#high top leather boxing shoes

[livinghostly]

i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer. 

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this. 

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like. 

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway. 

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words. 

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children. 

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence. 

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home. 

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students. 

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried. 

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta. 

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack. 

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said. 

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

[lewdmommie]

Dom bottom character x Sub top male reader

Where the reader is nervous and keeps whispering “what if somebody hears us” (as he fucks the character) while moaning and withering from overstimulation, at the same time the character is pushing himself down on him, smirk present.

I don’t mind who, you can even make an OC if you’d like. Just the character has to be fucked but still have the dom personality, ordering him around degrading/praising him, and the reader has to do the fucking or has to be trying hard to keep his legs open to let the character lower himself onto him. Readers got that sub personality.

Lunch time

Gojosatoruxhusbandmalereader💗

Summary: y/n spends “lunchtime” with gojo

🎀Warning🎀:18+NSFW,rough sex,raw sex,public sex,language,oral sex, dom/sub, absolute filth

Word count: 1.7k

The halls are swarming with tunnel visioned students and teachers hustling to their next period. Your shoulders brush countless passersby searching for class 1-A. You mumble apologies as you are thrown around in the crowd, the homemade bento box you made following a YouTube tutorial, was clutched close to your stomach. There was no way you would lose all that hard work before he could even see it. The bandaids on your fingers proved that point, you spent all afternoon cutting a variety of veggies and fruit into heart shapes. Your heart pounds as you spot the classroom down the hallway, your cheeks heat up at the thought of seeing him. Somehow after all these years he still managed to make you blush like a new lover. Ever since you two walked these very halls of jujutsu high; you never stopped having a crush on Gojo satoru. You take a deep breath, pumping yourself with confidence as you push the classroom door open. At the front of the class sat the white haired pretty boy, grading papers. He doesn’t look up from his paperwork as he speaks.

“I know you guys love me but you gotta go have lunch-“ his waves, marking the paper with red ink.

“I hope I’m not disturbing your work time.” You say shyly. His head shoots up, gleaming ocean eyes steal your gaze. He smiles wide and cheeky.

“What a pleasant surprise.” His head rests on his hand as he stares at you. He was well aware of the effect he had on you, he loved the way you crumbled under his gaze.

“I-I brought you some lunch.” You walk through the aisles of school desks, he smirks looking you up and down. Nervously, you set the neatly wrapped bento box at the edge of his desk. He wastes no time unwrapping the box, peeking inside.

“Wow, you made this? It’s the best lunch I’ve ever received, thank you baby.” He springs up, pulling you into a long warm hug. You relax in his arms, inhaling the delicious scent of his Versace cologne. He had expensive taste despite being a teacher. Somehow he made a way to support his playboy lifestyle on an educator's salary. You worried he wouldn’t like your home made lunch but to your surprise he loved it.

“Here, here, have a seat.” He clears the tower of homework, motioning to his leather desk chair.

“But that's your spot, I’ll just pull up a chair.” You wave him off. He grabs your waist as you turn away, his breath feathers on your neck.

“I said sit down.” He rasps, planting a warm kiss on your throat. Your feet stumble as he pushes you forcefully down into the chair. You stare up at him with big doe eyes, his cock twitches. Your eyes travel up the length of his body, he stood clad in dark leather shoes,black slacks, and a white button down. The first three buttons were undone, exposing the smooth skin of his upper chest. Even wearing the most simple outfit he managed to make it look like a million bucks. His snowy bangs brush over his low crystal eyes as he looks down on you. The crotch of your pants tighten from your growing arousal, you shift nervously in the seat. No way not here, you wouldn’t give into his temptation.

“D-don’t look at me like that.” You stammer, breaking eye contact. His long graceful fingers grip your chin, tilting your face up.

“Like what?” He smirks, focusing his gaze on the thick bulge in your lap. He leans down, closing the space between you. Your breath hitches as his tongue glides over your lower lip. Before you can even think about protesting, his fingers are working the zipper of your denim jeans.

“Wait, does the door lock?!” You whisper/yell in a panic. Your eyes dart back and forth between him and the classroom door anxiously. He slides down to his knees, peering deep into your eyes; completely hypnotizing you. The desk has a pretty large opening underneath, his slender frame is hidden from the view of the door. He nestles in the hiding place, working the waistband of your pants down. After a few seconds, your pants are rolled around your thighs. Gojo’s mouth pools with saliva as he drools at the delectable sight in front of him. He grasps the stiff twitching base of your cock, staring up at you with sinful eyes. He brushes his mouth over your oozing tip, thick warm spit flows from his tongue down the length of your shaft. Your head falls back against the office chair as you hold back your moans. His long slippery tongue swirls around the head of your dick, lapping at the salty pre-cum dribbling out.

“What if someone hears us?” You moan quietly.

“Then you’d better keep your voice down.” His mouth opens wide as he pushes down on your throbbing rod, the aching tip of your cock slams the back of his throat. He lifts up, hollowing out his cheeks, before slamming down and making your dick disappear into his greedy mouth. The hot squishy sensation of his throat clamping down on you is almost too much to handle.

“N-not so much please, feels s’to good ah-“ your nails dig into the arm rest as he moans low in his throat, vibrating your submerged cock. You gasp pulling yourself closer to the edge of the desk as you hear the door knob jingle. Because you pulled yourself closer to the desk, gojo is cramped tightly under with your dick forced so deep in his throat he can barely breath. Tears prick at his eyes as he tries to focus breathing through his nose.

“Mr.Satoru? Mr.satoru are you in here? Oh, hello.” The sweet elderly woman chirps walking up to the front of the class.

“H-hello, can I help you?” You ask shakily.

“Are you subbing for Mr.satoru, I could have sworn I saw him earlier.” She ponders.

Under the desk Gojo has found a comfortable spot in the new position, he pulls his head up, as far as it could go in the limited space, before slowly easing back down. The wet inner walls of his mouth suck you in deep, swallowing the entire length of you. His hands quietly work the button of his pants allowing himself enough room to reach a single hand behind to slide down his pants. Slowly he slips a finger down the back of his pants, rubbing his twitching hole as he sucks you off.

“No he’s um out for lunch, i'm just filling in till he gets b-back.” You lie, biting your lower lip.

“Are you alright? Should I ask the school nurse to stop by?”

“No! No need for that I-im fine.” You stutter.

“Well okay I’ll take your word for it. I’ll just leave these worksheet copies here. He had me print them and never even picked them up.” She complains, setting the papers on the desk.

“I-I’ll let him know, t-thank you.” You wave as she walks towards the door.

“Have a good day…” her eyebrow raises suspiciously before stepping out the door. Gojo’s head bobs steadily swallowing you whole as he fingers his desperate asshole. With an audible sound he pushes you back, rolling the chair into the chalkboard. Your cock shoots from his mouth with a pop, he gasps for much needed air.

“Thank god she’s finally gone, now you can fuck me.” He pants, standing to his feet. His dick is rock solid, thick veins pulse along the length of his shaft. His big hand grips the hilt of his blushed cock, pumping up and down as he stares at you. His tip is glistening, clear pre drips down his hand. You're standing at full attention, your dick twitches against the smooth skin of your stomach.

“W-we can’t…we almost got caught.” You plead, watching him turn around and spread his plush ass cheeks. He hovers over you, rubbing your tip on his puckered entrance. Your hips flick upward begging to be let inside, he smirks pushing down just enough to take in the head. Your tip is surrounded by the pillowy walls of his anus, wrapping you in a warm wet hug.

“Mmm I can feel you twitching inside me. Don’t tell me you’re already gonna cum. So cute and pathetic.” He teases pushing down again, taking in another inch.

“D-don’t tease me.” You whine, squirming beneath him. He pushed down again, harder this time, taking in half of your cock. Your lap is drenched in his saliva. His spit works as a lubricant to guide you easily inside of him.

“Mmm you’re stretching me s’fucking good.” Gojo groans, throwing his ass down with a final slam. Your eyes roll back as you sink into the deepest parts of him, your tip poking his throbbing g spot. He shivers on top of you as your hands rest on his waist pulling him down further. His hands grip your thighs for support as he bounces up and down, gently tugging the skin of your cock with his tight hole.

“Not doing much talking now that your cock is inside me huh? Uhn fuck… you’re gonna fuck me when and where I say. I’m gonna milk you whenever I want.” He pants. His hips whirl stirring your dick inside of him, your nails dig into his skin. Your legs shiver as he Impales himself on you, his hands push your knees, holding your legs open for him.

“Keep them open for me baby, there you go take it, good boy you’re being so obedient for me.” His fist closes around his dick stroking himself as he jumps up and down on your overstimulated rod.

“Gonna c-cum, so close please please please uhn cumming!” Your hips rut upward pushing as deep as his hole allows you. Hot strings of cum spurt from your twitching tip, coating his anal walls with your sticky milk. Gojos tongue lols out as his own orgasm hits him like a truck, his muscles clamp around you as his tip oozes with loads of thick cum. It runs down his hand and drips onto the classroom floor below. Your spent cock trembles inside him, softening in real time. You both jump at the sudden blare of a bell. He smirks sliding up and off your dick, his asshole drips with the mess you made.

“Thanks for the meal.” He leans down kissing your lips.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Frank! fantasy flavor!

rambles:

i really wanted to blend that monk-class inspiration w/ Frank's personal vibe... i like to think that i Succeeded!

i turned his tie into a sort of brooch since, yk. bowties aren't all that Fantastical. they miss the style. also i think they'd be more comfortable with something smaller since he's very active and needs a wide range of maneuverability

i bet Eddie or someone wheedled them into adding the leather shoulder pauldrons - leather to keep it a bit more flexy, and also. it just looks Cool!

figuring out what would replace his vest was tough. i didn't want them to be entirely unprotected, but i couldn't give him straight armor. though i will admit! a sort of tight-fitting crop top was Considered! but i landed on a gambeson vest as the best fit - comfortable, flexible, a Vest, while providing some level of protection! also, gambesons are quilted, which fits Frank's diamond-checkered vest!

ive already mentioned that one of my favorite outfit things is Flowy Pants Tucked Into Boots, so... that choice wasn't very character driven. except the boots are a tall ankle wrap - for that extra stability and strength! their shoes are pretty flexible and are only a few steps away from being slippers.

and the half-skirt - open skirt? - thing (still don't know what its called) is purely some self indulgence. i think Frank looks great in skirts!! also imagining him Throwing Down w/ the added flair of the skirt... damn. it'd probably help confuse enemies too - what're they gonna do next? who knows! the skirt is in the way and adding extra Movement!

i like to think that his knife is either in a sheath attached to the back of the belt, or they have it on their thigh (under the skirt) like Wally's bag. he probably never uses it... punching is the way to go for Frank methinks. it's probably reserved for cutting ropes and fruit

speaking of punching.... wrist wraps! inspired by boxing gauze! pads his knuckles, keeps his wrist compressed, its the best choice for physical combat. though the wrapped knuckles probably always have blood showing through anyway... or no yeah it's mostly other people's blood...

as for scars - Frank probably has quite the collection! i imagine that they've been picking fights since a young age, and in such a dangerous world he probably got hit a Lot until they learned how to hit back. and hit back Well. still, i wanted to give him a cool face scar with a very lame backstory - a book with a crisp, sharp spine corner fell off a high shelf and bonked them in the face at juuuust the right angle <3 he probably stays very fucking quiet about it which makes everyone think there's some intense traumatic backstory behind it. there isn't. Frank's just embarrassed.

closing note: i imagine that Frank has zero magic. literally none. cannot wield it for shit cannot utilize it. he's just like Howdy fr

[little-pondhead]

wip wednesday because i hate myself

-

"So, this is...what, again?" Sam asked, looking at the massive wooden box Pandora had presented with suspicion and wariness. It wasn't exactly Pandora's box, as in the artifact, but nothing good ever came from involving the words 'Pandora' and 'box' in a single sentence.

"Shoes!" Pandora said brightly, opening the top with a bit of flair. Inside, nestled between sheep's wool, was the biggest fucking pair of sandals Sam had ever seen. They were old, she could tell. The leather was worn so badly she could see individual toe prints. They also reeked to high heaven.

Sam looked up, wrinkling her nose. "Uh, you know I can't wear those, right? Where did you even get these?? Please tell me they aren't yours."

"Oh, of course not!" Pandora laughed. "These are the Talaria of Mercury, also known as Hermes' flying shoes. That old fox is running around the Luminaries like an ox with his head cut off; he didn't notice me at all."

"It's chicken."

"What?"

"Never mind. Won't he be looking for these?"

Pandora shrugged and pulled the sandals out, tossing the box aside and letting it shatter on the ground. Sam flinched as splinters flew through her. Perks of being in the Zone. "I doubt it," the ancient explained. "This is an old pair, and he has dozens more. If anything, I'm doing him a favor."

Sam squinted, but Pandora was telling the truth. It wasn't like the ghost had any reason to lie to her, but still. "Okay, but I still can't wear them. They're too big. Hell, I could probably sleep in them if I wanted to. What's your plan here?"

"Well, it's simple." Pandora tickled the soles of the shoes, and a pair of beautifully white wings sprouted from the outer straps on each side. They were huge, flapping themselves to shake old feathers free, and shimmered oddly under the green and purple skies. Then, she pulled out a delicate golden blade from the folds of her chiton and promptly sliced the wings off at the base, removing them from the sandals altogether and making them go still.

Gasping, Sam had to step forward quickly so the beautiful pair of wings wouldn't hit the ground and get damaged. She caught them, thankfully, but they were light in weight despite their size. They smelled like mothballs.

Pandora slid the knife back into its hiding spot and tossed the shoes aside like she did the box. Her red eyes had a mischievous spark, and the flame from her helm grew larger with excitement. She leaned forward, saying, "You won't wear the shoes, child. You will wear the wings."

-

@vala-dreams

[jadewritesficshere]

Sitting Pretty

This is just pure filth like barely a plot ok 😫🥴

Eddie Munson x Female!reader

18+ONLY

Warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), slight degradation and condescending language (use of slut) (this really isn't degradation in my mind but that's cause I'm used to a lot worse so technically it is but), boot riding, squirting

Eddie dropped the box on the coffee table with a loud thud. It landed next to the other boxes he had carried, and the one you had. After a long day of work, he was tired. He wanted to sit down, relax, and do absolutely nothing. Of course, when you called and said you needed help moving boxes, he came. He knew he was entirely fucked. Wrapped around your fingers. You could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high.

Eddie pushed a strand of hair out of his face, it briefly getting caught on his fingers, making him shake his hand to get it unstuck. He glared at the partially grey hair still wound around his fingers (you said it made him look distinguished and metal. He couldn't complain too much at that). You set your own box on the table and smiled at him,"Thanks Eds, I know you're tired. It means a lot to me you would do this." Eddie hummed,"mhm. What is this stuff anyways?" "Oh, my uncle and aunt were getting rid of a bunch of stuff, so they gave it to my parents, who got rid of more stuff, aaaannnd dumped it on me," you shrugged," I'll go through it and see if there is anything good, then send it to the secondhand store."

Together, you and Eddie started going through the boxes. Eddie pretended to be wounded finding a dungeon master's guide, you found a harmonica and attempted to play a Corroded Coffin song (which had Eddie wheeze laughing and joking about adding a harmonica solo to their next single), he had tried on a pink jacket at your insistence while you had put on a hat that didn't fit (both of you traded items and agreed they looked better on each other then yourselves before promptly tossing the items back in the box), and then you struck gold.

You pulled out a pair of light brown leather cowboy boots. The intricate stitching on the side had caught your eye at the bottom of the box. The tips of the shoes slightly pointed and squared off. You blink at them and hand them to Eddie. Eddie looks at them before scoffing," Nope, those will squish my feet. You see the ends of them?" You roll your eyes," Eddie, if they hurt people's feet why would cowboys wear them? They work on their feet all day!" Eddie was tempted to tease you and say cowboys aren't real, but then you pout at him. The pout making your lips stand out caused him to hesitate. "Please?" He sighed and couldn't help but give you a quick kiss before grumbling and sitting to put the boots on. He could hear your faint cheers as he sat on the recliner.

Your focus was on the box in front of you until you heard Eddie clear his throat and ask,"Well, what do ya think?" You turned and-

Damn.

Eddie stood there with his hands on his hips. Your eyes trailed over him. His curly hair was frizzy from the humidity and a long day of working and sweating at the auto shop. His skin pale, save for a smear of oil on his cheekbone. His tank top showed off his arms beautifully, muscles straining, his bicep wrapped from a new tattoo he had gotten. The tank top tight against his skin, showing you his waist. You could see the bump at his belly button where his piercing was. His jeans were slightly loose, the only light wash pair he owned that he threw on when he hadn't done the laundry. Those stupid cowboy boots sat on his feet, the slight heel giving him extra height. He turned and held his arms out, striking a few poses. They weren't heels, but they made his ass pop (God, now you wanted to see him in heels). The light jeans making his ass look bigger, perfect to hold. Slap even.

"Ya know, they actually are kinda comfortable," Eddie turned back to face you with a smile," they don't- oof!" Eddie lands on the recliner with a grunt from you pushing him. He glares at you," you have to quit doing that! You're gonna strain my back or some shit." "Hm...stop being so fuckable then," you climb on top of his lap and lean close to his ear to whisper," besides, you like it." Eddie clears his throat and grasps your hips. You roll your hips slightly into his, watching him inhale sharply. The scruff of his unshaved jaw beckons you forward, kissing it lightly before trailing down his neck.

You nip and suck at his neck, smirking as he tilts his head to give you better access. His hands that firmly grasp your hips, shift to grab your ass instead. You hum as you pull back, staring at the glistening neck and the lovely purple mark you left. It may be childish to leave a hickey, but you couldn't help but want to mark Eddie up, adding shades of purple and red near his existing tattoos. Eddie's eyes are blown, his pale face flushed a deep red. You shift on top of him, rolling your hips into his again, feeling his hardening length. The feeling of you grinding against him makes him groan. Unbuttoning his jeans, you awkwardly try to unzip them, leaning back into Eddie's hands. He takes that moment to squeeze your ass. You whimper at the feeling and lean forward to kiss him, thoughts of removing his pants forgotten.

His lips are soft, slightly chapped, but still so plush against yours. Your mouths move in tandem, tongues darting out. Eddie licks into your mouth, groaning as he takes control. He sucks on the tip of your tongue before pulling back. Both of you taking deep breaths. "Take these off baby," Eddie mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You nod and clamber off him.

You push your shorts and panties down, balancing a hand on Eddie's knee as you step out of them. You go to get back on Eddie but he stops you," Now hold on, baby." You let out a whine in annoyance. Eddie chuckles and clicks his tongue at you," You seem all pent up, what's got you like this?" "You, now let me on-" "Nah, I think it's something else. Like my boots, Baby?" You nod emphatically, attempting to straddle Eddie again, but he puts his leg out in front of you. The sole of his boot presses against your stomach, and he pushes you back lightly. "Prove it pretty girl."

You pause and tilt your head slightly before grasping Eddie's boot covered ankle. Eddie nods to his foot and taps your stomach with the sole. You step back and bend at the hips, eyes locked with Eddie's, and kiss the tip of the boot. He chuckles and motions you with a finger to continue. You give the boot another kiss, and another. The leather firm against your mouth. Eddie smirks," You can do better then that." "I'm not licking the boot." You stand up and drop Eddie's foot with a thud. Eddie relaxes back spreading his legs, "Who said anything about licking? What's that saying...save a horse, ride a cowboy?"

You blink at him as your mouth falls open. Eddie taps the boot against the hardwood ground, causing clicks to echo. "Go on pretty girl." You can feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs at the thought of Eddie's request. It was demeaning, dirty, and damn if it didn't delight you. You slowly kneel at Eddie's feet, lowering yourself until your core hit the leather.

The fabric was stiff and slightly rough against your pussy. Your arousal dripping onto the boot, causing it to slicken and make it easier to move. You look up from where you're situated to look at Eddie. You can't help the moan that escapes at the site of him. The once slightly baggy jeans are now very filled out from his bulge. One hand resting on it, squeezing lightly. The top of his unbuttoned jeans showing off his happy trail. The opal belly button piercing glinting in the light. The tattoo of the dragon above the jewelry moving with every deep breath he takes. A hickey on his pec from last week. The rest of his tattoos scattered about, glistening from sweat. The scruff on his jaw and neck. The grey hairs at his temples. The smirk on his face, even though it is flushed. The demeaning look he gives you.

You grind against the boot, faltering slightly under his gaze. "Look at you, sitting pretty," Eddie coos at you, patting your head. He knows you hate that, making you feel small. Stupid. "Such a good slut, making my boots all wet." His words make you clench around nothing, throbbing with want.

You buck your hips quicker against his boot. You shift angles slightly and moan as the boot rubs against your clit. The sensation is too much. The pleasure invades your brain, coherent thoughts gone. You feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. A tingly warmth spreading out from your core. "Fuck I'm-" your breath hitches and your hips fumble losing rhythm. "Come for me baby," Eddie grasps your jaw firmly, tilting your head up to face him," Drench my boots like the good slut you are, pretty girl." You gasp as the pressure builds to a crescendo. Your eyes close and you moan head falling back in pleasure. Lights flash behind your eyes as euphoria spreads throughout your limbs. You distantly feel the wetness gush as your hips buck wantonly. Your brain goes fuzzy with static from euphoria. You briefly hear Eddie moan a fuck.

You come back down to earth, loosening your grip on Eddie's thighs. You hadn't even realized you were gripping them. You scoot away from his boot, still on your knees. The light brown leather is soaked, turning a dark brown. A puddle of your release is on the boot, making you feel warm from embarrassment.

"Fucking hell...you squirted," Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. You stand on shaky legs, Eddie helping hold you in place. You glance down at the puddle slowly dripping off his shoe and onto the floor. "Can I ride you now?" You ask saccharinely.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute," Eddie's eyes dart away from yours, clearing his throat. He shifts and you glance at the movement. His jeans are slightly loose again. The light denim jeans having turned dark at a wet spot. "Made me come like a fucking teenager," Eddie stands grabbing your hand. He tugs on your arm, leading you towards the bedroom.

You were definitely keeping the cowboy boots.

[dakota1435]

Moonlight Blood -- Vampire!Sylus X Reader ✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

Word Count: 1K

Chapter 1 found here: x

Chapter 2:

The walk back to the room was silent. There wasn’t a second that you didn’t feel overwhelmed from all of this. Auctioned off, sold, to be a food source for a real living vampire. He didn’t seem….violent. Yet. There was so much you didn’t know, and so much to come. You arrive at the door, and the pair walk down the other side of the hallway. You enter slowly, grateful for the privacy. You notice piles of boxes on top of the bed, some stacked on the floor. With curiosity, you examine the boxes. The first few were brand new clothes. You pulled out loungewear, dresses, and undergarments made with the highest quality of fabrics. Each perfectly in your size, including some shoes. Another box contained toiletries of all kinds. Exotic oils, lotions, and cleansers. Every item looked luxurious, something you’ve never quite had the pleasure of having. It was as if Sylus was trying to make you feel more…at home. But this wasn’t your home. Your awe at the riches below you snapped as you reminded yourself you’re a victim here. Captive, forever. Until you find a way out of this mess. 

But God, the aroma of this rose oil was captivating. You turn to look in the direction of the bathroom connected to the room. As you make your way in, the bathroom is just as exquisite as you expected. You take interest in the giant clawfoot bathtub, in which your body aches at the sight of it. You glance around, to make sure you’re truly alone. It’s been a handful of days since you last cleansed yourself…this was much needed. You turn the faucet on and pour a small amount of the oil in the bath. Steam quickly rises, beckoning you to crawl in. You lock the bathroom door, still weary. But for now, a bath will make things a little bit better. 

The soak feels like heaven. All the dirt and grime from being handled around washes off of you, and you finally feel like you have your own skin back. As you exit the bath, you take a look at some of the clothes you brought in with you. You decided to put on a black, long sleeve maxi dress, considering it hid the most skin. As expected, it fits like a glove. You brush the knots out of your hair, staring at the reflection in the mirror. Shock still racked your mind, unable to fully believe this is where you are now. He said he wouldn’t hurt me, you reminded yourself. But he could do whatever he wanted to. There was no escape, and no rebellion if you wanted to keep yourself in one piece. Were you expected to stay confined in this room until he needed you? Which begged the question, when would he need you? You exhale, physically shaking off your undying anxiety. Get information. Make a plan.

You exit the bathroom slowly, as if you were afraid to make a sound. You were instantly greeted by Sylus’ large frame, making you react instantly. He stares at you, his expression cold. 

“Were the items to your liking?” He asked plainly, gesturing to the boxes. Despite being fully covered, you felt exposed under his stare. 

“Yes,” you breathed out. You noticed the way his eyes took a quick glance at your figure, before returning his gaze to you. He slowly reaches out and feels a thick strand of your hair. He lets it glide between his fingers as it drapes over your shoulder. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest once again. 

“Careful now, all that high pressure isn’t good for you,” he stated. It clicked in your head he definitely can hear your heart beat erratically. 

“Can you blame me?” You blurt out. You quickly shut your mouth, realizing you could have sounded a bit snarky. Sylus smirks in response. 

“No, I suppose not.” Silence hangs heavy in the air. Sylus sauntered over to a lush, leather seat in the corner. He sits himself down casually, and stares you down. “You have questions.” Of course, you had a million questions. “Speak,” he commanded. You felt like prey. 

“Why haven’t you bit me yet?” The question comes out before you think about it. “I mean–”

“Do you want me to, right now?” He interrupted, cocking his head a bit to the side. A mischievous smile teases his lips. 

“No,” you answered honestly. You were scared, nothing would change that fact. You fidget with your hands, feeling cornered. 

“I don’t like picking on the weak, kitten.” That nickname again. “I know the ride here wasn’t exactly gentle.” It was true, though. You barely remember the past handful of days, knocked out from a drug you didn’t know. Starved, grabbed, and stared at like you were some exotic beast. You avert your gaze, somehow feeling ashamed. “Besides…once you’re healthy then I’ll be able to savor the full taste of you.” His eyes seemed to glow with desire. 

“You said my blood is special. Why?” You tried to stand up straighter, wanting to come off less frightened. Sylus took notice. “I’ve had blood tests before. Always normal.” 

“There’s something in you that gives your blood a special quality to it. It’s…powerful to say the least. I don’t expect you to understand that,” he said, sounding a little condescending. 

“How do you know?” You asked back. You felt yourself getting a little defensive. You wanted to persuade him you weren’t special. Something shifts in his gaze, his eyes becoming a little darker. 

“I just do.” His words were short and you couldn’t find a response quick enough. 

“...Will it hurt?” It was almost a whisper. You were afraid to know the answer. You notice the way Sylus calculated his response, as if trying to find the right thing to say. He stands himself up, walking towards you. You look at your hands again, hoping they would save you from this situation. He’s close enough now to feel his body heat, his staggering height looming over you. He leans down to your eye level.

“Behave. Don’t make me impatient. Then it will be fine.” His tone seemed a bit harsher. For a second, you thought this would be the moment he bites. Your body tensed up, but nothing came from it. He glances down at your body again, before back at your wide eyes. He smirks before standing straight. “But it looks like I won’t have to worry about that,” he added. You frowned, feeling like you should put up a fight. But your body knew it wouldn’t stand a chance. There was nothing you could do but be submissive. 

“Was this planned? Are you the reason I was taken?” Your gut felt heavy with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Sylus looks down at his hand, before coming back to you.  “No. I just happened to be lucky.” He was cocky, confident, and rich. Part of you cursed at yourself for finding him alluring. He had the beauty of a black puma, and you were nothing but a mouse. It could be worse, you thought to yourself. If there was anything you knew, it was that monsters are very, very real. You were captive. This was your new life.

-----------------

Thank you for reading:)! Chapters coming soon. Feedback is welcomed

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 28 - leather

ghost x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1.4k, established relationship, leather kink, vaguely implied masturbation, no sex in this, just cute, kink-flavored fluff.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

“Si?” you asked peaking around the corner, trying to catch your boyfriend’s eye. “Mind if I wear this tonight?”

Your boyfriend looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, tying his shoes while you put the finishing touches on your outfit before you went out for the night. He looked up, dark brown eyes flashing over you once, down to his shoes, then quickly back again as his brain processed what he just saw. 

You stood in the hall, hands nervously clutched together as you waited for his response. Your outfit wasn’t anything special, just a comfortable and classic white t shirt paired with a short black jean skirt and a pair of high tops. You weren’t worried about those, though. It was the old leather jacket you had found in the back of his closet that had you dancing side to side, awaiting his approval. 

As he sat there, hands on his knees, slowly blinking like he was trying to decided if what he saw was real or not, you started to sweat. Then he stood up, wide-eyed stare on you as he crossed the room. He loomed over you, running his hands over the soft, cracked leather draped across your shoulders. 

“Where’d you find this, love?” he mumbled, eyes glazed as the feel and smell of the jacket brought back a flood of memories. “Thought it was long gone.”

“Bottom of a box while I was cleaning our closet,” you answered, biting your lip. 

His hands trailed down the arms of the jacket, fashionably oversized on you, but you could imagine when he had last worn it, practically a lifetime ago at this point, it would have fit him like a glove. His hands closed around your shoulders, scrunching the thick material as he hauled you closer to him. He pressed his face down into the crown of your head, a deep inhale ruffling your hair as his arms ran across your back, smoothing down the jacket almost reverently. 

You did the same, hands running up and down his torso, giving what comfort they could. You still weren’t sure what answer you were going to get. Any unexpected tiptoe into Simon’s past had usually not ended well, so you tried to avoid it altogether. 

“Don’t have to-” you started to say, trying to give him a gentle way to let you down.

“Looks fuckin’ gorgeous on y’, love,” he interrupted, pulling away to look down at you, eyes now half lidded and heavy. “Better than it ever did on me.”

With that, he stepped away, leading you with him toward the door by the hand. 

“Ready?” he asked, suddenly more excited for this night out than he had been all week. “Be late if we don’t leave soon.”

You stuck your head out of the dressing room nervously. You looked around for Simon, somehow unable to spot his unusually tall and wide form in the mostly empty shop exactly at the time you needed him. You stepped gingerly out from behind the curtain in your socks, the outfit you wanted to show him still on, when you spotted him flipping through hangers on a round carousel. 

“Si!” you hissed, catching his attention immediately. 

His back straighted as he turned, the small piece of clothing on it’s hanger swinging in his hand as he turned quickly to face you. You held your hands out, silently asking for his opinion.

“Nice,” he said flatly, before shoving whatever he had picked out into your hands. “Try this one on f’ me. Wanna see you in it.”

You held the miniskirt out to look it over. It was technically the correct size, which he had chosen by some miracle, but it was short. Short short. At least it was black and not some bright, tacky color.

“My ass is gonna hang out,” you said rolling your eyes. “Want me to look like some sleazy barfly, Si?”

“It’s . . . it’ll wear in. Leather, you know? Just try it on,” he urged you, slightly trembling hands pushing the hanger back toward you before tucking them away in his pockets. “Please, love. Just f’ me.”

“Okaaay,” you said with an over dramatic sigh, followed up with a smile before you walked back into the changing room. Before you disappeared behind the curtain, you turned back to your boyfriend telling him, “Now don’t wander away again, or else I won’t get it.”

You almost choked on your laugh at how fast he sat down. His expression graven as he took his position. Most people asked you how you got along with a man that came off so emotionless, practically expressionless most of the time. You could never make those people understand how wrong they were. Like now, you only had to look at him to read him. When he wanted something, it was so so obvious. 

You shuffled into the tight little skirt, giving yourself a look in a few poses, deciding you liked it before you stepped out. Simon didn’t even have his phone out, his attention fully on you the second you stepped out. The world must have slowed down for him, the way he reacted. You heard his breath catch in his throat. A blush dusted his cheeks, tinting his ears a violent pink. His eyes, heavy and half-lidded, went nearly black as he stood up, lurching like a Hammer Horror monster toward you.

You couldn’t help but let a little smile creep across your mouth as he closed his hands around your waist, fingers itching to stroke at the material.

“Like it?” you asked coyly, pulling the front seam down, already knowing his answer.

“Fuck, love,” he groaned, petting down your leather-clad hips. “Buyin’ this for you. Don’t care if you ever wear it out, just . . . just wear it once f’ me? Okay?”

You giggled, pulling out of his grasp and his shadow to back into the changing room. The way he was acting, riled up over almost nothing, had you regretting pushing him backwards to prevent him from following you in. You liked this shop, though, and it would be a shame to never be able to come back because your man couldn’t keep it in his pants until you got home. 

“Si, you have to stop,” you told him over the phone, connection crackling as you tried to catch up with him while he was off god-knows-where for the third month in a row. 

You toyed with the box in your lap, the latest package to arrive with your name on it and you had an idea what was inside. The first had held a pair of black boots. Expensive as hell, leather boots, mind you. They were exquisitely made, with tall uppers that zippered just under your knees, and a sensible, stacked leather heel. 

The second package was a pair of pants: white and boot cut. They didn’t look all that amazing at first, until you tried them on. They gripped your ass like no tomorrow, putting it fully on display. The sight alone made you blush, and that was standing alone in your bathroom. It had been your mistake sending Simon a picture, asking if he was sure about them. He was groaning and whimpering on the other end the whole call, not even trying to hide what he was doing. 

Now you were sat on your bed with the latest package between your knees, scissors in hand, opening it at his request.

“Want to hear your reaction this time,” he said breathless, ignoring your complaints.

Slowly you cut away the packing tape, knowing that whatever was inside could be punctured and was probably expensive. Inside was a smaller, decorative box. When you opened that, a sheet of folded over tissue paper protected the goods inside, gauzy material obscuring everything but the color. You held your breath as you removed the paper, revealing what the red mass was. 

“Oh,” you gasped into the phone, holding it up.

It was a dress, short, red and revealing in just about every place it could be. The tiny set of straps criss-crossed around your neck to hold up a bodice shaped into a shallow v at the front. Between your breasts, down the front center, was a barely hidden zipper that ran all the way down to the hem. It even had little slits at the sides.

Don’t want to look too demure, you thought.

“Well?” he asked. You could hear him pacing on the other end. 

“I love it!” you said with a laugh, breaking the awkward silence. “Can’t wait to wear it for you,” you continued, “But Simon, love. You gotta face the fact you have a fetish at this point.”

You could almost see his blush as he grumbled on the other end: something about “nothing being wrong” and “just wanting to treat his girl” while you laid back against your shared bed and had a good long laugh over it.

[gilbirda]

The Wonderous Beauty of the Statuesque Scarlet

Jazz knew she was tall. It wasn't like it affected her life or anything (sarcasm). It wasn't like she didn't end dates early because the dude asked her if it was really necessary for her to wear heels. Yes, she was tall. And strong. On top of that, she had duties as Ghost Princess, so finding a partner was not easy for her. Or so she thought until a guy just her type bumps into her and completely bluescreens.

[Read on AO3][Read on FF]

----

Jazz knew she was tall.

Even when she was in the waiting line of, let’s say, the bank and an old lady commented “wow you are tall!”; even when a date ended early because the guy kept asking why she had to wear heels if she was already tall; even when Danny threatened to kick her shins complaining about her inheriting their dad’s genes.

Yes. She was well aware she was very tall.

Thank you very much for pointing it out.

She was happy with her height, now — she had accepted that kids would look at her in awe and comment on her height, and that some would ask if she was an Amazon. And you know what? She embraced it now. Yes, she was tall, and big, and her biceps were noticeable — but that wasn’t because she was an Amazon, but because of all the training and the fighting that being the older sister of the King of the Ghosts entailed.

Not that she could say that out loud.

The thing is she was used to people stopping and staring at her, craning their necks and lifting an eyebrow, looking back down to check if suddenly the flat shoes she was wearing had magically turned into impossible high heels that explained her height.

What she wasn’t used to, though, was making a man completely bluescreen.

“Oops, sorry.” She quickly rushed to grab the dude’s arm when he stumbled after colliding with her.

“Uh…”

“I should have seen where I was going, sorry.”

He just kept looking up at her, eyes wide, body frozen in place. There wasn’t a single coherent thought behind those blue eyes. She would know, she was a psychologist.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

She bit her lip, wondering what to do. This had never happened to her before.

“I… uh, I’m fine.” He finally blinked and came back to his body. She didn’t miss his eyes roaming towards her naked arms, and the bracelets on her wrists, official Wonder Woman merchandise.

“Ok. Then I should just—”

“Do you like coffee?”

She blinked. He blinked, slowly realizing what he said. His cheeks tinted a bit red in embarrassment.

“I’m more of a tea gal.” Jazz giggled, enjoying this maybe way too much. He was cute all flustered. It was a nice change from all the bullshit she got from men all the time.

“Do you want to— uh, I mean.” He breathed in, breathed out, gathering his thoughts. “What I want to say is, do you want to go for coffee — or tea! — with me?”

“Like, right now?”

She looked around. They were right in front of a coffee shop. He had been on his way in when she accidentally body slammed him.

“No! No. Not right now.” He looked away back at one of the tables set up on the street. Jazz turned to look as well, trying to see what he was looking at. “Maybe some other time?”

It felt nice being hit on like this. Refreshing.

Also, it helped that he was cute, and handsome in a bad boy way, with a leather jacket and combat boots. She wasn’t scared to admit to herself that she had a type and he checked a lot of boxes in her list.

“I would love to!”

She quickly searched in her purse for some paper — an old restaurant ticket — and a pen and wrote her number and her name, with a little smiley face.

“Here,” she grabbed his hand and put the paper with her number in it, closing his fingers around the ticket, just in case. Her hands were usually cold, a side effect of her liminality, but she hoped he assumed it was because of the weather. “I have to go, but text me soon!”

He smiled back at her, and Jazz knew she was a goner. He had this boyish crooked smile with a hint of a dimple.

She hoped he texted her back, once the awe of her height had passed.

***

“So…”

“Shut up.”

“I mean—”

“I said shut up, Dickhead.”

“She’s cute.”

Jason growled, his hands fiddling with the piece of paper with a phone number in it. He had to text her. Soon. If he waited then she would get the wrong idea that he wasn’t interested and he was very interested—

“She’s tall, huh?” His brother kept going, unprompted. “Did you see those muscles? I bet she could snap me in half. Hell, she could snap you in half.”

Yes. He had seen those arms. He had imagined them around him already.

“What are you waiting for? Text her!”

“We have a case to look over, though.” He tried to put the paper with the phone number in his jacket, but Dick was quicker and stole it from his hands.

“Jasmine. It’s a pretty name.” He hummed, considering. “Jasmine and Jason. It has a nice ring to it. Also both names start with J, funny coincidence, don’t you— Jay? What’s wrong?”

Jason had stopped listening, his mind going back to the conversation with her. He had been ridiculous and messed up everything; but did he really mess up something so simple?

“I forgot to tell her my name.”

Dick’s eyebrows went to his hairline, his lips stretching in a big smile. “That bad, huh?”

“Shut your mouth, Grayson.”

His reaction only made his brother’s smile get bigger, if that was physically possible. He placed his elbows on the table and rested his head on his open palms.

“Could this be love at first sight?”

“You know that doesn’t exist—”

“You are now living in a Hallmark movie, Jay.” Dick sighed dramatically. “So romantic.”

Jason breathed slowly, controlling his thoughts. If he got riled up by the teasing, he would only get even more teased and then the conversation would go nowhere useful. They had to compare notes for a case, it was kind of the whole point of meeting up with his brother, and both had things to do after this.

Jason thought the whole thing could have been an email; but again, if Dick hadn’t insisted on meeting at the coffee place because it was nice outside, he wouldn’t have gotten the phone number of the prettiest girl he had the pleasure of stumbling into.

“I’m living vicariously through you, just so you know.”

“Fuck off, Dickhead,” Jason snatched back the paper with the number and checked that it was still in one piece and the numbers hadn’t been smudged by his brother. It was fine. Even the cute smiley face drawing next to “Jasmine” was intact. “Let’s get to work.”

“I would, but someone forgot to get me my coffee~”

Oh shit.

Really?

Did he really forget to order their drinks? The one thing he had walked away from the table for?

Jason let his head fall onto the table, ignoring the laughs and giggles coming from his brother.

***

>>Hey.

>>Um

>>I'm Jason, the guy from the coffee shop?

>>Sorry for taking so long to text, I had stuff to do

>>Anyway, what do you think about next friday around 5?

>>You name the place

Jazz couldn’t help but smile down at her phone, reading back on the conversation with Jason.

She appreciated that he let her choose the meeting place, which was a good sign. After suggesting a nice coffee place that worked as a library as well, he commented he loved that place too and asked her if she had taken a book from there.

Turns out he loved books too, and didn’t shy away from any genre of literature — from classics to modern trashy romance.

His favorite author was Jane Austen. He tried not to geek too much, but after sending her a photo of his first edition Pride & Prejudice, that had a lot of sticky notes and his own annotations, she knew he was a big Austen nerd.

The contrast was more shocking when he turned up with a biker leather jacket, a white shirt, jeans and the same combat boots. He was combing back his flattened curls, complaining about parking in Gotham and that he hoped he didn’t make her wait too long.

She had to wait, but only because she arrived fifteen minutes earlier than the meeting time.

Not that she would tell him.

Jazz felt her mind become fuzzy as she watched him smile that crooked smile again, complimenting her carefully put together outfit — shut up Danny, she wasn’t trying to impress anybody — and the braid she spent so long trying to get right, undoing and redoing it.

“I have a sister that likes braiding her hair, and a friend of the family that usually comes over as well. They always complain when I don’t do it right.”

“Did they teach you how to braid?”

He chuckled, taking a sip of his latte. “Actually, funny enough, my little brother taught all of us. His mother let him do her hair and made him practice until he got it right.”

Jazz had a pinch in her chest like every time loving mothers were mentioned. “That’s nice,” her voice betrayed nothing as she looked down at her hands cupping her tea. “I tried to teach my little brother, but he didn’t have much interest.”

“Too girly for him?” He lifted an eyebrow, leaning in with a tiny smile so she knew he was joking.

She appreciated the change in topic, and she liked the opportunity to talk about Danny. “Nah. I mean, he had a ‘ugh, girls suck’ phase and stuff, but fortunately it didn’t last long.” Because then he had to become a superhero, but she couldn’t exactly say that.

Both laughed a little before a comfortable silence settled in their table. A few times their eyes met over the lids of their cups, making Jazz blush and look away.

“So… have you read anything interesting lately?”

From then on the conversation barely stopped. Jazz had never talked that much before, at least not about her favorite books and why she liked them. Jason listened, actually listened to what she said and added his own comments and corrections, no matter what she threw at him, showing he was also interested in the same things.

He talked as well, mentioning his own first edition collection and how his father let him have a private library with all the books he wanted. He talked around some topics, like his childhood or stuff about his father, but she didn’t want to pry. It didn’t feel shady, more like… it felt familiar, not wanting to bring up painful memories. She could understand that.

They asked for more coffee and more tea, and those chocolate chip cookies that looked delicious, talking and debating about the pros and cons of reading on a kindle or paperback.

The sun was low by the time they finished their drinks and the cookies, and neither really wanted to go home just yet. Jazz’s stomach grumbled. She was so hungry and the cookies only helped to awaken her stomach.

“Wanna… go have dinner?”

She looked up at him, blushing a little. “A coffee and a dinner date? You really are the full package.”

His cheeks tinted a bit red, but he didn’t look away. “Would hate to cut the night short when I’m enjoying my conversation with a beautiful lady.”

Jazz felt her cheeks catch fire. Jason had been cute and kind the whole time, but this was the first actual “move” he pulled on her.

And it was working.

She wanted to continue.

At her approval, they paid the bill — split in half, and he didn’t make a fuss about it. Good — and walked back out to the cold night in Gotham.

Jazz shivered a little. Maybe a flowery summer dress wasn’t the best for the night, but she didn’t expect being out so late. Time really flies when you are having fun, huh?

“Not used to Gotham's micro climate?” He commented.

She looked back at him, stopping her hands rubbing her naked arms. She had noticed he liked her arms so maybe the dress didn’t have sleeves. So what.

“How did you know I’m not from around here?”

“It’s obvious you’ve been in the city for a while, but your midwestern accent still stands out.” So he was observant, and had been analyzing her as much as she did him. “Do you want my jacket?”

It was so cliché that she just giggled. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

Jason took off his jacket and extended it to her. It fit her frankly well! He was a bit shorter than her but he was more built and had wider shoulders, so the jacket sat comfortably on her body and gave her enough room around her arms and, thank the Ancients, around her chest. Maybe she should look around the men's section of the clothing store instead of getting frustrated with women’s clothing that never fit correctly.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, which he acknowledged with a nod.

Now that he didn’t have the jacket, she could admire how the white shirt he wore left little to the imagination. It wasn’t too tight, but it creased in the right places and it let his muscular arms really shine.

He hit the gym regularly, that was obvious, but he wasn’t obsessed about it. He carried himself with the confidence of someone that knew what they had and didn’t need to make a show to get attention. Still, he carried himself with certain deliberateness — relaxed shoulders, quiet steps, head slightly down.

Jazz was used to Danny employing the same techniques to separate himself from his Phantom persona, to not be noticed just in case someone looked too close.

She was willing to set aside the thought. After all, Jason had been a delight the whole time and she had noticed many green flags in the time they talked. If he wanted to hurt her or if he was involved in shady stuff, she would have known already.

Also, it wasn’t like he could overpower her. She was strong. Stronger than a human, even with his size and probable training.

And Danny always said she needed to live a little. Maybe that meant dating around a bit, get to know new people, sleep with a cute guy—

Wow. That came out of nowhere.

She blushed, realizing she did like this guy. Enough to consider letting her hair loose a little. They were consenting adults, right? If he was interested and she was interested, then why not?

“Where do you want to eat dinner?” He asked as they arrived at his parked bike. And what a bike! She wasn’t an expert in these things, but it looked expensive and well maintained — well loved.

“I chose the coffee place, you choose the dinner place?” She shrugged, and the movement sent a puff of his scent to her nose. He smelled like gunpowder and engine oil.

Jason nodded and opened a side trunk to withdraw the helmets, giving her one. It was crimson red, matching the bike. “Alright, I know a place.”

***

Jazz was beautiful.

From the moment he arrived — finding her sitting at the table, looking at her phone — he understood why so many writers and poets could go on about the beauty of their partners. It would sound cliché, but his mind started comparing her soft looking skin to flower petals, and the pink of her lips—

Stop, Jason.

He knew she was smart and shared some interests with him, but he got the impression she was the shy kind over text and preferred meeting in person. He’d hoped that this date gave him a better insight into her character.

So they talked. For hours.

Honestly he didn’t have ulterior motives for this meeting. If it went well, he was interested in knowing her more, that’s for sure. It had been a while since he just hung out with someone for non-work related issues, and dating wasn’t really one of his priorities; but if this Amazon goddess liked his company as much as he had liked hers so far, he was willing to try.

The restaurant he took her to was cozy and not that well known, but the food was great. When they got there he couldn’t help but notice how she attracted everyone’s gaze, how her height and her beauty were such a beacon of light for the people around her.

She didn’t seem to care, though — her eyes were either fixed on her hands fiddling with the hem of the sleeves of his jacket or on him as she talked about the latest movie she had seen.

They sat down in a relatively secluded corner of the restaurant, the soft light hanging on the wall giving it all a romantic touch that was just perfect for the occasion.

Jazz took off his jacket now that they were indoors, and he lamented not taking a picture of her flowery dress and biker jacket combo. Maybe she would want to wear it again. He hoped so.

Silver lining, now she had her arms uncovered again, letting him — subtly — admire her biceps and her bracelets. She confirmed it was a Wonder Woman official jewelry line, and that she bought it to be funny but now was too committed to the bit.

Dinner was nice as well. After warming up at the café and talking about anything and everything, dinner felt a bit more personal, a bit of a deep insight of themselves.

She talked about her brother a lot. About her passion to become a great psychologist and the steps she had been taking towards her dream. About her parents — albeit she tried not to “be a bummer” and “get all depressed on such a nice date”.

She had a past she wasn’t ready to share, and he respected that, so he only kept his questions about her passion, her work and more stories with her brother.

It was around dessert that the conversation ramped down into more and more silence — not because they didn’t have things to say, but because, at least for him, the way the fairy lights illuminated her face was very distracting.

They shared a chocolate cake slice for dessert. She had a bit of chocolate on the corner of her lips, but she didn’t notice.

He didn’t think about his next move, he just leaned in over the tiny table and kissed the chocolate away. It helped that they had unconsciously gotten closer as they talked.

Her face was flushed when he sat back down on his chair, licking his lips. The cake was good, but her red cheeks looked tastier.

He wanted more.

“Um—”

Maybe she didn’t want more?

Jazz looked a bit lost for a second, her mouth open as she thought of what to say.

“Yeah?” He lifted an eyebrow.

She scrunched her nose, apparently having decided, and this time she leaned over the table, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him into a proper kiss.

Her kiss was timid, like she didn’t want to scare him away or expected him to push her away any moment. When seconds passed and instead of rejecting her, he placed his hand on the base of her head to angle her better, she got braver and bolder, pressing her lips against his with a little more intensity than before.

She wanted him.

“Ahem!” A throat was cleared next to them, breaking the moment.

Jazz jumped back to her seat, her face completely red, looking down at the table like she had done something wrong.

Jason smiled up at the waiter, who was smiling politely but completely insincere. He knew this waiter, they weren’t friends, but Jason knew he had a little brother and that he was a student at Gotham University.

“Is the food to your liking?”

“Very.” He wasn’t talking about the food. The waiter’s eyebrow twitched, but his smile stayed in place. “Can we please get the check?”

“Right away, sir.”

Jason didn’t even look at how much everything was, his eyes glancing back at Jazz’s face and her lips — the way she was biting them, the way her eyes were eating him whole.

The walk back to the bike was quieter, with many stops to kiss and many burning side glances and handholding. He couldn’t get enough of her giggles every time he pulled her down for a quick kiss, or the feel of her hands on his shoulders, her strong arms around him.

Finally they reached the bike, safely parked on a quiet alley. It was late and no one was around, so he pulled her into the shadows for a more proper kiss, letting himself get lost in the taste of chocolate on her tongue.

Jazz was biting her lip when they parted for air, mischief in her eyes, which should have warned him of what she would do next. The world spun for a second as she grabbed him by the shoulders, switching their positions and slamming him against the wall with maybe a bit more strength than was necessary.

A traitorous moan escaped his throat.

“Oh?” She smiled. Of course she heard him.

“Don’t say a word.”

Her smile got wider. “Okay.”

In the heat of the moment she got bolder. She kissed him without any ounce of the shyness she had during their date — she was ravenous, eating him completely, holding him firmly against the brick wall.

He was warm, too warm, and the cold wind was starting to get uncomfortable.

“Do you… wanna continue?”

Jazz nodded, panting. “Your place or mine?”

***

The sun was shining right on her face, and since she was an early riser, no matter her activities last night, she was now wide awake.

That didn’t mean she had to get up from bed just yet. Because she didn’t want to.

Jason was also awake in her arms as they enjoyed the quiet lazy morning, hearing each other breathe, feeling each other’s warmth.

It was quiet in the apartment, a big contrast to the night they spent together. Jazz blushed and nuzzled her face against Jason’s curls in an attempt to hide from the world. She really got carried away, but there was something about him that made it impossible to resist — they only had one date, for Ancients’ sake.

He was so sweet and caring and cute and handsome and very irresistible. She just couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, and more than once she had to catch herself before she hurt him or did anything that was obviously inhuman. If she slipped, she hoped he forgot about it, too buried under the pleasure and the distracting activities from last night.

Jazz was positive that she had left some scratches and bites on him, and a quick look confirmed that his back and shoulders were—

Wait.

These looked at least a day old, almost completely healed. She knew wounds, she knew how long it took for a human to heal from what she did to him, and this was closer to what she expected from Danny’s partners’ healing factor.

She tried to not freak out, but he noticed her tense up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He turned around, eyes searching to see what was wrong, clearly not buying her shaky voice.

She saw the moment he noticed something was wrong about her, his eyes going down her face and staying on her neck, one hand reaching to touch the skin on her left shoulder. She could still feel the ghost of the bite in that area, a bite that probably had already healed by the morning.

By the way Jason’s eyes went wide, she knew he noticed the inconsistency.

Uh oh.

“What—?”

“I can explain.” He should, too, since he wasn’t normal either. Maybe he wasn’t human?

Not that it would make her less interested, but she was curious.

“Are you a metahuman?”

Jazz made a face. “Technically, no.”

He narrowed his eyes and shuffled away from her, his body tense. “What are you?”

“Something else.” She didn’t want to keep it vague, but she didn’t know who he was or who he could be working for. “And you?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed further at the accusatory tone. Jazz didn’t like how the quiet morning had turned to this, but if her security — and Danny’s — had been compromised, she had to push her feelings for Jason to the side. Danny was more important.

“You targeted me?” He now had a knife. Where did that come from? “Was the whole ‘date’ thing a set up?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

His eyes flashed green for a second. If she blinked, she would have missed it. “Don’t lie—”

“Wait.”

“What?”

Jazz lunged in, ignoring the very real and very sharp knife Jason had in his hands. If he stabbed her it would heal in a minute.

She placed her hands on his face, focusing, trying to see in the blue if the green would manifest again. She ignored him as he started to protest — vaguely registering that he put the knife away — humming in thought. Just to test, she let her core send a ping, a small wave of energy, only meant to say ‘hello’ to nearby ectoentities.

Jason somehow answered back, his eyes becoming green for a second.

“— the actual fuck is going on?”

Jazz blinked and came back to the situation, finally noticing she was almost straddling the man, her hands gently but firmly cradling his head. And she was still naked.

“You died.”

Jason’s cheeks had been slightly tinted pink, but now he was white as a sheet.

“How—”

“We’re the same,” Jazz made a face, “technically. I haven’t died, yet, but I do have one foot in the grave so to speak.”

“And you think we’re the same because…” He wasn’t believing her fully, but just enough to not pick up the knife again.

“Your eyes, they do this.”

She let her power flow freely, not needing to hide her inhumanity anymore. She saw the moment he understood, because his tense body relaxed and basked in her presence, her emotions projecting the calm and slight joy at finding someone like her.

His eyes swirled green in response to hers.

“I… I don’t—” he tried to speak through the stupor, “I’ve never—”

“You didn’t know?” About liminality, about ghosts, about people like her.

He licked his lips, blinking to refocus. “What are you?”

He really didn’t know. Someone would pay for letting him wander alone without guidance.

“I am Jasmine Nightingale, a liminal human.” His eyebrows went to his hairline. “I was born human but events led to me becoming deeply acquainted with the dead and everything in between. Like you.”

Maybe it was the influence of her aura still filling the room, or her serene voice, but he believed her.

“So you approached me—”

She hated that he looked hurt at the thought.

“I didn’t target you. I didn’t know you were like me until just now — I usually seal my liminality when I’m in the living world.” One of her hands moved to grab the white streak that now looked so obviously inhuman. “I should have known,” she chuckled, “the only good guy I manage to have a decent date with is not completely human.”

He frowned at her comment, making her freeze. Jazz quickly recoiled and withdrew her power, watching as he noticed the change.

There were a few moments of silence where she let go of him and waited as Jason pondered the new information.

His eyes were blue when he looked back up. “You’re not quite human,” she nodded. One of his hands lifted to touch her face, as if he was trying to make sure she was still the same person. “And I’m like you.”

“Kinda.”

He hummed. Birds chirped outside, reminding her that this was supposed to be a quiet morning in bed with the cute date she somehow scored. Nothing can be simple with her, huh. Figures.

“You really didn’t know about me?”

It was something in his eyes when he said it — a guarded sadness. She had seen that look a few times on their date, usually when he obviously changed the topic of conversation. He had been hurt before, and he lived life waiting for the moment someone else would hurt him again.

“I swear on my life, Jason. I only said yes to the date because I thought you were cute. Nothing else.”

His mouth twisted. “I’m not cute.”

“Yes you are.”

He rolled his eyes, letting go of her face and slumping back to rest on the pillow. “Am not.”

She leaned in, her long hair sliding over her shoulder and making a barrier that shielded them from the sunlight coming from the window. She felt his eyes roam through her face and down her body, reminding her that she was as naked. And so was he.

When he looked back up, his gaze was burning with reignited desire.

“Should I spend this fine morning convincing you?”

His breath hitched, the muscles of his stomach tensing in anticipation. “Nothing you can do will change my mind.”

Jazz’s smile widened when she caught the playful tone in his voice. He wanted this. He wanted to continue. And maybe a repeat of last night.

Alright then.

This time she didn’t need to hold back.

She let her hands rest on his shoulders, pinning him down to the mattress. She used a bit more strength than what was necessary, but not enough to hurt; just enough to make the point that if she wanted, she could do so much more.

By his sudden blush going all the way up to his ears, he got the message.

Jazz licked her lips, ready to devour that cute smile and every sound she could force out of it.

***

“Are you sure about this?”

“Positive.”

Jazz looked down at their entwined hands, squeezing Jason’s fingers, trying to ground herself.

It was silly being this nervous — it wasn’t like they were teenagers. If her boyfriend’s family didn’t approve of her they couldn’t actually do anything. Not that they would disapprove. Jason was sure they would love her, he told her so too many times on different occasions.

But it was… an experience. Knowing that your boyfriend of a few months was part of the Waynes. She usually forgot because Jason didn’t frequent the Manor and had a life outside of the glitz and glamor, so it had never affected their relationship.

That was until they learned about her existence — Jason didn’t hide her, but he wasn’t going to share every bit of his personal life — and asked if she wanted to come over to dinner one day.

Jazz didn’t mind, so she said yes. After all, Jason already knew Danny and had “passed the vibe check”, Danny’s words, so she took it as a sign that it was fine if they became official-official.

Still, she was very nervous. This relationship had been the longest she ever had and she knew how important family approval was and it didn’t matter that Jason was a bit estranged from the family, it did matter for her anyway and—

“I can hear you panic from here.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No. You don’t.” She rolled her eyes. “Are we doing this or not?”

Jason narrowed his eyes at her, not believing her at all, but let it slide. There was no point in arguing at the door.

“It will be fine.” He leaned so he could whisper. “They can be a lot but they’re harmless. Also I’ll protect you.”

She looked at him funny. Both knew she was the stronger one between them, a fact he very much enjoyed, so he didn’t mean it as in physical protection.

Jazz breathed slowly, taking in the offering of support. Jason would be there, he wouldn’t let them be mean to her.

Why the hell would they be mean to her? Silly Jasmine. They were just a family. Stupid rich, famous celebrities and very public faces in Gotham — but Jason’s family nonetheless.

She got this.

At her nod, Jason rang the bell and immediately it was opened by the butler. Alfred, if she remembered correctly. Was he on the side of the door, waiting?

“Welcome home, master Jason,” he nodded at them, “and Miss Jasmine.”

“Jazz is fine.”

The butler smiled, clearly not having any intention of using the nickname. Jason had warned her that Alfred could be a “petty motherfucker”, but that it was to the people he liked. She took it as a good sign.

“Please, come in.”

Jazz took another deep breath and walked into the gigantic Manor and straight into the fray. Maybe literally.

Inside there were so many people just looking at her, analyzing her, with various curious expressions.

“Told you she was real.” She heard what was supposed to be a quiet whisper, and a blonde girl elbowed a black haired guy next to her. Stephanie and Tim, going by Jason’s descriptions; which while colorful and varied in expletives depending on how mad he was at them, were actually very accurate. “Pay up, bitch.”

The guy grumbled but placed a few bills in her awaiting hand.

Jazz had to chuckle. That was weird, but funny. It made her relax a little.

“Ah, Jasmine, right?”

The voice made her look away from the people watching her like she was some kind of exotic animal (truly, what the hell was so interesting about her?) to find—

No.

It couldn’t be.

Could it?

Her liminal boyfriend’s adoptive father couldn’t be the actual Batman.

But the aura was the same, the same height and build, the same slight touch of death. Her eyes were sharp enough to catch the almost invisible and well healed scars on the man’s chin and the ones peeking from the black turtleneck.

He carried himself differently too, more relaxed, and if she wasn’t already onto him she would have been fooled.

Jazz smiled and shook the hand he offered, making a conscious effort to not squeeze his hand and reveal herself too quickly just to be petty. That was Danny’s thing. For now she would observe and behave like the perfect girlfriend.

They did make it hard, though. The whole Wayne clan was not what you’d expect from Gotham’s high society and acted more like a bunch of misbehaving kids in an unsupervised classroom.

It made sense now how Jason was so… so different than what you’d expect from the son of a socialite. At first he acted a bit guarded and checked that she didn’t take all the prodding and roughing between siblings and family friends badly; but once she laughed at the insanity he relaxed and let himself be part of the bickering like he belonged there.

She watched them interact, noticing the details that made it obvious now that the whole flock was a bat or bird — the question is who was who.

As she tried to play Guess Who with the Gotham heroes, it slowly dawned on her that Jason was another hero too. All the canceled dates and dodged questions about what he did in his free time. All his secrets and poorly disguised attempts at being subtle fit together in a single picture.

The Red Hood.

Danny was going to flip. If Jason hadn’t “passed the vibe check” already he definitely would have now.

Which she was more than fine with, if Jason was Red Hood. It actually made it easier for her to introduce him to the remaining secrets she was keeping from him until Danny gave the okay. After that night’s dinner, something told her that he would be fine with revealing herself to Jason.

Maybe Batman would stop being so difficult in the League meetings. The man had a thousand questions and didn’t trust anything they said, always asking for a second and third opinion. It didn’t become an open animosity because it was obvious it came from a place of caution and not hatred, but made the meetings drag for hours and Jazz’s royal armor was very uncomfortable to wear for so long.

Bruce didn’t seem to make the connection yet. If he did he was a great liar, because he did a one eighty from the dark vigilante and League member that drilled her and her brother with questions. He was more like… a hopeful puppy. Glancing between Jason and her, watching every touch and casual caress like a hawk.

Jason had mentioned that his relationship with his father had been very bad for a long time, but that they were working on it. Maybe he hoped that being nice to her got him cookie points in his son’s mind.

Whatever the case, she was going to have fun with this. As a treat.

***

Jasmine was… very tall.

Bruce’s mind was still repeating the moment she entered the Manor.Even at his six foot two he had to look up to smile at the guest. Not that he disliked tall women or thought that it was a bad thing, it was just an observation — maybe she was secretly an Amazon? Jason said he had looked into her enough to know that wasn’t the case; and had threatened with blowing up the Batcave if he dared investigate his girlfriend, so Bruce just observed. For now.

But she was too soft to be an Amazon, Bruce decided as the evening progressed. She smiled easily and didn’t have that constant battle-ready stance the Amazons he knew had. So he relaxed with the idea that Jason genuinely liked this civilian woman, she honestly liked him back, and she could be a good thing for his son.

If only he could shake the nagging thought that she felt familiar. Had they met before? He would remember meeting such a woman with striking red hair. She was definitely not a hero or Jason would have introduced her as such; nor she was a person that frequented the social circles Brucie Wayne did, given her humble origins and honest, hardworking job as a therapist.

It was something in her eyes, he considered by the time dinner was served. They were a shade of blue he had never seen before, and with the right light he could almost glimpse green highlights, but from this distance he couldn’t be sure.

In any case, Bruce decided she was good. Family oriented, unafraid to say what she was thinking, and with a dark sense of humor that Jason was completely smitten with. Bruce knew that look, his son was a goner whether he knew it or not.

She fit perfectly in their family, he decided as well, watching her bicker with Stephanie about some celebrity drama that Bruce didn’t know about, taking the knife Jason was waving in Tim’s direction without even looking at her hands. She flowed with ease in the chaos and had an answer for any question without revealing anything about herself she wasn’t willing to say. Among a family of detectives, that took some skill.

Bruce was curious about her, about where she came from, but for his son’s sake he was ready to set his paranoia aside and trust that she wasn’t secretly a villain.

He did such a good job once he made the decision, up until they were saying their goodbyes. Bruce was pleasantly surprised when Jasmine– when Jazz hugged him instead of doing a handshake. Her arms were firm around him and her height let her comfortably rest her head against his, a soft gesture far removed from Diana’s strong hugs against her muscled chest.

Jazz took a breath and said: “See you on Monday, B.”

This puzzled him. Monday? Why would he see her on Monday? Bruce was not needed anywhere on that day; in fact, Batman was supposed to be in Watchtower duty on Monday. And the follow up meeting with the King of the Ghosts.

When they parted, surrounded by the noise of the others messing around and bickering with Jason, it dawned on him as he saw her eyes from this close.

Green.

They glowed slightly green, unnaturally green, if you saw them this close. Her skin was pale, with freckles that reflected stars under the house’s lights.

He knew someone else that fit all of these characteristics, someone in his life as Batman.

Jasmine smiled widely, watching him put it together with mischievous glee. She patted his shoulder a little bit too hard for what was considered normal, and walked away to join her boyfriend out of the Manor.

Paralyzed, Bruce watched them go.

***

Jazz giggled against her hand, trying not to be too obvious.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’ll find out soon.”

Jason looked at her weird but still continued walking to the bike, slightly swinging their joined hands, an extra spring to his step. This visit had been important, she knew, but hadn’t realized exactly how important it was for him. For all the trash talk and exasperation, Jason was a family man and valued the opinion and approval of the others.

And she had passed the test, if she had read their reactions well.

Well, let’s hope that the thing with Batman goes well too, since she needed his approval as well as Bruce Wayne’s. Funny enough Jazz was way calmer than before going to meet the family — Batman was just a man, and it simply wasn’t the same as meeting your boyfriend’s father. She didn’t have any reservations about fighting Batman if it came to it, he had been rude to her and her brother, and had lost all respect she had before they started the process of establishing a relationship between the Realms and the Living World.

But before she even considered what she would do the next Monday, Jazz knew she needed to have a conversation with Jason. If her suspicions were true and he was the Red Hood, whatever was going to go down with Batman was of his interest. Also, if they were going serious, he deserved to know about the Princess thing as well.

She waited until they were at his apartment to open her mouth about it. She let them both settle in, Jason shedding the jacket before going to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Jazz watched him, quietly standing at the door.

“Jason.”

He looked at her over the rim of the glass, eyebrows raised in question.

“We need to talk.”

He choked on the water.

***

“I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate, manwhore our way out of this one, Little Wing.”

At his side, Jason sighed and took off his helmet so he could comb back his hair as he gathered his thoughts.

They were trapped, and even if they could probably get out of the gang base in one piece, then they would lose this chance to finally bust the drug operation Jason had been working on for the last few months. The gang would be out of Gotham by sunrise and the drug would be distributed elsewhere anyway.

Dick didn’t blame his brother for jumping into the gang base like this — it had been a last minute decision and he didn’t expect this much resistance. At first he had been annoyed that he had to coordinate with Nightwing since it was supposed to be a simple thing; but as they finally infiltrated the base they realized it had been a trap. Jason’s informant had sold them out and they were waiting for the vigilantes.

Calling for backup from the other bats was not an option. They were either busy with their civilian lives and couldn’t help until it was too late, or were away on a superhero mission.

Jason was thinking something along those lines, because he was growling and grabbing on his hair, cursing under his breath.

They were hiding in an empty room in the abandoned office building the gang was using as a base. It was small and only had one window, and the door couldn’t be locked but they pushed a heavy desk in front of it just in case.

It was safe, but they couldn’t move. Inside the building there were too many armed gang members looking for them, and some of them had night vision gear. Outside, there were snipers posted on the roof and hidden in nearby buildings, and they didn’t know where exactly they were.

They needed help. But nobody could arrive in time. If only—

An idea!

“But we could malewife.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Dick turned to fully face his brother, the light pollution of the city coming from the window enough to illuminate Jason’s confused frown.

“Call Jazz.”

“What?”

“Yeah! She’s free right now, right?”

“Yeah because I stood her up!” He growled. “We were supposed to be on a movie date two hours ago!”

“So she’s free.”

“I don’t think you are focusing on the important part here.”

“She won’t be mad at you, she knows about the vigilante thing.”

Jason huffed. “That she knows doesn’t mean she won’t be mad.”

“You won’t know until you call~” Dick hoped his smile was reassuring. “I bet this is not the first time something is canceled because of your night activities.”

“It... It isn’t.”

“Was she mad, then?”

His brother looked at his feet, thinking for a moment. Finally, he said with a small voice. “No.” After another moment, he added: “She was very supportive, actually.”

Dick contained the instinct to squeal in joy. They were just so cute, the most adorable couple, and they fit so well with each other. Jason was the happiest he had ever seen him, ever; and when they were together his laughs were easy and his smiles were constant.

It didn’t hurt to know she accepted his brother in all aspects, guns and vigilantism included. Or that she herself was a protector of sorts.

The Princess of the Infinite Realms.

Not an Amazon as they suspected, but she sure was something else.

(It didn’t save Jason from being teased for dating a Princess, though.)

So it meant she was a hero too, or could potentially help them out of the situation.

“Good!” Jason looked at him, confused. “So call her and ask her if she can come and get us out of here.”

“I won’t force this life on her—”

“You kinda did the moment you guys came clean about secrets and went steady, Jaybird.” He patted his brother’s shoulder. “If she wasn’t willing to be a part of your life, all of it, she wouldn’t have said yes.”

Jason processed his words for a few seconds. With a defeated sigh, he put on the helmet again and connected the call.

“Hey.” Dick couldn’t hear Jazz’s voice clear enough to understand the words, but the tone was loud. “I know… I’m sorry.” Jason sighed. “Got caught up at work.”

Dick snorted as more loud words came from the helmet.

“I’m sorry, I thought it wouldn’t take this long— yeah, he’s here… really? Ugh.” He looked up at him. “Jazz says hi.”

“Hello~!”

“Dick says hi back. Hm… yeah. Yes. Can you? If you can’t— What, really?” Jazz was calmer as she spoke now. Jason’s body relaxed, so Dick took it as a good sign. “We are in a meeting room at the southwest corner of the empty office building close to the Elliot Memorial. The one with an antenna— Ok? Ok.”

“Tell her about the snipers.”

“Yes. There are snipers everywhere. Please, darling, be careful— Shut up.” He grumbled. “That’s not funny. No, I won’t say it— Okay,” he grumbled again and groaned loudly, one hand sliding down the face of his helmet, “you are right. Happy?” He hummed, ignoring Dick’s snickering. “See ya. Love you. Bye.”

With a sigh, he took the helmet off again.

“You guys are so cute.”

It was a testament of how long they’ve been dating, because Jason didn’t even blush at the comment, he just glared at him.

“She said she’ll be here in five minutes.”

Dick hummed. “Excited to see her in action?”

Now he blushed. “No.”

“Yes, you are.” And before his brother could continue bullshitting, he added: “I get you completely, though. There is something about strong women kicking ass— I’m not a coward, I’m man enough to admit that watching Starfire fight was a major turn on back when we dated.”

Jason scoffed and ignored him, not wanting to continue the conversation.

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to get railed by a strong, tall woman, Jay.”

“Is this really the time and place for such conversation?”

No. It really wasn’t, since they were hiding in a shitty meeting room as hundreds of people were searching for them to kill them. But Jason’s face was getting more and more red and it was totally worth it.

“I just don’t want you to deny yourself—”

“My sex life is none of your business, Dickhead.”

There was a brief pause as Jason glared at him, the effect lost in his red cheeks.

“But do you?”

“Do I what.”

“Wish for her to pick you up and manhandle you as she wishes?”

Bingo. He looked away. “None of your business.” He repeated a bit more weakly. Dick bit back a smile, waiting for his brother to crack. It wasn’t long before he sighed and said: “She’s very into trying anything and has the strength to back it up. We had… talked. About things.”

“She has a strap, then?”

“That’s it. Conversation over.” Jason crossed his arms, huffing.

Dick raised his hands in defeat, still smiling. “Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t pry.”

His brother didn’t quite believe him, but let him be, turning to glare at the window as if he could make Jazz suddenly materialize with the power of his mind.

Fool.

As if they hadn’t already seen the bites and hickeys she left on him. Was he even trying to hide them? Tim’s theory is that he wanted everyone to know who he belonged to like some kind of kink going on. Not that anybody was judging! Everyone has their kinks and gods know that each of them has seen and knows too much about the others’ sexual lives — word traveled fast down the hero grapevine and the walls in the Manor weren’t as thick as you would think.

So far Jason had managed to stay safe from it since he was very private and the thing with Roy had been very lowkey — Dick still couldn’t forgive that he found out a year into their relationship, and neither had told him — but Jazz was now a regular at the Manor, between the whole Infinite Realms talk and Alfred taking it upon himself to teach her how to cook edible food, so the couple was around the family plenty of time.

“‘I wouldn’t mind dying if it’s between those thighs’, right?”

“What?”

“You. That thought must have crossed your mind, yes?” He shrugged. “It surely did cross mine more than one back when Kori—”

The window was slammed open, the long body of Jason’s girlfriend swiftly sliding inside in one smooth movement. She was tall, but she knew how to move.

“Hello, boys.” She breathed once she was inside, one hand pushing back stray locks that escaped her braid. “Sorry for the wait.”

She was not an Amazon, but Dick could almost believe she was at that moment. The casual stance she usually had, as if she weren’t sure where to put her long limbs, was now gone. In its place, Jasmine was secure in her skin, strong, wearing a teal bodysuit that shimmered under the light coming from the window, betraying it was not simple spandex. Over the suit she had pieces of black armor on vulnerable places — kinda like how Diana suited up, but without the signature colors of Wonder Woman and with pulsing, glowing runes engraved in the edges instead.

They knew she was a warrior, that the title of Princess of the Infinite Realms didn’t only mean ballgowns and pretty jewelry; but seeing was very different from knowing.

“Hello, darling.”

She zeroed on Jason as he stood up from the floor, dusting his pants. Jazz got to his position with a few long steps and picked him up, narrowing her eyes as if she were trying to decipher something difficult.

“Not hurt?”

“Uh-huh.” His brother shook his head. “Have a little more faith in me.”

Still, she quickly checked him for non-visible injuries, smirking when Jason winced as she squeezed his shoulder. Instead of chastising him for lying, she leaned in to kiss his helmet on the cheek, patting the other cheek twice.

“Not a word.”

“Uh-huh.” She said in the same tone Jason had used to dismiss her worries.

They were adorable.

“Not that I don’t enjoy watching you two, but we need to make a plan.” Dick had to say, even if he liked seeing his brother relax just by the presence of his girlfriend.

“Right,” Jazz stood back up to her whole height, back straight, looking out of the window. “I took care of the snipers on this roof and the ones I detected around here, but I didn’t stay to check if there were more.”

Dick would have done a full sweep before jumping in, but Jazz was not a Bat. He wouldn’t judge her as such. Also, they had time to thoroughly train her.

“They took our gear.” Jason sighed, probably missing his guns. And his jacket. “So we’ll need to parkour down the old school way.”

“Or I could carry you.”

The smile that stretched Dick’s lips was like the one he had when Jason face planted right after trying to do a dramatic exit.

“I’m in!” He quickly approached her, completely ready to be carried like when Superman or Wally did it. He jumped into her arms without waiting for her to say anything, chuckling when she caught him anyway.

“Jay?”

Resigned, Jason sighed and walked to the pair. “I’ll wait here-”

Jazz could move fast, it turns out. Dick felt weightless as he was moved under one of her arms, watching with glee as she circled the now free arm around her boyfriend’s waist to lift him up with ease.

“This is exciting.”

“Shut up, Dickhead.”

“I feel like a little kid.”

“You behave like one.”

Jazz chuckled at their banter, walking towards the window. “Keep your arms in at all times during the ride and remember to have fun.”

She didn’t hesitate when she jumped out, the powerful leap rippling through her body, muscles tensing as they soared through the air towards the closest rooftop. Even if she said the thing about not moving, Dick decided to stretch his arms with a soft “wiii~” as he watched the street pass by far below them.

The landing was rougher than what the Bats were used to, but Jazz took the impact without flinching. Right. Inhuman durability. Undead Princesses didn’t have to worry about fucking up their knees.

She let them go, eyes already sweeping their surroundings even if she landed on a relatively secluded part behind some water tanks.

“We need to get back in.”

She turned towards Jason, expression unreadable. Dick saw her eyes run over his brother’s body, worry shining in her eyes, one eyebrow twitching slightly as the only sign of her actual emotions. She was trying hard to not show her thoughts, which was weird since she was usually very forthcoming as a civilian.

Princess. Jasmine was really a Princess. Dick understood the need to show a strong front when in a position of responsibility, he knew he also changed when he was acting as his team’s lead; but as everything about her other life, seeing was different from knowing.

Was this how people felt when they learned about them? When Brucie Wayne turned out to be The Dark Knight? Dick’s head was struggling to merge the picture of the warm presence of Jason’s cute girlfriend and this warrior princess.

“What do you need me to do?”

It was subtle, but Jason’s shoulders dropped with relief. He expected her to fight his decision.

His face was soft as he took off the helmet to look her in the eyes. “First we need our gear and they’ll probably have it still in the room they took us to.”

Jazz nodded. “Want me to get in and fetch it for you?” She said as if she were asking him what he wanted from the grocery store. He nodded, one hand extended to brush stray hairs behind her left ear. “Give me five minutes then.”

The air was charged when their eyes met, and Dick couldn’t look away. It was magical, in a way, how her blue eyes started to glow like some kind of bioluminescence, the shine low enough to barely illuminate Jason’s face as he got closer to her.

“Meet you here in eight minutes. We’ll do a sweep in the meantime,” Jason’s voice got low to match the sudden moment they were having.

“Ok.”

Their lips met and Nightwing finally looked away. He couldn’t even find the energy to make a comment or coo at them. It was soft, it was real, and, most of all, it was private.

He wouldn't be surprised if those two announced they were getting married within the year.

He looked back just as Jason’s boots were again on the roof, Jazz’s arms retracting from where she had circled them around his waist to lift him closer to her lips.

Cute.

But they had to get moving.

Dick cleared his throat, making them jump.

“Right. Um, I’ll get to it. See you guys in a bit!”

Without further comment, she jumped over the roof and landed without making a sound on the base’s brick wall, quickly crawling towards the same window they had jumped out from. Her movements looked weightless, like she was strong enough to move her body with fine precision. Or maybe it was a ghost thing, since Jazz’s brother apparently could fly.

The rooftop was quiet until they lost sight of her.

“I want to be the Best Man.” He turned to look at his younger brother. “I already have ideas for my speech.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

In response, Nightwing started humming the Wedding March as he flipped away, just in time to hear gunshots and destruction happening inside the building, probably following the spitfire of a girlfriend that literally crashed into Jason’s life.

---

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[lindsay00000008]

Flight Risk Pt. 2

[Previous part - Flight Risk Pt. 1]

Pet Whump Series - Carewhumpers

CW: systemic pet whump, dehumanization, brainwashed/drugged/conditioned whumpee, self/internal-conditioning, struggle with memory loss, speech impairment

Recap: Frank steps away and Honey's head raises to find him. But the room is getting a little fuzzy, and the lights are too bright. Arms find hers and prop her upright before pulling her to slide to the edge of the table.

"I get my cert in a few months, so we'll see if they still like me, yeah? I'll grab the cage."

Honey's limbs fold gracelessly as she's lowered into a padded cube by stiff hands. A more friendly hand lifts her chin and brushes her bangs out of her eyes, then rubs a finger on the bridge of her nose soothingly. The too-bright lights are doused when a lid goes over top and clicks.

"Wait," comes a voice, and the light flickers. Luce's scent envelops her as the flannel drops to cover her head and shoulders. Honey pulls it close and curls on her side, feeling the soft walls of the space give slightly as her knees press into it. She feels cocooned and safe.

She's jostled slightly, and the cube moves. Wheels, she thinks. She blinks open her eyes to see movement. The world floats by behind a metal grid, obscured slightly by the dangle of her collar and leash, coiled up and zip-tied to the grid beside a drip bottle. Hamsters, she thinks.

A lot of noises pass by. Beeping, whirring, shoes, doors, and finally a hollow metal clang. The cube jolts, tilts slightly, then levels out. The sound of castors on metal echoes. A slap over the top of the cube, clicks beneath, a tug. Finally everything stills. Footsteps lead away.

The light is dim. Honey is very drowsy. But it's hard to fall asleep with all the noises about - things hitting the walls of the small room, animals yapping and metal rattling, and people speaking loudly to one another about ratchet straps and ETAs. A large bang of doors closing, mechanical parts clanking.

After a while, everything is dark and calm. Sound comes in starts and stop, whirring loud then quiet. Honey's cube shifts slightly, jostled with the others in the room, but it doesn't feel unsteady. She lifts her face to peer through the gridlines.

Taking up most of the space are crates of fur-pets, stacked two-high and secured with a strap. A barking starts up as she watches, making her grimace.

Don't they know to be quiet? But it doesn't seem like any humans are in the space. Maybe it'll be ok.

Still, the sound makes her chew her lips nervously.

Along the opposite wall is a large cube. She assumes it's the same as hers. Inside is an ally-pet, draped in a stylish brown leather coat and matching knee-high boots. It sprawls - as much as it can sprawl in the small cage, it's body much bigger than hers- legs splayed apart and its spine hunched. Honey proper herself against the side of her cube to get a better look.

The other pet stares at Honey across the space with what she thinks might be malignant curiosity, but when the pet's head droops at a silly angle and its eyes blink slow and liquid she realizes it's just relaxed. Is that what she looks like, staring back at it? She giggles before she can stop herself, the sound foreign and reminding her too much of Luce. She smacks a lagging hand over her mouth, hitting her nose painfully. A pet shouldn't try to imitate their owner. That's bad.

Her eyes water. She misses Luce. And ever since that pinch on her neck - the needle, a syringe, it's called. Drugs in it. Drugged? No, they helped me, Frank helped me be calm. They helped me be calm, and being calm helps me be good - but she doesn't feel like she's being good. She's looking around too much, being loud. Making noises like Luce. She could hurt herself, pretending. Did hurt herself, smacking her face like that. She should put her head down and go to sleep.

But the room is loud now, so loud, all of the sudden, and it tilts, making Honey want to box out her limbs and press against the sides of the cube. The cage. She feels terror prickle beneath the syrupy weight infusing her body. Her stomach flips when the room shakes and seems to bend in on itself. Frank left his warm hand on her brain, smoothing away wrinkles and loose neurons. But his grip is unsteady. The fear seeps in.

She yelps before she can stop herself, the fingers of one hand slotting into the cool metal grid, the other gripping tight to Luce's flannel, as if a sudden wind might whip it away. The air is still. But it sounds so angry.

"Hu-Hey!" a shout from the other cube has her flinch. Are there humans in here? She should have been quiet. She's been bad, untrained, hopeless, just like they said.

"J-jus, ap-plan, play-een. P-plane." The other pet's eyes find her, its voice hoarse and loud over the whirring and barks. Plane, she repeats in her head. Plane. She knows what that is. Took one to Montana, before high school. Broke my foot on that trip, dad was angry...

The other pet is being bad. It could hurt itself. She should ignore it. But she finds its eyes across the space and she doesn't want to look away, even as her own lids flutter and her vision blurs. He has those sweet brown eyes... like that guy I dated in college.

That thought is so vivid, so distracting. She catches it and holds it, holds on so tight that by the time she realizes its gone, she has no trace of it. The pet across from her closes its eyes. She should do that too. She doesn't feel like she's in danger anymore. The cube sits level and still, the humming noise even and loud. Not angry now, she thinks. Sleep licks at her, drilling into her bones as the humming envelops her. Honey drags Luce's flannel over her eyes, puts her hands beneath her cheeks, and sleeps.

Taglist:

@octopus-reactivated, @3-2-whump, @paperprinxe, @whumpsoda, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees, @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

Comment to be added/removed (not sure if y'all want to be added for all pet whump posts in this big series or just any future parts of Flight Risk, or both! Feel free to specify)

P.S.: I wanted a way to distinguish human from animal pets, while keeping the dehumanization aspect (so no "pet-person" or "human-pet"). I use Ally-pet = human, fur-pet = animal. Is there a tumblr term for these already?

[4-arab-gay-slave-fantasy]

My Summer Internship.

Under Master Abdul

Skiviesman@aol.com

CHAPTER 1

8:00 pm on a Friday. It's true that being a litigation summer associate at a large law firm is generally an easy gig, but sometimes stuff has to be done. Better reflection of real lawyer life, I suppose. I finally shut my computer and got ready to head out.

My name is John. I'm 25, just finished my second year of law school in Athens at the University of Georgia, and interning in a large Atlanta firm for the summer. I grew up and went to college and law school in Georgia.

I'm 5'6”, about 150 pounds, with straight, short brown hair and brown eyes. Thanks to my Anglo—Saxon ancestry I have a naturally smooth torso. I have a fairly average to below average cut 5 inch cock. I'm gay, and openly so, but not very experienced. I've bottomed a couple of times, and generally have no interest in topping.

I walked to a nearby gym where I liked to work out. I used to be a soccer player through high school, but I was intrigued to find out that there was a gym with exercise equipment in the downtown area. I discovered there was one immediately next to the building where I work. The gym tended to close early on Fridays so it was pretty dead. There was just one guy there, manning the front desk. His name was Jake, and he was the evening manager. He was 6 feet even, 180 pounds, brown hair, and green eyes, with a trim build. No indication he was anything other than straight, which was a shame. He wasn't exactly a genius, but he was nice enough.

I smiled and flashed my gym card. As I ruffled through my bag, I was dismayed - I forgot my gym clothes! I looked at Jake, and asked, "Hey - I forgot my gym clothes. Do you have any I can buy and use?"

"Sorry, no," he said. "We just ran out of stock and I forgot to order new ones, so we won't have any until next week."

"No problem," I responded. "Hmm, any chance you'll let me workout in my boxer briefs, socks, and undershirt? I'd just hate to have to go home to grab my gym stuff - it's a good thirty minutes away. Plus, I was going to use the gymnastics stuff, anyway - no need for gym shoes."

"I don't know about that," he said. "The gym is pretty strict about not using underwear in the gym." He pulled out the manual and looked at the rules. "Undershirts, underwear, and socks are all off-limits. You can't work out in those."

"Damn it!" I was frustrated. "Any workarounds we can do?"

Jake read further. "So, it technically says: you can't wear underwear as your outermost clothes on the gym floor. But, you just need to have a collar and cover your male private parts. And, no pubic hair is allowed to touch the equipment. I think I saw something that might work..."

I was perplexed, but the gym was empty and I wasn't going to miss this chance. "What do you have?"

He looked in a lost and found box. "I think these two could technically work." He fished out a thick, black, leather dog collar - big enough for a fairly large dog. "This could fit around your neck, I guess."

"So I'd wear my undershirt with a dog collar?" I asked. I was a little confused, and to be honest, a little turned on - I hadn't really done a lot of BDSM play but I was intrigued.

"Well, no," he answered. "Just the collar. No undershirts, remember? But there isn't really a rule against being shirtless as long as you have a collar..."

"OK," I answered. "But what about the rest?"

He fished out a silver metal chastity device, still in its box. "Looks like someone left it here. It might be small. But, the book only says your penis must be covered. Nothing about balls or ass..." he mused.

At this point I was terrified but also very turned on. "I think it'll fit. So I just need to wear this collar and this chastity device. Is that it?"

"Hmm, maybe one more thing," Jake began. "No pubic hair. Think you can use this hair removal cream?"

I was so turned on at this point. I nodded. "OK," he said, "you can go in the locker room and get ready. I can take that key," he gestured towards the chastity device.

I headed off to the empty locker room and stripped naked. I put my clothes on the bench and stared at my naked self in the mirror.

Just then, Jake walked in. "Hey man, sorry, I was about to take a piss. Hey, need some help with the hair removal cream?" I nodded in a daze. He rubbed it on my cock and balls and my asshole. "Should we do your pits

and legs too? I guess they technically come around puberty, right?" I was not in a position to object, so he did it. I was hairless from the neck down.

My hard dick would have to go down in order to fit in the device, even though I was smaller than average. I thought about some un-sexy thoughts uand finally got it in. The steel coldly but firmly kept my persistently

stiffening dick in check.

Jake then put the collar around my neck and tightened it so it was firm but not strangling me. "How's that?" he asked. "Good" was all I was able to sputter out.

"All right, then. Enjoy!" Jake smiled and waved as he headed out.

I stepped into the exercise room, naked except for a collar and a locked cock, my dick straining against the steel and dripping pre-cum. I felt the cool breeze of the Air Conditioner and went off to hit the exercise equipment when I noticed the gymnastic equipment. I was interested since watching the recent Olympics and wanted to try on them. There was the rings, the pommel horse and the female event parallel bars and balance beam.. I felt exposed and turned on, even though no one was there. I was humiliated but also horny as fuck.

I imagined people watching me, eying my naked body. Watching my smooth, muscular frame. I wondered if people would lust after me as I held a handstand. I spread my legs in mid-air and felt the cool air on my exposed asshole. My dick throbbed in its cage.

I wondered if men would look at my smaller than average cock cage and wonder how small I must be in order to fit in there. I was humiliated, but turned on. The idea of critical eyes looking at my body and evaluating

how it did - and did not - measure up.

I thought about how smooth my torso already was naturally, due to my background, but how much more boyish my body looked without pubic hair, armpit hair, and even leg hair. I wondered if men would deride me as a lesser man. Would they think of me as a weak boy. Was I a boy who deserved to wear a collar and be locked away, for real men to teach and play with. I thought of all the men fully dressed, and how much shorter I would look standing in bare feet. I felt vulnerable and exposed, but that only made me hornier. An hour and a half must have gone by. I heard the maintenance folks go into the locker room and leave. I was about to head back to the locker room when I heard a male voice. "John?" I turned around and my heart dropped.

===================

CHAPTER 2

Standing there were four full-time corporate associates at my law firm; all of them were dressed in work clothes, and had their gym bags with them. I didn't work with them, since I was in a different practice group, but I knew them all since they were friendly folks and worked a lot with the summer program. I forgot that this gym had a basketball court, and that these guys liked to play 2 on 2 after work on Fridays.

ABDUL- was an Arab corporate associate - he had been with the firm for many year. After having moved

from his home in Saudi Arabia to attend law school in the Atlanta area he had decided to stay in the area to live and work. He was a young 49 years old. A dark masculine guy who was an avid gym goer. He stood 6’4” had short dark black hair. On his face he seemed to have constant heavy 5:00 shadow no matter how much he shaved, dark eyes, a vivid white smile which gave him the appearance of enjoying life but at the same time had an imposing, almost threatening demeanor that was animal like. He was a natural leader of men.

PHIL - the guy who spoke - was a 32 year old corporate senior associate. He had played lacrosse at university and was still a generally muscular, if a little less rock hard, 6’ tall. He was pale and had fiery red hair and blue eyes. He had a bit of a southern accent as he had grown up in North Carolina.

MIKE was a lawyer in our international arbitration group. He was married - he met his wife at the law firm when they were summer interns years ago- and had a bit of a beer belly, but was a handsome guy. A little bit of dark chest hair poked out of his shirt. He was also 32 years old, 6 feet 2 inches tall, had brown hair that was between wavy and curly, and dark eyes. Belying his New England roots, Mike was always seen wearing boat shoes around the office - luckily, not a big issue at the firm, since it wasn't one of the really stuffy ones.

Finally, ANDY was a soft spoken guy who worked in tax. I had heard he was engaged to a woman he clerked with for a judge the year before. He was 30 years old, had curly brown hair, green eyes, and wore glasses. Andy was more of a co-rec sports guy in college - somewhat fit, but never really jacked. He was the shortest in the group at 5 foot 10, but still noticeably taller than me.

"Hey guys," I responded. "It's not what you think -"

"No worries, "Abdul said. "We used to joke that the rules for what you can and can't wear had some weird exceptions. But I guess those exceptions are real!" He quipped. All four laughed, and I laughed uneasily along with them.

The four guys approached and I began to feel more comfortable. "Don't even worry about it," Andy said. "We're not telling anyone at the firm. You do you!"

We chatted a little bit about how the summer was going. Like I said, these guys were nice and friendly, and I didn't feel threatened. I felt more and more at ease as we continued the small talk.

"I can't help noticing," Mike started, "how smooth you are. Are you naturally so smooth?"

"Not really," I said, "they have that rule about pubic hair and all, so I used hair removal cream on it."

"Can I feel?" Peter asked. It seemed like a weird request, but like I said, I was getting more comfortable. "Sure," I said. Peter ran his hands on my chest. I shivered a little bit.

The four guys began getting a little more comfortable about it. "OK if I feel your pits?" Abdul asked. I nodded. "Can you put your hands behind your head?" I complied. "They're so smooth," he murmured as his rough hands grazed my exposed armpits.

Mike looked at Andy and asked, "I wonder how smooth his dick and balls feel." Andy responded, "go ahead, he doesn't seem to mind." Mike held my cock and balls, feeling the bare skin. No one even asked me at that point. It was humiliating but kind of exhilarating, like I wasn't even there. I was just being inspected by these men.

Peter touched my nipples, and they firmed up. "Perky!" he exclaimed. The guys laughed. I gave a small smile.

Without saying anything, Andy knelt down and gently touched my ass cheeks. "Can you spread your legs a bit?" I did. He spread my ass and touched my asshole. "This is definitely smoother than mine," he observed.

The guys chuckled.

"This is alright, right?" Peter asked. I nodded. "I guess you're pretty much naked and exposed anyway, right?" I looked at the floor in shame. "Nothing to worry about," Andy chimed in. "It's just like biology class, looking at a body that is so different than ours." The other guys expressed their agreement.

Mike looked at Peter. "This cage is pretty small, but looks like it fits him." Peter nodded. "Definitely smaller than me." Andy and Ryan agreed. "How big is it," Mike asked, holding my cock cage and looking at Peter

and Ryan, not even looking at me. "Um, 5 inches when hard, I think." "Yeah, that's smaller," Mike said. I was humiliated. But why was I enjoying it so much at the same time?

Abdul looked down at my dick in his hand and noticed I was leaking quite a bit of precum. "Looks like you're a little turned on!" The other guys laughed. I reddened and sheepishly nodded. "Happens to all of us. But now, my hand is a little...sticky."

"Oh, and it's getting on the floor too," Andy chimed in, standing up after prodding my asshole for a couple of minutes. "I think the cleaning staff has left for the night though."

Peter looked around. "I don't see any cleaning tools. We should probably clean that up though."

Out of nowhere, I blurted out, "I guess I could lick it up?" The other guys were stunned. Mike broke the silence: "yeah, makes sense. It's your mess, anyway. Go ahead."

I knelt on the ground and licked the pre cum. I looked up and saw Abdul's hand also with a little pre-cum. "Would you like me to clean that up as well, Abdul ?" A small smile spread on his face. "Yeah, please." I licked

the pre-cum off the palm of his hand. I heard Andy nearby say, "that's so humiliating." Peter agreed, "yeah, but he's gotta clean it up, right?"

I stood up. "Well, we should probably get going," Peter said. "Off to Abdul 's to play some poker. You take it easy, John!" I nodded and waved as they walked away chatting amongst themselves.

I headed to the locker room and made a horrible realization. My clothes were gone! The maintenance folks must have taken them. Also gone was the key. A post-it note was left on the desk, which stated: "put in lost-and-found, pick up on Monday." The gym was closed for the weekend, and the staff wouldn't back for a couple of days!

I frantically looked around, wondering what my next move would be. I was stuck in nothing but a collar and a chastity device! What was I going to do?

=================

CHAPTER 3

Not really knowing what to do, I started after the four men, who were just leaving. "Hey, wait up!"

Phil looked back. "What's up, buddy?"

"I'm kind of in a pickle," I began. "My clothes are gone, and looks like the staff is gone for the weekend. Any chance you guys could lend me some clothes?"

The four looked at each other. "I don't know," Mike said. "All my gym clothes are sweaty, and they're too big for you anyway. You'd look ridiculous in them." The others nodded in assent.

"Wait," Abdul said. "We can't leave him here, though. Maybe we bring him to my place, we were going there to play poker anyway." "Sounds like a good idea," Phil responded. "But should we check with the guard of the parking garage in the building? Might look a little suspicious having this little guy walking around pretty much naked." Phil flicked my cock cage, and it bounced up and hit my abdomen. The guys laughed, and Andy patted my ass. I shivered gave a shy smile.

"I'll go talk to him," Mike said, and he walked off to find the night guard. While waiting, the rest of the guys conversed about work without me. I stood there naked, ignored, like I wasn't even present.

A minute later, Mike came back with a middle-aged white man in his 40s, with a scruffy red beard and a satchel in tow. "This must be the guy," he mused, and the four associates burst into laughter. "Well, I can release him into your custody, but he's clearly got a penchant for trouble, so you'll need to make sure you can control him."

Control? Custody? Those words struck me as odd, since it wasn't like I belonged to the four guys, or anything. But that stirred something in me. My cock swelled up and my nipples perked up. I felt a little pre-cum flow once again.

The guard rummaged around in his bag. "Someone left this dog leash, but I think it should work with the collar. Just to make sure he doesn't go anywhere." He handed it to Abdul, who attached it to my collar. I was a little shocked but said nothing. "You probably don't want him running off," the guard continued. Abdul gave the leash a hard tug, which jostled me off my balance, and everyone laughed again. "He's not going anywhere

I won't let him," Abdul declared.

The guard looked in his bag some more. "You probably don't want him distracted either. How about this blindfold?" Phil agreed. "He's already very stimulated by the whole situation." He placed the blindfold on me and I could not see at all through the thick leather blindfold."

"One last thing," the guard said. "He's probably a little freaked out, and probably would be better if kept it shut."

I heard some movement, and felt two rough hands hold open my mouth. A clean, leather bit was inserted in my mouth and locked around my head. I could no longer see or speak. But for some reason, it only turned me on more.

"I think that's it!" I heard the guard conclude. "Hope you enjoy this boy and he gives you no more trouble."

"Thanks, man," Abdul said in his deep Arab accent spoke, as the guard's footsteps indicated he was walking off. "Let's go, boy. Gotta get to the poker game." With nothing else to do, I followed as they tugged me along. The four associates continued to talk as if I wasn't there. I wondered where the night would take me.

==============

CHAPTER 4

I couldn't see, but I could hear and feel as the four associates led me through the underground parking garage of our building. I didn't hear many cars or people, so it must have been pretty empty. Made sense, since it was late on a Friday in the business district, so it was pretty dead. We stopped and I heard Abdul say: "here's the car, hop in!"

There was a pause. Mike asked, "where do we put him? I don't think you want his bare ass messing up your precious leather seats?" All laughed. "I guess not," Ryan started. "But can we just put him in the cargo hold

of my Escalade, all trussed up like that?"

"Wait," Peter responded. "I just dropped off my dog at my parents' house last weekend. I think I still have the pet carrier in the back. I was planning just to leave my car here until Monday since parking is free over the weekend. How about that?" The guys murmured in agreement.

I felt a wave of humiliation as I heard them get the dog cage and herded me in the back. I heard the trunk door close and the car start. I had never felt so humiliated, so mistreated. And yet, my cock had never been harder. I could feel pre-cum dribbling out, even though I couldn't see it. All of this, of course, was restricting my cock keeping me from getting fully erect.

After about half an hour - although it felt like eternity - we arrived at a swanky apartment building. I heard the guys get out and Abdul hand his key to the valet. "We've got some cargo in the back," I heard him say. "Could you bring it through the loading dock and have them bring it up to my room?"

"Sure thing, sir," I heard the valet respond. The car moved again, this time with me and just the valet. I heard him whistling as he drove into the parking garage.

The car stopped, and I heard the guy get out and open the trunk. I heard him chuckle. "What do we have here?" I heard the valet yell out, "hey guys, here's a delivery for 1007." Two guys came by and lifted my cage out. "Nice," I heard one of them say.

"You know the drill," I heard the other start. "Need to make sure they aren't hiding any contraband here." I felt the two men's hairy hands probe my asshole, jiggle my cage, and feel around my mouth through my gag. "Nothing here, but this asshole will probably be full by the night," the other said.

They opened the cage and yanked me out by the collar, and brought me to attention. I could not see anything but I knew there were several men around me Again talking like I wasn't there, I heard the first one say "bring this to 1007 using the service elevator. Make sure to bring it to the back entrance, wouldn't want to scandalize the neighbors." The other guy led me by the leash through what i assumed was the hall to a service elevator. As the elevator started moving, I heard him say, "you're in for quite the time, kid." He laughed.

The elevator stopped and he tugged on my leash for me to move forward. I heard a door open and felt him latch my leash to a hook somewhere. He forced me to kneel where I was standing. He started scratching behind my ears like I was a puppy "Wait here for them to pick you up. Maybe your new Master will have me take you out when you need walkies to do your business" the man said. I heard him laugh as I heard him shut the door and walk away.

After five minutes, I heard a different door in front of me open. “Our delivery is here!" I heard Andy say. He unhooked my leash and tugged me forward. I felt Phil's hands unhook my blindfold and gag. The light of the apartment was blinding as I was finally able to see for the first time in about an hour.

====================

CHAPTER 5

I could see that I was in ABDUL's dining room. Ryan and Andy were seated and chatting as Ryan shuffled a deck of cards, and Andy opened a case of poker chips. Phil smiled as he set down the blindfold and gag. "Sorry about that," he said. "The guard was right, wouldn't want you freaking out or running off in this state. Probably the best that we kept you in check."

"Yeah, no worries," I responded. "Never done that before, but I didn't mind."

"The pre-cum did suggest that!" Ryan mused from the table. The three guys laughed raucously. I felt my cheeks burning. They weren't wrong - it was a foreign feeling, and I felt a rush during the whole experience, but I didn't hate it. I was turned on the entire time.

"Speaking of which," Abdul noted, "looks like you're leaking a bit again."

He looked down at the floor as pre-cum leaked out of my caged dick onto the floor. "Any chance you can clean that up? My hardwood floors are certainly cleaner than that gym floor." He was right, I suppose - I knelt down and licked up the pre-cum.

"Good boy!" Andy exclaimed.

I heard a toilet flush from a nearby door and Mike walked out, zipping up his pants. He smiled as he saw me. "John is here!"

I suddenly became very aware that I alone was naked, except for a dog collar and a chastity device. "Hey, Abdul," I started. "Any chance you have any clothes I can borrow while I'm here?"

Abdul started to respond, but Andy called out from the table, "everything Abdul has is going to be too big on you. Plus, just us guys, right?" The others nodded in agreement. "I suppose that's right," Abdul said. "Plus,

it isn't too cold in here, is it?" I shook my head.

"Then it's settled!" Mike concluded. "Come join us at the table!"

I started towards the table to take a seat, but Ryan interrupted: "Hold on, Abdul, these chairs are really nice, very expensive. Wouldn't want to ruin your purchase from your last bonus, would you? The boy's sweaty ass and balls wouldn't do great things to these chairs." The group laughed.

Abdul turned to me. "Is that OK? Perhaps you can just stand right next to this table?" I shrugged. "I don't mind, all I do is sit at a desk anyway." "Great," Abdul acknowledged.

The guys played a first game. Mike won that one. The guys groaned as they handed him their chips. "Great start, I need a beer now!" Mike proclaimed, as he stood up towards the kitchen. "No, I can grab it," I blurted out. "Really?" he asked. "I don't mind, plus, I'm already standing." "Thanks, John!" Mike gleamed as I turned to grab a beer from the kitchen.

As I fumbled through the fridge and looked for a bottle opener, I overheard the guys talking, apparently not realizing I was in earshot. "Is it just me, or is it kind of hot to have a naked guy waiting on you and and foot?" Abdul said. "Yeah, I agree," Andy responded. "It's kind of hot that he’s a small southern white boy, I wouldn't really feel comfortable with that but he obviously is."

Mike responded, "yeah, I hear you. One, it's like you have a naked colleague in the room, and two, white guys are hairier, bigger, and have bigger dicks. Doesn't feel right having them serve you, and usually I don't get turned on seeing guys like me naked."

Abdul added, "Being an Arab it seems kind of historically right to have a white guy serve me, you know? Especially a southern guy. A form of ancestral karma. He is smaller, docile, and smooth. Plus, no question who's the superior man - you can see it in the classic signs of masculinity - our body hair, our larger dicks, et cetera."

I knew I should feel demeaned, but all I could feel was my dick struggling against its cage at hearing all this. I walked back to the dining room.

I handed Mike his beer as the guys chatted. "It's nice to have someone grab stuff from the kitchen for you," Mike said, as the others laughed. "Yeah, kind of like having a white slave boy," Andy added. Those words startled me, but in a good way - and perhaps in a visible way. "Seems like he likes it," Ryan said, pointing at my dick. It must have jumped a bit when Andy called me a slave boy.

Abdul turned to me. "Sorry about that, we're not meaning to offend you or anything. We don't want to make you uncomfortable. Guys, stop." The guys all murmured apologies. "No, not at all," I responded. "I don't mind. I kind of like it. I guess I'm a little submissive, and I like, well, serving bigger masculine guys."

The guys all looked at each other. "Are you sure?" Abdul asked. "Yes," I responded. I am here to serve my masters." The four looked at each other and smiled.

"Well then," Abdul started. "For the rest of your time here, you'll call us all 'master.'" "And," Andy added, "we will call you 'boy,' 'slave,' or really whatever we want." The others nodded.

"You'll wear just that collar and that chastity device," Ryan continued. "Nothing you can do until Monday anyway; Jake has the keys, and the gym doesn't reopen until then." The others laughed.

"What about a wager, then?" Mike started, looking to the other guys. They began to talk as if I wasn't there. "Tonight's poker prize is a small southern slave boy for the weekend - sharing encouraged." The group laughed. I sheepishly stared at my feet in the background. This was going to be a long weekend, and I was more turned on than ever.

===================

CHAPTER 6

Part 6

As the night went on, the four masters played a competitive series of poker games. It turns out all of them were equally good - or equally bad, or lucky. As midnight approached, all four were in spitting distance of winning.

For the most part, I was sent back and forth from the kitchen to grab food and drink. The masters didn't even look me in the eye; they simply called out instructions, like "Boy, I need a beer," or "Slave, my martini is empty."

In one exciting episode, Master Andy decided that we should order a pizza. When the delivery guy rang the doorbell, Master Abdul directed me to grab the pizza at the door. "But I'm not wearing real clothes..." I started. "And you shouldn't be," Master Abdul cut me off. "Slaves do not protest when their masters instruct them to do something. Get the pizza, boy."

I gulped and walked to the door. Upon opening it, the delivery guy - a young white guy probably 18 years or so -looked at me with wide eyes. I handed him the cash and took the pizza. I realized Master Andy had forgotten the tip. "Excuse me," I said, "I need to grab the tip."

I walked back in and asked Master Abdul for the tip. He pulled out some cash, but a smile crossed his face. "I'll walk back with you, boy," he answered. He attached my leash to my collar and led me to the door.

Master Abdul handed the delivery guy the tip. He also handed the guy the leash. "Would you like to use our slave boy for 10 minutes? No permanent damage to the property, but you can use him for some fun." He gestured to a guest bedroom off to the side of the entryway. The delivery boy nodded. Master Abdul smiled. "Make him lock the door, wash up, and head back in when you're done."

The delivery boy pulled me in by the leash and pushed me down to my knees, swiftly and hard. "Unzip me, slave," he said in a harsh but hushed tone, nervous that he would disturb the audible party going on. I pulled

out a thick 7-inch cock, pale with a bright pink head. "Suck me off," he demanded. I choked as I slowly tried to get the whole thing down my throat. He grabbed my ears and fucked my mouth roughly for a few minutes.

I gagged and slobbered all the way through, until he shot his no load, emitting a moan. The moan was apparently a little louder than expected, as I heard the masters cheer from the other room.

The delivery guy smiled. "You better not let a drop spill out," he warned, as he buttoned his pants and walked out. I cleaned up and locked up as he left.

As I walked back to the room, Master Ryan said, "good job boy. Nice to know you have some oral skills." The group burst into raucous laughter. "Why don't you get us some more snacks and beer?" Master Mike commanded.

As I was getting together food and drink for the masters, I heard their conversation, and at multiple times felt my dick struggle against its cage:

***

MASTER ABDUL: I could really get used to having a slave boy. Somewhere down my family line, we owned slaves. Something idyllic about that, even though it's not legal anymore.

MASTER MIKE: There is something natural about it. Seems natural that white men like us take charge. Plus, I can't help but notice that the slave looks more natural naked, locked, and collared.

MASTER ABDUL: He did take those things pretty well - almost like it was second nature to him.

MASTER ANDY: In a way we did him a favor, right? He seems to have taken well to it, and it does indeed seem like the natural scheme of things.

MASTER MIKE: So boys, what are your plans for the slave if you win tonight? All of us seem well poised to do so.

MASTER ANDY: My fiancé is away for a work trip, so I could really use a slave to take out my sexual frustrations. Truth be told, I'm getting a little hard thinking about it

(others laugh).

MASTER ANDY: I would just use all of his holes - I have only done anal once, and it was amazing, but my fiancée doesn't do it. So yeah, just tie him somewhere and fuck him every which way.

MASTER ABDUL: It's nice when you don't have to worry about consent.

MASTER RYAN: Well, slaves can't consent, right? That's the whole point about being a slave.

MASTER ANDY: Exactly. It's nice to worry just about your pleasure and not have to think about whether you're hurting someone else for a change.

MASTER MIKE: I take it you like doing it rough?

MASTER ANDY: Rougher than my fiancée would like

(others laugh).

MASTER PHIL: I, for one, am going back to my college to meet up with other members of the lacrosse team. I would love to offer them a slave boy for the overnight.

MASTER RYAN: That poor boy - he'll be destroyed by all of those players.

MASTER PHIL: Haha, probably. Some of those guys are twisted. I think one of them might fuck him in the ass with a lacrosse stick or something.

MASTER ANDY: Well that will be something - either a sex slave for me or a house slave for a bunch of lacrosse guys. What else - Mike, Ryan?

MASTER MIKE: I used to make performance art pieces with human elements, and had this idea for one called "Colonization." My idea was to have a man - be shackled in a cage with a bit in his mouth, a cage on his dick, and a dildo stuck up his ass. The dildo would be remote controlled, and viewers can change the settings in intensity. They could also reach through the cage and touch the man, grab his nipples, etc. Well, if I had a slave boy, I wouldn't need to convince anyone to do that.

MASTER ANDY: That does sound hot. If laws weren't laws, you could even sell the art to a wealthy buyer.

MASTER MIKE: Don't get me started; one of the downsides of performance art

(others laugh).

MASTER MIKE: Maybe things could change anyway. Ryan?

MASTER ABDUL: I'm more old school, I guess. I long for the days when we had slaves in the fields doing our work. I have a large farm here in rural Georgia; I would take the slave there and work in the fields. I do have other workers there; maybe they'll get some more ideas.

MASTER PHIL: Maybe - like they'll use the slave boy for his holes? Or realize they wouldn't mind also being naked slaves to a white master?

MASTER ABDUL:: The possibilities are endless!

(others laugh)

MASTER ABDUL: Perhaps even put a bridle on him and make him pull me around like a pony slave.

***

I was more turned on than before as I walked back in. "You've got an interesting future, boy," Master Andy said. "And it all depends on this final hand." I gulped.

As the game wound down, one of the masters dropped his cards, and won the wager.

=================

CHAPTER 7

They say “to the winner belongs the spoils.” Now I knew it was true.

I could hear people milling around me but I couldn't see them through the leather blindfold covering my eyes. I heard waiters passing around hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne while male voices murmured in the background.

"It's vulgar, isn't it? An attempt to shock the audience?"

"Is it? I think it almost feels at home, familiar. Like it was meant to be. This beautiful, slight, body chained, immobile, subject to whatever men want to do with it."

"I suppose so. I can pinch this dark nipple and he is powerless to do anything." I felt a sharp pinch on my left nipple and couldn't help myself; I flinched and winced, but the handcuffs and humbler around my legs and chained to the ground didn't let me go that far.

"Interesting you say," another voice said. "I see it as an artwork, an object. Yes, there is what looks like a human as a part of it, but the human has become part of the piece." I heard others murmur in the background in agreement. I felt my cock stiffen in the chastity cage.

"Look, it is leaking precum!" yet another voice said. "I think it feels at home in this position."

"Have you seen the interactive part yet?" I heard a familiar voice say. It was Master Phil. "No," responded another man, as I felt his rough hands touch my stomach. "I thought touching the artwork was interactive enough!" A group of men laughed nearby.

Just at that moment, I felt the dildo in my ass start to pulsate. I couldn't help myself as a moan escaped my throat - although it was muffled by the bit in my mouth. The audience heard the vibrating sound and I heard a few chuckles.

"There is a vibrator in the ass that can be controlled by the audience," Master Phil stated. "Interestingly, it's in another room of the gallery. You might have confused it for a thermostat or something, but if you look closely, it's labeled 'intensity' and goes from off to low to high. Part of the artist's messaging. Ah, here he comes now," I heard Phil say, as I heard footsteps. The group murmured and clapped.

"Thank you all for coming," I heard Master Mike say. "I heard Phil talking about the control in the other room. I think of it as a symbolizing white men's control over all bodies from a distant Western metropole, without them even knowing what is really going on."

"Powerful," I heard one man say. "Indeed - and both as symbolism, and as indicating the white male art patron's control over the art piece." Another responded.

"Is that why all of the patrons here, and even the staff, are white men?" Asked an inquisitive member. "Yes, that's right," Master Mike said.

"It also makes sense to me that you used a white human body. And one that is short, and not well endowed," stated another viewer. "It feels right that this human is part of the art piece, controlled by white men. A stronger, more muscular, taller, white man would not fit the bill." The comment garnered much agreement from other viewers.

"I'm glad the message came through," Master Mike said. "Now, please, enjoy yourselves, interact with the artwork." I heard applause as the crowd returned to chatting, eating and drinking, and playing with my body. I felt the vibrator start pulsing intensely. The pleasure was quite intense, and I felt my body sweating.

My sense of time was a little warped, but I knew it was Saturday – the day after the poker game. I had been there for several hours now. Before I was put into place, I was given a medication that kept me hydrated, and

preventing me from needing to use the bathroom for 48 hours. That would span the weekend - and the time Master Mike got to own me after winning.

"It's a beautiful piece," I heard a man say to Master Mike. "Are you looking to sell it?"

"You know, I hadn't thought about it," I heard Master Mike say, "but the offer sure is tempting."

"My name is David Andrews," the man said. "I'm a connoisseur of sorts in the colonial art space. Most of my collection is historical artifacts, but this would be a lovely addition to my gallery in the UK."

"Is it in London?" I heard Master Ryan say. "No," Mr. Andrews responded. "I don't think folks in London would go for this." I heard a small group of men laugh. "I have an estate in the country, members only, for men who appreciate art hearkening back to colonial days."

"How would you even ship the art?" I heard Master Andy ask. "Well," Mr. Andrews answered, "it would have to go through customs and I'd need to ship it either private or via one of the big shipping companies. And I would probably let the officials in charge have a little fun with the art

piece as a thank you."

"Interesting; I've never thought of being able to sell a performance art piece," I heard Master Mike say. "Well, yes, do you have the title to it? You can register any piece of art as property," I heard another man say. "I'm Brian Windgate," the man introduced himself. "I'd be interested in purchasing the piece for display in my private home. And I would use the human piece for my own pleasure use as well. It will be nice to have a human object I own legally."

"Now wait a minute," I heard Master Abdul say. "I'd like a chance to throw my hat in the ring; I do have quite a bit of money in my trust fund. I could still use a field slave."

"Isn't this getting a little out of hand?" I heard Master Andy whisper to Masters Phil and Mike. "I mean, didn't we only win John for the weekend?"

"I'm not sure he can do anything about it," Master Phil said. "Yeah, and by the looks of all that leaking pre-cum, he doesn't seem to mind," Master Mike said in jest. "Well, that or someone is really turning up the intensity." The three laughed.

And honestly? To me, it was a little of both. I wondered what would happen as I remained immobile, unable to see or speak, and incredibly turned on.

=====================

CHAPTER 8

I could smell freshly cut grass in the air as I tugged the cart behind me. With blinders on, a bit in my mouth, and my cock locked, I could not see, but I could feel Master Abdul tug to tell me to change directions. Next to me, I could feel another man tugging the cart as well.

I should explain. Master Abdul did end up taking me after my stint as an art installation. The guys decided that it would be too risky to let me out of their group, just in case some of the other men at the art gallery got a little too creative. I was brought to Master Abdul’s expansive farm in North Georgia, where I met his three farm hands - Jose, a muscular 6 foot tall 30 year old single Mexican man with Native American blood: Pierre, a 6 foot

5 tall absolute tank of a man with dark black skin from Senegal; and

Karim, a hairy, 5 foot 10 recent immigrant from Syria.

The three men were surprised when I walked in wearing nothing but a collar and a chastity device. They weren't slaves, so Master Abdul simply told them I was a new addition to their work team to help prep the farm for an evening with Masters Andy, Phil, and Mike. They shrugged and we all went off to do chores around the field.

The men were curious and asked me why I would do something like this. I told them my story - which they all found funny - and how Master Abdul had won the right to own me that weekend.

"Do you like it?" Lupe inquired. "He seems to," Karim said, tapping my locked cock and noting my leaking dick after recounting my story.

"I was nervous at first," I said. "But Master Abdul and the other men just seemed so confident and like owning me felt natural." I smiled and noted the other men had grown significant bulges in their pants.

We continued to toil in the fields and the sun continued to rise in the sky. Soon, it was in the high 80s and everyone was sweating. Jose took off his shirt, revealing a smooth chest and a large tattoo on his right

pec. Soon, Karim and Pierre joined in. After a while, Pierre wondered aloud, "perhaps we should all strip? Would certainly save us having to wash all these clothes." The others agreed and soon we were all working

naked in the fields - with me of course wearing a collar and a lock on my cock.

About a half hour later, I heard Master Abdul calling out. "Hey! You can't all work naked here - what if someone catches you and you get in trouble for public indecency?"

"Sir, we were all just hot," Jose said. "Well, we have to cover you up a bit," Master Abdul said. "I have some collars and chastity device here if you wouldn't mind putting them on." The other guys looked at each other, but it looked like they had been thinking about it too.

Everyone else struggled to put the chastity devices, especially Pierre with his 11 inch thick monster, but Jose's 9 inch uncut cock and Karin's 8 inch circumcised dick also put up a fight. Everyone was clearly turned on and excited - sounds like it wasn't just my fantasy? After that, we all just started calling Master Abdul "sir" and "master" - it kind of felt right.

That evening, Master Andy noted that Master Abdul had somehow quadrupled his stable of slaves. The masters all laughed, as the four of us served drinks and served as footstools. Initially, it was just me who was stuck under the table sucking off each of the masters as they won games of poker. I went from Master Andy's 7 inch light pink uncut cock, to Master Phil's 8 inch thick dick, to Master Abdul 9 inches, to Master Mike's respectable 6 inch tan cock. I didn't think any of the other slaves to be interested in sexually servicing men, but they too joined in. It was especially humiliating to see Pierre service Master Mike, a man whose dick was literally half his size.

The word "stable" resonated with Master Phil, and there was a discussion of what Master Abdul could do with four slaves. In the end, the masters decided that Master Abdul could use two of us at a time as ponies, one as a house slave, and one as a sexual slave in the bedroom. "And perhaps I can loan them out to you once in a while," Master Abdul quipped.

That was about a month ago. I went back to the office that Monday, since Master Abdul knew I still had to finish my internship. But, the entire summer, I was to not wear an undershirt under my dress shirts, and to wear my chastity device at all times. I was also to stay at Master Abdul's farm with the other slaves on the weekend.

The rest of the slaves stayed permanent slaves; after all, they were previously just hired workers. But now, they lived in a stable during the summer and were owned by Master Abdul

As the summer ended, Master Abdul asked what I wanted to do after. "You'll get a return offer to join the firm, of course. But think about whether you've found something else you're more natural at."

I did get the return offer to return to the law firm.

I was hones with Master Abdul and he was honest and supportive of my needs,

With his guidance I was able I accepted the offer that was best for me.

The Offer Master Abdul made to me.

I am now Master Abdul’s legal Assistant. I live in his apartment as his “pet” slave during the week

Every Friday afternoon after work Master Abdul strips me, collars, me loads me into my dog carrier in the back of his car. Off we go to his farm where I eagerly get together with my fellow slave Jose, Karim, and Pierre

The four of us spend the entire weekend serving my legal associates Master Phil, Master Andy, Master Mike. And my life time master, Master Abdul.

[inamindfarfaraway]

My Wreck-It Ralph Sugar Rush OCs

Name

Bicky Chocrisp.

Gender

Female.

Appearance

She has brown skin and dark brown eyes. Her kinky hair is black with light brown streaks, in box braids and woven into a shoulder-length ponytail with a red band that imitates a plaited pastry. She wears a glossy chocolate-brown leather jacket with a gold zip over a white T-shirt with a red heart symbol in the middle. She also has fawn leggings and dark brown shoes with red laces. Her white helmet is modelled after a chocolate-drizzled meringue.

Theme

Biscuits, sandwich biscuits in particular, pastries and meringues.

Kart

The Tartful Dodger. It has an eclair body, Oreo-esque wheels, a chocolate tart steering wheel, and the seat is two halves of a chocolate sandwich biscuit with cream cushions.

Fans

Chocolate wafers.

Catchphrase

"It's crunch time!"

Bio

Bicky Chocrisp: Smart cookie.

What Bicky Chocrisp lacks in raw power, she makes up for in control and cunning. She’s a master of timing, boosts, powerups, and all the other racing tricks that technically aren’t cheating - even if they may feel like it to those she overtakes. She’s clever, creative and sweet. But she can put up brittle walls of bravado to hide her soft, gooey centre and sometimes worries about being good enough. She likes to watch and analyse races and conversations as much as participate in them.

***

Name

Roxy Fizzlepop.

Gender

Female.

Appearance

She has fair skin, cyan eyes and dusty purple hair in a choppy, spiky pixie cut dotted with sparkly cyan crystals. She wears a sleeveless dark blue puffer jacket over a purple top with short, spiky ripped sleeves, a shiny cyan foil skirt, and dark blue boots with silver laces and cyan crystalline studs. Her helmet is dark blue, smooth and has a purple fuse on the top.

Theme

Popping candy and fizzy sweets and drinks.

Kart

The Tangnado. Its body is a soft drink bottle of purple glass containing tubes of cyan sherbet, its wheels are cyan fizzy tablet sweets with purple jelly ring tyres, its seat is dark blue and its steering wheel is a silver bottle cap.

Fans

Gummy bears.

Catchphrase

“Shake it up!”

Bio

Roxy Fizzlepop: Lift your spirits.

Roxy Fizzlepop is bubbly, buoyant and bold. She loves the thrill of the race. Win or lose, no outcome will deflate her overflowing cheer as long as she’s done her best, and she always does. Her strategy in everything is charging hard and fast ahead. She’s eccentric, easily distracted but tending to notice details others don’t. She feels all her feelings very intensely. If you manage to set her off by being mean, you’ll find that her temper can be explosive.

***

Name

Juicica Tutti-Frutti.

Gender

Female.

Appearance

She has tan skin, silky jet-black hair in pigtails with bands that imitate pineapple rings and green eyes. She wears a yellow T-shirt with brown seed prints, a translucent pink sweet wrapper skirt, yellow and green striped knee-length shorts and pink shoes. Her helmet resembles a raspberry and matches her shoes.

Theme

Snacks and desserts containing fruit.

Kart

The Boltberry. Its body is a slice of fruitcake. It has pineapple rings wheels, a steering wheel made of a caramelised apple slice and an orange segment spoiler. Green markings of star fruit cross sections decorate the bonnet and sides.

Fans

Toffee apples.

Catchphrase

“Zest wishes!”

Bio

Juicica Tuttifrutti: Fruits of labour.

An apple a day keeps the rivals away in Juicica Tuttifrutti’s book. This athletic health nut can be slightly overbearing, but she has her friends’ best interests at heart and dedicated diligence is how she shows she cares. Her spirit is patient and resilient, full of positive energy. She holds herself to high standards and would never grab the low-hanging fruit. She believes that practice makes perfect. It certainly makes her a great racer!

***

Name

Scoffia Confectionaire.

Gender

Female.

Appearance

She has fair skin and blue eyes. Her wavy white hair is styled in a chin-length bob that alludes to a popcorn flake. She wears a boxy jacket and trousers with thick vertical red and white stripes like a popcorn carton and gold buttons shaped like pretzels, and a golden shirt underneath. She also wears black patent leather shoes with gold buckles. Her helmet is gold and encrusted with glittering salt crystals.

Theme

Salty snacks like popcorn, nuts and pretzels that are often found at public venues and eaten while watching movies.

Kart

The Crackerjack. Its body is a normal kart shape, mostly red with white stripes. It has salted nut cluster tyres supported by straight pretzel spokes and popcorn flake hubs, a pretzel steering wheel and a seat made of golden-brown crackers with white cheese cushions. An exhaust pipe and rocket booster at the back are fitted into popcorn flakes.

Fans

Breadsticks.

Catchphrase

"It’s showtime!”

Bio

Scoffia Confectionaire: Worth her salt.

Scoffia Confectionaire claims that she isn’t here to make friends, and the only challenge more intimidating than overtaking her seems to be winning her over. She’s proud, sharp-tongued and loves to be the star of the show. But her integrity will always outweigh her ego. She would never lie or play dirty and doesn’t mean any real harm; she just thinks a compelling racing story needs a little drama. Earn her respect and you’ll find that her grit really enhances her subtle sweetness.

[gsstories]

My characters

Character name: Gin Rose

Nationality: Puertorican

Age: 14

Pronouns: She/Her (for now)

Sexuality: Bisexual and demisexual

Appearance: Gin is 5'3 feet tall, pretty skinny, has tanned skin and brown eyes along with puffy brown hair that is dyed half blue, half light pink that is pushed back by a headband and the bangs are dyed a soft lavender color. She wears a red tank top with slightly baggy bluish gray pants and black boots. She wears fingerless black, leather gloves, has a light reddish brown purse that she always carries with a bisexual pride flag pin with a star in the middle.

Background: Gin is a young girl that originated from Puerto Rico and moved to Norrisville when she was 12 or 13, starting to study at Norrisville High in 8th grade. She has a mother named Miranda and an 11 year old sister named Amy, they own a family business which is a bakery. Gin's specialty are brownies. She loves drawing, writing, gossiping, music and singing, especially songs from shows that she likes. She is semi-[popular, a 'floater' if you will. Floaters are the kids that don’t really have one specific group of kids they hang out with and are generally shy but are also polite and friendly. They tend to have a lot of friends and get along with most everyone. The only group she doesn't float around would be Bash's. She has great academic intellect and tries not to brag about it but subconsciously does so. She is rather touchy with friends but avoids physical contact with strangers like the plague. May have a crush on someone.

————

Character name: Adira Guerrero

Nationality: Part Colombian, part British

Age: 14

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Omnisexual

Appearance: Adira is a 5’9 feet tall with a rather muscular physique, has black skin and brown eyes along with curly hair that she often straightens every few days and wears a wine red bandana and some black earrings. She wears a matching wine red crop top jacket with a dark gray t-shirt underneath, dark blue pants and red converse shoes. She has hair covering her right eye, which hides a rather long scar that she obtained due to a past ex.

Background: Adira is a young girl that was born in the US but her parents are from Colombia and the United Kingdom, her mom being Colombian while her father was British, Adira herself being part of identical triplets. She lived in Puerto Rico for a whole lot of years before moving to Norrisville in 9th grade where she was reunited with her long time friend Gin Rose, who she had met in Puerto Rico and had studied with her in the same school. Her parents are named Ava and Alexander while her older and younger twin sisters are named Abigail and Alanis. Her mother used to be a pretty well known singer back in the day but after having the triplets, she retired and became a gardener while her father was a lawyer. They have a fat cat named Gordis who sometimes gets out of the house and follows the triplets to school. She is mostly distant with most people, a bit of a loner you might say, but she acts rather lovely with those who are close to her. She likes to listen to music, train in boxing, gossip, dance, overall just perform like her mother once did, and stump people with legal facts that she learned from her father. May have a crush on someone.

————

Character name: Daniel Liu Pereira

Nationality: Part Portuguese, part Chinese

Age: 14

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual with a preference for men

Appearance: Daniel is a 5’11 feet tall boy with a rather lean yet strong body, has dark skin and golden eyes along with smooth, straight and long hair that he puts in a low ponytail most days and some feather earrings. He wears a dark yellow turtle neck, black pants and brown Uggs. He always wears eyeliner and a bit of eyeshadow, plus some lipgloss, he likes to stay pretty like that.

Background: Daniel is a young boy that originated from Portugal, having been born into a rather wealthy family. Helen loved in Portugal until he was 9 and then moved to Shanghai and lived there until he was 12 and then moved to Norrisville where he now is studying at in Norrisville High. His mom is Portuguese while his dad is from China, their names being Reina and Kai. He has three other siblings, an older sister named Victoria, a twin younger sister named Diane and a younger brother named Eugene. Daniel’s mother is a model and sometimes helps out Gin’s mother with her bakery rather often, so Daniel and Gin hung out together and became friends due to so. Other than that, Reina has a little shop where she sells handmade things while Kai is a retired military officer and now a stay at home dad. Daniel and his siblings were trained in self defense by their father, just in case anything was to happen, although Daniel is too scared to actually hurt anyone. Daniel is shy and usually nervous but can be excited when trying out stuff he likes with his friends, sometimes getting flustered when given affection but always appreciates it. He likes makeup, fashion, modeling, watching sappy and sad movies, cooking and baking and hanging out with his friends. He may have a crush on someone.

[a-queenoffairys]

Ok so there's been some confusion around the new Mini Brands Fashion (series 3) and I'm here to share my discoveries. The videos and photos I've seen from American collectors show a collection with 60+ minis to collect, whereas the ones I bought yesterday here in Australia have 80+ to collect. The thing the American ones are missing? Shoes. One pair in every capsule.

Honestly the shoes really make this set for me, they all look really nice. Some are made of plastic (similar to most Barbie shoes) with real laces, some are a leather-like material with plastic soles, and the strappy heels have different materials like fuzzy fabric, ribbon or tulle added to them.

And they're pretty suitable for Barbie dolls. I tried them on an original MTM body and a curvy MTM, and they're a bit loose on the original but fit quite well on the curvy! Which is cool, since curvy-sized shoes are kinda hard to come by where I live. Here are some comparison photos, the leg on the left is original body, the one on the right is curvy.

Out of all the shoes I got, the exception to that was the red leather boots (pictured further below with the red bag), which have thicker fabric around the top. I found it hard to get them on and off an original body, and couldn't get the curvy foot in there without risking damaging the shoe.

Some of the shoes balance well enough for the doll to stand alone, particularly the flat shoes or ones with shorter heels. I tried some on Rainbow High and Monster High G3 and they were too small. They fit the newer Miraculous Ladybug dolls but they're a bit loose.

Another thing is how the sets are sometimes colour co-ordinated. Like with previous series, the accessories aren't random; depending on the bag you get, there are different set combinations of accessories that will go with it. And in the capsules I opened, a lot of the accessories were picked to match the colour of the bag. That made them a lot of fun to open up.

I got 16 capsules and 1 was a duplicate. Here are the photos!

So if you're looking to collect series 3 and you want the shoes, keep an eye out for the capsules that say 80+ instead of 60+ to collect.

More information and observations under the cut.

I didn't get a photo of the capsule before I opened them all, but I got mine for $10 each from Kmart, which is the same price as the previous series (usually $12 at other stores but I've only seen series 3 at Kmart so far). They were displayed in boxes of 12 which didn't have a sample collectable displayed in a little window.

The American ones I've seen seem to have a sheet of press-on nails in every capsule, and I assumed that was how they were going to replace the stickers from series 1 and 2 but still keep the price down. But for the capsules I opened, the thing you got in every one was a pair of shoes. A single shoe seems to count for one of the five surprises, so each capsule contains one bag, two shoes and two other accessories (a pair of earrings counts as one).

I guess my main issue with some of them is that the leg part is on a bit of an angle instead of pointing straight up, so you get a bit of stretching/wrinkling if you try to stand the doll straight.

Oh and some of them don't have as much detail as they do in the photos from the collector's guide (like the thigh-highs and short tan boots) but I'm not too bothered by it.

I'm also not game to try and thread the straps on the blue fuzzy heels through the buckle, the hole looks very small and I feel like I'd strip off some of the fluff trying to squeeze it through. So I'm not sure how that one would go, even as a collectable for display instead of as a doll accessory.

The pink flats in the last photo aren't a great fit on Barbie, they're very long compared to the doll's foot. The strap is supposed to fold up and wrap around the ankle, which was a bit awkward to try and do right.

[fictomorph]

Any Objections? (Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth TF/TG/MC)

This story contains female to male TF, character TF, and identity death as well as Wrightworth shipping/romance.

———————

“Looking for something in particular?”

A voice disturbed Griffin, who was currently hunched over the top of a display case, filled with rings, all of them beautiful, finely crafted….and expensive. He jolted up, meeting the eyes of the clerk.

“Oh...yea.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly chuckling. The clerk looked him over, trying to read him for what he wanted. Decently groomed short chestnut hair, a purple polo shirt and pressed jeans, brown leather dress shoes...probably had something decently important later today. And considering what kind of jewelry he was looking at….

“You’re proposing later, aren’t you?” Griffin paused, nodding.

“How did you?...” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Ugh, yeah. But everything’s so expensive...I’ve been saving for practically a year and even then I can barely afford any of the good ones!” The clerk watched him as he went back to pouring over the rings, struggling between getting his loved one something they deserved and something he could pay off.

“Actually..” He perked up, holding a finger in the air as his icy blue eyes pondered a thought. “I think we might have a set of rings in the back for decently cheap, $100, $120….but they still look rather nice and are of high craft. Would you like me to see if we still have them?”

Griffin nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Really? Oh thanks, man, you’re a lifesaver!”

“Ah, no problem. My job is to help people find what they’re looking for, after all! Now if you’ll excuse me…” He walked off, headed into the forbidden parts of the store unknown to the commoner. After a few minutes, Griffin (who had started scrolling through Twitter) was brought back to reality by the sound of something being set on the glass in front of him, along with the clerk’s statement of “Take a look”.

Two small ring boxes were laid in front of him, one coated in red velvet and the other in blue. He lifted the red box, popping it open to reveal the contents inside. A rose gold band, with two small diamonds and one ruby crowning it. The edges of the band flares, giving it a ruffled pattern almost like creased fabric. Ooh...this would be perfect for her! He picked up the blue box, inspecting its hidden treasure as well. It was a similarly simple pure gold band, two sapphires on either side of a diamond tucked away in a golden four-pointed star. He looked back to the clerk, grabbing both of them as he fidgeted his wallet from his pocket.

“You said these were…$120?” The clerk nodded, leading to Griffin slamming the money on the counter. “Oh man, thank you so much! She’s gonna love this, I-I can’t thank you enough!” Placing the ring boxes in a bag for him, the clerk waved as another satisfied customer ran off.

The rest of the day was as normal as it could be for a day leading up to such a big event. Griffin called to double and triple-check his reservations were still in place, re-washed and ironed everything he was wearing for later, and took an intensive shower. Everything had to go perfect for tonight. Soon enough, after what felt like both no time at all and a full eon, his doorbell rang. Answering it, he was met with the face of his beloved Kelly. She had dressed similarly nicely, a long somewhat shimmery orange dress accompanied by a pearl necklace. Her blonde hair had been neatly curled at the edges, letting it frame her face in a rather flattering way.

“You look nice.” Griffin stuttered, eyes darting across the room as she chuckled.

“Thanks. You too.” She grabbed his hand, leading him out the door. “C’mon, we should get going. You said this place was expensive, and I don’t wanna miss our chance to eat $100 steak.”

The car ride over was nice, Kelly looking out the window at the late-night city’s lights. Her eyes drifted over the scenery, soon enough settling on the restaurant they had arrived at. She had known it was a fancy place, but she didn’t expect it to look quite this nice. The building had strings of fairy lights dangling from it, and as they walked in, she took note of how well everyone was dressed. She started to think she might’ve underdressed for the occasion.

“Mr. West? Ah yes, we have your reservation. Please, follow me.” The waitress led the two to an empty table, one which happened to be on the patio. A nice open space, no one else outside, illuminated by the moonlight….it was perfect. Griffin kept a hand on the two ring boxes in his pocket, waiting for the perfect moment.

Whatever was above must’ve taken a shine to them that day, as the dinner went perfectly. Their food was cooked to perfection, the wine the servers brought out was a rich palette, and all night the moon and stars were perfectly visible and bright. As Kelly polished off her second glass of wine, he gripped the boxes tighter than he ever had before and sighed.

“Hm?” Kelly placed her glass down, focusing on her partner. “Something wrong, Grif?”

“No, it’s just….we’ve been together for a while now and...you’re really important to me. I

realized I found something I don’t wanna lose. So….” He took the red box from his pocket and held it out to her, letting her see as he popped it open. “Will you marry me?”

She gasped, grabbing the box as she teared up. “Oh my God….yes!” His heart pounded out of his chest as she slipped the ring on, admiring it. He had taken the shot and hit a bullseye.

“The best part?” He held the blue box in his hands, showing its contents to her. “They’re a set. We match!” Putting his own ring on, Kelly practically pounced on him as she pulled him into a hug that turned into the two holding each other’s hands, rings resting against each other. It felt like a moment that would last forever…..until they withdrew their hands in shock.

“Ow, something shocked me!” Kelly rubbed her hand, surprised by the indignant interruption.

“Yea, me too….might’ve been some static electricity or something in the rings.” Griffin explained to the best of his knowledge. That was a thing that could happen, right? Metal conducted electricity.

“Mhm...probably. Felt a bit stronger than static, though. It was just...weird.” She unconsciously flexed her fingers to fully shake the feeling, although a new, even stranger one replaced it. Her hands began to shift, growing broader and more well-groomed, like they belonged to someone from the upper class. Though the expected tightness of the ring becoming too small for her fingers was strangely never present…

“Maybe you just aren’t taking your wine well.” Griffin chuckled, taking her hand in his in an attempt to comfort her, only to realize how large it was compared to mere moments ago. He gulped, feeling his hands become a bit more comfortable in holding hers, the change nowhere as near as drastic as Kelly’s but still something concerning. His arms tensed, swelling with a slightly toned layer of muscle new to his form. He took his hands from Kelly’s, looking over them. Sure, he admittedly never held his wine the best, but he’d never hallucinated before, and he’d definitely never actually felt it.

“Grif? Do you think someone put something in our food?” She took a longer, more well-built arm to her chest, feeling the fat layered on it melt away and replace with an admittedly not too shabby set of pecs. “Wh-What?” Her face flushed, eyes widening at the realization that whatever was happening to them had decided to shift her sex around.

“I’d like to see whatever drug can do something like this at all, let alone this fast!” He gripped onto a chair’s back, groaning as his back popped, leaving him slightly taller and, as a cursory scan of his new body would reveal, sporting a new set of abs. “Woah...this is...something.”

Kelly, meanwhile, was not as enthralled with her changes as Griffin was. She felt awkward enough in her dress already, and the cracking of her spine and toning frame didn’t serve to help. What only made things worse was the notable pressure she felt from her high heels, confirming her fears as the sides of the shoes gave, leaving her feet exposed in the cold night air. “Ugh….just kill me now….”

“Hey, cmon, don’t be like that.” Griffin pulled her into a hug, grinning in an attempt to ease her fears. “This probably won’t be that bad.” She looked up at him, desperate for some form of comfort. It was probably just the changes, but...he looked so much more handsome than usual. His jawline was sharper, his eyes had cooled to a soft smoky grey, and his formerly chestnut hair had burnt to a dark black, even changing how it was styled into a striking slicked back and spiked look. Something about it was…..familiar and comforting.

Griffin swept a bang from her face, letting him look at her shifted face. He let out a quiet gasp, her heart sinking.

“I-Is it bad?” She clasped her hands together, still feeling the ring.

“No, you’re...you’re gorgeous.” His hand rested against her cheek, taking everything in. Her face had gained this strong stoic look to it, almost statue-esque. His hair had faded to a platinum, combed into a set of bangs that perfectly framed his face and made similarly pale eyes stand out. “I...wow.” He’d never felt this strongly towards...anyone. He took one of her pearls in his hand, only to let go of it as he realized it had gained an odd fabric like texture.

Kelly watched as her pearl necklace flattened and softened, the chain around her neck becoming the same silk as the pearls now were. She brushed over it with her hands, the string now a rumpled scarf of some sort...what was the term? The word “cravat” suddenly popped to mind, albeit she didn’t know where from. Yes, that was right.

Griffin coughed as something tugged against his throat, looking down to see a bright red tie had formed around his neck. More notably, where it touched seemed to sap the red from his shirt, leaving it pure white as the still-blue edges tugged away from itself, leaving him with a formal white undershirt topped with a sapphire blue suit jacket. “Guess they have a stricter take on business casual than I thought…” He awkwardly joked as he watched the blue spread down to neatly pressed dress pants, his changes finishing with his shoes expanding slightly and shifting into dark leather.

Kelly brushed her face, slightly flushed from Griffin’s new form. …..Griffin? Was that right? No, that...that wasn’t it. What was his name, though? As she thought, her clothing underwent its own metamorphosis, bleeding into a combination of a black vest and a deep red suit jacket, albeit this one more high quality than her partner’s. The material shared its conquest of her wardrobe with her partner’s changes, as the ends of her dress wrapped around her legs into fanciful perfectly tailored wine red pants. Her shoes even got a second shot as the heels flattened to the ground, a refined pair of leather dress shoes.

“Is...is it over?” The two looked at each other, Griffin pausing at his new voice. It was young, nothing too outstanding on its own but probably could be with some power put behind it, like some form of objection.

“I...I believe so.” Kelly gasped, putting a hand to her throat as she felt her new Adam’s apple. The voice it had given her was a rather pleasing one, deep and proper, the voice of someone who really knew what they were doing. “My...this is all so….” She didn’t get to finish her thought as she trailed off, Griffin taking her hands one again.

“Not what I expected to happen tonight, either. Can’t say I’m too mad though.” Kelly blushed, Griffin’s face equally red as he leaned in for a kiss, which she gladly reciprocated. That simple act sealed the two’s fates as when they pulled back, a different, more fitting set of memories and personality traits belonged to the pair.

“Wright....must you be this extravagant?” He looked around the patio, taking in the almost storybook-like picture the two found themselves in.

“Of course. Nothing else for my Miles.” Edgeworth turned his head, leading Phoenix to giggle.

“You’re an embarrassment.” He tried to come off as his usual stern self, but the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips was his lover’s cue to keep going.

“Hey, you know how I get when drunk.”

“I suppose I do, Feenie.” Miles slipped his hand into his partner’s, only for the two of them to pause and investigate the rings they didn’t remember putting on.

“Guess I was a bit more drunk than I thought….” He looked away, rubbing his neck in that ever-so-Wright way. A pause of awkward silence, before he sighed and reconnected eye contact. “Hey um….even if we don’t remember it...would you still...you know…”

“Of course, you idiot.” Edgeworth full on smiled, a rare sight, and grabbed Phoenix’s hand once again, planting a kiss on his cheek. Even if they didn’t quite remember how they got here, this proved to be the best night of their lives.

[artzychic27]

More Coven Box stuff because I remembered I fucking love this au. This au was brought to you by @eternalnexuswarrior

Today… OUTFITS!

Nathaniel-

Red and Black color scheme

Scarlet Warlock’s outfit but with some upgrades like some fancy-ass sleeves, a black sleeveless waistcoat, and high heels to kill a man with

Power up potions hanging off of his belt and tucked into the hand of his witch hat in case he needs them

Aurore-

Grey, white, and slate blue

A little inspiration from the Swedish Easter Witch attire

A grey head scarf with the fabric on top tied to look like wolf fears, slate blue sleeveless jumper paired with a white fur shawl that connects in the front with a silver latch, belt with a wolf tail connected to the back, and fancy white hunting boots

Reshma-

Black and red with some hints of white

Dark ballerina aesthetic with a TON of mesh and beautiful billowing sleeves

Her skirt is decorated with a white hem that looks like a spider web, and her flats have sturdy soles. Her mask makes it looks like she’s got six more eyes

Jean-

Black with a light neon green

Fabulous✨

A cyberpunk look becuase the color scheme demands it. A visor, crop jacket some long sleeves decorated with light green designs, black halter top, black utility belt, black cargo pants with light green design, and black boots

When it’s dark out, that’s when the light green starts glowing

Juleka-

Dark purple, black, dark grey

Plague Doctor outfit to go with her plague doctor cane

She’s got a practical dark purple knee length dress with a hood, a black non-constricting corset, feathered collar, some silver jewelry, and the plague Doctor mask that with posies decorated on the beak

Simon-

Brown, light grey, and silver

Trench coat with a hood to look sophisticated and mysterious. The hood literally casts a shadow over his whole face and you can only see his eyes. It freaks out villains

Dress shoes with noise canceling soles so he can sneak up on some motherfuckers, and a fancy pair of gloves

Lacey-

Green, yellow, black

Imagine Froppy

Basically that, but not as skin tight, and with a crop jacket because I said so. And she’s got shock absorption shoes for when she lands

Ismael-

Purple, black, and gold

He’s got a sleeveless hoodie with a cobra hood, and a mask that turns his eyes into slits

Gold cale patterns on the black pants, black shrug top that extends into finger less gloves, and a purple undershirt that looks similar to the top half of Viperion’s outfit rift

Denise-

Red, black, and gold

Studded wrist gauntlets because they need more than just a poison-filled tail

Red headscarf, red ruffle top over a black halter top, gold warp around belt, an asymmetrical ankle length red skirt with a black hem, torn black pants, and black ankle boots

Marc-

Dark green, black, hints of yellow

TON of leather- Jacket, boots, gloves

Scale pattern, torn… Everything, his eyes turn into slits, his hair is wilder than canon, and he’s got a silver choker and cuffs with broken chains attached

He’s got the biggest fangs out of the others

Zoé-

Tan and black

Shredded clothes, leather jacket with a fur collar, one torn faux ear

Silver piercings- Ears, eyebrow, nose

Silver jewelry- Cuffs with broken chains

Cosette-

Light green with hints of an iridescent black

Hooded black asymmetrical jacket that turns all sorts of colors whenever it moves at different angles, green pants with scale pattern, black knee length boots, and a green visor

Mireille

A light brown, white

Imagine Isi Dawndancer’s antler headband, but white

Brown crop hoodie with little white specs and deer ears on the hood, thigh length white skater dress under brown leggings, and white ankle length boots that look like hooves

[terrence-silver]

What would Terry’s reaction be to finding Beloved with another man?…

---

Of course his first instinct was to kill. Maim.

Avenge. Mainly himself.

Settle scores.

Achieve prime control by digging his fingers into your neck until your ligaments snapped in half and then deal with the lowlife punk schmuck you were shacked up with at The Montrose, downtown West Hollywood. Destroy their mediocre little life, one bit at a time until they begged for release he wouldn't give them. Margaret, by extension of his private investigators told him exactly where to find you. The location to where you were tracked. Followed, when you thought you were being clever, unseen, outsmarting everyone, never realizing his many eyes were always on you.

He takes the Rolls Royce there.

Has his chauffeur driving him out. The aesthetic choice was deliberate. He'd go down there calmly, in high style, a man of the world, well dressed, poised, like he was doing no more and no less than attending some high stakes business meeting. A conference. And he was, in a sense. Revenge was business and his business was revenge, today of all days, as he calmly strides of the stairs on the third floor, polished leather shoes against the floorboards, adjusting his golden cufflinks, the puzzled front desk receptionist at the dingy hotel eyeing him like he just saw the fucking Pope enter the venue premises. Yeah, it is simple as knocking on the door marked AB19 and you open, thinking he's room service undoubtedly, find yourself in a state of partial undress, wrapped in a bathrobe, looking pale. Terry was convinced it was a far greater fright to come face to face with him than being caught cheating. But he's cool, simply grabbing the door's frame from the top, using his height to his advantage once you try to close it shut in front of him and he strides past you with ease, looking for a chair to sit down on, inviting himself inside, never asking for permission, pulling a monogrammed silken handkerchief under himself as he does, sprawling it out, as not to get sullied, the keys to your room promptly tossed on a nearby end table with a metallic, resounding clamor that shook the foyer.

There's a creature on the bed, just like Terry knew there would be, rolled in post-coital bedsheets, looking even more befuddled than you were; an emotion clearly replaced by fear once the door shuts behind his stride and two realize you were just caught. What? Did he interrupt something? Terry crosses his legs, nonchalant. He would deal with this punk later. It would be a pleasure.

-"C'mon! Don't stop on my account."- He fishes a golden cigar box out of his inside pocket, ensuring that the suit he wore was the picture of flattery on him, looking for a cutter and a lighter, pushing the tobacco between his lips, nonplussed. He already broke half of the furniture back at the mansion earlier today when his detective handed him the photographs of you with this...thing, staring at him from the mattress, shaken. He got ahold of himself by the time he arrived here, hot waves of wrath rolling off of him until there was nothing left but stony determination. Now was the time to play his frosty disposition and play it masterfully. -"I wanna watch."- Terry utters that line like it was nothing at all, and it wasn't anything at all. He's watched people fuck before. People watched him fuck before too. He's just never watched someone that was his fuck someone else before, was all. That's why all his discipline is employed, never to show an emotion. Never show mercy. Not now.

-"Terry, I, how..."- You stutter uncomfortably, finally able to muster a word or two, still processing he was here at all. Least of all, that he was asking what he was asking.

-"I said, I wanna watch."-

He repeats, matter-of-factly, feeling himself grow icy cold at the idea his explicit order was being questioned at all, letting the smoke bellow out of his nostrils in floating circles, pointing a ring finger vaguely at the nobody fucktard you choose to do him in with. How your standards have fallen. You wanted to learn a thing or two about humiliation? Fair enough. Terry Silver was here to do the teaching. This would be one of many demonstrated lessons. The first one. The prologue. Round one in the ringer.

-"So? Put on a good live performance."-

He twirls his hand in the air for emphasis, relishing in your embarrassment, so thick he could practically cut it with a knife and eat it for breakfast with an entrée followed by the main course in the form of your bleeding heart, feeling his jaw tighten to the point he could imagine himself capable of biting through the concrete walls of the room filled with cold anger, eyes searching for an ashtray and in finding none, he simply allows the searing residue from his cigar to fall on the carpet along with a curtain of red embers. He could burn this whole place down and he'd be fully justified in doing so. But, no, Terry didn't deal in impulsive anger. Terry only got angry when he decided it was time to --- deciding when it was useful --- and now wasn't the time. He ironically needed to be perfectly level headed now. And so, he was.

-"Terry, listen, we can go outside and I can explain ---"-

You try desperately to placate him and your creature scurries nervously, collecting their shit from strewn over the floor, ready to run. Make a dash for it. -"I'll leave, man."- They make a pathetic attempt and fail. -"Bullshit you will. Class isn't dismissed and recess hasn't started."- Terry doesn't raise his voice, refusing to blink. Doesn't give anyone in the room the satisfaction of finding him affected and out of control. Instead, he adjusts himself and sinks deeper into the trusted old cuck chair --- of course every hotel had one, but this time, he tended to see it as the seat of command, pointing at the bed, refusing to address the creature personally, instead, doing it through you as mouthpiece, courier and vessel. -"You tell them, they'll be a good robot. Do exactly as programmed."- Terry instructs, never taking his eyes off of you. Sure, yes, he considered violence as his first incentive, but this? This was so much better. You wanted to be an adulterer and now it was your chance do to what an adulterer did best, with him as witness and coordinator, learning a lesson you'd never forget; that regardless what you did, you belonged to him. Now and always. -"And after you're done,"- He warns, wagging his finger. -"You'll pack all your crap up and you're coming home with me."- Disbelief. Terry reads disbelief in your eyes when faced with those words. Like a part of you thought that fucking someone else would finally liberate you from him as your last way out. That you'd get rid of him. That he'd be disgusted, angry and done with you to the degree you'd walk free, even if walking free came with certain amounts of pain stemming from his ire, truly showing how desperately you wanted freedom at any cost. If that was your reason behind tactically doing this then you were dead wrong --- you grossly miscalculated --- because giving you exactly what you wanted was too damn easy.

No.

You'd stay right where you belonged --- with him.

Denied of the very thing you were reaching for forever.

And Terry would enjoy that so much. That would be his revenge.

-"Chop-chop! Get to work."- Terry claps his hands, balancing his cigar between his index and middle finger, mustering a dry chuckle, feeling himself like spectator at the Kentucky Derby bidding on a race horse from the jam-packed audience, watching you exchange silently horrified glances with the schmuck on the bed who was still trying to figure out if this was real or an elaborate joke. Was no joke. Didn't you tell them about him? No? Terry wanted to watch you fuck the prick. He wanted it to last long. Torturously so. Terry wanted you to feel his gaze on you as you did, unable to escape. Feel every bit of discomfort, unease, objectification and suffering you could until you finally tapped the fuck out and found that this was only the beginning. That there was his car waiting downstairs and that you'd be going back with him. That you would pay for what you've done. That you'd realize what 'nothing is for free' really meant. That he would ensure your paid your dues for this betrayal with every inch of your being until it left a mark on your very soul. When you refuse to move, Terry decides, now's the time to raise his voice and his tone is laced with crude laughter as he does once both you and the shmuck nearly jump out of your skins. -"With conviction!"- Terry yells, as you reluctantly approach the bed, finally moving, even if it was at a snail's pace, wholly shaken and shivering. He smiles. Good. Perfect. This would hurt you, sure. But, no more than it would hurt him.

He takes another long, hard drag out of his cigar, filling the room with smoke.