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charliemwrites · 5 months

Text

This is for the two (!) anons that asked for Keeper!ghost and kept!reader’s first time.

You wait a day after he gets back from his last trip. You’ve… missed him? It’s weird to admit, even if just to yourself. You could justify that your body misses him but it’s a bit more than that…

Not to say your body didn’t miss him, though. It did. You practically climbed him when he came in the door, made him drop his bag just to support all your weight as you shoved his mask off and demanded to know if he’s injured. He’s not, but you still gave him a day to sleep off the mission.

And now it’s morning and you’re climbing into his bed naked, appreciating how the morning light highlights his stupidly handsome features. He was awake the minute you walked in the room but he lets you get all the way up before opening his eyes.

“Well.” He says and then stops because he’s too busy starin. You huff, wiggling up against him. He’s in just a pair of underwear and you rub your body all along his, luxuriating in scarred skin against yours.

“You’re being sweet this morning,” he notes.

You hum, nip lightly at his wrist when he threads his fingers in your hair.

“You were gone too long,” you say.

“Was only a month.”

“Too long.”

He chuckles as you climb onto him, kneading at his defined chest.

“You owe me.”

He arches his eyebrows, pets soothingly up your thighs and ribs, then down again. Over and over.

“What do you want, feral?”

“You.”

He rubs his thumb at your hip. “Yeah? You’ve got me here. All my attention, my love, my energy.”

You flush down your chest. “Yeah and I want it all fucking me.”

He blinks, just once.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” You hiss the ‘s’ sound, grinding on his lap. “So gimme.”

He chuckles, palms gently but firmly holding you still. “Alright, pretty, but I’ve gotta get you ready.”

“Nooooo.”

“It’s not a negotiation, little one. If you want my cock inside this gorgeous pussy, you have to cum twice on my fingers first. Not going to hurt you.”

And you bite him for that, but he’s not going to budge so you let him. It’s not like you’re going to complain about extra orgasms after all. He’s brilliant with his hands, petting and stroking at your soaked walls, stretching you so perfectly while toying with your clit.

You cum twice easily - almost reach a third before you whine and scratch at his biceps, little nails leaving livid marks behind.

“Want it, gimme, you promised, Si.” You chant. “Want it, it’s mine.”

“Yes it is,” he coos, sitting up so that you can hold onto his shoulders, brace yourself up on weak knees. “Easy now, don’t rush.”

He won’t let you rush, damn him. Settles you down inch by torturous inch, distracting you with licking kisses and teases at your swollen clit. You flutter around him, so wet that you’re dripping down his shaft, his balls, pooling on the blankets.

When he finally bottoms out, you instantly try to start moving, want to feel him ruining you. But he holds you down, squirming and whimpering, pressed tight against him.

“Not yet, you’ll hurt yourself,” he reminds.

He only shushes you when you protest that you don’t care. When he finally eases up, you push your weight forward, flattening him against the bed, hands braced on his broad chest. It changes the angle just so and makes you see STARS.

“I’ll do it,” you say, voice only shaking a little.

He murmurs encouragingly, palms light on your thighs as you start to rock. It feels so fucking GOOD.

“Like you were made just for me,” you babble, delirious.

He croons that of course he was, he’s here for you, to take care of you. Helps you find a good rhythm that has you grinding your clit against the downy blond hair above his cock. It’s a lot - too much really after already cumming twice - but you don’t stop even as tears slip down your cheeks, highlighted by the soft sunlight.

He feels so so good, fills you up so nicely. The head of his cock curves against your walls and rubs so perfectly against that spot inside you. You moan and gasp with it, nipping absently at his neck and collarbones.

Ride the edge for what feels like hours before you make a whiny, high pitched noise.

“What is it, pretty? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Simon asks, genuinely concerned.

“I can’t…” you huff, trying to improve the angle but no that’s worse. “I can’t…. Si, I wanna….”

He catches on, croons gently to keep you from tipping into genuine distress.

“Can I help?”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration. And then he rolls his hips. A slow filthy grind that presses and rubs just right.

“Yes, that!! Again again, please,” you breathe.

You come apart barely thirty seconds later, jolting and shaking, collapse on his chest with a wet sob, back still arched to keep him inside. He strokes your spine through it, eases the aftershocks as you squeeze him so, so tightly.

“O-okay,” you murmur after a minute, sitting up a bit and looking utterly ruined.

“Done?” He asks, about to help you off.

The sound of you whacking him echoes through the bedroom. He stops, tilts his head at your glare.

“Finish,” you demand, clenching down and smirking when his eyes flutter. “C’mon, I want you to cum in me before breakfast.”

You stay on top, but three mind-shattering orgasms have basically turned you into a ragdoll. He easily drags you up and down his cock and you’re happy to laxly follow along and squeeze down every time he pulls out, milking him. You stare dreamily at his jumping muscles and make little noises at the oversensitivity, freely crying but clinging to him.

When he cums, you moan like you’ve finished again too, tilting your head back as he twitches and spills, overflowing onto his own thighs. You fall limp against him while he shudders through the last of it.

“That what you wanted?” He asks.

“Mhmm”

“Are you alright? Not sore?”

“Mhmm.”

“A bath while I make breakfast?”

You consider that offer, then shake your head and press your forehead to his chest. “Bath and then breakfast.”

He catches your meaning instantly. “Alright, little one. Let’s get cleaned up.”

#my writing #cod #fanfiction #asks #reader fic #thoughts™️#keeper ghost #kept pet ghost #dark fic #first time #ghost x reader #simon x reader #x reader

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innytoes · 4 months

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uhm... 👉👈 Ray hitman AU? maybe? if you were up for it? pretty pretty please? 🙏

-For those who don't know I made a shitpost about Ray being a hitman because I looked up housing prices in Los Feliz (and how medical debt works) and SIR HOW THE HELL DO YOU AFFORD THAT HOUSE ON A PHOTOGRAPHER'S SALARY.

-It starts when one of the Petal Pushers has a very abusive, stalker ex. She had tried everything, but even with a restraining order, it isn't enough. Law enforcement just shrugs and suggests she moves (again) after 'someone' breaks into her house, ransacks it and kills her cat.

-It's not like Rose and Ray meant to kill him. But it's what happens. They manage to make it look like an accident. They never tell Violet, but deep down she knows.

-Somehow word gets around and they suddenly have a booming side hustle of taking out abusive spouses, partners, exes, stalkers, etc.

-Ray starts to take on the most of the wet work, with Rose doing the research and being his alibi.

-He's always been a great shot. He won Rose so many stuffed animals at carnival shooting games that they had to start donating them to shelters.

-They do have very strict rules on who they work with and who their targets are. Ray gets very good at stalking people with a giant long distance tele-lens. Both the people who hire them (to make sure they're telling the truth) and the targets.

-The prices they charge vary, and they even have perfected the scheme of 'take out life insurance on him and we get half of the pay out' for people who are in a bad financial situation. Those are trickier because he has to make the deaths look like an accident.

-Listen I'm not saying a few of the plants in Rose's Plant Wall in the studio are toxic. Of course they aren't, they have children running around in there.

-The ones under the grow-light in the attic though....

-He tells everyone he's a photographer but really, he only knows how to work the tele-lens. Rose jokes he could become the world's greatest paparazzi if he wanted to.

-Rarely does he get up close and personal with the targets, but he did made an exception once when 'My Ex Is An Abusive Scumbag number 87' really, really wanted Ray to know the client was right by going after his kid from his first marriage, because his favourite target (their client) wasn't there to take his rage out on.

-He starts hitting the gym after that because it was a liiiiittle too close for comfort.

-As spoken by @floating-in-the-blue: THAT'S WHY HE'S SO FIRM.

-They buy a big house and have money to send the kids to summer camp and fancy music school and the likes. When people ask he just smiles and shrugs and said he signed an NDA so he can't talk about most of his Big Photography Clients.

-Carlos and Julie think their dad is the biggest goober and he totally is. He forgets where he put his phone because he's too busy with the 700 other details of his job. He can tell if any of the parts of his work-toolbox have been moved even a millimeter.

-Just imagine Reggie like: wow Ray really does a lot of research about his photography clients, I wonder if it's like an engagement shoot or something.

-IT WAS NOT AN ENGAGEMENT SHOOT. There was a shooting, though.

-He's a little shell-shocked but still follows Ray down to where he meets the client to promise her it's done, and she cries and tells him thank you and mentions some of the awful things the guy has done or threatened to do, and then he gets it.

-They stage it to look like a break-in gone wrong. Reggie helps knock some shit over when they're distracted like: he's a ghost there are no finger prints. He stays after Ray leaves and watches the woman 'come home' and call the cops. She's either a really good actress, or the tears are just more tears of relief.

-He's really, really glad the abusive guy didn't come back as a ghost though, that would have been so awkward.

-Reggie decides that Julie can never, ever know.

#julie and the phantoms #not!fic #I wrote a thing #ray molina #rose molina #reggie peters #Reggie is the best little ghost accomplice #he's been a distraction from people who might have noticed Ray 'working'#he's calmed down pets and kept them out of the way #(nobody noticed the little cat toy floating in the living room while Ray finished the job in the bedroom after the guy 'OD'ed')#has he haunted a few people Ray's been researching so they have a few awful days before they die mysteriously? Perhaps #he's also alerted Ray about stuff that either meant the potential client was lying or all was not as it seemed #or if things were even worse than they seemed #did he spend the day curled up under a pile of Luke and Alex #because he had to subtley tell Ray there was a WOMAN CHAINED UP IN THE BASEMENT?#he doesn't wanna talk about it #hitman ray

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variousqueerthings · 1 year

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I still think it's a shame that we haven't had anything in the show related to johnny and miyagi emotionally -- what I mean by that is that, yes, we've had him mentioning larusso's sensei that beat him and his friends up (during his "daniel was the real bully" rewrite of events), and there was daniel in the training-bit that pointed out that miyagi was a badass who defeated kreese (was it in the training bit, I think so), but johnny had nothing really to say to that, and there's "no be there," which was framed as a joke (that's a whole other tangent)

off the top of my head -- which, it has been a few months since I've gone through the whole thing -- that's all we've had, but miyagi saved johnny's life, and I think that's worthy of writing something about. johnny is consistently derisive about miyagi-do, but quite apart from whether or not he thinks teen!daniel could defeat him at the all-valley, miyagi definitely got kreese without breaking a sweat, and johnny's ptsd-envisioned almost getting choked to death several times on this show, but it always ends before he gets rescued

idk, this is kind of not-fully-thought-out, but it's to do with the way that the show never fully completes the inwards spiral it was doing to bring johnny into the karate kid story (it may in s6... but since johnny's storyline is now "new baby out of nowhere, not at all related to any of his growth and certainly not carmen's" it's doubtful). s1 johnny is supposed to be abrasive and unwilling to have anything to do with miyagi-do (except for when he does, episode 9 my beloved), and then bit by bit he's being brought from his "side" of the narrative into daniel's narrative, which he merely played a part in initially (I say, as if I haven't read 100 fics in which he and daniel got it on at prom) and has been unwilling to see what that part entailed, because if they weren't equally matched nemeses and he did just beat him up several times because he didn't like him, then what does it mean that his father-figure tried to kill him for failing to beat him at a teen karate tournament?

they pay lip-service to some of that with the whole miyagi-fang + training montage bit, but of course s5 then does nothing with it, but what I mean is that if johnny really belonged in daniel's story - because this is the miyagi-verse, not the daniel or johnny verse - I really wanted him to acknowledge the role miyagi played in his life, and to be respectful of that. he's acknowledged that kreese was bad for him, and nearly killed him, but that's idk... the anger and betrayal part of it all. on the other side of that was daniel's mentor/father, a story which he didn't belong in (perhaps doesn't feel like he deserved to be in, cycle of abuse etcetc), but for a moment intersected with his, and now deliberately intersects with his, he wants to intersect with his, and miyagi's ghost hovers over all of it

it's unfortunate that they dragged johnny back to a safe place (for them), where his character development barely still applies, and it's probably-definitely to do with getting him away from daniel, so "not-talking-about-miyagi" isn't the highest on the list of things that has jarringly thrown johnny out of the main storyline and into his own weird stepford hellscape, but it's up there for me alongside "you're alright larusso," as the most puzzling omissions from the show, because it's... it's right there. the easiest character development in a show that's all about being incredibly on the nose with its arcs

once upon a time I thought "nah, they'll leave it for the end, because it's the perfect ending," but now we are... here. whatever end s5 was doing. and it's a little bit more *chuckles, you remember that johnny told daniel that he was alright and handed him the trophy right? you remember that miyagi stepped in to save johnny's life when he was a kid right? you remember that those were two significant scenes that happened... right?*

ah well vive le fanfiction, especially with this show 😂

TL;DR I think johnny saying a few words about miyagi (respectful ones, not s1 johnny ones) would bring johnny into the karate kid story properly, by acknowledging the role miyagi played in his life

#johnny lawrence #nariyoshi miyagi #cobra kai #the karate kid #ck #tkk #pet headcanon is that miyagi is the reason that sam happened to be in the car ramming johnny's that night #and that johnny and daniel kept walking into places -- like the double-date in s2 -- where the other person was #miyagi is the deus ex machina and the storyteller and the instigator -- puck and ghost and the ancestor #so you should visit his grave and pay your damn respects johnny! he did all of this just for you to mock his speech patterns?!#cobra kai meta

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charliemwrites · 5 months

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I would PAY Simon to kidnap me and keep me as his pet

I love it so much

Please more when you get the chance (and bodyguard gaz, duh)

Hi! I have not been ignoring this ask, I was deciding what to gift you with. So, since no one has asked - I give you: reader’s reaction to the other two members of 141.

You warm up to Gaz the fastest. So fast, in fact, that Simon is almost jealous. You like Gaz because he seems like the only normal-ish one of the group. He seems genuinely a little apologetic that you got taken from somewhere and are being kept but, really, what could he possibly do in this situation? Nothing. Not against a guy like ghost. Never mind with Johnny on his team. And the cap…

Well, Gaz just tries not to stress you out. He talks to you not at you. Always says, “hi, how’ve you been?” And you’re so baffled by the normalcy of it that he instantly gets you replying and interacting. He makes everything about himself so non-threatening that you have no problem being in the same room as him right away. And he always brings you something. Not bribes, but things he thought you might like. A new ball of yarn, a grow-your-own mushrooms kit, a rock from the desert once.

When Simon asks, trying to get his envy under control you just shrug. “He seems nice.” And that’s that.

As for Price?

Oof.

Simon hasn’t seen you this scared since he first brought you here. The minute you lay eyes on Price from around the corner, you’re skittering off. Simon’s baffled. It’s not instant tolerance like Gaz, or instant dislike, like Johnny. It’s almost how you used to react to him, but this is extreme even compared to that. He even warned you that Price was coming; you didn’t seem concerned at all before that moment!

He finds you tucked up in your room, decidedly off limits and safe. When he asks, you make a miserable “I don’t know” sound.

“Will you come down?” he asks.

“No.”

“Can he come say hi?”

“No.”

Simon figures he’ll give you an hour to calm down. Your eyes were huge.

Eventually you do creep out - though only because you need the restroom. As you’re padding out, intending to barricade yourself again, who turns the corner but Simon’s captain. Worst part is, he’s between you and your bedroom, blocking you in at the end of the hall.

“It’s alright, girl, easy,” he tries to soothe, but you’ve already pancaked yourself to the far wall, breathing hard. “What’s got you so spooked, eh?”

You make a high, distressed noise, curling down and into the corner of when he slowly moves closer. You try to summon up the will to react like you usually do, any anger or offense or something.

He gets within arm’s reach and you slide to the floor, tucked into a ball. He shushes you, nonsense words and promises that he won’t hurt you. He’s not even doing anything; hasn’t done anything. It’s just how Simon would act. You don’t even know why you’re scared.

When you feel scarred knuckles against your cheek you react on instinct, whipping up, mouth open. You stop before you even get your teeth on him, deflating in instant. Everything in you saying Do Not Bite Him.

“Oh? You wanna take a chunk outta me?” he asks, sounding amused. He brushes the backs of his fingers over you lips, offering. “Go on then, if it’ll make you feel better, wild thing.”

You shy away, but there’s really nowhere else to go. Price just sits with you for a while, crouched down, petting at your hair and cheek and even your neck.

“Can I at least see your pretty eyes?” he coaxes.

You blink, swallow thickly, and then force yourself to look up at him. Have trouble maintaining eye contact but manage. For a few seconds anyway.

“See? Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he chuckles, giving you one last pay. “Alright, I’ll let you scurry off now.” And then he stands, turns and walks away without looking back and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

#my writing #cod #asks #fanfiction #reader fic #thoughts™️#keeper ghost #kept pet ghost #ghost x reader #price cameo #Gaz cameo

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diejager · 4 months

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More Wolfie plz🥺? Idk what you’d right but I love the universe you built up with it and would love more of it, even if it’s just a sliver

Training Cw: smut, training, collar, ring gag, doggy style, creampie, unprotected sex, PinV, fingering, tell me if I missed any.

“What did I tell you about growling, pup?” He sounded so demeaning, his hand laid heavy on your nape, holding your face down and away from the two men in the room with you.

Ghost had pulled you to Price’s office under the guise of this being training, wanting to work through your aggression you’d thrived on while living in the wild. You were jerky and a biter, baring your teeth after a low growl, threatening to sink into someone’s hand or arm as retaliation. They were getting a lot of complaints from people who would approach you and attempt to pet your ears and tail, wanting to touch the softness of your washed fur and disregarding your personal space and boundaries.

“None of that,” his grip tightened around your neck when your throat rumbled, a growl slipping through your gagged mouth, drool rolling down your cheek.

They gave you a pretty, black ring gag, placed behind your teeth to keep your mouth open from biting them and showing off your sweet and fiery mouth. The black leather looped behind your head, a thin strap connecting it to your collar, a smooth, black leather that sat comfortably around your neck without irritating it, but thin enough for you to feel everything. They had you wear it as a sign of possession, the silver insignia of their Task Force hanging from the front, a skull and winged sword proudly gleaming under the light wherever you go.

You mellowed down, growls quieting to loud pants, exhausted from your skirmish with Ghost, doing your best ignore your Captain’s rough handling, his calloused fingers kneading the flesh of your hips and stomach, his hands smoothing over the arch of your back to your tail. Your fur was matted and wet, dirtied with slick that - prior to being forced into this position - pooled down your rim and wetting your soft fur. You’d long given up in fighting Price, he was much stronger than you and smelled of power and strength —like alpha. He was the leader of your little pack, a fiercely protective leader who had every intent of putting his group first, but it was his scent that made you stop. He smelled of strong musk, a heady scent of cigar and cedar, less smoky and sweet than your Lieutenant’s sandalwood that kept flooding your sensitive nose.

“Good pup, you’re doing so well,” Price cooed, running his fingers through your hair, scratching the reactive nerve behind your ears. It made you whine, a high sound that had both of them shush you, “That’s it, you’re all right, pup.”

Your panting grew louder, mewls slipping out as a final sign of submission, letting them bend your body to their pleasure. You arched your back, bucking against the bearded man that was ploughing into you, driving his hard cock into your wet cunt, slick squelching out of you with every snap of his hips, his balls slapping your twitching clit. You couldn’t deny how good it felt to give up all autonomy after having taken care of yourself on your own for years, letting another care for you and manhandle you in the best way. His veined girth laid heavy in your cunt, your gummy walls wrapped round him in a tight hold, just a hair away from coming.

Canting his hips and leaning forward, your world exploded in bright lights when Price’s head tapped your cervix, punching the air out of your body with every thrust. He was guiding you through your orgasm just as he had his, his cock throbbing and veins pulsing before the tip spurted ropes of cum, painting your walls white with his tangy lad, hot and thick. Price groaned lowly, palms holding your hips flushed to his, giving a few jerky thrusts before he hilted inside of you, unmoving but grounding you with the smooth touch of his thumb and Ghost’s grip on your scruff.

When he pulled out, his cum oozed out of you, dripping down your mound and landing on the old couch in his office. He admired the gift with a slight twitch of his cock, it leaked out of you like an unending fall. Wasteful, truly. His fingers slid down your thighs, gathering his cum and pushed it back in, fingering his load with a few wet sounds.

“Stay good for Ghost, pup. Can you do that?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

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cordeliawhohung · 3 months

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Leftovers [1/3]

Simon Riley x fem!Reader | a non-canon addition to my mafia!141 series |

part 2 | part 3

warnings: unhealthy thrupple relationship, hurt/some comfort, slight dub-con, possessive Simon, smut, (f!recieving oral, fingering, p in v) 6.5k wc

Mr. and Mrs. Price don't know how to take care of you properly. Simon is hellbent on saving you, no matter the means.

The first and only rule that came with living with the Prices was that no matter how much you thought otherwise, they didn’t really love you.

It didn’t matter how sweetly Mrs. Price kissed your forehead, her lips would never grace yours, and despite how deliciously Mr. Price would pump his fingers into your cunt he would never bless you with the opportunity to take his cock. Above all else, they first belonged to one another before ever belonging to you. All you were good for was being their sweet little pet, nothing but a catalyst for their pleasure; their favorite aphrodisiac.

There were worse things in the world to be, and being a pet wasn’t all that bad. The Prices kept a roof over your head and gave you meals at least three times a day, if not more. Every now and then while Mr. Price was away at work, you and Mrs. Price would fall asleep on the couch together. Hours later you would wake up with your head on her chest, but you wouldn’t dare to stir her awake because the sound of her heart beating was more captivating than anything that droned on the television.

But she would always wake up when Mr. Price came home, and she’d drag you off to the bedroom where they’d strip you bare like some spectacle. Mrs. Price’s lips would devour every inch of your skin, kissing your neck, chest, and breasts; kissing everything except for you. Meanwhile, Mr. Price would fuck his fingers into you and growl every time his wife giggled at your moans. His cock would harden in his pants, a sight that you would never be able to see, and just as you came undone on his fingers his lips would always find their way to her instead of you.

They would laugh and giggle as you squirmed underneath them and coo about how adorable you were. How soft and pliant you were for them, such a good and well behaved pet. They would kiss your body a few more times before tucking you in for the night and leaving you alone to do their own lovemaking elsewhere. That’s how it always ended. Always the lover, never the loved, but that was okay. At least you weren’t alone.

Things started changing when Mr. Riley showed up.

He showed up at the house one day by invitation from Mr. Price and nearly scared you half to death. Like a ghost, he seemingly appeared in the living room one evening and took up all the space on the loveseat. Perhaps that’s what had intimidated you at first, just the sheer size of him. He stood taller than Mr. Price did, and the bulging muscles of his body was proof he could rip you in half if he so pleased. Then there were the faded scars on his face, the ruggedness of his features and the piercing expression in his dark brown eyes. He looked at you like you were a meal ready to be eaten. Or, maybe you just wished that he would.

Mr. Riley was a quiet man, you learned. He hardly spoke throughout dinner and when he did he was rather short and blunt with his responses. Though he was a man of few words, everything he said seemed to have some sort of meaning. There was something about his voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and you nearly choked on your food at the sensation. It wasn’t at all unpleasant, and if anything the deep timbre of his voice was rather soothing, and you liked the teasing nature of his banter with Mr. Price. Perhaps you enjoyed it too much.

There must have been something about the way you looked at Mr. Riley that caught attention. Truly, you meant no harm by it. Art littered his arms in the form of dark tattoos that you couldn't pull your eyes from because you had never seen ink cover the skin of someone so beautifully before. Never seen anyone quite capture the well formed muscle and veins like had been done on Mr. Riley’s arms. And really, the scars on his face and his crooked nose intrigued you. There were stories waiting to be uncovered, literature that hid behind the depths of his eyes. You just wanted to read it. That was all it was, you swore it.

After plates had been cleaned and the table was cleared away, you learned you were not as subtle as you thought you were with your minor infatuation with your guest. Not even your intense stare at the TV screen as you pretended to pay attention to the movie Mrs. Price had picked out was able to throw suspicion off of you. Just as you had gotten settled on the sectional next to Mr. Price, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder, quickly followed by a hot breath on your ear.

“Pet,” Mr. Price whispered, “my friend looks lonely over there. Why don’t you keep him company?”

His proposition made you tense against his side and he chuckled at your failed attempt at keeping cool. Keep Mr. Riley company? Once more your eyes found their way to him and you felt your throat tighten at the thought. Were you supposed to sit by him? Entertain him? No, that felt wrong. You belonged to the Prices, not their friend. Then again, you were instructed to keep the man company, and good pets do as they’re told.

Without so much as a word you rose from your spot on the sectional and quickly made your way to the loveseat Mr. Riley had settled himself on. It was difficult not to fall into the gravity of him when you sat next to him as his weight shifted the cushions, giving you no choice but to all but lean into him. You heard his quiet hum in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to just so blatantly sit next to him. You caught him look at you for a short moment, but you kept your eyes glued to the TV as if he was never there to begin with, and eventually he looked away.

Embarrassment. It was the only word you could think of to describe how you felt sitting next to that man. Conversing with others wasn’t exactly your forte, it’s why you agreed to throw your old life away when Mrs. Price invited you into a relationship with her and her husband. They would take care of you, and you wouldn’t have to be perceived and go out and about in the world. They knew full well of that; perhaps that was their way of having some fun with you.

Things were fine until halfway through the movie when Mr. Riley put his arm around you. There was nothing you could do but fall against his side as his firm hand settled against your waist. He held you close to him as if he had no intention of letting you go, and yet acted as if he had never done so in the first place as his attention stayed fully trained on whatever boring movie droned in the background. Blood gushed in your ears and panic settled into your chest. Surely that had broken some sort of rule, and yet when you glanced over to the Price’s with wide eyes, you realized that they couldn’t even care less.

So you took a deep breath in some attempt to calm yourself, and once the blood settled in your veins, you realized that you could hear Mr. Riley’s heart. Each beat was strong and steady as if it had never wavered throughout its entire existence, and its reverberations were so strong you could feel it pulse throughout your own body. You took another deep breath, this time more content, and realized you rather liked the smell of him too. Some sort of dark, soft aroma mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes. It was comforting, perhaps the most calm you had felt in a long while.

“Cute, isn’t she?”

It wasn’t until Mrs. Price spoke that you realized you had fallen asleep like that, tucked into the side of a man you hardly knew. Cold hands pulled you away from the warmth that was Mr. Riley, and half awake you were brought to your room without the chance to glance at him from over your shoulder. Despite it all, Mrs. Price cooed at you while she laid you down in your bed and tugged the blankets over your body with a simple kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight, pet,” she cooed before closing the door behind her.

That night you fell asleep alone in your cold bed while dreaming about the warmth Mr. Riley had given you. It was something you could only ever pray for when craving something from the Prices, and yet he had given it to you so willingly, as if you didn’t deserve anything less. Maybe it was unfair of you to compare the people who had given you so much to a man who you hardly knew. Friendly. That’s all he was. But it didn’t end there. Every time Mr. Price invited him over, he always directed you to Mr. Riley’s side eventually, talking about how lonely he looked, or that you should be a good host to him.

Soon enough it got to the point where you didn’t even need prompting; you already knew your place was next to Mr. Riley. Curled against his side, hanging off his arm, even sitting on his lap, in one instance. Each touch that he gave you seared across your skin, but it was always respectful, nearly too respectful. Fingertips always gliding along your waist but never dipping low enough to caress your hips or grope your ass, nor high enough to brush against the underside of your breasts. His touch always left you craving more, and yet that was something he didn’t seem to intend on giving you.

He did, however, give you a new name. Sweetheart, he called you. It was something he whispered to you at first from the safety of the confines of his arms, as if he worried Mr. Price would overhear him and reprimand him for it. Then he became a bit more brave. He called you sweetheart when he asked you to pass him the salt at dinner, and then again when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he offered to carry you to your room. Some strange part of you wished he stayed with you that night, but you knew that thought alone made you a bad pet, wanting anyone other than the people you belonged to.

But the thing was, the more warmth Mr. Riley showed you, the colder the Price's home felt, because even after all that time, it wasn’t really your home.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Loud music and even louder people caged you into that VIP room, suffocating you to the point you nearly passed out. It didn’t help that Mrs. Price had dressed you up like her personal doll, slathering makeup on your face and throwing you in a skimpy dress, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror. And still, despite it, Mr. Riley had found you and settled on the spot next to you in the conversation pit.

“Mr. Riley,” you greeted as you uncomfortably pulled at the skirt of your dress.

“Mrs. Price dress you up in that?” he asked.

You half expected him to wrap his arm around you like he did every other time the two of you were close to one another, but he didn’t. Perhaps there were too many prying eyes nearby and he didn’t want to spark any rumors. Either way, his presence alone was comforting enough. You always hated going to Mr. Price’s club, and that night was no exception. Too loud, too many eyes, you were always out of place.

“Was it that obvious?” you asked with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Just doesn’t seem like you,” he responded gruffly.

Of course not. Extravagant things weren’t meant for a pet. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Even from a distance you could still make out the faint scent of him. That warm musk mixed with tobacco had started to smell like home. And it was wrong, you were sure of it by that point. At what point did Mr. Riley become more comforting than the man and woman you lived with? But at that moment, with so many people crowding you, you didn’t care. Closing your eyes, you blocked out everything else around you except for him. There was no music, no mingling guests, no rancid scent of alcohol; it was just you and him.

Until the sudden sound of clapping brought you back to reality, anyway. Your eyes shot open and you were met with the same view as before, just more still. A quick glance around revealed everyone staring at Mr. and Mrs. Price, who stood at the front of the room, all cooing and cheering and clapping for them. They held one another as a few people rushed up to talk to them, where you heard squealing and several pats on the back. Confused, you turned to Simon with your head tilted to the side like a curious dog.

“What happened?” you asked.

With a simple nod of his head, Mr. Riley gestured up to the couple at the front of the room. “They just announced Mrs. Price’s pregnancy,” he said.

Those words left his mouth so simply. So nonchalantly. As if you should have known.

You should have known. But you didn’t. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, they didn’t really love you.

You’d forgotten the first and only rule.

You didn’t know how you ended up on the terrace, you just stopped running when the cold night air hit your skin. Despite the way your tears muddled your vision, everything became painfully clear. This was their plan all along. To get pregnant, to start their life and continue it without you. It’s why they never kissed you, only ever played with you, refused to fuck each other in your presence; you were always meant to be disposable. Why continue to take care of a pet with a child on the way?

And it hurt because you knew you’d never have that. Never obtain that unconditional love, a kiss on the lips, a cock in your cunt, a child in your arms, because you had been the Price’s plaything. Their pet who never dared to bare her teeth. You’d never be the sweet little wife, only some poor, skittish animal that only knew how to play. But you craved it so bad you swore you’d die. You wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s lover, to be loved, to have kids and a home that wasn’t cold as ice.

That life just wasn’t for you.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Somehow, Mr. Riley always seemed to find you. It was as if some invisible string had been tied between the two of you, and no matter how knotted it got he would always make his way back to you. Unsure if you should welcome his presence or not, you kept your hands firmly on the terrace railing and your red eyes focused out on the city in front of you. Your tears blurred the sparkling lights so much that you could nearly confuse them with stars if you squinted hard enough, yet that realization did nothing to quell the anxiety and terror that ate away at your stomach.

“I’m alright,” you pitifully assured, although you weren’t too convincing.

Mr. Riley’s hand touched the exposed skin of your back where his thumb started to rub small circles into your flesh. You nearly crumbled at the contact as you were drowned in the overwhelming urge to throw yourself at him, to beg to be loved even if only for a short while. Instead, your grip on the railing only tightened as you focused all your energy into not letting another tear fall.

“John told me to watch you for the night. Take you back to my place,” he said softly.

His words weren’t surprising. Sending you off to spend the night with him was just the next step to getting rid of you. Why would they want you in the home when they’d have someone new to prepare for? You were certain your room would be turned into a nursery before long. After a moment, you turned to face him and you did your best to muster your strongest of smiles as you ignored the stinging behind your eyes. He looked at you with such pity that you nearly broke into tears once more.

“Lead the way.”

It had been so long since you had visited someone that you forgot what it was like to walk into a room and not have every inch of it memorized. Mr. Riley’s apartment was something you didn’t recognize, yet it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. In a vague sort of way, it smelled like him, and that was enough to calm your nerves and silence the pain that festered in your stomach. It was rather plain as far as decorations went, but it was cozy and warmer than anyplace else you had been for quite some time, and that was more than enough for you.

First order of business was getting you a glass of water, something Mr. Riley took care of right away. Such a small gesture, and yet it had your heart swelling in an odd and unfamiliar way. Still, you were thankful for something to soothe your sore throat, and the two of you sat in silence on the couch as he ensured that you drank every last drop.

“Do you wanna change into somethin’ more comfortable?” he questioned when you handed him your empty glass.

“I don’t… have a change of clothes,” you said meekly.

“You can wear some of mine,” he insisted.

Something within you wanted to decline. Wearing his clothes certainly broke some sort of rule, and you doubted that the Prices would be happy with you for it. But then there was a pang of sorrow that echoed throughout your chest, a painful reminder that you no longer belonged to them, and probably hadn’t for quite some time.

Like a lost dog, you followed behind Mr. Riley until you reached his bedroom. His bed was bigger than you had anticipated it to be, significantly bigger than yours, and it was well made. A dark duvet covered the expanse of the mattress, and when you sat on the edge of it you sunk into it as if it welcomed you home. Maybe if you laid back on it you could fall asleep and never have to face the painful truth of the reality you found yourself trapped in.

It didn’t take him long to fish out a simple shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts for you to change into, but when Mr. Riley turned to face you, it was as if he had turned to stone. Maybe it was the tear-smudged makeup stains on your face, or the fact that he hadn’t seen you look so content until you sat there on his bed, but he looked at you with such intense pity your chest ached. Eventually he got his body to listen to him and he carefully approached you and set the clothes on the mattress next to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said unprompted.

“For what?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together.

“That they abandoned you.”

Hearing it outloud was more excruciating than the initial realization. Abandoned. Tossed aside. Just a spare. Your chest ached so fiercely it felt as if your body split in two, and there was nothing you could do to stop the tears and sobs from flowing forth. It was pitiful and pathetic, and you hated how terribly small you felt. There were so many tears inside of you that you could wipe the earth clean with them, yet as you cried you didn’t feel any less dirty or used.

Then the bed sunk down next to you, and instead of sitting on the mattress you had been scooped up into Mr. Riley’s arms and into his lap. His arms were the only thing that held you together in that moment, and he carefully tucked you underneath his chin and squeezed all the sorrow from your body. A cautious kiss pressed into the top of your head, slow and wary as if the very act itself was forbidden. When you didn’t protest, he kissed again, and then again, as if he couldn’t get enough. It was the closest thing to being loved you ever felt, and that realization only broke you further.

“I just… I just wanted what they have,” you admitted once your sobs had dwindled to small hiccups. “I always thought that they’d let me be a part of it eventually. But I’ve been waiting so long and then… then they get pregnant without telling me and I realized I’ll never be good enough. Never enough to be kissed, or held, or loved. That’s all I wanted.”

After placing one final kiss against the top of your head, Mr. Riley carefully moved your face away from his chest to tilt your head up to force you to look at him. Irritated from crying, your eyes were a bright pink shade, and so terribly swollen you had difficulty opening them fully. Still, his thumb smoothed over your mascara-stained cheek and you felt his grip grow tighter around you.

“You deserve so much more than what they did to you,” he whispered, his whisky scented breath fanned across your face. “They were selfish, yeah? Dunno how they could be. First time I laid eyes on you I wanted you. Wanted to love you, to prove that you’re worthy of it.”

A few more fat tears rolled down your cheeks at his words just for him to quickly wipe them away. You had never received such kind and comforting words from anyone before, least of all the Prices. But his words held meaning, you knew they did. How could he look at you so softly and lie? No, it was impossible. His words were true and you could feel your want grow in the dark cavern of your stomach.

“Mr. Riley…” you said at a loss for anything to say.

“Simon,” he corrected. “Say my name and I’m all yours, sweetheart. I’ll give you that love, that life, you deserve.”

Maybe it was wrong to want him as badly as you did. Something dark and primal inside of you craved him and every inch of his tattooed skin, and yet you felt shame for feeling so. But why? You had been abandoned. A bit of comfort was the least bit you deserved.

“Simon,” you whispered.

His lips crashed into yours not even a second later, and the feeling nearly had you sobbing into his mouth. It felt so pure, so overwhelming. Finally, you could taste someone. Taste the spice of whiskey and the smoke of cigarettes rather than just the salt from your tears. By instinct your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled yourself closer to him as if you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were nestled in the warmth of his chest inside of his ribcage.

Eventually, your bodies collided with the mattress and you found yourself caged in by Simon’s arms as he hovered over you. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you felt him groan into you like he had never had such a tasty meal. Then his lips began to wander, and he kissed along your jawline, neck, and further down to your stomach. It was the first time someone kissed your body and it felt like you were being given something rather than having something taken away.

“So gorgeous,” he whispered against your stomach. His hands dipped underneath the short skirt of your dress and pushed it up over your hips, exposing your panties. You let out a shaky breath as he kissed your clit through your underwear, and you realized you had never had someone’s mouth on you like that before. “Wanna taste you, sweetheart. Tell me I can.”

It was strange to have someone ask permission before doing something with you, and you felt your throat grow dry at the thought. Strange emotions swirled like a storm in your head where sorrow mixed with desire among other terrible conflicting emotions, and all you could muster was a simple nod. You just wanted it all to stop, for him to take away the pain no matter the cost.

“Need you to use your words,” Simon mumbled against your heat.

“Yes!” you spoke. The word erupted out of you with little regard for any of those confusing feelings muddling your mind. “Please…”

With a swift yank Simon pulled your panties past the swell of your hips and you raised your legs into the air to let him pull them fully off of you. After tossing them somewhere behind him, he lowered himself onto the mattress and kissed your cunt once more, this time fully bare, which sent a jolt throughout your body. He hardly gave himself the time to admire your body before his tongue began to greedily swipe along your clit. It felt so foreign and unfamiliar yet so intense you found your legs instinctively squeezing shut. Simon only chuckled against you as he pressed his hands on the inside of your thighs to keep himself from suffocating too soon.

There was nothing you could do to stop the way your back arched off the bed in pure bliss. Already he had given you more pleasure in a few moments than you had received in your entire relationship with the Prices, and you bit into your lip as you mumbled out sweet nothings into the heavy air above you. Once you had grown wet enough with his spit and your own arousal, Simon carefully slipped a finger into your heat and you gasped at the sensation. You had never felt so full before and your muscles pulsed around him in greedy response. Despite all the pain and heartache you experienced that night, nothing could drown out the overwhelming mantra of more that reverberated throughout your entire body.

When Simon pulled away from you, your first instinct was to sit up and pull him back to you, but you paused when you saw the way he looked at you. Dark, heavy eyes pierced through you, and you watched in awe as he sat back and slid his shirt off his body in one swift motion. He was so big. Hardened muscle covered with a thick layer of skin and healthy layer of fat, he collapsed on top of you where his lips were on yours once more. His taste was different this time. It wasn’t just whiskey and cigarettes. There was this earthy sapor mixed with it, and it took you a moment to realize that you tasted yourself on his lips.

Then something ripped. Threads of cloth tore a part, and you realized you could no longer feel the dress around your body anymore. Whatever clothing you had worn had been replaced by Simon’s chest pressing against yours, and the skin to skin contact made your head spin.

“Don’t need that anymore,” Simon mumbled against your lips. “Don’t need anythin’ of theirs anymore, yeah?”

You nodded in agreement until you remembered what he said earlier about using your words. “Yeah,” you breathed.

His lips descended down to the soft tissue of your neck while he started to grind his hips against yours. The rough fabric of his jeans were all too stimulating against your needy and swollen clit, and you whined into Simon’s neck as you writhed underneath him.

“Do you want more?” he asked as he continued to grind his hardening bulge against your sex. “I’ll give you anythin’. Just gotta ask for it.”

“You,” you blurted out without so much as a second thought. “Please Simon, I need you.”

There was no more time to waste. With one hand, Simon reached down and unzipped his pants where he released his painfully hardened cock. You felt as he teasingly ran his leaky tip along your slit, smearing precum against you until he carefully dipped down into your hole. Hardly even an inch inside of you and you realized he was significantly girthier than his fingers were, and you found your head falling back against the mattress with a moan at the stretch of him.

“So goddamn perfect,” Simon grunted as he continued to push deeper and deeper into you. “Gonna give you the whole world. Anythin’ you want. Deserve so much more than them, fuckin’ christ, sweetheart.”

More tears poured down your face by the time he bottomed out. It was all just too much, so much anguish and love melding into one confusing feeling in your mind. Yet Simon kissed away every single tear as he began to carefully thrust into you. Each time he moved in you an all consuming wave of pleasure rippled through your body, forcing moans to mix in with your cries in some sort of lamentable symphony.

“I know, I know,” Simon cooed as he placed a fat kiss against your cheek. “You’re mine now, yeah? My girl. Gonna treat you properly. I’ve got you, love.”

Through it all, he was so soft with you, so warm, and you felt that heat begin to pool in your stomach. Every thrust into you marked you, it scratched away the essence of everything the Prices had done to you, what they didn’t do to you. Every empty space that had collected dust inside of you was filled by Simon and the searing passion he pumped into you. That was all you had ever wanted. To be seen, to be touched, to be loved. You had finally found it.

When you came, you did so with a sob. Muscles seized and you wrapped your arms so tightly around Simon’s neck he had no choice but to collapse against your chest as he continued to thrust into you. Your tears soaked into his hair as you sloppily kissed the top of his head, body still craving more of him despite the endorphins that ravaged your body.

“There she is,” Simon sighed, his voice a low rumble. “Doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you begged. “I need it. Need you to come, please Simon.”

Your plea sent him toppling over the edge and he slammed his hips against you one final time before he held himself there with a thick and strained groan. His cock twitching inside you was an unfamiliar feeling and yet you relished the way he filled you, warm cum soothing an ache only he could tame. Your grip around his neck loosened as you felt yourself melt into the duvet. All that pleasure, that love, finally got your mind to fall quiet.

Once Simon managed to catch his breath, he gently pulled out of you before falling next to you. Strong arms maneuvered you onto your side where he pulled you against his chest where he held you firmly against him. As usual, his heart pounded strong and steady in his chest, and the longer the two of you laid there the more calm it grew. Whatever tears you needed to cry had all fallen, and there was nothing but pure bliss that settled over you as you nuzzled against his body.

“I love you,” Simon said. He said it softly, as if it was a secret. Something special that only you could know.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone whispered that phrase to you.

“I love you, too.”

That night was the first night in years that you didn’t fall asleep alone, and when you woke up you realized it wasn’t a dream. His arms stayed wrapped tightly around you throughout the night, and you woke to the scent of his musk and you couldn’t help but smile. Really smile. It was real and you were there and you were loved. You buried your face further into his chest and he reacted in kind by pulling you closer.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he hummed.

Humming back, you stretched your limbs with a groan that left him chuckling and he placed a quick kiss on your forehead. He sat up in bed and pulled away from you, which left you whining, until he reached down towards the foot of the bed to grab the clothes you weren’t able to change into the previous night.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he questioned as he handed you his shirt.

Such a simple question, really, and yet it felt so much more important than that. This was the conversation lovers had in the morning. Contemplating, you took the clothes from him and set them beside you as you tilted your head and shrugged. “Whatever you feel like making.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, crooked and scarred, as he glanced toward the bedroom door for a short moment before his attention returned to you. “Alright, I’ll go get started. Take your time, yeah?”

Simon Riley made you feel like a princess and you held nothing in your heart for him but adoration as you watched him slip out of the room, still half naked. Just like he had said, you took your time getting ready, and even then it still wasn’t all that long. You fixed up your appearance as best as you could without a mirror before slipping his shirt over your head. It was long enough that it fell down to your mid thighs, and because of that you didn’t bother with the shorts, or your still slightly damp underwear from the night before, either.

Sizzling bacon and freshly warmed toast greeted you by the time you meandered into the living room, and you smiled to yourself at the sight of Simon cooking in the kitchen. You drooled at the way the sinewy muscles in his back flexed as he worked, and you couldn’t fight away that odd arousal that bloomed between your legs. Deciding that it was a good idea to get some food in your system before attempting to initiate anything physically demanding, you instead sat yourself on the couch.

Your phone sat face down on the coffee table in front of you, and your stomach dropped at the sight of it. Something twisted in your gut at the thought of unlocking it and seeing no messages, at realizing just how little the Prices surely missed you. Yet, you needed to bite the bullet. How were you supposed to start your new life with Simon if you were still holding onto the ghosts of your past?

With a shaky hand, you reached for the item and quickly turned it on. You prepared yourself for its mocking screen, for the heartbreak you knew you would be able to mend later, and yet it still wasn’t enough. Nothing could have readied you for the twenty missed phone calls and the countless texts from both Mr. and Mrs. Price. Begging to know where you were at. Asking if you were safe. Pleading with you to come home. Saying that if you hadn’t responded by noon they would call the cops in fear that the worst had happened to you.

Your throat dried out and you couldn’t stop your lips from trembling. Why did they do that? Was it supposed to be some sort of sick joke? Proof that no matter how far away from them you got you could never escape the hold they had on you? No, you listened to the voicemails. Listened to the way Mrs. Price’s voice quivered when asking if you were alright, when she begged you to come home, and you nearly sobbed.

Something was wrong.

“Simon?” you asked as you snuck into the kitchen behind him.

“Yeah?” he asked as he turned around to face you.

He froze the moment he saw your face. He could read the trepidation on your face as if it were the morning paper, and he quickly placed down his cooking utensils. You hated the way he looked at you with such care and yet with some sort of knowledge, as if he already predicted what you were about to ask him.

“Did you lie to me last night? About Mr. Price asking you to take me home with you?” you asked.

“Yes.”

His response came quick and without hesitation and that almost made things worse. You wished he had paused for a moment to think about the way that word would shatter you, and yet he didn’t. Tears pooled in the corner of your eyes and you found your face falling into your hands in disbelief. He lied to you. He fucking lied.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked as his hands brushed against your shoulders.

“They’re going to be so mad at me,” you cried as you pressed your palms into your eyes. It had to be a cruel joke. You wished it was. They hadn’t given you up at all, and you were going to have to pay the price for betraying their trust.

“Hey… hey, look at me,” Simon ordered as he pulled your hands from your face. The way his hands engulfed your wrists was almost laughable, and you didn’t bother to fight against him. “I thought we agreed that you’re mine now. You’re mine, and I’m yours, yeah?”

“But you lied,” you retorted.

“They were neglectin’ you!” he corrected, and his voice boomed with such strength you nearly cowered. “Would you have followed me if I hadn’t said that to you last night? Or would you be stuck in that house with partners who wouldn’t even tell you that they were havin’ a damn kid? No, you’re mine now.”

One of his hands dropped down between your legs, and you gasped as your back came in contact with the counter. He palmed at your naked cunt, felt the way his cum oozed out of you at the gentle pressure of his fingers and the sudden tensing of your muscles.

“Do you really think they love you enough to take you back like this? With my cum inside of you and the taste of you still on my tongue?” he questioned. “I did what I did to save you. I was tired of seein’ them treat you like that. I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”

Words failed you and all you could do was stare up at him and cry. It was all so wrong and yet something in the back of your mind screamed that he was right. He was right because in one night he had given you everything you had all but begged of them to do for you in all the years you had been together. Even if they still wanted you, maybe they really didn’t deserve you. But you would still have to face them eventually. Admit that you were running away, that you didn’t belong to them anymore, and that thought terrified you.

Giving up, you collapsed against him and allowed all your anguish to spew from your eyes. Just like the previous night, his hold on you was strong and caring, and he did so without hesitation. After all, you were his girl. He saved you, and he had no intention of letting you go.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #f!reader

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bluerosefox · 5 months

Text

Courting Chaos (to Balance)

A KlarionxDanny brain worm that has spawned

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin gets kidnapped suddenly and very randomly by Klarion in the middle of a JL and others meeting.

Leaving with a

"I'LL RETURN HIM WHEN HES NO LONGER USEFUL JUSTICE LOSERS!"

And fire and chaos in his wake.

While the JL, and others scramble to figure out what Klarion has planned this time, Tim manages to break free of whatever Klarion had used to kidnap him only to find himself on a couch and Klarion nervously petting Teekl on his lap while also sitting in a chair across from him.

When Tim goes to demand to know why Klarion kidnapped him Klarion finally speaks.

"Okay, I wanna strike a deal. I won't bug you or your little Young Just US buddies if you help me ask someone out..."

"...What the fuck Klarion?" Was Tim's only response.

-x-x-

So it turns out, every so often the three main entities and actual factions of Order, Chaos, and Balance get together to well discuss things happening in certain Realms, worlds, and timelines. Basicly to touch base, see where everyone was at. Etc etc.

Order was Order. Chaos was Chaos.

Very simple.

Both could be bad. To much order caused restraint and could snuff out growth. To much Chaos could get out of hand and cause ruin.

Both could be good. Order help stabilizes worlds and builds their future. Chaos allowed creativity to roam and brought forth wonderful things.

And Balance.

Well Balance was the very scales that kept both sides in check. They were neutral grounds. The ones that normally oversaw the meetings as well. And despite their low numbers they held powerful entities that more than made up for it.

Balance did their best to keep things in check, sure they do have their own preference sometimes and allowed the scales to tip a tiny bit but always corrected it later if it tips to much.

It was at this meeting, a meeting even Klarion knew better than to do anything too chaotic, pranks were fine but nothing too much, and had been chatting with a newcomer to the side of Chaos (Danielle, call me Ellie, Phantom. She did some heroing on the side but liked causing chaos in her wake to do so, he liked her so far though.) When the bells for the side of Balance to appear announced them.

Ellie had smiled brightly and said her brother was coming with his mentor, turns out her brother was apart of the Balance group which meant that he was strong, strong enough to need a mentor.

He watched as the members of Balance walked, teleported, flew, and other means into the meeting halls. And then froze when his eyes caught sight of him.

Floating next to a blue skined being that was switching ages was a beautiful otherworldly person.

Snow white hair that wisped upwards oh so softly. Glowing green eyes that were cat-like with their piercing glance. A galaxy cloak hanged around his shoulders and seemed to shift with each movement. Star like freckles decorated his face and seemed to glow a soft bluish white. A crown made of ice and aurora lights floated above his head as well.

All in all Klarion couldn't keep his eyes off of the being at all. He nearly spat his water out when Ellie commented that was her brother Danny, or rather.

High King of the Infinite Realms, Daniel 'Danny' Phantom. The Great One. Defeater of the Tyrant King. The Halfa. The Peaceful End. The Balance of the Undead. (And his mentor was the Ghost of Time itself. THE very Keeper of Time, Kronos original form himself.)

Klarion honestly didn't know what to think or rather what emotions he was feeling when he spotted Danny, nor why his face felt so hot and red when the young man looked over at them and smiled. (He was smiling at Ellie but Klarion for some reason hoped it was for him as well)

It wasn't until halfway in the meeting when a rather ingenious prank that Klarion, Ellie, and a few others had set up went off... thing was it strong enough that it had hit Danny's side of the meeting and had hit him.

Now, again pranks were okay but only after the meetings. It was one of the few rules many, even those in Chaos, took seriously because once it was done and over they could go do their things. So for it to happen in the middle of a meeting means someone set their time on the prank wrong and add the fact it hit a person on the Balance side...

Yeah not good.

Only...

Only instead of getting angry, even Clockwork who was seated next to Danny was chuckling, Danny threw his head back and laughed about it. And his laugh... was very cute.

And before he knew it, Klarion had already fallen.

-x-x-

"So yeah.... Since you have a boyfriend and know how to date in this modern age, I need your advice."

".... Klarion just because I'm dating Bernard doesn't mean I know how I did it..."

"Bernard? I thought you were dating that one Supes?"