usually. We’ll see if she’s around, but it might have to be another day. Gotta deal with our other list first, like if our whole halfa deal is gonna do anything to the knight thing, or your core coming in,” he added, looking expectantly at Frostbite.

Jason almost missed what he said next as his heart skipped a beat, a possibility he’d never even considered slamming home.

She.

Someone dead, if they were in the Ghost Zone.

Someone who’d claimed him as her son long ago, guided him as best she could. Someone he’d never expected to see again, not even having died and returned to life himself.

No chance, he told himself quickly, hurriedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. About his bond with Danny, about their shared fucked biology, about his whole undead future.

There was no point dredging up the past until he actually knew.

Frostbite was back in his familiar role of teacher, that same proud/warm/fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked at Danny.

“For your bond, Great One, I am not sure what I would even test for. The young knight presently has no ghost form, yet the bond is present exactly as if he had. I am afraid we have no records of former halfas, so any problems which occurred before are long lost.”

The yeti gave the tablet another few careful claw strokes, pulling up lines and lines of scrolling numbers and data beside each of their silhouettes on the wall screen. Forcing himself to the present, Jason scanned them quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t actually make heads or tails of it; ghost vitals couldn’t really include things like heartbeat, blood oxygenation, or anything they’d test for in the med bay.

Not until Bruce found out about all this crap anyway - Jason wouldn’t put it past him to try and buy out everything the Far Frozen had in his latest snit of paranoia. The second he got over his “oh no Jason is going somewhere I can’t supervise him”, obviously.

Frostbite clearly knew what it all meant though, highlighting a couple of different areas where Danny’s numbers were very different from Jason’s and giving him that reassuring smile.

“After your first transformation I would expect some of these to change, and it is likely that any differences in your particular bond would show then as well. Your ghost form will of course be entirely ectoplasmic, so the bond will be more present than it is even now.”

That snapped Jason from his internal flailing, and he grimaced at the reminder.

Because… yeah. They’d talked a lot about his first transformation, he and Danny. But the only thing Danny hadn’t really known was when to expect it.

“Yeah… about that. I know the basics, inversion of my moment of death crap, I’ll be able to change it eventually, yadda yadda,” and that was its own sword of Damacles hanging with the mistletoe, “but… when will it happen? Like, will it just… happen? Or will I… yeah.”

Even wording the question made him feel like the whole thing was just too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; what to look for? Would there be symptoms? Would he just un-die again in the street?

Luckily Frostbite seemed much more comfortable, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. Jason’s scan took over the full screen once more, zoomed in on the two orbs in his chest.

They were pulsing too, growing brighter and dimmer along with the more defined throb of the ectoplasm. Which was actually when he noticed that both cores were throbbing, so… was Pitty also a knight?

That was going on the list of questions for Clockwork like, yesterday. If he could get it its own little fear gun…

“As you can see, your core is still fuzzy around the edges and incompletely formed; once these edges have smoothed out, you will hypothetically be able to transform at any time,” Frostbite explained, blissfully aware of Jason’s new train of thought.

Probably for the best. Jason reluctantly refocused on the screen, tabling the idea of Sir Pitty for now. Nice to have something actually positive to look forward to.

He didn’t really remember seeing much of the screen during his last appointment, but he had seen the perfect sphere of Danny’s core, and his looked… well, like Frostbite said, smaller and kinda fuzzy. Like a ball of dough after it started sticking to your hands and losing its shape.

He frowned and nodded, looking back to Frostbite and then glancing around at Danny.

“So not until the next appointment, probably? Will it just… happen out of nowhere? Or will I need to trigger it?” It kinda helped, narrowing the scope. Dealing with it one step at a time.

Danny gave a helpless shrug.

“My powers started activating randomly, but I didn’t actually transform until I was in danger. Not like, life threatening danger,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like he’d heard Pitty’s growl… or maybe Jason had echoed it. “It was just Lunch Lady, she was never gonna really hurt us. She just made a mess and tried to feed everyone meat.”

Jason privately added Lunch Lady to his “asses to kick” list. On principle.

Frostbite gave a thoughtful nod, a large hand clapping down on Jason’s shoulder a lot harder than he’d probably intended. He didn’t flinch, but before his pit-growth-spurt it might have knocked him over.

“We can experiment more once your core is complete here in the Zone, and I would recommend waiting until Pitty has been expelled, if possible. Of course, any other changes in your knighthood bond will likely make themselves known with your first change as well,” the yeti mused, quite pleased with the idea.

Jason hesitated before agreeing, worry twisting through him again before he tamped it back down.

He wasn’t that scared little boy anymore; not inside. Besides, the bond was already firmly in place.

His soul was resonating a pace behind Danny’s.

It wasn’t like that little trip back to the moment of his death was gonna make Danny suddenly reject him.

The poor guy was probably stuck with Jason for life anyway at this point, which for a pair of halfas meant pretty much forever.

**

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down. He was painfully aware that the first one, the one he’d already shown to Superman and Wonder Woman, only had two words in it.

Diana’s Judgement.

She hadn’t technically invoked it yet. Had never bothered asking exactly what he meant by it; she wasn’t one to back down from hard subjects, which meant she’d also never bothered hiding how little she thought of his contingency plans.

His League-specific ones, anyway. She liked the ones he had for the rogues and various end of the world crises.

It meant moments like this, where she would give him her honest, simple judgement and reign him in.

(Technically it also meant that he trusted her to decide when she needed to snap his neck, but Martian Manhunter always looked at him with disappointment when he thought about that side too much.)

Looking back to her face, he managed to meet her eyes and nod once. It went against every instinct he had, every year of experience and loss, but…

If he couldn’t do things he didn’t like, he’d never have become Batman.

**

Head spinning with a plethora of new information, bag of ecto candies in hand, Jason deliberately slowed down to let Danny precede him out of Frostbite’s office.

That little suspicion had been growing, kindling the more they discussed halfa anatomy and bonds, and honestly? Yes, he had been using it as an excuse to think about something other than his own problems.

Danny seemed not to notice, disappearing past the doorway as Jason looked up at Frostbite. Figured fuck it; he didn’t know how much time he had. Best be blunt.

“You’re Danny’s ghost parent, aren’t you?” He asked, knowing from the yeti’s face as he did that he was right.

The way it froze for just a moment, eyes flicking to the door Danny had just left through. Then the smile that spread, knowing and secretive as he bent down for the first time to put his face on Jason’s level.

“He takes such pleasure in believing he does not have one; the Great One values his independence highly, and his history with parental figures is… complex. It can be our secret, yes?” The yeti winked.

Jason hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all he knew about Danny’s home life. It wasn’t actually all that much; Danny probably actually knew more about Jason’s, after the last week.

That wasn’t just a rarity, it was practically unheard of for any of the former Robins, and Jason knew exactly how Dick and Harley would react to that information.

They’d accuse him of growth. Gross. They couldn’t be told.

And yeah, maybe Jason had a bit of a personal understanding of why Danny wouldn’t want an overabundance of parental figures around. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, not really, but Jason knew enough verses of the song.

All teen heroes tended to have certain things in common, the biggest of which was whatever parental figure they had failing to protect them. Failing to keep them from the darkness, forcing a kid to take on a mantle and burdens that they never should have.

He’d wanted to pound Bruce’s bones to pulp for putting another kid in his cape. Wound up nearly pounding Tim’s instead, however the pit and Tallia had twisted things to make that seem like the same thing.

And Danny hadn’t just picked up the mantle of Teen Hero. He’d picked up a crown, a whole realm of responsibilities and rulership over the dead.

Personally, Jason thought Danny was missing out on an easy dodge of king duties by not finding his ghost parent; Clockwork was his regent but still apparently bothered him for work.

A parent ruling until the child was of age was behind most of the most brutal regicides in any monarchic system; the dead had to know about it.

But that’d mean Clockwork bothering Frostbite at all hours, possibly. Or Clockwork finding new excuses to keep checking on a crown prince Jason had already seen was a handful.

Yeah, he could see why no one really challenged Danny’s assertion that he didn’t have a ghost parent.

Jason spared a moment wondering about his own again.

He knew better than to hope, he really did. Catherine Todd deserved much better than an afterlife of watching over his many mistakes. If there was any justice to death, she’d moved straight past the realms and into the most perfect of paradises.

He liked to think she’d be proud of him. Of the work he’d done, the good he’d spread through the Alley even if it was on the end of a gun.

So long as it wasn’t any form of al Ghul whatsoever, Jason was pretty sure he could handle any other ghost parent the multiverse could throw at him.

Danny’s head poked back around the corner, grinning in a very worried way between the two of them.

“Everything okay back here?” He asked with some of the worst overhyped cheer Jason had ever heard.

Alright, maybe Danny would actually also have been a problem for ghost parent. Because Jason thought he was hot. Because he was an awful mother hen even as a friend.

Jason raised his bag of ecto candies.

“Just checking how many of these I can safely have in a day,” he said innocently, and kinda hoped Danny didn’t actually feel the wash of Frostbite’s approval as the yeti straightened.

That would give the game away.

“They are not a substitute for sleep or nutrition for your human form,” Frostbite told him, as if that was what they’d been talking about.

Jason sighed heavily, doing his best impression of Tim being handed decaf.

“Listen, a guy can hope?”

“Oh you’re not gonna win that one,” Danny snickered, brightening with the distraction and all but skipping in to take Jason’s arm, “let’s scram before he gets the powerpoints.”

Frostbite gave them a cheerful wave on the way out the door, and Jason managed a mostly sincere smile as Danny began regaling him on some of his teenaged attempts to persuade Frostbite to let him give up sleep for finals week.

Yeah, he might add the Fenton parents to the butt-kicking list. Below the ghosts, obviously, for whom butt-kicking was a social courtesy.

But, y’know. If he ever got the chance to have a quiet word about taking care of your damn kids.

———————

And here we have Part 1! Imma just yeet it up so you can all get started while I edit Part 2, because again, this is a Girthy One without an easier breakpoint 👀

I’ll still try and get Part 2 done tonight, but I’ve kept y’all waiting long enough

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai i @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

Part Two:

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

More Pebble and Alpha being possessive dumbasses because I love them.

It's a stupid, petty game they're playing, Pebble is aware, and yet he can't resist engaging in it. Sitting in Ifrit's lap, leaning against his chest with his third glass of the night nonchalently dangling from his fingers, the earth ghoul chances a glance at Alpha, who's standing right up in Ivy's space, speaking low in his ear with a little smirk.

For a second, his yellow eyes find Pebble's, before going back to a half-flustered, half-exasperated Ivy.

Ifrit chuckles, drumming his fingers on Pebble's thigh.

"You two are ridiculous, you know that ?"

Pebble rolls his eyes, jabbing his elbow at Ifrit's ribs.

"No idea what your talking about."

To his credit, the fire ghoul takes it like a champ, barely wincing. Before Pebble can protest, Ifrit snatches his glass and downs the rest of it, then nudges the earth ghoul's hip.

"C'mon, if i'm to be used as a mean to make your hate-boyfriend jealous, we might as well dance, that's what parties are for, and Alpha's going to hate it."

Really, saying no to that isn't even an option, with Ifrit's puppy dog eyes and the prospect of riling Alpha up even more.

"My what now ?" Pebble bristles as he let himself be led to what the ghouls decided would be the dancefloor tonight, a rather large part of the common room freed of its usual countless seats and carpets.

Instead of answering, Ifrit shrugs and laughs noncommittally, hands settling on Pebble's waist.

The earth ghoul isn't much of a dancer, but with Ifrit leading, he can appreciate the pull and push of bodies following the music's rythm, the happy giggles and hushed comments weaving a second, intricate melody in the late night air.

Pebble catches glimpses of other couples moving around him and Ifrit ; Cumulus swaying with Cirrus, Chain, probably too drunk for this, hanging from Lake's neck, Mountain twirling Sunshine, Omega dipping Air with a deep laugh. Without Pebble realizing it, it brings a smile to his lips.

One that fades when Ifrit shifts them and like a compass always find north, Pebble's eyes focus on Alpha, holding Ivy close, hands far too low on his back to be polite. The fire ghoul's gaze flick up. His mouth is against Ivy's ear, trailing down his neck, his hands are just shy of gropping Ivy's ass, his thigh slotted between Ivy's legs, and yet Alpha's eyes stay steady on nothing but Pebble.

The earth ghoul has to supress a shudder. Alpha is too good at this, and Pebble is not sure what he could do to return the favor.

As if reading his mind, Ifrit bends down to whisper :

"Want me to bite you ? It'll drive him up the walls."

Pebble raises an eyebrow.

"Why are you so willing to piss Alpha off ?"

Ifrit gives him a sparkling grin.

"You forget he used to be my mentor. Nothing better than getting on his nerves now that he doesn't hold any authority over me anymore."

With a scoff, Pebble throws him an unimpressed stare.

"Right. You're acting like you couldn't just wip out your best kicked puppy face to have him folding, you hypocrite."

Unapologetic, Ifrit shurgs. Pebble thinks his offer over for about ten seconds, before catching a glimpse of Alpha slipping his hands under Ivy's shirt while still fucking staring at Pebble, and his mind is made up.

"Go on," the earth ghoul hisses, tilting his head to the side, "make sure he sees it."

And oh does Ifrit understand the assignement. Fisting a hand in Pebble's hair, baring his neck to the air, angling them so that Alpha can have a perfect view of Ifrit's fangs sinking into his skin, just hard enough to leave a mark and make pinpricks of blood well up.

Pebble makes a show of rolling his head back with a sigh, peering at Alpha through half-lidded eyes. In the dim light, the fire ghoul's face contorts in a possessive scowl.

Before he can brace himself, Pebble is grabbed by the collar of his shirt, Ifrit shoved out of the way. Alpha is not looking at him in the eyes anymore, locked in on the mark Ifrit left, a growl rumbling in his throat. The younger fire ghoul opens his mouth, but his ex mentor snaps his jaws at him in a clear warning.

"Stay out of this if you know what's good for you," Alpha seethes, before tugging Pebble out of the room. The earth ghoul gets a glimpse of Ivy, shaking his head in their direction with a laugh, before he's whisked away by a very horny, very frustrated fire ghoul.

Alpha's grip is unyielding, his voice charged like a cloud before a storm when he slips a hand under Pebble's jaw, tilting his head to inspect his neck.

"I'll fucking carve his mark out."

The blood rushes to Pebble's dick so fast his knees nearly give out.

(When Pebble cums, it's with Alpha's fangs plunged deep, deep in his flesh, entirely remaking the bite mark into his.)