#and how do you go back from that then. how do you undo all of that then!!!!!!!

[pomefioredove]

mirror

summary: vil falling in love with you type of post: short fic characters: vil schoenheit additional info: romantic, FLUFF, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, takes place during/after book 6 author's note: vilyuu is such a good and underrated dynamic I'm never not obsessed with it. always thinking about him. holding them like dolls making them kiss mwah mwah

One might be bold enough to assume that actor and model Vil Schoenheit had been a victim of Eros before.

With the world under his thumb and millions of adoring fans at his beck and call, it was easy to fantasize about the image of a shining star that had left a string of broken hearts behind him. His persona of perfection gave off such a dazzling impression that any other truth is simply unimaginable. Beautiful, talented, devoted...

...Untouchable to such a degree that the very truth of the matter was that Vil Schoenheit had never been in love. He had no use, let alone time, to indulge himself in something that he found distracting at best and frustrating at worst. For most of his life, romance was nothing but another part to play, a frustrating rumor to dispel, a disaster to witness, something that nagged at him from the outside yet never made itself a home within him.

This idea of the confident heartbreaker Vil Schoenheit was nothing but a reflection of the image he put out, shone back at him by tabloids and fan accounts. It was a hollow interpretation, fueled by fantasies of a Vil that didn't exist in flesh and blood. And so, every time an invasive interviewer or pesky reporter inquired about the state of his personal affairs, he answered truthfully: Vil Schoenheit could easily go throughout life focusing solely on his career, on improving himself, and not miss out on anything at all.

There have been very, very few things that Vil has called himself an idiot over. That answer was one of them.

Because the very second he saw you again after being separated by Styx, the want to smack you for being so reckless in coming after him was only secondary to his want to hold you and cry until his water-proof mascara was running.

Love is such a strange emotion. Vil could never understand why Rook was so obsessed with it, how the vice housewarden fell in love with every beautiful person he saw. For his whole life Vil thought it to be painful, to be distracting, to be finite and often times nothing but a shallow reflection of all of one's ugliest traits.

And now, it made him feel weak and messy. He hated feeling messy.

...And yet, what he wouldn't do to have his lipstick smeared over your mouths. To have you see him with his hair undone and eyes bleary with sleep, and to see you in that state as well. It was not the time, nor the place, but he wanted to cradle you in his arms until this terrible, sickly feeling of longing you'd left him with went away.

For the first time in his life, Vil was suddenly terrified of being alone.

No, not alone- he was terrified of being without you.

To never see your smile again would be a fate worse than death, worse than growing old and haggard. How terrible to think that just one simple person could so easily undo everything about him, and yet, he wanted more of that very feeling. He would unwrap himself layer by layer for you if you asked, taking off all of the years of discipline and poise, and lay vulnerable before you so that you could be soft and simple together. Vil had always regarded romance as difficult, but falling in love with you was surprisingly easy.

He did not have to save Grim from the Underworld, despite what he claimed. Such a risky move cost him everything he loved, everything beautiful about him, everything except for you. And as much as he mourned for himself, he knew he would do it again and again if it meant saving the smile on your face.

And perhaps he was too wishful with his thinking, but he could have sworn he saw that same familiar glimmer of affection and admiration in your eyes when you met his gaze. As if you couldn't even see the pasty, wrinkled mess he'd turned into, and were peering at something behind it.

It made him feel utterly exposed and offered him no comfort, but the thought that you were looking at something not even he could see lingered in the back of his mind, even after his magical energy was rejuvenated.

He had become so familiar with everyone around him being a mirror, reflecting his carefully crafted image right back at him, showering him with two-dimensional praises, that being seen as an object of flesh and blood and tears was a strange notion. To behold his presence and see a person with wants and needs and flaws rather than a flat surface, a decorative magazine atop a coffee table, left him with a strange feeling in his chest. The thought both bothered and warmed him.

Vil Schoenheit was so hopelessly in love with you, and it didn't hurt. It wasn't difficult or ugly or forced, it took not even the least bit of effort. He sunk into the feeling like a warm bath which never grew colder, and he let that be his new reality. It felt strange to imagine that there was a time where he didn't love you, where he didn't look at you as if you were the moon itself, where you weren't such a part of his being that he couldn't imagine life without you.

And he never expressed these feelings in words. They existed inside of him, running through his veins like the very blood that kept him alive and warm, and they weren't distracting, just another part of him that he kept tucked away to occupy his thoughts on rainy days.

...But the best part of it was that he didn't need words. Because when you looked at him, when you saw the Vil the not even he could see, you could already tell they were there. The mirror, the pane of glass that had always existed between himself and others, was non-existent for you.

Vil thought that someday he might be able to see himself through that glass the way you did, but he was perfectly content with simply looking at you instead for the time being.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

 “Can I kiss you, Sugar?” 

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive. 

This moment is no different. 

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head. 

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years. 

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained. 

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way. 

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss. 

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future. 

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now. 

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they? 

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.” 

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.  

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair. 

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home. 

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks. 

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads. 

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared. 

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment. 

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance. 

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain. 

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him. 

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his. 

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere. 

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter. 

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight. 

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone. 

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it. 

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be. 

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call. 

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.” 

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it. 

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile. 

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight. 

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize. 

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised. 

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then. 

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down. 

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear. 

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it. 

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.” 

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you. 

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this. 

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away. 

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption. 

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off. 

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we? 

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption. 

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.” 

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened. 

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it. 

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours. 

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on. 

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man. 

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses. 

Always have, always will. 

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined. 

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into. 

You’d forgotten just how well you know him. 

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind. 

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens. 

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him. 

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core. 

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response. 

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.” 

“Please what, Sugar?” 

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-” 

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command. 

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention. 

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now. 

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day. 

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned. 

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water. 

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” 

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would. 

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer. 

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago. 

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up. 

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night. 

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.” 

You mean more than just the sex. 

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does. 

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again. 

You don’t know when the tears started. 

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet. 

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy. 

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.” 

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use. 

“When I get back, all I care about is you.” 

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains. 

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you. 

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable. 

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die. 

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #maroon #this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE #that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3 #truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write #it gave me fucking hell

[youandiwerealive]

Need some relief [rd]

Author’s note: writing this destroyed me 🥵 thank you to the anon who requested this one and I’m sorry it took so long! I hope you enjoy this, mwah 🤭

Warnings: OOOF, hold on because this one has it ALL!! Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, some ass slapping, a bit of portuguese dirty talk like yall have been asking, frustrated, crazy, hard and raw sex with Rúben after City losing against Real Madrid 🫣 let me know if I’m missing something! MINORS, GET OUT!!

wc: 2110 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

His face when he got out of the locker room, at the end of the game, already said every thing to you. Rúben is absolutely devastated for losing to Real Madrid in the penalties. He’s sad and angry, the team dominated the game and still, they were eliminated from the Champions League.

You were waiting for him outside the boys room, waiting to go home. As soon as Rúben steps out, he immediately goes to you as you wrap him in a tight hug, trying to comfort him.

He gets out of your embrace and immediately wraps his hand around your neck gently, while his mouth finds yours to give you a heated and rough kiss. You feel yourself getting hot already, by the way Rúben’s tongue is threatening to travel through the entire space inside your mouth, almost down to your throat.

He stops the kiss and looks into your eyes. “Let’s go home”, he says in a stern voice and you only nod your head.

You already know what’s going to happen once you two get home. Whenever City loses a game, it takes a toll on Rúben, and you’re the only one that can help him feel better, by helping him release all his frustrations. You can feel that he needs you by the way he kissed you earlier, and how his hand is now dominantly resting on your thigh, dangerously close to your center.

His face is shut, his angry expression not changing to a happier one - but you don’t take it personally, you know Rúben too well. He’s not directly mad at you, and you just need to soften him up a little bit.

Once you two arrive at your place, Rúben sloppily discards all his bags and takes off his jacket. You are taking off your shoes, when you notice him looking at you with hunger in his eyes. He grabs you by the hips, kissing you hungrily like it’s been years since he last touched you. You kiss him back, your hand travelling to his hair, so you can pull slightly at the feeling of your tongues fighting for dominance. You try your best to win, but Rúben is not losing anything more tonight.

His right hand leaves your hip to slap your ass and tightly gripping it next. You moan at the sensation and he pushes his tongue even more inside of your mouth. You close your lips around his tongue, sucking on it lightly in a teasing way.

“Don’t start teasing me babe, you’ll regret it” - he told you in a warning tone, speaking directly in your ear.

“Punish me then” - you say in a sexy tone while looking him directly in the eyes. That alone could make Rúben lose his entire composure, but he’s feeling fully dominant tonight, needy to have you to his own will and pleasure. And you want it too. You love frustrated sex with Rúben, you always get your best orgasms from nights like this one.

Just like that, your words ignited a fire inside of him. He picked you up and carried you to your shared bedroom, his mouth never leaving your neck, collarbone and mouth.

Rúben laid you on the bed, already undoing your jeans anxiously. You were still hearing his game shirt, and as you try to take it off, Rúben stopped you.

“Need to fuck with my name on your back, baby” - he said, fire in his eyes already.

His mouth is on you once again, kissing you hard and passionately, letting you know that he wants it all, he wants you entirely. You start palming him through his jeans, but he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“I need to take care of you tonight love, let me do it for you” - he begs as his mouth starts travelling down your body, grabbing your shirt between his teeth now, lifting it up slightly so he can start kissing down your torso.

Rúben knows exactly what he’s doing, and starts to focus on diving south of your navel. He kisses all the way down until his mouth is kissing your pussy through your panties.

“Já estás tão molhada para mim, amor, olha para ti” (you’re so wet for me already love, look at you) - he says as his fingers start running up and down your folds, feeling how wet you are through the fabric of your underwear. You can’t help but moan at his portuguese words, barely understanding what he’s saying, but turning you on like crazy, hearing his dirty talking with his thick and raspy voice.

He removes your panties, and starts licking your folds like a cat, slowly but hungrily. You breathe out in pleasure, dying for Rúben’s touch on your skin.

“You taste so good, amor. God, I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you” - he whispers, blowing cold air on your warm cunt, making you hiss and lift your back from the bed slightly at the new sensation.

His tongue coats your pussy with his saliva, mixing it with your own juices - feeling incredibly wet and throbbing just at the sight of your man’s head between your legs. He’s now fully eating you out like he’s been starving for hours, his tongue lapping at your folds while his nose is purposely touching your clit, giving you an immense amount of pleasure.

You moan out loud when he inserts two fingers inside of you, thrusting fast and hard, not being in the mood to make love right now.

“Foda-se, Y/N… tu deixas-me maluco” (fuck, Y/N… you drive me insane) - he says, looking up at your whimpering state, unable to lay still at the skilful way he’s touching you.

His mouth goes back to your pussy, sucking on your clit now, his fingers deep inside of you, touching your sweet spot on purpose to make you squirm under his touch. He holds you in place as he keeps devouring your pussy with his mouth and fucking you with his fingers, already feeling your juices dripping down to his hand.

“És tão boa para mim, amor” (you’re so good to me, love) - you whimper as you feel your orgasm ready to hit you.

“That’s it, baby… cum for me” - he’s now lapping at your clit fast, his fingers never slowing down inside your pussy.

The bubble on your stomach bursts as you cum on Rúben’s hand and mouth, him helping you riding out your high as you firmly grip on his hair, making him groan at the pain.

You breathe heavily as Rúben kisses all the way up your body, reaching your mouth and kissing you passionately. He undoes his pants, palming himself through his boxers until he takes them off as well.

His dick is already hard, ready to fuck his frustrations out.

“De quatro, agora” (on all fours, now) - he whispers in your ear as he slides the tip of his dick through your folds teasingly. You obey his command, your face now on your pillow, your back arching in front of Rúben so he can have the most perfect view of your ass. His hands slide through your butt cheeks, gripping them tightly before slapping your ass. You hiss at the feeling, and he rubs the spot to soothe the pain.

His soft touch relaxes you a bit now, but he gives you another slap. And another one, and another one. Your ass is fully red now, but you can’t help yourself and moan at the feeling - the pain now turning into pleasure.

“Preciso tanto de ti, amor” (i need you so much, love) - he says behind you, while he aligns himself with your entrance and pushes his dick inside your pussy, already thrusting deeply into your center.

He moans at the feeling. “Foda-se, não há melhor sensação do que estar dentro de ti” (fuck, there’s no better feeling than being inside of you) - his breathing now sounds shaky, as he continues to trust deep and hard inside of you.

Your moans and whines are muffled, burying your head on the pillows as you feel Rúben’s entire dick roaming inside of your cunt. The wet sounds coming from your pussy are perfectly audible right now, getting mixed with the sound of your bodies slapping against each other as Rúben is now thrusting like crazy inside of you. “Being so good to me, having my name on your back because you’re mine. You’re all fucking mine” - he says cockily.

His hand goes to grab your shirt tightly, lifting your body from the mattress, getting you even closer to him. Your bodies are now one, his mouth is glued to your neck, marking you as he licks and sucks all your sweet spots there. His hand goes to your face, holding you roughly and dominantly, kissing you hard while you feel his cock incredibly deep inside your pussy.

It’s hard, needy, hungry. He could whisper the most dirty things in your ear and you would love it. He could say the world is yours and you would believe him.

His hands wrap around your hair, making you scream out of pleasure. Your hands search for his head, pulling you closer to yourself as you continue your heated make out session.

Your hips are now moving on their own, merging with Rúben’s, feeling so hot and needy for his dick. You breathe heavily and your head can’t stop thinking about how much you won tonight. Rúben wraps his hand around your neck and applies some pressure, while his mouth goes to your ear.

“Gostas tanto disto, não gostas?” (You love this so much, don’t you?) - he teasingly asks you, his other hand gripping your hip like he’s guiding you, pulling you even closer to him, if that was even possible.

“Amo-te tanto” (I love you so much) - he confesses, his dominant side softening a little bit, while he bites your earlobe.

You’re a moaning mess, your mind is feeling mush, completely lost in all the pleasure that Rúben is giving you.

You can barely answer, but you feel like you’ve found all the answers for all the things that you never even asked. Tonight, it’s just the two of you. You don’t care if it’s loud and dirty, you and Rúben are pleasuring each other, and nothing else matters, you just want to do what you want and what makes you feel good.

“I needed this so much babe, fuck, you feel so good” - he breathes.

“Quero-te tanto” (I want you so much) - he kisses your neck as his fingers now finds your clit, rubbing it furiously while picking up his pace, both chasing your highs.

You’re both saying loose and incoherent words now, grunting, whimpering and moaning while you hear the sounds coming from your bodies, losing count of your senses.

“Que se foda o jogo, és o maior alívio que posso ter” (fuck the game, you’re the biggest relief I can have) - he rubs your pearl faster, you can feel your orgasm approaching already, moaning his name and telling him how good he feels inside of you.

“Vem-te para mim, amor. Deixa-me sentir todo o prazer que te estou a dar” (cum for me, love. Let me feel all the pleasure that I’m giving you) - he licks up your neck as you cry out his name, squirting hard on his dick.

“That was so fucking hot, babe, holy fuck” - he moans as he keeps thrusting into you, making you see starts until he finally cums inside of your desperate pussy.

He holds you still, both of you breathing heavy, helping you lay on the bed.

While you two gather your breaths, Rúben lays on your chest, giving you sweet pecks on your chest and cheek.

You smile at him while you two are making eye contact.

“Thank you” - he sincerely says. “For being my relief, my support, my heart out of my chest. You’re everything to me, you are even better than everything I could have asked for or dreamed about” - he confesses while you hug him tightly.

“I’ll always be by your side, through the good and the bad” - you give him a kiss on his forehead.

“I know. And nothing is more important than us, our bond, our connection. I want this forever” - he whispers in your ear as he starts spooning you, trying to get your body to rest after the previous events.

“You have me forever” - you admit as you snuggle into his body more, ready to fall asleep next to your partner in life.

#ruben dias #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias smut #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #thoughts about football players #football imagines #football fanfic

[fluentmoviequoter]

Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader (Justice League Unlimited!Bruce)

Summary: When all adults are banished from earth, you join Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern in a unique fight to save the world. Along the way, some hidden feelings are revealed.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for Justice League Unlimited 1x3 "Kid's Stuff", fluff, mention of beheading, canon-level violence and action

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

A/N: I can't tell you how many times I've watched this show because Kevin Conroy's Batman in the DCAU tv shows is unmatched (and the kids who did the voice acting in this episode did phenomenally). I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | DC Masterlist | Request Info

You are in a unique position for several reasons. Being one of the only human members of the Justice League, you find yourself pushing yourself to be the best you can and ensuring that you can keep up with your superpowered teammates. Plus, you are one of the only people who knew Bruce Wayne before you knew Batman, and no matter how much he denies it, you knew after one look that the man under the cowl was none other than your favorite billionaire. When you first arrived on the Watchtower with your fellow vigilante, you wondered if any of the superheroes (especially those who had unique mind powers) could tell that you wanted to be more than fellow crime fighters with Batman. If they did, no one said anything, so your secret crush has remained secret as it grows stronger.

“Bats,” you warn as you duck away from Cheetah’s claws.

Bruce flips away from Deadshot’s line of fire before rushing up beside him. He punches under his jaw, and you watch as Deadshot lifts Bruce off the ground. Bruce throws a batarang, and you slide away from them as Deadshot falls to the floor.

“Guess that’s a wrap,” Green Lantern says. At Bruce’s look, he adds, “Sorry. Been hanging out with Flash too much.”

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” you tease.

You look away from John and see three police officers entering the vault. A pink wave follows them inside, and your eyes widen when the officers disappear. Bruce pulls you to his side as John creates a forcefield with his ring, but it fails nearly as quickly as it appears.

When you open your eyes on a floating rock, you’re still tucked against Bruce’s side. You step back quickly and look around. Dozens of rocks surround you and each holds numerous people; adults only, you notice.

“It was judgment day,” Copper exclaims, “and- and we got sent to the bad place. The bad place!”

“Where else were you expecting to go?” you ask sarcastically.

“Snap out of it, Copper!” Cheetah demands as she slaps him.

“Yeah, calm down,” John calls. “We’re probably just in another dimension.”

“I don’t see any children,” Bruce says.

“You would be the one to notice,” you murmur. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add when he directs his bat glare at you.

“That’s because a child is responsible,” a woman wearing a mask interjects as she hovers above you.

“Morgaine Le Fay,” Bruce greets, though he’s prepared to fight rather than exchange niceties and introductions.

“Great, magic,” you mutter as you fall in line between Bruce and Diana.

“I mean you no harm,” Morgaine assures. “My son Mordred has wrought this treachery. Banishing all adults to this shadow realm.”

“Do you think Flash is here?” you whisper to John.

“50/50,” he answers.

“After I spent millennia feeding him, bathing him, preparing him to be a king,” Morgaine continues. “Where did I go wrong?”

“You’re a sorceress. Can’t you just undo his spell?” Diana asks.

“No. He’s got the amulet of first magic. He’s too powerful. But if we all work together…”

“You want us to defeat your own son?” Bruce clarifies.

“So don’t trust me. Let him rule the world and all your children. Here we will stay. Forever.”

“But what can we do? We’re stuck here, aren’t we?” Diana says.

“Please don’t say-“ you begin.

“Not exactly,” Morgaine answers.

“That,” you finish as your shoulders slump.

“The spell only banishes adults.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you and John say together.

“It’s the only way,” Morgaine says.

“We have to do it,” Clark announces.

John exhales deeply, and you step back to be at Bruce’s side again. Magic has never been your preferred battle, and as Morgaine directs her spell at you and everything turns green, you clutch Bruce’s cape in your hand.

When you arrive in Mordred’s amusement park-turned-kingdom, you’re ready to leave. Being turned into a kid again wasn’t exactly on your superhero bingo card, and as a human, you don’t bring much to the fight anyway.

“I hope this is temporary,” Bruce complains.

You look over at him and feel butterflies in your stomach. Despite de-aging, you still have a crush on Bruce, but it hits harder and faster. You tear your eyes away from him and try to calm your racing heart. Each moment you live as a kid, you’ll start acting more like one.

“You sound weird,” Clark says. “Whoa. So do I.”

Diana looks between Clark and John before straightening her shoulders. She towers over them and smiles. “I kind of like this.”

“Why are you squinting?” you ask John.

Bruce, Clark, and Diana look over after you ask, and you drop your eyes to avoid looking at Bruce again.

“I wore glasses as a kid. Guess I need ‘em again,” John answers.

A pair of oversized green glasses appear on his face, and he jumps in surprise. They’re nothing like what adult John would create, and you stifle a laugh at the sight of them.

“I didn’t even try to make these!” he exclaims.

Clark laughs as Bruce says, “I hope not.”

You pat John’s back as he focuses on making nicer glasses. Once he’s ready and Clark compliments his new look, Diana reminds you that you’re supposed to be looking for Mordred.

“Bet the little punk’s in there,” Bruce says.

He points to the castle looming in the distance and begins running. You run behind him and watch as Diana, Clark, and John fly past you.

“It’s not a race,” Bruce grumbles.

He speeds up, but you keep your pace and make it to the castle all the same. Despite the earlier teasing about John’s glasses, none of you have mentioned any differences between the kid and adult versions of one another. You’re thankful, though, because reliving your childhood is not your favorite pastime. When you enter the castle, you stay behind Bruce as he stands beside Diana.

“The Justice Babies!” Mordred calls before laughing.

“What are you laughing at, precious?” Bruce asks.

“Precious?” you repeat.

“You,” Mordred answers. “Mother sent you, didn’t she?”

“Maybe she wanted a chance to have a normal kid,” you taunt.

“She shouldn’t send a boy to do a man’s job,” Mordred tells Bruce.

He grabs the amulet, and you watch as a young boy’s toys come to life. They grow until they’re giant, and you stumble backward before running for cover. When Clark flies into one of them and is knocked to the floor, you begin questioning if it was truly a good idea to become kids to fight a boy with powerful magic.

“Bruce, batarang,” you request.

He hands you one before running toward Mordred. You wait for one of the toys to run toward you before sliding between its legs.

“I’ll make a laser cannon. No, a missile launcher,” John says above you. “Oh! Oh, I know.”

“Just pick something!” you and Bruce yell together.

You dig the batarang into the back of the toy’s leg and roll to the side as it collapses to the ground before disappearing. Bruce and John take one out, while Clark disables the other with his laser vision.

When you hear Bruce grunting and see him dangling from his cape in the grip of the last toy, you gasp and run toward him. Diana beats you there and catches him.

“You okay, tough guy?” she asks.

“Let go. I’m fine,” Bruce demands as he struggles to get out of her hold.

His shoulders drop and his cape surrounds him as he sulks. You don’t ask the same question Diana had but thank him for the batarang as he passes.

“That’s not fair,” Mordred complains.

“Get him!” Bruce calls.

You run behind Diana and aren’t surprised when you’re all encased in ice. Mordred is powerful, and you and your fellow “Justice Babies” seem to be forgetting that. When you fall into a dungeon and are freed from the ice, you scoot toward Bruce. One of the cells opens, and red eyes glow within. You clutch Bruce’s cape and watch as a small demon walks out.

“Etrigan?” Bruce asks.

He steps away from you, and his cape slips through your fingers. You stay behind John’s forcefield as Diana lifts Bruce out of the way of Etrigan’s flame. Diana has been closer to Bruce during this mission than usual, and the butterflies in your stomach start causing more pain than happiness as you wonder if they’ve been hiding feelings for one another in the Watchtower, too.

“Don’t hurt him!” Bruce yells as Clark pulls Etrigan away from you and John.

Etrigan bites Clark’s arm, and he calls, “Tell him that!”

“C’mere,” you tell Etrigan. You crouch to the floor and pull him into your arms. “Stop!”

He calms down, and Diana helps Bruce up as Etrigan cries. You look at Bruce and shrug.

“He’s just a baby,” Diana says.

“And he needs more than a hug,” John adds, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Now, that is a job for Superman,” Bruce says.

Bruce takes Etrigan from your arms and passes him to Clark. When Bruce takes your hand to lead you out of the dungeon, you nearly trip over your own feet. You’ve never been more ready to grow up before, you think.

Mordred’s new kingdom is comprised mostly of children doing what they were never allowed to do before. When you walk through the paths surrounding what used to be the center of the park, you are surrounded by children doing dangerous stunts and breaking rules.

“You two, knock that off!” Clark demands when he sees two boys playing with wooden swords.

“What are you gonna do? You’re just a kid,” they taunt.

Clark shoots a laser between them and answers, “I’m the kid with laser beams coming out of his eyes.”

“That’s just gonna scare them,” you interject before they run away screaming. “You can’t threaten kids the same way you threaten criminals.”

“Then what do we do?” John asks.

“Tattle,” Diana answers. She flies to an elevated area and yells, “That’s enough!”

Everyone freezes, and you find yourself reaching for Bruce.

“You can’t tell us what to do! You’re not our mom!” someone replies.

“No, but I promise you we will find all of your moms and I’m gonna tell!” Diana answers.

“Well, what should we do?”

“Go outside and wait for your parents. Now!” Diana demands with a hand on her hip.

“Man, your girlfriend sure is bossy,” John tells Bruce.

“Shut up,” he replies before leaving John’s side.

Those butterflies in your stomach become dead weight. You stall behind John, but he turns to look at you.

“You like Bruce,” he accuses.

“What? No!” you answer too quickly. “We’re friends.”

“Mmhmm.”

John gestures for you to come with him, and you follow Bruce together. You know that John knows more than he ever lets on, and if anyone found out about your crush, you suppose you should be glad that it’s the one who can keep a secret. Better him than Wally.

“He’s almost asleep,” Diana whispers as you look into Mordred’s hideout. “We can take him.”

“I’ll make a lawnmower and chew him up,” John suggests.

“A lawnmower?” you repeat incredulously. “Why?”

“I say we get that amulet away from him first,” Bruce says. “We’ll split up and sneak behind him. Then Lantern can do his thing. But no mowers.”

“Why?” John questions.

“Because it’s stupid,” Clark answers.

“He’ll hear it, too,” you whisper with much more kindness than Clark.

“I guess I’ll go with Clark,” Diana says. “Unless I should go with you,” she tells Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce answers.

John sees your eyes drop and says, “Clark can go alone. I’ll go with Diana.”

You appreciate it but shake your head because you don’t want to be left alone with Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce repeats.

“Go,” John whispers.

You lead Bruce around the side of the cave, and John shakes his head as he watches you go.

“What’s with them?” Clark asks.

“Really?” Diana questions.

“Man, for somebody with fifty different kinds of vision you are so blind,” John responds.

“What?”

“Is that a claw?” you ask Bruce as John tries to get the amulet.

“Unfortunately,” he answers.

He may be young, but his sarcasm hasn’t changed a bit. You lean against him when John’s claw wavers before disappearing. The amulet falls to Mordred’s chest, and Bruce moves you carefully as he calls, “Get the amulet!”

You join Bruce, Diana, Clark, and John in a failing attempt to hold Mordred down and take the amulet. He uses his magic to grow and throws Bruce and Diana off of him before standing. A young girl is standing nearby, and you take her hand to lead her to safety as the others fight Mordred.

“Bats!” you yell, just as you had as an adult this morning.

Bruce looks back and sees the living gargoyle chasing him and John and directs John toward a small bridge.

“Close the door!” you yell as Bruce enters the castle.

Diana closes and locks the door behind him, and you listen to John come up with complicated plans to stop Mordred as Bruce thinks.

“Forget it!” Bruce calls after John mentions giant handcuffs. “We’ve got to focus on…” Bruce’s eyes lock with yours and he says, “Never mind what I just said. We’ll take care of everything else. Lantern, you go crazy.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“It’s time for all of us to grow up,” Bruce answers.

He takes your hand before running toward another area of the kingdom. Your butterflies begin reviving, and you wonder if anything will be the same after this.

“Go!” he yells to Clark.

Clark pulls the amulet from Mordred’s neck while he’s distracted by John before tossing it to Bruce.

“This is the most dangerous game of keep away I’ve ever played,” you yell as you take the amulet from Bruce and run it to Diana. Diana throws it to Etrigan, and you flinch when he bites into it. The wave of purple magic that escapes it is unsettling, but you don’t take your eyes off Mordred.

“I already absorbed too much of the amulet’s power,” Mordred says as he stands.

He uses his magic to suspend all of you, and Etrigan, upside down in the air. He pulls a sword from a nearby stone, and it turns purple before reappearing as a curved blade.

“I’ll take care of my kingly duty myself,” he declares.

“Is he really going to behead us in an amusement park?” you ask with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m scared,” the girl you helped earlier says. “I want my mommy.”

Mordred lowers his blade to say, “You don’t need a mommy. You’re better off without one. Trust me.”

“Ooh, mommy issues,” John muses. “Those ain’t easy.”

The girl begins crying and Clark taunts, “Some king.”

“I’m not impressed,” Diana agrees.

“What’d you expect? He’s a boy doing a man’s job,” Bruce finishes.

“You don’t know what it’s like being stuck as a kid,” Mordred says.

“Since you’ve had all that power, you could have been a man anytime you wanted. I think you’re too chicken to grow up.”

“Yep, big chicken. That’s what you are,” John agrees, flapping his arms like wings. “Bock, bock.”

“Face it, precious,” Bruce continues. “You like being a little mama’s boy.”

“I’ll show you!” Mordred yells. “I’ll show you all.”

“Sure, you will,” you agree with an eye roll.

“And when I am a true kind, I’ll start with the human!” Mordred adds, pointing to you.

Bruce looks at you, but you keep your eyes on Mordred as he spreads his arms and is surrounded by purple ribbons of magic. Etrigan claps as Mordred’s spell spreads, and he reappears as a man.

“I’m older than you now,” Mordred says as he turns to face you.

The magic released his spell, and you catch yourself as you fall from the air.

“You sure are,” Bruce says.

Mordred disappears, banished by his own spell. As an adult, he couldn’t stay, and now you can only wait until Morgaine does her part. Bruce steps to your side and you turn your face toward him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer just before Morgaine appears.

“A bargain is a bargain,” she says as she waves her hand before you.

The spell is lifted, and you are an adult again in only a second. You hadn’t prepared for the change in size however and are pressed against Bruce’s chest with the sudden growth. He makes no move to get space from you, though.

“Mommy,” Etrigan coos at Diana.

She drops him and steps back. You chuckle at the scene and Diana looks at you with furrowed brows before smiling and rolling her eyes.

Morgaine opens a portal, and Bruce places a hand on your hip as he steps around you.

“Wait,” he calls. “What happened to Mordred?”

“My spell gave him eternal youth but now that he’s broken it all he has is eternal life,” she answers.

“Circumstances aside, it was kind of enjoyable to be a kid again,” Diana says.

You walk to Bruce’s side and watch the happy reunions of children with their parents.

“I’m sorry,” you offer softly.

“For what?” he asks.

“You just- you didn’t get to be a kid like the rest of us.”

“Perhaps Diana was right. It wasn’t completely unenjoyable.”

He turns toward you, and his arm is pressed to your shoulder.

“You’re telling me the big, bad bat had a little bit of fun?” you tease.

“You never talk about your childhood,” he deflects. “So, I’m sorry if this brought up bad memories.”

“Just dead butterflies,” you answer.

Bruce glares at you, but it’s the one unique to when he’s reading you.

“Is that why Lantern sent us off alone together?”

You look down as you nod.

“My butterflies are alive and well, and happy to wait for you,” Bruce murmurs.

“Butterflies or bats?” you ask.

“Should we be having this conversation in an amusement park?”

“You’re right. Let’s go to Metropolis and make the cover of the Daily Planet so Clark has to write all about it.”

Bruce sighs, but he takes your hand as he leads you outside the amusement park. He presses a button on his utility belt and the Batmobile pulls up a moment later.

“Bruce,” you say once you’re inside. “You were a really cute kid.”

“You were really bad at eye contact,” Bruce counters. “Or was that just with me?”

“I guess crushes aren’t just for kids,” you muse.

“Maybe Diana will stop pestering me to ask you out now.”

You nod as you watch the road before you. It takes a moment, but you finally understand what Bruce just said.

“What?”

#hanna writes✯ #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #dc comics x reader #fem!reader

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (7)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (6)

“Dean, a word,“ you square your jaw watching your son show Dean all the cars on his shelves. Dean doesn’t hear you, engrossed in listening to his son’s explanations. “DEAN!”

“Mommy, we are busy here. We are talking about manly cars,” your son huffs and turns his attention toward the stranger he let inside your house.

“Bud, you shouldn’t talk like that to your mom,” Dean sternly says. “We can talk about your cars later.”

“Promised?” Your son sniffles when Dean turns around to walk out of his room.

“Promised, bud,” Dean looks over his shoulder and nods. “We will talk about your cars as long as you want to.”

“COOL!” Your son clasps his hands together and grins. “You’re so cool, Mr. Dean!”

Dean chuckles, and you get even madder. How dare he come here and play the cool guy. Of course, your son is all over Dean. He has no clue that the very same man left you and his son when things got complicated.

“There you are,” Sam joins you and Dean. He still holds the toad in his hands, helplessly lifting the poor thing. “What do we do with that toad now?”

“TOADIE!” Your son shoves you out of his way to snatch the toad out of Sam’s hands, but Sam lifts the toad so Michael can't reach it. “I’ll show you my room now.”

“Great,” you glare at Sam. “Why didn’t you put it in the garden, Samuel Winchester? Now I’ll never get rid of that thing!” You jerk your head toward Dean. “And there is the toad.”

Sam snorts. “I can bring the toad in the garden. My brother is another story,” he sighs deeply. “Again. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“HEY! Sasquatch,” your son grunts and tugs at Sam’s jacket, “give me back my toad. Toadie is my friend, and you can’t have him.” Michael purses his lips and holds out his hand. “Give him back!”

“Michael, stop that,” you tut. “We don’t yell at guests. Sam will bring the toad back into the garden. Toadie wants to go home. Our home isn’t their home.”

Your son pouts. His lips wobble, and he sniffles silently. “I wanna keep Toadie!” He grasps Dean’s hand, tugging lightly. “Mr. Dean, please tell Mommy that a man must have a toad. All the cool guys have toads.”

Dean looks at your son holding his hand. A smile crosses his face, and he holds his hand a little tighter. “Sammy will bring the toad to the garden. If Toadie wants to stay, he’ll wait for you in the garden. But maybe he’s got a family and wants to go home.”

“You think so?” Michael sniffs. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and sniffles. “But…I’ll miss him. He’s my friend.”

“He’ll always be your friend, bud,” Dean crouches down in front of your son. “Sometimes we must let people go, even if we love them very much. And sometimes, people we love leave us.”

“O-kay,” your son nods and gives Dean a cracked smile. “Maybe he comes back to me. OH!” He gasps loudly. “What if he brings his family too?”

“No way,” you shudder at the thought of the toad coming back with the whole family. “Toadie will go back home and be a good toad.”

“How about I show you pictures of my Baby? I got them on my phone,” before you can take his son away from him, Dean wants to make sure to get to know the little boy better. 

“He’s got thousands of pictures of his car,” Sam snickers behind his brother’s back. “You’ll get tired looking at all of them.”

“YES!” Michael grins. “I love cars, mister. I bet Mr. Dean has the coolest pictures of the coolest car in the world.”

You purse your lips and clench your fists. Dean already snaked his way into your son’s heart, and you don’t know how to undo the damage he did within not half an hour.

While Michael guides his father out of his room, you stare at the toad in Sam’s hands. You’re unsure what to do now that Dean came here to get to know his son.

“I should bring the toad out, and … uh… maybe I can distract Michael so you can talk to Dean. I know you’re mad at my brother, but please at least talk things out. If you need a clean cut, do it. I’ll bring him back home and make sure he’ll leave you alone.”

“He broke my heart,” you don’t look at Sam. “Not only because he didn’t contact me or stopped me from leaving. He flirted with that woman, and let your mother walk all over me. We were so in love with each other and suddenly everything was different.”

You sniff and wipe your eyes. “I only thought about the life growing inside of me. The baby he didn’t know about. The whole day I tried to find the perfect moment to tell him. It never came, though…”

“I know this doesn’t mean anything to you,” Sam softly says, “but Dean never was happier than with you. After you left, he wasn’t the same. He had some affairs, but I think he was never in love with any of the women he dated. Dean only ever loved you.”

“Sure,” you snort. “He loved me so much that he left me…”

You storm out of the room, determined to get Dean out of your house. Even if it means making a scene in front of your son.

“You!” You stop in your tracks when you see Dean and your son on the couch. Your son is looking at pictures on Dean’s phone, grinning from ear to ear.

“MOMMY! There are pictures with you in Mr. Dean’s car,” Michael runs toward you, Dean’s phone in his hands. “You look so cool.” 

He grins and shows you the image on Dean’s phone. You’re sitting on the hood of his car, winking at Dean. It’s one of the last pictures Dean took of you.

“Uh…that was a long time ago, baby boy. Mr. Dean and his brother want to go now. It’s almost dinner time, and you still need to bathe and brush your teeth after dinner.”

“Mr. Dean must stay!” Michael purses his lips. “I want him to stay in our guest room and we can eat pizza and pie.”

“Michael, I—” you swallow thickly when your son starts to sniffle. It breaks your heart watching him bond with the man breaking your heart. 

“Pizza and pie. Pizza and pie,” your son chants. “Please, mommy. He’s cool and nice. Mr. Dean wants to show me more pictures of his car, and you!”

“What…no…he can’t…” Your voice cracks. “What about his brother? We can’t send his brother Sam away.”

“Hmm…” Your son nods thoughtfully. “Mr. Dean can sleep in your room, and his brother at the guest room.” Michael grins. “Right? You got a big bed all for yourself.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Sam hastily says. “Or maybe…uh…there is a hotel nearby. I can get me and Dean a room. We can leave after dinner.”

“I can stay for dinner,” Dean finally says. “But you can’t ask your mom to share her bed with me, okay.”

“But…” Michael sniffles. “You will come back tomorrow for breakfast. Right? We can make pancakes and … oh! You must try mommy’s pancakes. You’ll marry her if you taste them!”

Your son’s words hit you right in the chest. Daggers sent to your fragile heart. If only… you think while your son plans a wedding and to keep Dean around.

“I’ll call a hotel and,” Sam gives you an apologetic smile and pats your shoulder, “I promise to get him out of your house. At least for tonight…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #au!dean winchester #au!dean winchester x reader #Designed by pain (7)

[calmangel]

No because why am I scared of being made fun of for loving these men when Destiel is probably the most beautiful thing ever created.

An angel pulls a righteous man from hell and heals his wounds and is so overcome with this triumph that he screams DEAN WINCHESTER HAS BEEN SAVED so loud that he awakens fallen angels. He rebuilds this man from dust. The man is scared of Castiel, they don’t trust each other, but they need each other—the man begs the angel to see why Heaven, why God’s plan is corrupt and the angel should trust him. Against nature, breaking from the script, against God, his Father—the angel rebels. The angel rips out the part of him that serves Heaven all for this man and only because he asks. Only because now he’s starting to feel, and angels don’t feel.

What’s coming isn’t an easy task—the man considers giving himself up but the angel won’t let him, beating him unconscious while yelling I rebelled for this? And still, when the day comes, the angel dies for him. The angel attacks his own brothers for this man, is incinerated instantly, and never gave it a second thought.

After the angel is resurrected, they spend years trying to fix everything for each other and almost always do it wrong. They are eventually sent to purgatory together, and the man spends every waking moment praying to his angel. He could’ve escaped, he could’ve been angry at the angel for his misdoings, but he stayed, ripping flesh and killing anything in his way to get to the angel. But he doesn’t understand—the angel, upset, says they’re after me, Dean. I avoid you to protect you. The man won’t listen. He can’t. He pulls the angel to the exit but their hands slip right there, on the precipice. And the man is so distraught that he tells himself he’d let go by accident, but we know this isn’t true. The angel wanted to stay, wanted to feel punishment. The angel saved the righteous man and stayed behind.

But they can’t be kept apart can they?

The angel finds his way back, like always, and Dean is seeing his face everywhere. Dean blames himself. It’s easier than thinking his angel wanted to stay. It’s easier than being abandoned.

Heaven isn’t happy with this angel—this silly thing that gave up its innate purpose and programming all for a human—so they attempt to rewire him, resorting to lobotomy as a way to force him into conforming. They create infinite copies of his human and force him to kill each one, testing his loyalties. And after all this, after being turned into a mindless soldier through torture, it only takes one thing to break the connection. Dean, on his knees, saying I need you.

And this does not fix everything. Now the angel is desperate to undo his wrongs, searching for ways to repay him; so desperate that he misplaces his trust and is irreparably damaged, intimately violated by God’s Scribe. His grace, every part of his angelic traits, is stolen from him, literally ripped from his throat before the Scribe sends all angels plummeting to the Earth. And now the angel is an entirely new species—a human, soft and vulnerable, with nothing to his name—a prime target of angry, wingless angels.

There is only one thing he can do. He can call his human, beg for help, but it’s not going to come quickly. He has to decide between eating and warding himself from his murderous siblings. He virtuously refuses to steal or hurt anyone. He just wants to be safe. He trusts the wrong person and, seconds away from being saved by his human, is stabbed through the heart. Although his brother is injured, Dean caresses his angel’s face and sobs, insisting that the entity inside his brother’s body fix Cas despite how it will hurt the entity and likely put Dean’s brother at risk. It doesn’t matter. Then they go home, and the angel feels safe for the first time as a human.

But nothing lasts forever. The entity inside Sam is anxious, insecure around Cas, and so Dean asks the angel to leave. For probably the first time, Castiel feels intense sadness. Betrayal. Grief. Stress. And it’s because of his human, the one human he was attempting to make everything up to before. Well, apparently he hadn’t done well enough. The angel leaves, still desperate for cash and food, resorting to sleeping in the storeroom of a gas station to stay warm.

The angel has to protect himself from enemies, stealing angelic grace just to keep going. At the same time, Dean takes on the mark of Cain and slowly loses sanity. The angel earns a league of likeminded angels that believe in him, and it finally looks like maybe he can do things on his own again. Naturally, this can’t last for long—his allegiance to this dangerous, marked human is too risky for any angels to trust him.

And his allegiance is tested, but holds strong. Dean can tear the angel to pieces and he’ll still lay there on the floor, unwilling to harm him, and Dean will walk away knowing he could’ve killed Cas but didn’t. Couldn’t.

Over and over, they fight together or they fight each other and it never ends any different. They stick together. They get angry about how the other is acting. And they stay, because leaving just isn’t an option.

The next time the angel dies, the righteous man isn’t the same. He can’t accept it now, now that it seems real and now that the angel was so solidly good, so individualistic and pure. He burns his body and watches, red-eyed. This time it’s real. This time God isn’t on their side to bring him back. So he does what he knows—he drinks, he hides in comfort, he puts himself at risk. He starts thinking that maybe the solution to their problems is for him to die—really, hadn’t they destroyed the natural order enough?

And then the angel calls him from a payphone and all thoughts of ending his life are wiped from his mind. Dean didn’t care how he’d returned, just brought him home and indulged in a way they never did—they took a fun case, they dressed up like cowboys and caught a bad guy.

They’re not allowed fun, though. They’re doomed by the narrative—the God that is insistent upon failure. Over and over they’re tested, and no matter whose mother is killed and whose psyche is broken by being blamed for it, they stay together. Because you can hate and love at the same time. Because you don’t really hate them.

And at the end of it all, they’re still together. In the angel’s last moments, it’s still only about his human. What’s important is getting Dean safe, is coming up with a plan that saves Dean. Because even though Castiel had all his grace, Dean was the powerful one. Dean was the one who needed to kill God, who needed to stay alive, and who deserved a life.

And the angel did the only thing he knew how to do, the only thing that always worked—he sacrificed himself for his human. He told his human that he was in love with him, and told him the things he needed to hear, and let himself be swallowed up by eternity. All for Dean. For Dean, who was still beautiful.

And this did save the world, but Dean wasn’t the same, really. He vowed to give himself a good life, try to move forward, but it really wasn’t going to happen was it? It was always going to end in his brother’s arms after a hunt. And he was okay with it. And when he got to Heaven, sitting beside his true father with a beer in hand, he heard Cas’s name and smiled. It had been ages since he smiled.

#spn #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #dean x castiel #sorry I’m just like. it’s so good? I know the ending is blegh but like #the love story should be appreciated for what it is as well as what it could’ve been #so many writers know exactly what they created and I think we should appreciate it even if they weren’t allowed to write it more obviously

[physalian]

Villain Power Scaling (It's over 9000!)

@sarah-sandwich ask and you shall receive

Quick! We wrote an insanely, unexpectedly successful one-off fantasy series! How do we top the villain?

A bigger, badder giant space laser

The villain’s secret jealous sister

The same power, but purple now

The True Mastermind you’ve never heard of

JK, they’re not actually dead!

When you choose to continue on a series and have already committed to possibly destroying the legacy of the characters who fought and died to save the world once by undoing it for money, you had better have a damn good story to tell.

So if you decide your new threat is any of the above, you have quite the uphill battle ahead of you, my friend.

What is Power Scaling?

Power scaling is the nature of the ability of the heroes and the villains to grow more competent over the course of the story via new skills, new powers, or more training. Protagonist’s first fight (that they win, at least) will generally be against a baby, tier-one mook and not up against the main antagonist (*cough* Force Awakens *cough*)

As the story progresses, the mook that was so scary and so hard to beat oh so very long ago will become unnamed cannon fodder in the climax of the story. Generally speaking, this is a linear event and the hero and the villain are constantly one-upping each other until they come head to head in the unavoidable final fight.

Sometimes, things run askew. Maybe the hero’s super special power that saved them last time was a fluke, possible only in those specific circumstances, or one-time use.

Maybe they have amnesia, or the being that gave them that power revoked it, or using it cost them too much. Maybe they got seriously injured in the last fight using it and can no longer go near it if they want to not get hospitalized. Maybe the super power was another character that won the final fight for them last time, but died in the process.

It doesn’t have to be linear, but if you’re going to regress your character without creating a “why didn’t you do what you did last time” plot hole, you will need an ironclad excuse.

So, feast your eyes while I summon the Supernatural fandom back from the dead.

What not to do, as told by Supernatural

This show was originally written to last five seasons and five seasons only. No matter how die hard a fan you are or were, you cannot escape this fact, and neither could the writers.

Season one villain: A demon and her demonic minions

Season two villain: Psychic demon children and Papa Demon Yellow-Eyes

Season three villain: OG Demon Lilith, and Dean’s ticking demon-deal clock

Season four villain: OG Demon Lilith and preventing the rise of Satan

Season five villain: Satan and some douchebag Angels

Then you have Ten. More. Seasons. trying to do better than Satan and the douchebag angels to… varying levels of success and stupidity.

The problem: Supernatural tried to be linear with their power scaling, focusing on ramping up the threat level to nonsensical ends while undermining the threat level of all who came before.

The other problem: Sam, Dean, and Cas never stayed dead long enough for any of these threats to matter.

What I mean is this: In making the threat of the season so impossibly strong, by threatening the world over and over again no matter how many times they save it, by never committing to killing your three most important characters, by never letting the world go a little unsaved in the end, you’re left with a story that *says* it’s bigger, badder, bolder, but is really just a rinse and repeat that goes blander and blander each time.

Coming off Satan and the Douchebag Angels to… Cas and Crowley conspiring over the souls of Purgatory and the unseen war in Heaven because they didn’t have the budget for that, without any of the thematic weight of *why* it was angels and demons? Talk about a loss of momentum.

I rewatch a grand total of one episode of season six, “The French Mistake”. I have lost all context for the plot surrounding this episode and it’s virtually independent of the rest of the season because Sam and Dean get transported into the Real World as Jensen and Jared and poke fun at each other for 52 minutes. This episode is timeless.

The show wasn’t a complete disappointment for the remaining ten seasons or it wouldn’t have lasted that long. It had good beats, but they shot their load in Season Five. After five whole years of buildup to this main event it never recovered.

Alternatives to Linear Power Scaling

Anyone who has or even hasn’t seen Dragon Ball should know that series is famous for infinite power scaling. There’s always someone stronger, always some new secret powerup to unlock with the power of Screaming, always some new Super Sayan color that we promise is more powerful this time, for realsies.

That show is so dedicated to the bit that it’s gone full circle to being loved, not despite it, but because it’s so ridiculous.

You did not write Dragon Ball. Do not do this.

Instead of the infamous clashing multicolored power beams, what other ways can you up the ante of this new threat after your heroes have conquered all they thought stood in their way?

Give a damn good reason why this villain, who is no different than the last schmuck, is unbeatable by the macguffin this time.

As stated above, there’s no need to make the villain More Powerful* if your heroes have lost the world-saving abilities that helped them last time.

Exploit the hero’s other weaknesses

More Powerful* is never as exciting as you think it is. Often times, especially in superhero sequels, the villain isn’t necessarily stronger, but the niche power that they do have finds the chink in the hero’s armor that they didn’t have to worry about last time.

Make the hero’s niche skillset completely irrelevant

This time, the threat might not be something they can punch or shoot or smack with a hammer. This time, it’s their reputation at stake, or the villain is un-punchable because they’re simply unreachable, causing havoc the hero is helpless to stop.

Make the issue not the villain at all, but the hero or their team

Maybe the villain is just a schmuck that would be beatable on any other day, but team infighting means that they make utter asses of themselves and the villain doesn’t have to lift a finger to win because they’ve taken themselves out.

This can get very dramatic like in Captain America: Civil War or the Teen Titans epside "Divide and Conquer". Or, to comedic effect in the Spongebob Episode "Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy V" (the one with the International Justice League of Super Acquaintances).

Some would argue that the above options aren’t power scaling at all if it’s not linear, and that’s fair. You’re telling a story though—is your story going to be about the superpowers and how cool they are, or the people who wield them?

3. It’s not actually power scaling, it’s about stakes

Supernatural began to feel so stale because even though we were told the villain this time was bigger, badder, bolder, the stakes were always the same. OSP has talked about this, how threatening to end the world has a foregone conclusion of “never actually gonna happen” because what author is crazy enough to let the world get blown up and all their characters murdered?

Raising the stakes, too, is not linear. Last time it was the world, this time, it’s the life of the love interest, it’s someone’s sanity, it’s a ticking clock on a secret that’s about to go public.

That’s why the first five seasons of Supernatural were so engaging. Were Demons the problem every time? Yes. The Demons were causing the problem, but they were causing five different problems. It was finding and saving their missing dad, then it was uncovering the sinister plan of the psychic demon children, then it was trying to escape Dean’s deal, then it was trying to stop the rise of Satan, then it was trying to stop the apocalypse. It was not five seasons of demons trying to destroy the world.

The more personal the stakes, the more likely your audience will believe the hero could actually lose this time. That’s what will keep them engaged. Dean died at the end of season 3! They lost! There was no escaping that deal. Sure he came back in the pilot of season 4, but the entire 4th and 5th seasons are haunted by Dean’s PTSD and new pessimism about the world given what he’s seen and done in Hell.

4. Threatening the world without destroying a legacy

Covered in this post about timeskips and this post about sequels but it’s too important to not keep repeating.

So. The Star Wars sequels. Rain down your wrath like snow on a hot desert—these movies were a giant mess. The audience sat through six entire movies following the rise, fall, and redemption of one man who died to save his son and the galaxy.

Then, what, twenty years later, absolutely none of it mattered? New space Nazis are out for blood with the same equipment, same weapons, same soldiers, same reach, same motives. Within the theatrical release (because I am not paying money to buy content to do homework to understand a movie made for a layman audience) these movies undermined the legacy of the six that came before it.

It didn’t have to be a new galaxy-ending regime and the same rebels still rebelling for the same reasons—how the heck did they let another empire rise so fast?—it could have started small, inconsequential, and then the actions of the new cast then undermined everything Anakin worked for.

I feel like Mr. Incredible wondering why the world can’t just stay saved for ten minutes.

All of this is salvageable. End the world again if you want. There will always be bad actors out to do bad things, you can’t expect a utopia to last forever. But that bleak reality is for the real world, not fantasy. In fantasy, the sacrifice of beloved characters must matter. Otherwise, what’s the point of their story?

How do you do this?

Make the utopia the old characters died for last up until the new inciting incident, and make sure it’s the new characters’ fault, not just due to the passage of time

Make the villain threaten something other than their legacy

Make that legacy the banner behind which the new cast rallies, determined to make sure it wasn’t in vain

5. Or, burn the world down this time

Some of the best middle beats of a story feature a “did we just lose” moment a la Infinity War. The villain has won, fan favorites are dead, their home is in ashes, and now they’re not only starting from the bottom, they’re doing it with righteous vengeance.

Then the loss of the original character’s legacy *is* the tragedy, instead of a side effect. Then, in a way, they’re still part of the story, a ghost on the sidelines cheering on their successors, and we, the audience, are right beside them.

—

I have a shiny, fresh-off-the-press Insta @chloe_barnes_books now for this blog and my upcoming novel. Go check it out!

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fantasy #sci fi #heroes and villains #power scaling

[latenightdaydreams]

Had a dream

Recruits make a bet on who can scare Colonel König

first. Money for the winner. Stupid idea I know lol

Got me thinking about

Hiding under his desk when hes out of his office. Him coming back later and locking his door. Sitting down in his chair. Just as your about to grab his leg to scare him he undoes his belt and pants.

Recruit wants his cock in their mouth

This isn't stupid at all! Sounds like a porn set up haha

Let's Make a Bet (g/n)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: bets, voyeurism, oral, mention of sex, masturbation

1.2k word count

.

.

Colonel König is a stoic man, never showing any emotions. Never laughs at jokes, crying at sad moments, or even showing fear when face to face with death. The man is made of stone. That’s when you and another recruit got the stupid idea to try and scare him; whoever wins gets $200. Shaking hands, you both accepted the challenge.

Your fellow recruit first tried something small and simple, a tarantula in the break room. König simply looked at it, picked it up, and walked it outside, totally confused. Small pranks like these didn’t shake the man so you decided to turn it up a notch.

When you knew König would be out of his office running drills, you decided to sneak into his office. Your heart pounds as you enter. You’re small enough to fit comfortably so you crawl under the large wooden desk and wait.

A half hour passes before you hear the door open, König muttering about things in German as he locks the door behind him. He walks over to his desk chair and sits down, facing sideways. You wait until he turns to try and scare him. 

You hear the clicking sound of his mouse and occasionally the keyboard when finally, he turns to face you. You wait a little while trying to suppress your giggles from the excitement. König types quickly and then relaxes back in his chair.

Just as you’re about to grab his legs, his hand moves to his belt buckle and you watch as he unbuckles his belt. His hand unbuttoning his cargos before pulling his zipper down. You watch as he pulls out his flaccid dick, which looks like your boyfriends fully erect. The smell of his natural musk after a long day of sweating fills the space. Instantly you feel yourself getting turned as you watch in anticipation. 

From his computer, you hear soft sounds of moaning and you realize he is watching porn. His cock slowly getting erect, he grabs it and pulls the foreskin back, exposing his bright pink head. His hand begins to lazily stroke himself unaware that you’re under the desk watching. His cock is massive, porn star huge, and you’d love nothing more than to know what it feels like.

With one of your hands, you slowly begin to rub yourself through your pants, your own arousal growing by the second as you watch his hand begin to move faster. Small moans leaving König’s lips as you see precum begin to drip from his tip. His other hand came down to tug on his balls. 

You feel an overwhelming want to just suck his cock. Taste how his bitter cum would taste on the tip of your tongue. Trying to decide where to go from here, you just continue to watch as you please yourself. 

König’s hand slows as he moves the one from his balls back to his mouse and seems to be looking for a different video to watch. You take a deep breath, one you think König heard, so you gently rest your hands on his lap.

You won the bet; König jumps in his seat and screams like a small child as he kicks his desk back. He looks down and sees you.

“I’m sorry I know this looks so weird,” you begin to explain in almost a panicked ramble.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” König shouts, his mask hiding his red face full of embarrassment.

 “I- I,” you stumble over your words before deciding to just be bold, “I want to suck your cock.”

“What?” König’s defensive demeanor changes slightly as he hears your words. He couldn’t believe his ears. He always found you attractive, so to be put in this situation, he feels as if this is a dream. 

“Let me help you cum.” You look at his hand trying to cover himself.

He looks down at his cock losing its erection because of the fear, and then up at you with desire in your eyes.

“Are- are you serious?” He sounds slightly unsure.

“I am…”

König sits for a while before he nods his head and motions for you to move out from under the desk. You crawl forward and kneel before him. 

His piercing blue eyes gaze down at you as you inch closer to his cock, his hand slowly moving to the side so you can grasp it with your own. He lets out a soft shuddering breath as you do. You slowly stroke his cock as you look up at him, his eyes have softened.

You lower your head and pull his foreskin back before flicking your tongue on the tip of his cock. König’s breathing begins to pick up, his eyes shifting to the frozen porn and then back to you.

“Can you take your shirt off?” He asks feeling a little nervous asking for something extra.

You gladly lean back and pull your shirt off, König looks over your body and smirks under his mask. Your skin looks so soft and beautiful. As you lean back down and begin to lick his cock again. He reaches out and begins to caress your bare shoulders and down your arms, you feel as soft as you look.

Holding his cock up, you lick his balls. Gently taking one into your mouth at a time and sucking on them while on of your hands strokes his cock. Your tongue licking them all over, making them slobbery before moving your attention back to his cock.

You wrap your lips around his cock finally and he lets out a soft moan. You lower your head on his length, taking in a few inches, sucking as you bob your head. König looks down at you, eyebrows pinched beneath his mask.

“Just like that Schatz,” He leans his head back and closes his eye; letting the waves of pleasure take over.

One of his hands moves to the back of your head and gently pets your hair, resisting the urge to shove your head down farther on his cock. The room filled with the sound of your mouth desperately wanting to please him and his small moans.

Your hands grasp his thighs as you push your head down further, making yourself gag. His hand applies slight pressure to help you get his girthy cock into your tight throat. His hips bucking upwards slightly as spit begins to pool at the corners of your stretched lips. He looks down at you and stares in awe at you before his eyes travel down what he can see of your body.

He looks back at the frozen porn of a woman bent over and he looks back at you. Your eyes looking up at him noticing his want. Slowly releasing his cock from your mouth, a line of spit connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

König doesn’t speak, just nods. His eyes look as if they’re glossed over with a lustful daze. You stand up in front of him, his eyes traveling down your body. You begin to undress in front of him. His hand reaches out and caresses your hips before standing himself, his pants dropping to his ankles. He grabs your waist and turns you around, pushing you gently down onto his desk. Your face touching the cold wood as you feel excitement rush through your body. He steps behind you and squeezes your ass before lining himself up with you.

You won the $200 bet and get to experience your first BWC, it’s been a pretty good night.

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig x y/n #konig cod #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x reader smut #konig x you #konig x gn!reader #könig call of duty #könig x gn!reader #könig x gn reader #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig x reader smut

[genlossobsessed]

im so sorry this is going to be a whole lot of nothing but i need to. Tell

sneeg ate frank which is caused by a whole thing in itself right because slimecicle wasnt feeding him in the cage and he didnt even get through the cooking show where slimecicle tried to feed ranboo like twice so you can only assume he wouldve done the same for sneeg. and its more or less implied that sneeg had been in the cage with franks body for atleast a little while and he would still have to eat something. and slimecicles a cannibal so why would he even bring sneeg food in the cage when theres already food in there with him? and even if you were to ignore all that sneeg was still the only one that consistently ate throughout episode two. and its really implied that all the food in general is organs n such just under a filter because slimecicle was eating it and then in episode two in the candy room when vinny tries the candy he spits it out and says its disgusting but sneeg didnt have a problem with it he was eating the entire time they were in there. sneeg knew frank before he died and if you take the "everything about the characters is a metaphor for how media portrays things" idea seriously you can assume that they were in love with eachother which leads to really the main reason i think showfall would kill frank and not bring him back like they do with everyone else because evidently theyre homophobic. anyway you put sneeg in that cage with franks body and nothing to eat he will eventually have to eat frank to stay alive whether he even knew frank was dead or not. and cannibalism can be a metaphor for so much like sure i guess from a meta perspective you can take the cannibalism in the show as a metaphor for how audiences just take and take but in universe they really are eating people. and innocent cannibalism is traumatic and awful and would add the layer to the characters that everyone always talks about but i really do think the idea of sneeg eating franks body is so much more compelling than charlie unknowingly eating some guts that was served to him. cannibalism isnt an easy thing it takes hands and teeth and bravery and you really do have to be set on it to do it. and it wasnt like he could leave the body after eating or get rid of it or anything and no matter what kind of cannibalism it was he still was carrying around whatever was left of frank and talking to it like frank had never died at all and in the bad hat scene when the filter broke for sneeg he had to have seen that frank was dead and fucked up from getting eaten. and with the idea that they were in love you can even take the cannibalism as a metaphor for it because even after frank was permanently dead he wouldnt leave sneeg because sneeg ate him and its not like showfall could just undo that even with how powerful they are they could never undo that sneeg had bloodied himself and touched and tore and consumed and loved frank no matter how many times they reset him or how many times they kill him in gruesome ways. showfall could never fully take frank away if sneeg ate him

...jesus christ.

that's so interesting, dude-

#generation loss #gl!sneeg #gl!frank #showfall media

[honeyshiddendesire]

Pet Name Headcanon List

Monkey D Dragon x Female Reader - sweetheart

Warnings:  office quickie, vaginal penetration, married, reader interrupts Dragon for some much needed attention but he doesn’t complain, missionary, mentions of reader masturbating, slight hair pulling

@jovialfandomfreak sorry this took me a while whenever I thought of writing my ass would fall asleep lol Also it's my first time writing for him so let me know what you think :)

*banner*

Dragon heard a knock at the door and couldn't help but raise a brow at the soft voice that followed. “Dragon my love?” Your voice gently called to your husband, hearing him give a small hum. “Everything okay, sweetheart?” He asked back to your suddenly flustered form, your eyes shyly looking at him. 

“I-I was wondering if you wanted to take a break.” You told him and Dragon set down his papers with a light chuckle as he looked over at you fidgeting. “A break?” 

“Yeah… with me.” You smile at him hiding half of yourself behind the door in case he rejects. “Oh~ a break hmm.” Dragon faked being in thought as he slowly stood up and made his way around the desk to lean against it, his arms outstretched to have you go into them. Smiling as you closed his office door and quickly jumped in his arms making him catch you with a chuckle. 

Spinning you around until he could set you on his desk with a sigh, lips crashing into yours in a passionate kiss. Your arms wrapped around his muscular form till you were gripping at his long hair to pull a groan from the man. His hands ran along your body till he was undoing your belt as you were kicking off your shoes. 

“Missed you sweetheart.” Dragon whispered as he kissed along your jaw making you smile at his cute words. Dragon was a busy man and even during quickies he still made sure you knew how much you meant to him. “I missed you too baby.” You answer back as you help him wiggle you out of your jeans and thong. 

“I was touching myself earlier and I still need you so bad.” You moan out when his thick fingers rub over your soaked pussy, his groan raspy at the feel.

 “Touching yourself for me? Thought we talked about that sweetheart?” Dragon questioned as he tugged your head back to nip at your neck making you cry out in lust. “Ahh~ I-I know~ You~ nngh you were just so busy love.” Your explanation only makes him coo at you in understanding, grip on your hair softening. 

“I see. I'm sorry sweetheart let me make it up to you both.” Dragon chuckled as he continued to kiss and mark your neck to remind you just how much you meant to him. 

“Yes! Yes please.” You breathe out as you tug on his hair to bring him back to your lips. “Kiss me~” You whine making him smirk before listening either way. 

He makes quick work of his pants pulling his leaking cock out. One of your hands moving from his hair to grip the base of his cock, his palm going over your smaller one with a groan. Your legs spreading to make room for him to step closer, “Put it in please lemme feel you.” 

“Mmm~ I'm sorry I made you so needy sweetheart…can't say I don't love it though.”  His large hands grab under your thighs pulling you more to the edge causing you to lower down on your elbows. The tip of his cock grinding in-between your slick folds, both letting out a shared moan at the contact. Before you could beg him to hurry up again he was ramming his entire length inside of you at an agonizingly slow pace.  

Inch by amazing inch till your head tipped back with a breathy sigh, “Ugh~yes~!” You call out with a happy smile that only makes him lean down to laugh in your ear. “So so sorry for keeping you waiting sweetheart. How could you ever forgive me?” Dragon joked before pulling out to ram back in.

“Fuck! Just like that!” You moan as you fall all the way on your back in delight, “Keep doing that and I'll forgive you.”

“Oh is that right sweetheart. Then I shouldn't keep you waiting baby.” Dragon smirks as he stands tall to start fucking you harder. He couldn't get enough of the way your body rocked with each powerful thrust, his voice raspy with lust that mingled with your loud moans. 

“Yesyesyes! Fuck Dragon baby ~ ugh you feel so fuckin good!” You cry out clawing at the edge of the desk, mouth dropping open. Dragon only kissed his teeth taunting you as he smirked, “Wow you got a dirty mouth on you today sweetheart, must've been dying to have me inside this pussy of yours.” 

“Yes! Fuck yes! Needed you so bad!”  You moan out as you feel his cock thrust against that sweet spot that had you cry out like a whore.

“Looks like I'll need to take more breaks with you then huh sweetheart?”

#one piece #one piece smut #honeys works 🍯 #one piece headcanons #pet name headcannons #one piece x female reader #one piece smut headcannons #x female reader #send in a character pet name #monkey d dragon #monkey d dragon smut #monkey d dragon x Female Reader smut #monkey d dragon x Female Reader #one piece monkey d dragon #monkey d dragon one piece

[laniidae-passerine]

I made my post about Dean Highbottom and then as I was writing my tags realised that his Hunger Games counterpart is Haymitch. and now my head is in my hands and I don’t think I’ll ever recover

#IM GOING TO CRY. I am part of the system I never wanted anything to do with it #I killed so many people without laying a hand on them. I never ever asked for this. I tried to say no. my hands are still bloody. #both turned to drugs to cope. both had a mentee who reminded them of someone they hated so much #(snow reminded the dean of his old friend. katniss reminded haymitch of himself) #both knew exactly how the games worked and all of its consequences because one made it and the other lived it #both lived in the shadows of the past and never really got out from it #but in the end one of them chose to be cruel to the children who they were asked to mentor #and the other loved even when it was killing him #god. twenty three years and they never managed to drown the fire out of him. his heart broke again and again #but he held onto those shards even as they made his hands bleed. and then one day two children appeared and pieced it back together #and some of it was missing and always would be. you can’t undo twenty three years of alcoholism and pain and grief and self loathing #but a lot of it was still there. far more than he ever even believed could have survived #Haymitch I love youuuuuuuuu I will always love you #and Dean Highbottom you were kinda cringe and lame. guynobody ass bitch. do better #haymitch abernathy #dean highbottom #thg #the hunger games #a ballad of songbirds and snakes #abosas

[taikanyohou]

“At first, I thought I was a freak. Until now.” KinnPorsche (2022) : Episode 13.

#vegaspete #kinnporsche #asianlgbtqdramas #* #faiza gifs #something about the caption paired with THIS bit in the gifs of this scene ................................... #the admission that deep down inside they're both just as alike as each other ... that 'i'm no better' and 'that's ok'. #idk idk idk something so so very tendersome about the afterglow and how up until this point pete was at such bliss that vegas SAW him #that he doesnt want to be praised as being the good loyal bodyguard when vegas has seen ... all of this side of him. im going insane. #pete's need to be seen. vegas seeing it. vegas feeling like he's been seen. pete relishing in it. oh man. #its just all very raw ig idk. something something about how. they're both just locked up away from the world. no connect at all to it. #just to each other. and they find one another. it makes me feral. #and how do you go back from that then. how do you undo all of that then!!!!!!!

[sonknuxadow]

i think some people are setting their expectations wayyyy too high for what shadow will be written like now. "the mandates are COMPLETELY gone shadow is fixed now guys!!" no theyre not literally all they said is that the rules have changed a little. like dont get me wrong thats good news too but a lot of people are exaggerating and setting themselves up for disappointment in my opinion

#also i dont really like how people talk about The Mandates tm as if theyre this evil force looming over the comics #thats only affecting how shadow is written and literally nothing else so we need to lift all of them now to fix the sonic franchise #when in reality its a set of rules and restrictions that sega has for how people should handle their characters #which isnt inherently unreasonable. especially considering the reason they started getting more strict with this stuff #and why theyre monitoring idw sonic so closely #(hint its because of archie sonic. go read every single issue ken penders wrote #and come back and tell me if you still think its a good idea for sega to allow complete creative freedom with no rules at all) #likes YES some of the rules are stupid especially the ones about shadow but sega having rules for their characters isnt inherently bad #and undoing all of them isnt the perfect solution here. #again pre reboot archie sonic shows perfectly what can happen when people can do whatever they want with the characters #with no input from sega #also some of the rules arent even like. bad? #like the no romance rule is awesome. love that. and the rule that game characters cant be killed off makes perfect sense to me #idk

[corduroyroses]

shout out to all the people who thought Aziraphale wasn’t acting out of character before the Coffee Theory even existed

#like do I believe in the theory that the coffee was spiked and he was miracled? yes! #and I 100% believe some of what he did was a bit off and was most likely done out of Metatron’s influence #but I also believe that what he was saying was how he truly felt about some things #for a being that has existed since the beginning of time four years is very little time to be away from a toxic dynamic #that is simply not enough time to undo brainwashing and accept himself AND Crowley to the fullest #religious programming (and anyone who has lived through this knows this) does not disappear overnight #and it is SO easy to get sucked back into that mentality when you are trying to get out of it #people going back to toxic situations happens all the time and it usually takes multiple attempts before a person leaves for good #so Aziraphale going back makes sense to me even without Metatron’s meddling #I adore him so much but his struggles about Heaven are very much still there and four years is not enough time to remedy that #good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #aziraphale

[piplupod]

hate that you can have possibly the most horrific realisation of your life and your body completely freaks out and starts fighting itself and you are just expected to keep going with your day like normal. i feel like maybe i should get a month away from any and all responsibilities at the very least to recover and adjust to having this knowledge

#my god!!! my god!!! the horrors do not end!!! #in fact old horrors will come back to haunt you again!!! #i wish i had not gone digging and prodding but oops i am so stupid and also i cannot stop my brain from putting pieces together!! #i have a counseling appt tomorrow but i honestly dont think i can bring this up. how do u bring up such a thing! esp when u have no proof! #i do not think the pieces would all fit together so perfectly and the body and brain would not react so violently if it were not true thoug #i do not want it to be true dear fucking god can this not be true please. can i be mistaken maybe. can it be just a series of coincidences. #i do not know how to cope with this if it is true. and the most awful thing is i'll likely never know for sure #i do not have memory of any of those times. i will never know unless another part comes forward w memories #and maybe its better to not know? but i feel sick. i feel so very sick!! i cannot deal w this!! #Chase took over for half the day and he's sooo pissed at me for digging but i sincerely could not stop putting things together #everyone in the brain is so mad at me i think fsdjkl i feel so awful and sick and the body is so fucked up now #i want to bring it up w counselor but i'd have to bring up a lot of other things and she's about to go on pregnancy/maternity leave #i dont want to be... burdensome. and idk who will be replacing her #idk !!! i wish i could just undo all of that thinking this morning!! i fucked up!! i shouldnt have thought about it!! #i regret it but i also cannot stop wanting to know the truth!! and i hate this!! i dont want this to be real!! please i hope its not!! #pippen needs 2nd breakfast

[pepprs]

STILL wide awake! i did not put down my phone! and now im hungry. so i will not be sleeping tonight ♥️

#purrs #also… im gonna admit it. ive been up for hours cleaning out… my toyhouse accounts. not cleaning them out but cleaning them up. and im so #FUCKING mad at my 18 year old self for giving away characters that meant so much to me to 12 year olds on warriors amino who never finished #their half of the art trade… and now so many of them are like. completely out of my reach and i can never get them back. im trying to ask #for the characters ive been able to find and track them down. which for ppl who actually love and care for them im sure is predatory and #annoying bc it’s like ok you made that choice so live with it. but im so fucking mad at myself and i wish i could undo it. i know it doesn’t #matter bc i don’t do that kind of deviantart stuff anymore but like.. i gave away characters who were so special to me growing up and now so #many of them are like.. on locked / unauthorized toyhouses or deleted or the person already owns them and is never trading them and #imjust so SAD!!!!!! over pixels i know. PULLING AN ALL NIGHTER over pixels. but im so saddddd aughhhhh #delete later #(i also did clean out photos and do practice drivers tests btw. but ive mostly been doing toyhouse stuff) #also im so sad and angry charahub went down and i didn’t even know it and i can’t access my data at allll like so much precious info #on there is gone forever. pain and suffering. also it’s worth naming im not in this to like have the best most expensive whatever designs im #doing this bc i desperately want to salvage every piece of my childhood / adolescence and never let go of anything in my life ever and when #i was 18 i thought i could run away from deeply permanently hurting and betraying a friend by selling all of my characters starting w the #ones they made me and then branching off into baiscally all of them to not make it look like it was just abt them bc i couldn’t bear to be #reminded of what i had done. and now i live with the consequences. in more ways than just the characters obviously. so there’s that #(i had my reasons for doing what i had to do btw. but i will never stop feeling guilty about it or regretting how it must have felt for them #bc we were like best friends and then i turned cold and awful because i didn’t know how to communicate my needs so instead i just shut them #out and didn’t even have the decency to explain why. and it fucking sucked that i did that. lol) #* ​and still sucks. and i think abt it all the time and try not to talk about it for a lot of reasons but here i am so. lol