#it's a straight up manhunt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strangersteddierthings · 5 months

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Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

#steddie #my fic #wayne pov #wayne munson #eddie munson #honestly this didnt go the way i thought it would #so there will be a third and final part. Wayne's gonna make it right because he's a good uncle. A good dad.#SPOILER: steve doesnt even show up in this part so im not tagging him

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bvnnywrites · 7 months

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Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 2: Überprüfen

PAIRING: Eldritch!König x Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the very long wait. My body gave out on stress and I passed out the side of the road this Monday on my way home. Also, I was manic and I had an episode yesterday so yayeet. Also, I read all your comments in the last chapter and asvbhbvdvdhdhfhv I LOVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. THANK YOU SO MUCH RAHHHHHH. Anyways, enjoy the chapter! UwU

WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARK, SMUT, NSFW, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Fingering, Stomach Bulge, Age Gap, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Implied Discharge, Power Imbalance, Abuse of Authority, No Beta Reader, Dom! König, Size Kink, Size Difference, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Older!König, Eldritch!König, Monster!König, Masturbation, Dark Romance, Blood and Gore, Violence, Monsterfucking

THE ONLY INTERESTING THING TO DO AT KORTAC, if he wasn’t out and about in the field, was apparently dwelling in the thought of committing fraternization – and König chided himself that he was better than this.

But there’s nothing to worry about. Of course, he isn’t losing sleep overthinking the eager look on your face to get in his good graces—his approval and validation. No. he isn’t staying up late, seeing your adorable pouty lips and sweet-looking eyes glancing up at him because you’re too small whether you stood or sat. Especially, the softness of your flesh when he held your chin to make you look at him, or the warmth of your body when he soothed you from seeing those disgusting pictures.

König definitely does not want to know every detail of your life—what your flesh taste like pressed against his tongue, what it feels like as the tentacles on his face roam your body and leaving slick in its trail, what you like or hate, what blood type you have, how soft your hair is when he’s gripping it in his fingers while he’s shoving his cock deep in your little cunt, what your favorite position in bed is, what it feels like to have your pussy milking him desperately as he breeds you again and again until you’re pregnant with his children.

No.

Who the hell was he kidding?

He’s is a fucking pervert—the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

What he’s doing is fucking disgusting and he can’t believe that he’s thinking this way about you. God, König knows he’s a thousand shades of fucked up, but he did not expect to be like this. The colonel never expected he’d go this fucking low. He doesn’t want to be like he’s father—a disgusting fucker who was selfish and sick in the head—but he can’t help but fall straight down the rabbit hole and into the maws of the abyss of his own wicked desires.

König is a fucking disgusting creep because you’re so sweet, calm and understanding when he threw the first few layers of ugliness from his soul, dumping it on your lap, and you so graciously comforted him. He is disgusting because you’re literally twenty-three years younger than him, old enough to be his daughter, and yet your eagerness to obtain his approval has him losing his shit. You have him losing his morals. The softness of your skin has him wanting more, his teeth clenched with poorly contained desire, and yet he demands more – to be closer, to reach into the depths of your soul and twist it until you’re as fucked up as he is—craving him the way he craves you. You have him understanding why his father did what he did because now he thinks that maybe the sick fuck couldn’t control himself in the presence of his ‘Aphrodite’.

And you… you were König’s ‘Aphrodite’—the embodiment of his desires, both good and bad.

He is a fucking pervert because you were eager to help him in this manhunt for the so-called beast. Eager and desperate to advance in the ranks of the military – that’s all you were probably hoping, but instead of following the logical side, König had let himself be swayed by the waves of his depravity.

König was always proud of his self-control – his more human nature that he had inherited from his beloved mother. He never thought the day would come where these sickening thoughts would run in his mind. He was a monster, yes, but nature does have a way of being more predominant than nurture. At least, in this case. It didn’t even matter that his mother – who despised and loved him at the same time – had engrained the Lord’s teachings into his head or the holy scriptures that she would beat into his flesh.

All those teachings went to waste because at the end of the day, he was his father’s son.

He could see the disappointing and disgusted look on his mother’s face right now.

But all that washes away when his mind comforts him with the thoughts of you. The way your pretty eyes look up at him through long lashes, the way your voice addresses him has desire pumping in König’s veins. Because somehow, when it comes to you, he feels calm as he feels the need to lash out. He feels the need to bite and claw at you, marking you as his own little wife to love and to fuck. He wants to rip off his mask in front of you and make you braid his hair and weave flowers into it because you called him ‘beautiful’, wants to let one of his tentacles slither around your neck while he bites you and marks you as his. His little and eager to please mate—his beloved wife-to-be.

He can still see your pouty face, as if you’re there right in front of him. Your pretty wide eyes looking up at him—looking at him as if he wasn’t a disgusting monster—like an actual breathing person. Your scent lingers in his nose for the past two days. You smelled delicious – divine, if he’s honest. You reeked of the shower gel that you use, and that suffocating perfume—or is it a cologne?—that you’re using to make yourself fresh. Several thoughts ran in his head, wanting nothing more than to smother you in his scent. Rubbing his smell all over you, until every single being—doesn’t matter if mortal or not—would know that you’re his.

The thought itself had his cock twitching more than it did before. It’s throbbing hard, leaking precum all over his hand as he pumps it with his fist while the other grips the sheets. Judging from your smaller form against his, you’d definitely be fucking tight, which was why he was gripping it mercilessly. The pictures of pin-up girls had long been discarded. He doesn’t need those when he has your pretty face, adorable ass, and alluring scent engraved in his mind. He’s a fucking perverted old dog… and it was all because of you.

König wants to have you on his knees before him. Relieving him of his stress by wrapping your adorable lips around the head of his dick, soft tongue lapping at the precum he’s making as if you’re a goddess and the gushing liquid was ambrosia—the very thing you needed to live.

He wants to take care of you, cradle you in his arms and pepper your face with kisses and show you how much he can just provide for you—KorTac isn’t cheap in their payments, and he is one of their best mercenaries they have, not counting the huge mess he has made that his superiors are ordering him to clean up. He was too valuable for them to lose, so they’re just asking him to wipe away the evidence and pin the blame on some poor soldier who was there at the wrong place at the right time.

König wants nothing more than to hold you close. He can’t even think about letting you fall in the grasp of another man—whether they be as old as him or young as your age, whichever you prefer—because you are fragile as you are gullible. He can tell by the way your eyes glimmer at him or the kindness that blossoms on your face whenever you cater to the soldiers under your command, acting as if you’re a mother to them. He wants you to be his. His little, beloved wife. Waiting for him in the house he’d buy for you in Hallstatt or maybe he’d catch you walking along the shoreline of the lake while you’re telling stories of yours and his love story to his unborn child that grows in your womb.

By God König wanted you more than anything.

He’s thinking of putting you on your knees, preferably on his bed so it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable in the long run, so you can be comfortable while he shoves his cock down your throat. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, little whines and moans vibrating from you and on to his length and muffled from how strong his thrusts are inside your tight, wet, and warm mouth.

Your face would be messy, mascara running down your cheeks, if you had any, and lip gloss smeared and staining his cock. And König would try to be gentle, so he wouldn’t end up breaking you, but it’d be impossible when you’re so eager to please him. You’d have trouble barking out orders and speaking normally, because he knows he’d wreck your throat by the time he’s done with you.

König is fantasizing about it—having you in such a state, making use of your delicate mouth and moving tongue.

But guilt flashes across his mind. No. No, he couldn’t do that to you. You’re a fragile little thing—not to mention a human. You’re like an adorable little mouse beneath him. Breaking you would break him too—hurting you would hurt him too.

He is a worthless monster, a disgusting being that should be shot dead for just thinking of you—his klein hase—like this. That woman who read his future was right. He was depraved. He’d ruin you…

But God have mercy on him because he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to back the fuck away from you.

Your name falling from his lips like a prayer, chanting your name as if you’d be able to save him from eternal damnation – and maybe you could, in your own human way. A primal and dark urge to have you in his full mercy, waiting for him to claim you. He… He just wants to be accepted by people, to be welcomed by his peers, but none of it matters now because he just wants to be accepted by you. He’s panting and groaning, pumping his dick several times, chasing that climax. He is shamelessly hard, cock angry as it's about to burst.

König feels dirty for this. He felt like a teenage boy who’s jerking off to his crush. And despite that, he’s imagining you sucking on his cock or having your forehead pressed against his, whispering how much you love him and how you can’t wait to be filled with his cock. He imagines your cum-drunk expression, eyes glazed as your head is muddled and filled with nothing but pleasure, and that makes him cum; thick ropes of white shooting out from the tip, while his cock pulsates as he pumps it continuously before gradually slowing to a halt.

He keeps cumming, more than he usually does. The white, thick liquid staining his abdomen, pants, and sheets. He moans, biting his lips in a poor attempt to conceal his pathetic whimpers. His release covering his hand—sticky and disgustingly warm. Bless KorTac for allowing him and other high-ranking superiors to have their own room, because he knows goddamn well that he won’t be able to commit such sinful acts in communal barracks.

Post-nut clarity hits him hard, almost the same way his mother would, and he’s shameful for what he had just done. The two of you barely know each other, only getting information about you out of your files, and yet he was infatuated with you the moment you arrived on KorTac that sunny day. And yet he fell in love completely in just a matter of two days after talking with you.

He wants to resent you for what you made him do. He wants to worship you and mark your body with his marks. He wants to be left alone—preferably in your arms while you stroke his hair and look at him lovingly because no one ever looked at him the same way you do.

“Mein Gott, Shatz. What are you doing to me, liebling?”

König pants, letting his head fall back into the pillow as he sighed. His muscles relaxed, so much that he feels like he’s going to be one with the mattress. He lays there for a bit in his own bodily fluids before he got up to clean himself and get changed, replacing the sheets with cleaner ones.

“Colonel, are you there?”

Your soft voice came to his ears, making him stop in his tracks. Was he delusional to the point that he’s imagining your voice? He’s losing it. He’s definitely losing it because no way in hell did you sought him out at—he glances at his clock and sees that it’s 24:58 on a Wednesday—this late in the night. König ignores the voice, opting to throw himself back into the bed, cuddling his pillows and imagining that it’s you.

“Colonel?” Your voice echoes, followed by a soft knock. “Sir? This is very important, I’m sorry.”

Oh. Oh. No, he’s not actually hearing things. You’re actually outside his door. König wore his mask, covering his ugliness because he didn’t want to scare a pretty little thing like you. It would be too soon for you to see his face. It’d be like putting a frog straight in boiling water instead of heating it up little by little.

He rushed to fix the cloth over his head, zipping and buttoning his pants. König almost tore the bolts of his door just to immediately see you, and when he swung the door open—almost ripping it off the hinges—he saw you standing there with several dossiers in your arms. Your pretty doe-like eyes, the ones he fantasized about as he came literally just seconds ago, looks up at him with a sheepish gaze. You smile apologetically up at him, neck craning to properly look at him. He sees the way your eyes glanced at his shirtless torso before flickering up to look at him.

Were you attracted to him the same way he is to you?

Did your cunt also drip at the thought of him, the same way his cock throbs at the mere thought of you? Did you also touch yourself when you were alone the past two days after you two spoke to one another? Did you also call out his name? Whimpering and panting as you flicked your clit and plunged your tiny fingers in your weeping pussy–

“Sorry to disturb you so late at night, I was ordered to give you these documents. Horangi said that I deliver these to you because it needs your immediate approval, sir.”

You say to him, spouting out your reasons and he can see that you’re doing so in hopes of not angering him because you think you’ve disturbed his sleep. How adorable. König keeps a note to himself to tell Horangi not to let you out this late at night; he doesn’t want you being suspected as the killer. Your cheeks are slightly red, and König finds red pretty on your face. So much so that he wants to just grab your squishy cheeks and pepper it with kisses. Maybe nibble on it affectionately.

“It’s alright. No worries. Come in, Schatz.”

He moves aside, letting you in. And, oh boy, you eagerly entered his chambers as you rushed to the desk in his room. You bend over to place the heavy papers on his table, and he has half a mind to bend you over the desk, tear off your clothes, and fuck you stupid until all you can do is mewl and whine on his cock. The fact that he was imagining you on your knees, choking on his cock or pumping it with your hands while you whispered sweet nothing to him five minutes ago didn’t help the colonel either.

“I’m really sorry. I know you’re probably sleeping–”

“I said it is fine, liebling. No need to lose your head over nothing, ja?”

He finds it endearing that he calms you, that his words weigh that much for you. Usually, he’s used to barking orders, establishing things with force. And yet, when he speaks to you softly, reassuring you, that it’s alright if you waltz into his room—into his heart, even—and take whatever you wanted is a nice change of pace. He’d give more to you on your way out, because he loves you. He wants to marry you. He wants to take you back with him to Austria. You’re beautiful in gear, but König knows you’d be more beautiful in maternity dresses.

But he is sane about you. Completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing wrong with his state of mind regarding you. Everyone loves strongly, ja?

“It’s late at night, and I don’t want you to end up as a corpse in the halls, liebling. Let me escort you to your quarters, ja?” He says softly, walking up to you as he effortlessly moves the paperwork that were practically heavy for you. “It would ease me to sleep, knowing you’re safe and sound in your bed.” König pats your head.

“I… um… are you sure, sir?” You look at him, confused as you tilt your head in confusion. “You must be tired for the day, and I’ve already taken up much of your time.”

He ignored your words of worry as he grabbed his hoodie and wore it, finally giving you an ounce of mercy because as much as he loves the way your eyes are drawn to his torso, he also doesn’t want to give you cardiac arrest just because he was being too much for you.

Now that you’re here in his room, alone with the colonel, your heart hums nervously. You pray that no soldier would see you walk out of his room at this hour. Because you don’t want to burden him with silly rumors when he’s drowning in paperwork, focusing on an investigation, and you don't want to add up to his plate.

“I want to protect you from harm, Schatz. With me around, I doubt the beast would hurt you.”

Lies. No, wait. It’s not all lies, so basically just half-truths. With König around, the thing that lurks in the halls of KorTac would never hurt you, if anything it would worship the ground you walk on. Ask him to give you a town for your dowry, and he would enslave every continent on Earth and lay it by your feet—because the thing in the dark is him, and he loves you, and he wants to give you the world.

“Okay. I mean… if that’s okay with you, sir.”

“König.”

“What?”

“Please, mein liebe. I would appreciate it if we drop the formalities. We are comrades, ja?”

“Alright… as I was saying, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you, König.”

“You’re not a burden. Not to me… not if it’s you, mein liebling.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion with the way he addressed you. It sounds like German, and the way he pronounces it makes you feel important. You don’t know German, and you kick yourself mentally because you wish you knew what he was calling you. For all you know, he’s calling you stupid affectionately. Because it took you weeks before you realize Izzy was calling you ‘stupid’ in the most affectionate way possible, so who’s to say the colonel is any different?

Before you can ask him what the words mean, he walks past you, opening the door for you. You walk out his room, thankful that no one’s there to see the two of you together.

You two walk down the halls, side by side. And poor little you.t you’re practically walking alongside the devil. The halls are empty, devoid of any soul. The trip to your room was quiet, no one is around, obviously. Soldiers were already asleep, and those who didn’t need to follow the curfew were chilling in their room or buried in neck-deep paperwork in their offices.

König wished he wasn’t the monster right now. He wished it was someone else, because he wants an opportunity for him to be a hero. To be a protector. To put up all of his pent-up aggression on someone else while you praise him for his strength and bravery. Maybe shower him with loving kisses, even. He wants something to try and kill him, just so he can show you that he can protect you from anything and anyone who would want to kill you, but then you stop in front of your room, making you turn and smile at him.

He loved your smile, the way your skin stretched and your adorable features twist just to give him a kind gesture

“Well. This is my stop.” You offer him a warm smile, unaware that it’s a currency that König could never afford yet you willingly give it to him for free. “Thank you… for looking out for me, König.”

“You’re a valuable soldier. It would be a shame if the thing lurking the base comes and kills you, Shatz—I want you safe.” He smiles at you beneath the mask, and the way his eyes crinkle is adorable and you know he’s smiling when they do that. “For as long as I’m able to, I’ll protect you, okay?”

His fingers gently held your chin, afraid that he’d break you at the slightest pressure. Your heart thumps in your chest. How could Roze or Izzy ever tell you to avoid him? He was practically a sweetheart. The colonel wanted you safe more than anything, isn’t that enough to warrant an inch of friendship from you?

Your eyes met his, those eyes that remind you of a storm at sea, are filled with nothing but warmth. It makes your breath hitch with how… oddly intimate it feels. You’re sure that if you weren’t a soldier, if the two of you met outside the forces, as civilians, without the medals and badges, you’re sure that he would’ve kissed you right then and there. It felt like your heart was about to explode – it’s too overwhelming.

So, you forced yourself to look away, stepping back and away from his grasps—from his touch. The absence of his touch makes your head clear without realizing it felt hazy in the first place. Such a strange effect that the colonel has on you.

König is displeased that you’ve put more distance between you two, but he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t want to make you worry, despite the adorable look on your face whenever you do look troubled. So, König opts to pat you on the head briefly.

“Sleep tight, Schatz. Don’t forget to lock your door, ja?”

“Alright, co–König. Good night.”

As you shut your doors, the monster outside stood there for a few more minutes before it walked away.

“Did something good happen today, colonel?”

“None of your concern, major.”

Horangi was as sharp as ever, deep voice rumbling in his chest which intimidated most people around him. He was also the only one in the ranks to be able to speak casually with his superior – even though all of KorTac members usually avoid the giant soldier since they don’t really want to risk being discharged because they can’t function properly anymore. Horangi was the closest thing König has to a friend – which is kind of sad since a former gambling addict was the only one who can tolerate his shit and can understand him, even with his hood permanently on.

But Horangi was right.

Something good did happened.

You happened.

“That new lieutenant.” König starts. “If you’re sending her out to deliver files, tell me so I can escort the klein hase to her destination,” the colonel orders him, “I do not wish for her to be hurt.”

He spent the night awake, drinking and shredding it in the gym, trying so hard to put your adorable face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, he hasn’t seen you running around base for the day because he’s too busy cooped up in his office and signing off the papers that you’ve given him hours ago, but the way your facial features would get distorted into something more adorable every single time he closed his eyes was highly concerning.

And he calms himself down in those wee hours the same way he did moments before you knocked on his door—jerking himself off until he felt nothing but self-hatred and the yearning of having your soft body pressed up against his.

“She’s a lieutenant, König.” Horangi snort. “You know I don’t recruit the weak.”

“She’s a woman,” König responds, “I’m not saying she’s weak, but most soldiers in base are men… I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.”

“She can handle herself.”

“And what of the monster on the loose?”

“Why? Do you plan on eating her next?”

“… Perhaps.”

König thinks for a moment. It should be easier if he would have an official legal reason to keep you by his side. Have your desk literally in his office so he can always keep his eyes on you, make sure no one lays a finger on you. König chucks his delirious thoughts to the lack of sleep, his fingers held down the paper while he wrote with his pen, but he wished he was holding you down and fucking into your wet cunt instead. He had those things before – overthinking about the tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but understood that he can’t be with them—it could be his childhood crushes that he could never had thanks to his hideous appearance… and anxiety. It could be fantasizing about a pretty woman that caught his attention one day—imagining a life with them, multiple kids, and maybe a dog or two. König is aware that he has a problem , but not like… this; never dangerous.

The problem was that he knows he can have you.

Perhaps not in a traditional way. No. He can’t court you, that’s against the rules, and König wished nothing more that you were a civilian instead of a soldier. Because of your badge, he couldn’t be with you. He has half a mind to snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate because he knows you would never marry a monster like him, so abducting you was… reasonable. He can shower you with gifts in your captivity, decorating you with all the gold and jewel in the world while he’s fucking his child into you. He can have his men kidnap you, and yes, it is inhumane but you would be happy with him as his wife than a woman playing as a lieutenant. He would soothe your worries, fuck you every single hour with no rest until his cock rearranges your insides and impregnate you until he can convince you that he was the perfect mate for you, and then boom – happily ever after.

He knows that he can have you.

And it drives him crazy because he has never felt a strong urge to want something so bad in his life. At this point, it’s not even a want. It’s a need. It’s hilarious how the two of you barely knew each other, but König was head over heels for you. He wants you by his side, whether you’re willing or not.

“Have you eaten?” Horangi asked.

“Not yet.” König answered.

That’s how he found himself sitting down at the mess hall, eating this food that was barely stimulating his senses. Horangi didn’t join him, said he had to attend a meeting with his soldiers since a complaint was given to him. It was good, actually. There was rice, three hamburger steak, gravy and mashed potatoes. They gave him a bigger serving simply because he was a giant man, it only made sense to give him enough sustenance to function. The food was delicious, but König didn’t really pay attention much to it.

Now that he has had a taste of you—you giving him kind words and smiling at him—König couldn’t get enough. You were like a drug. He want to pin you down, ravage you in bed, feel your walls clamp and spasm around his cock over and over again while you’re reduced to nothing but mewls with a cum-drunk expression the same way a drug addict heats heroin over a spoon before injecting it into their systems.

He needs you under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed with sweat and marked with his lips and teeth.

He needs you under him, creaming on his cock while he stretches out your cunt deliciously – taking him to the hilt like a good girl, cock forming a bulge on your abdomen. Juices dripping on to the sheets while he suckles on your nipple, his other hand groping your other tit.

He needs you under him–

“Colonel?”

König’s eyes snapped up and locked on to yours, and the concern scribbled on to them has his heart swooning over you once more. Your brows are turned upward with worry and you standing in front of the table he was sitting at, calling out to him has him wanting to put you on his lap and nuzzle against the crook of your neck. He smiles underneath the mask, seeing you again, blessing his eyes with your beauty.

“Ah, liebling. What brings you my way?”

“Roze is on a mission and Izzy is currently in a meeting, and every seat is taken. So, I was wondering if I can sit with you.”

“Of course, mein liebe. Your company is always welcome.”

You can sit on his lap.

You can sit on his face, ride him while he eats you out. Tongue lapping at your sweet juices as you cum on his face. God, he wants to spoil you. Cover you with kisses and embrace you because he loves you.

To König, you’re adorable when you eat. Your cheeks puffing a little like a chipmunk as you chew your food, before gulping some of your water. There’s a bit of mashed potato smeared by the side of your lips, and you don’t seem to notice. Before he can stop himself, his fingers had made contact with your skin, wiping away the stain. He sees you visibly froze, eyes widening so adorably.

“You had mashed potato on your face.” König chuckled, wiping the food off of his gloves with a tissue.

“O-oh…” You stutter, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. I was hungry… I missed breakfast.”

Your cheeks turned red, flustered at his gentle gesture, and König eats that shit up. His mind keeping the moment in his head. His desires spilling over it like ink; tainting a shared innocent memory between you two. He stares at you for a solid minute, engraining your features into his memory—as if he hasn’t memorized your face at this point—and smiles softly beneath the mask. There are scars all over his body, including his face, and the tentacles on his face struggles not to reach out to you and feel your skin against it.

He wants you to know that he would do anything for you. How he’s willing to lay down his life for you. How he’s willing to protect you from anything because you’re all he ever wanted in his whole life. You would appreciate a man with scars, right? After all, it’s a sign of bravery.

König took part in many battles, too many to count with his tentacles and fingers and toes combined; spent his youth training to be the best killer possible. He took part in many conflicts and killed hundreds, maybe thousands even, while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – maybe, except for talking to people sometimes. It’s not like he’s terrified of them, but rather afraid of making a fool of himself. König always hated talking to people, but being colonel meant he had to communicate to soldiers under his command and his superiors.

He isn’t afraid of anything. But… he is afraid of you finally seeing underneath the mask and thinking that you, in fact, find him revolting to look at.

The colonel takes one look good at you, and figures that maybe it’s worth the internal turmoil if it meant that he would have you by his side. He would agree to get as many ranks as possible if that meant he could provide for you and have you quit your job as a soldier. If that would allow him to come home to every day and night instead of sleeping alone in his room.

“I suppose you enjoy your breakfast, liebling?” König chuckled, and your face just goes even more red.

“It’s delicious,” You answered, smiling sheepishly.

He loves it when you smile. Obsessed with it—the way your eyes twinkle with delight whenever you cast your gaze at him without a hint of disgust.

“Would you like to get coffee someday?” König offered. “I know a café that has really good coffee or if you prefer non-caffeinated drinks, they also have milkshakes and their desserts are pretty good.”

And you with those pretty doe-eyes of yours say, “Sure! Set the time and date, colonel.”

Other soldiers are looking. They’re glancing at you and him, but you don’t seem to notice the stares or the fact that it had gone slightly quiet. He is a creep, weirdo and all the words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones these past few days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are smiling at him with such unbridled admiration was driving him mad.

“How about this Thursday, ja?” König inquired, wanting to hear your opinion on the matter.

You think for a moment, brows furrowed and König finds it really endearing. Izzy said she’d take you to a café but she wasn’t really sure yet since she says it might be the day Horangi and her go on missions. Roze wouldn’t be back until Sunday, and you’re left alone with nothing on base.

Well… there is König.

“Sure! I’m free this Thursday.” You say to the colonel, brimming with excitement at your newfound friendship.

The monster is pleased. It seems you’ve checked out all the boxes he’s looking for in a mate.

Tags: @itsbellaham,leslie-lemon,tapioca-marzipan,starcrossed02,manjiroxs,mr-sol,euuuuuuun,sleepyoriana,urmom-77,marriedtoeddie,sylviatherosairy,breannab2018,asmicity-writes,slutforelliewilliamss,3-kai-3,notsamaira,kenz-ee

P.S. Idk how to tag or if I did it right^^

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alyakthedorklord · 10 months

Note

Omg literally it would be SO cool if you wrote the rest of the playboy bruce trying to kiss the justice league without them realizing it (I know you said figure it out but the way you wrote it was so good and funn I would love it if you gave maybe a couple of scenarios)

Lmao honestly executive dysfunction is kicking my ASS rn and it was intended as a prompt. I will try tho, definitely taking inspiration from the others who responded to the post because I love them.

If you haven’t, go check out the notes on the OG Post above! @britcision, @ivywing, and @help-i-need-a-cool-username all had amazing additions and @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego wrote a fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48325771

As did @scrapcheck, still in progress

And Devilhorn!

Anyways LONG post under the cut

Hal Jordan

Hal is first to prove a POINT, as @britcision decided. Also because the bastard made it waaaay too easy. Remember- Hal was Joking. He genuinely thinks Batman isn’t going to try, because he’s way too straight-laced boring.

So when he’s at a bar in Coast City, and he sees this absolutely ravishing man lounging casually against the wall, bar lighting making him practically glow (he CALCULATED that) subtle makeup making his bright blue eyes pop as he looks Hal up and down… Well. Hal makes the first move.

Hal: “All on your own, handsome?”

Bruce, with “Mastermind” by Taylor Swift playing in his head, smiling sweetly at Hal: “Care to change that?”

They start talking. Hal doesn’t recognize Bruce Wayne at ALL (canonically he does not know who Bruce Wayne is, a point brought up by @help-i-need-a-cool-username) so all he knows is Bruce is a single father who works at a company he inherited from his parents, which is just (brucie voice) “so much less interesting than a test pilot!”

Bruce, grimacing internally but wrapped around Hal’s arm with the awed and interested eyes in full effect: “you have such a nice voice, tell me more about planes…”

He KNOWS what a fuselage is, thank you, Jordan. Whatever. He gets to gush about his kids, when its his turn to talk, good enough tradeoff. He can survive Hal Jordan’s bad pick up lines and pretend he’s into them. At a certain point Bruce breaks and kisses him just to shut him up. One down.

Diana Prince

I looked it up- kissing in Ancient Greece wasn’t always considered romantic, but also a greeting between two similarly-ranked people. Therefore, I think Diana would be pretty chill with kissing and honestly an easy target at a gala if Bruce plays respectful/clumsy/earnest himbo starstruck with the tall pretty woman, just a peck would make him the happiest man alive. But I wanna go a little more in depth.

Now, I’ve seen Flash and Martian Manhunter save Bruce and/or his kids and Bruce lays one on them, but honestly I think it would work well with Diana too, because she loves kids. Dick and/or Jason (whichever you want to imagine, I want them to team up screw canon) are WAY to excited for this, they’ve got a little script and everything.

WonderWoman, a kid in each arm, delivering them back to their tearful guardian: “Here we are, Mr. Wayne. Whole and healthy.”

Dick, playing into his role eagerly: “Oh my gosh, Bruce! Bruce we got saved by a princess! It’s like a fairytale! Except, you know, the princess is the hero this time, which is so freaking cool!”

Bruce, tears of gratitude rolling down his face (and he knows how to still look perfect while crying, its a skill): “I’m just glad the two of you are safe, Chum.”

Jason, big baby blues in full effect, absolutely asked Wonder Woman to be his mom earlier (to set groundwork, no other reason): “You know, usually the princess and the hero gets a kiss at the end of a fairytale, Bruce. But this princess is both. So how will she get a reward?”

Still choked up with relieved tears and now laughter, Bruce looks up at Diana and smiles: “Well, if the Princess wants a reward… then I would be a fool to refuse.”

Bruce kisses her on the lips, Dick and Jason both kiss her cheeks, Diana leaves charmed and amused by the sweet family. Such a good father, humoring his children and thier little fascination with her, so very respectful…

Two down.

J’ohn Jones

Okay, martians are telepathic. So this goes one of two ways, at some sort of charity or something-

Option 1, Batman is a realist: the charity event is a masquerade, and he wanders over to where MM is while thinking “it would be so funny, give me this.” As loudly as he can. And Martian Manhunter, who appreciates the audacity, gives him a kiss. (I don’t like this one because it technically breaks the rules of the bet, bc MM knows it’s Batman, but eh)

Option 2, Batman is a different breed: he manages to up the ante with his Himbo Persona. Creating a “slippery void” mental facade that blocks of his real thoughts and makes him read as really just that stupid. This would require functioning with two trains of thought at once, and making sure that the Martian can only read the surface level, “oh, this one is pretty” “I really wouldn’t mind kissing him” and other such decoy thoughts, instead of “target is approaching, signs of interest present despite this not being his natural form-“

Bruce also researches and copies Martian courting styles and copies them “by chance,” catching MM’s attention. (He offers him Oreos)

Martian Manhunter: “this man… he is so empty headed and yet clearly kind and willing. I would not take him for a life partner, but for some simple fun as he seems to desire…”

(Edit: Maybe, if B is confident enough, he lets through his loneliness. Missing his parents, wanting affection, an ache so strong it’s like a physical wound. J’onn feels the same ache for his lost family, and decides to try this human’s strategy to fill that void. Either way…)

Batman 3, League 0

Barry Allen

I’m strangely blank when it comes to the Flash let me just spitball and let it snowball

As I said above, people have had him save Bruce, had Bruce seduce him at his workplace while taking a tour, I even saw @help-i-need-a-cool-username have Dick set up a petition for Bruce to kiss the Flash. (An idea that I personally think would also go really well with Superman lmao.)

Anyways, I think it would be funny for Bruce to take it slow with Barry. For the irony of it all. Because Batman is doing this to prove a POINT. So he’s in central city, spots Barry coming his way, and “accidentally” slips right into his arms. Ooh, or covered in coffee, like a wealth disparity drama base script, and Barry’s like “omg i am so sorry let me pay you back.” And bruce is all “this shirt costs (stupid amount of money)”

Barry: (fear)

Bruce, rolling with it rn: “yes, it is horrendous, isn’t it? Hows this- I’m in central city for a day. You can pay me back by showing me around?”

He then proceeds to string barry along on an honest to god DATE for shits and giggles. They go clothes shopping, they go to restaurants, Bruce pays for a big meal bc this is after a fight or something and Barry got hurt, his speedster comrade needs to EAT, damnit.

After all this, he gives a cheeky smile and lightly smooches Barry. “Thanks for the fun day, Mr. Allen.”

Barry, bright red and goo brained: “hah- mmhmm. Yeah…”

Batman 4, League 0

Oliver Queen

This one… Oliver is on guard. He’s twitchy and suspicious, turning down men flirting with him, people are starting to notice. But Bruce? Bruce just walks up at a party while “tipsy” and lays one on him. Straight up. He wants to show just how EASY it is. Because Oliver doesn't even register it. He just laughs and goes: “Hey Brucie! Miss me?”

Batman 5, League 0

Dinah Lance

Of course, immediately after above, he turns and pouts at canary.

Bruce: “Dinah darling, you are a saint, I don’t know how you put up with the mess he’s got on his face. He was so much nicer to kiss when we were in (fancy private school name drop) together and didn’t have all this nonsense.”

Dinah, laughing at Ollie’s offended noises: “Oh, I don’t mind it. He’s a good kisser.”

Bruce: “Of course he is, I taught him. Care to compare?”

Dinah: “Don’t mind if I do.”

Batman 6, league 0

Clark Kent

For Clark, Bruce is originally talking to Lois before he turns his eyes on a quiet Clark and croons: “So, Miss Lane, does this lovely specimen have his own questions, or is he arm candy? And if he’s the latter, can I either tempt him off you, or secure an invitation?”

Lois, an excellent friend who will absolutely set Clark up with the hottest bachelor in Gotham: “Well, Mister Wayne, I’ve got all I need. Clark, take a page from my book and honeytrap a good quote out of him, hm?”

With an obnoxious wink, she pats a spluttering Clark on the shoulder, and leaves him with a very smug Batman.

(Bonus Superbat- Clark and Bruce’s conversation is going REALLY WELL and to the point where both of them seem on board with more than a heavy makeout when Bruce puts a hand on Clarks chest.

Bruce: “Stop.”

Clark, freezing immediately: “I’m sorry, did I go too far-?”

Bruce: “No, no. I think I might be though. See, I have all of you now, and I’ve won the bet.”

Clark: “What are you- oh. Oh- HUH?”

Cue sudden and shocked revelation, Clark’s mind going a hundred miles an hour, and then skidding to a stop on- he only did this for the bet. He’s not really interested. He stopped because I went too far-

Bruce: “You only consented to a kiss without knowing my identity. Right now, I’d like to do more, if you’d let me.”

Clark has the dial-up tone ringing in his ears, he has no idea whats going on anymore, the hot billionaire and his reclusive teammate aren’t quite slotting into place, because he wants both but rhey’re so different but they’re the same but-

“Yes.”

Lois doesn’t get Clark back that night and she is delighted.)

Anyways, final results:

Batman: 7

League: 0

Reveal:

Batman talking shit about their secret identities again, Green Lantern is scoffing about it again, says something along the lines of: “You still think you’re sooooo great, huh? Hows the bet going, spooky?” Fully expecting Batman to get huffy with him.

Instead, Batman smirks.

He leans in

And purrs: “So you didn’t notice?”

The League freezes. The implications are dangling over their head. Did he… did he really?

Green Lantern, absolutely terrified: “No. no, there’s no way…”

Batman: “Oh, there absolutely was a way. I’d say you were a good kisser, but honestly? I think it might have been the euphoria of getting you to shut up.”

He turns on the rest of the league, still smirking. “I have kissed every single person who consented at least once in the time since the bet was made. Two of you with tongue. And no one has called me out on it. Now that you know it’s happened, you should be able to figure me out, so whoever can tell me my real name first, wont get thier story used as an example in the brand new “how to avoid honeypots” seminar.”

(If bonus superbat, B shoots Superman a Look and goes “except for you, superman, because I told you my name.” Which just ends up distracting everyone else until they get THAT story)

Diana wins bc she matched up the boys to the robins. Everyone else gets their stories told in excruciating detail. Batman rates them by kissing ability and how obvious he was on his approach. Oliver gets docked points for “texture.” Dinah gets docked points because “i griped about the exact same thing in and out of costume, how did you not notice-“

(Different reveal below)

@chaos-n-kindness @she-went-that-way @geekonaleash @redh00dsbf @howabouticallyou

#batman the playboy #autistic batman #justice leauge shennanigans #bruce wayne #long post #batman

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thisiswhereikeepdcthings · 11 months

Text

Justice League Moments Caught on Live Television (part 2)

Superman: Say it.

Batman: No.

Superman: SAY IT.

Batman: *mumbles too softly to be heard*

Superman: Can’t hear you.

Batman: You have superhearing, Superman.

Superman: I can wait as long as it takes.

Batman:

Batman, just loudly enough for the microphone to pick it up: You’re my best friend.

Superman: *is beaming*

Batman: Can we finish the fight NOW?

Superman: After you………bestie.

Batman: *long, drawn-out sigh*

Superman: ☺️

—————

Aquaman: Stop calling me a fish.

Green Lantern: Okay, but TECHNICALLY…

—————

Martian Manhunter: *sitting there in serene silence*

Constantine: *also just sitting there albeit not quite as serenely*

Martian Manhunter:

Constantine:

Martian Manhunter:

Constantine:

Captain Marvel: Would you two cut it OUT already? I can’t take much more of this.

—————

Flash: Wait, what’s Batman running away from?

Black Canary, watching Batman take off in the batplane: His feelings.

Flash: Oh, okay. Yeah, that tracks.

—————

Green Arrow: No, you don’t get it. I can’t retire, Arsenal called me old.

—————

Green Lantern: This is the fourth time this week.

Flash: No wonder Batman’s so annoyed.

Green Lantern: If I try really hard I bet I can make it five.

—————

Wonder Woman: I leave for FIVE minutes.

—————

Green Arrow: I’m just saying, I’m not sharing grandkids with Batman.

—————

Superman: Ope, sorry, let me just…

Martian Manhunter: Your continued success is a mystery to me.

Superman: Oh yeah, Batman hates it.

—————

Flash: This is the WORST timeline.

—————

Superman: Maybe we should call Nightwing.

Batman: We do NOT need to call Nightwing.

—————

Black Canary: *long, long sigh*

—————

Green Lantern: YOU go deal with it.

Constantine: You do realize Batman’s children are not actually demons, right?

—————

Batman: *laughing*

Zatanna: Did Flash break the timeline again or something?

—————

Constantine: On three?

Zatanna: Rock, Paper, Scissors, GO.

Constantine:

Constantine: Dammit.

—————

Green Arrow: Stop calling Batman’s kids for backup. Yesterday Red Hood laughed at me for twenty minutes straight.

—————

Aquaman: Do I look like I know where Montana is?

—————

Captain Marvel: Come on, I don’t need vegetables.

Flash: A half cup of broccoli is not going to kill you.

Captain Marvel: You don’t know that.

Flash: You don’t know that it will.

Captain Marvel: It might.

Flash: Science experiment?

Green Lantern: We can’t do experiments that may result in death though, remember? Batman put it in the rules.

Flash: You’re just as bad, you know that?

Green Lantern: I have enough green in my name I don’t need it in my food too.

(Part 1)

#the justice league #batman #superman #Wonder Woman #green lantern #flash #captain marvel #black canary #aquaman #green arrow #Constantine #zatanna #martian manhunter

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spectral-snippets-and-drabbles · 9 months

Text

The Babel Incident

Phantom doesn't make talk to anyone when he joins the Leauge. They may try to make small talk and learn more about their new teammate, even going as far to to invite him to the occasional gathering or socialize, but the newest member simply shows up when there is mandatory meetings, helps out on the field, and leaves as quickly as he arrived.

Keeping everyone at arms length, no matter how they much they try. They can clearly see he's lonely, but he insists they leave him be.

Clark doesn't miss (or like) the way Bruce tries to get more useful information on the newbie in roundabout like asking other Leauge members for anything. It wasn't until the usually straight faced Phantom got angry at Bruce to vanish to get away from their leader. It irked the Dark Knight to not have any useful information, even when Martian ManHunter told him no to reading his mind, but Bruce will keep trying to get something out of Phantom.

Little do they know that the reason why Phantom doesn't speak or socialize with anyone has to do with the fact that Batman uses mere conversations to formulate his contingency plans to put down his colleagues, something they don't know about yet. The Last Universe he visited had its Batman getting his plans stolen by a villian and had gotten the entirety of the Leauge killed.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #justice league #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #I like to think Danny purposely slit his own throat to make a good excuse as to not talk to anyone.#It's healed and he can talk just fine but the Leauge doesn't need to know that #so if they ask he just shows them and rolls his eyes #I think if the villian is successful in stealing the plans Danny is gonna use his duplicates to save them #He knows why Bruce did that but the Bat should've told them he had contingency plans just in case #Danny will be petty and tell him his contingency plans for his kids was successful in another universe to spite him #If Batman say's “you're all damn fools” Danny's going to grab him by his scruff and give him to Fright Knight

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pixiatn · 1 year

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I like how most dpxdc fics where the league straight up kidnaps Phantom to interrogate him don't include Martian Manhunter bc he could just read Danny's mind and be like "y'all are terrorizing a child🤨" also y'know my boy would not stand for them Anti Ecto laws and would side w/ Danny

#martian manhunter 4 the win #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #the justice league #JL #justice league #danny phantom #danny fenton #martian manhunter #giw

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 9 months

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More chaotic Nimona headcanons

Whenever Ambrosius and Nimona want to mess with Bal they do a poor imitation of his accent

Or they’ll use British slang with an American accent

You’d think this would get boring or the duo would get tired of this

But no

Watching this grown man’s cheeks inflate like a puffer fish never gets old

One day Bal decided to get back at them by speaking in an American accent

This went on for the whole day and whenever the duo mentioned it he just looked at them like they were crazy

He pretends like it never happened and when the duo brings it up he’ll give them that same look

Ambrosius and Nimona go back and forth between knowing he’s fucking with them and questioning if they imagined it

Sometimes when he thinks they’re forgetting he’ll say in an American accent “Do you remember when I” and then he’ll stop talking and walk away

It’ll send them spiraling for days

I find immense joy in the idea that the trio not taking shit from anyone and messing with reporters for fun

One reporter got a little too comfortable with Nimona and asked her to explain in detail her “origin story” and how her shifting works

Like she's some fictional superhero and not a person standing in front of them

So he straight up acted like he had no idea what the reporter was talking about

And when he told them that he saw them shift as they walked in they replied in a concerned tone "Sir I have no idea what you're talking about"

And slowly but surely Nimona started to convince the reporter and the crew that they didn't save the kingdom

Shapeshifters don’t exist and they were here to discuss the economic crisis the kingdom was experiencing

And the moment when she knew that she had convinced them all she shifted to look like the reporter and walked out of the room without saying a word

No one in that room kept their job

A lot of people like to act like Bal is a hero not because he helped save the kingdom but because he’s an amputee

They act like he’s someone with an expiration date simply because he’s disabled and often treat him like he’s incompetent

So he messes with them

A lot of these reporters will insinuate all the things I mentioned but they’ll never say it outright

So he’ll pretend like he doesn’t know he’s an amputee

He’ll slowly manipulate them until they have no choice but to say outright that they’re treating him like he’s less than human because of his disability

And then he’ll act like he’s just discovering that he’s disabled

Saying some “Oh my Gods my arm is gone… OH MY GODS IT’S GONE”

People stopped mentioning the arm after that

There was one reporter who was really outspoken about the fact that the “Golden Boy” was so easily manipulated by the Director

And was questioning if someone so easily swayed should have a hand in rebuilding their society

Ambrosius finally sat down with an interview with this dude and the reporter just starts digging into him

Hammering him with questions like “Why didn’t you see through the Director’s lies” “Why did you lead the manhunt against Bal” and “Where were you when the wall fell”

And Ambrosius starts throwing out questions of his own like “Weren’t you very close friends with the Director and weren’t you very outspoken on social media supporting her” “Why were you saying and I quote ‘we need that gutter rats head on a spike’” and finally “what were you doing when the wall fell?”

And this man had receipts too

He was basically silent when Ambrosius was brought up after this incident

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #I love these chaotic dorks #we love some gaslighting bitches #yes baby mess with the media #fuck with their heads

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quotemenevervore · 1 year

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I would send an ask about the sbi but I would seriously mess up

But is Slime a slime?

And if so would Quackity ever chew him?

Slime is a slime! He’s a slime mob hybrid, but more slime than human. And Quackity does chew on him sometimes, like if Slime notices he’s having a hard time concentrating. Since he can change the state of his form, making it more firm or goopier, Quackity feels comfortable chewing on him because he simply makes himself pretty difficult to hurt via chewing.

And feel free to send an sbi ask if you want to! I don’t mind :)

#slimes abilities are straight up based on the one fanfic roaming around the mcyt vore tag #Dark and Damp #is what it’s called #I think it’s by jknight? I’ll double check #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #shrunken manhunt #mcyt vore #vore talk

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hirukochan · 8 months

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Ambushed

A Severus SnapexFem!Reader Oneshot

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: After your former Professor murdered Albus Dumbledore a few weeks after your one-nightstand you never expected to see him again.

Warnings: Smut, catcalling, blood, injury

Wordcount: 5000

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Life has become significantly darker since the death of Albus Dumbledore. You hear rumours of the Ministry falling, about Death Eaters taking over and You-Know-Who rising. From the perspective of the public all that hasn’t happened. Everybody can feel the change and taste the misery hanging in the air between abandoned and destroyed shops in Diagon Alley.

The rich fuck you work for is paying you extra because you decided to stay. You aren’t going to let yourself be scared into running away!

You started evening courses at a small university in Aberdeen a few months ago. Enchanted Art. For what? Hell if you know, but art sounded good. You however aren’t…good. Not at all, but it’s fun. You enrolled a few days after what you now call ‘the worst mistake of your life’.

Severus Snape.

Death Eater.

Murderer.

Newly appointed headmaster of Hogwarts.

And you fucked him. Just three weeks before he killed Albus Dumbledore, a man who trusted him.

The Daily Prophet and the Ministry are framing Harry Potter for it. There is a large manhunt going on with a bounty on Potter’s head. The boy has disappeared from the face of the earth.

You saw him at the funeral in Hogwarts. Many former students came to say their goodbyes to Dumbledore. You went out of shame and guilt. It doesn’t make any sense for you to feel like that. Neither did you know what Snape was planning nor did you support him in any way. And yet, just knowing you had that man in your bed is eating at you.

You sway and stumble but can catch yourself on the side of an abandoned building. Death Eaters have been attacking Diagon Alley for months, even before You-Know-Who came to power, but never your shop. You guess it’s because a second-hand bookshop is absolutely useless. You don’t even have many customers! The shop is not profitable whatsoever.

You rub your eyes and push yourself off the wall to continue your less than straight way back to your flat. You’ve been drinking with the Weasley twins who run the joke shop a few streets away from yours. They are one of the few shops still open like you. They were three years under you and always good for a laugh though you were never friends with them. Now out of school and in the same boat you get along well.

And drinking alone is pathetic.

You are pathetic, but not that pathetic.

Not yet.

You squeeze through an alley. Just another corner and you’d be there. You’re too drunk to apparate and apparition can suck it anyway.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out all alone?” A male voice calls out to you. You ignore it. You are really not in the mood to be accosted now and your wand might just slip.

You grip it tighter in your pocket. One could not be careful enough these days. Perhaps you should have taken Georges’ offer of walking you home.

“I’m talking to you!” He sounds angry now. Just fuck off. Just turn around and fuck off or better come here and give me something to let my aggressions out on. “Stuck up cunt!” You are whirled around by your shoulder and thrown against a wall. The air is pressed out of your lungs and your back aches.

The blurry face of a sleazy looking man comes into view but in the next second he’s gone. You blink. Your alcohol drenched brain needs some time to catch up. Then a scream rips through the night and you recoil. Everything in you screams to run. To turn around and take off, to save yourself, but your eyes are glued to the man on the ground, writhing and screaming, his body shaken by endless, never-ending agony.

Steps echo through the night and your head snaps up. A tall, dark figure moves towards you. Black robes, dark hair- for a second you think it’s Snape and you don’t know how to feel at that and even less how to deal with the sting of treacherous disappointment when you notice he’s too slim and too short to be Snape.

Moonlight reflects off a silver mask. You grip your wand tighter, terrified of what’s going to happen next.

A Death Eater.

A real fucking Death Eater right in front of you! And you’re still not running. Why the fuck are you not running?

“Tsk tsk tsk.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his hand. The man’s screams have stopped, replaced by a strangled, gurgling sound that somehow sounds so much worse. Your blood freezes in your veins and you start shivering. This is it. This is how you die. Drunk and on your way home. Just a street away! Away from safety, though you suspect that it’s a false feeling. A lie.

There is no safety left in Britain.

“Has your mummy never taught you, you mustn’t touch what isn’t yours?” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue again. A green light illuminates the alley. It paints grotesque shadows onto the silver mask and the wall behind him.

You scream. Shock and pain are ripping the sound out of the wall of your throat and haul it into the night. You cover your mouth with your hands. Tears sting in your eyes. You don’t want to die here.

Your heart pounds in your chest, strong and fast, declaring it has many good years still left, refusing to back down but also trapped by a rich net, woven from terror and dread.

“You shouldn’t be out so late.” The Death Eater says. His voice is slightly muffled by the mask, but he sounds young. So terribly young. Perhaps around the twins’ age? Did he go to school with you? You don’t recognise his voice, but you are in shock. Right? Yes, shock. He just killed someone! Like it’s nothing! To think you might have sat next to him in the Great Hall or the library…

“It’s not safe. Best run along now.”

You blink. Confused. He is letting you go? Why would he let you go? He rips his sleeve up, revealing a jet-black tattoo on his underarm, one that you’ve never seen before but recognise regardless.

“That’s a fucking order!” You flinch. And then you’re running. Running down the street and not stopping until you’ve reached the door to your flat. Your fingers tremble so much you struggle to get the key into the keyhole. You use every single protection charm you know on the door after you’ve closed behind yourself. You’ve gotten good at casting them. You had to.

“What the fuck.” You whisper to yourself, back leaned against the wall and wand clutched to your chest. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!” A Death Eater just fucking let you go! He tortured someone for attempting to assault you and then killed him.

He fucking killed him.

You watched someone die.

What the fuck.

Oh Merlin and Grímhildr and god and Jesus fucking Christ!

‘Mustn’t touch what isn’t yours’ What does that mean? You’re not some object to be owned!

“Maybe he has a crush on me?” You think out loud. Yeah…maybe that guy really did use to go to school with you? Maybe he- you have no idea but what other reason would there be? Would a Death Eater disapprove of assaulting women? Somehow you find that hard to believe.

The incident does not leave your mind. You become paranoid. Always checking your steps and looking around for that glimmer of light catching on a silver mask. Often you’d look out of your windows, watching the empty street but you don’t see the young Death Eater again. You expect him to come back any day to finish you off

One day you arrive at the Leaky Cauldron after your evening classes tired and hungry. It’s a little after ten and you decide to eat in the pub instead of cooking. An hour later you step outside and apparate onto the steps in front of the door to your flat. You secure the door with your usual spells and kick off your shoes before hurrying up the stairs. You want nothing more than to collapse into your bed-

Something isn’t right. It’s the faintest difference. A smell that is not quite right. A whisper of magic in the air that does not belong to you. The small hairs on your nape stand and your stomach clenches. You grip your wand tighter.

There is something on your floor. A large black something.

“What the fuck?” You mutter and drop your hand to your side. “What the fuck? No no no- get the fuck up, Snape!” He doesn’t move. He is lying face down in a puddle of blood in the middle of your flat. Where did he come from? How did he get in? Why is he here?

You kick him.

It sounds like a logical choice in your head.

He doesn’t move.

“I have a Death Eater in my flat, on my floor. I have a dying Death Eater on my floor!” You panic. You are panicking. You kick him again. Nothing changes. “Shit shit shit!” You could just…kick him down the stairs and lock the door? How did he get in here?!

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” What do you do? What can you do? Why is he here?

For lack of a better plan, you kick him again, but despite how gratifying it feels to let your aggression out on him you have to come up with a better idea. You can’t just keep kicking him!

Wary of the Death Eater on your floor you kneel down and press two fingers to the pulse point on his neck, ready to jump backwards at any point. His skin is burning up. What happened?

You can’t just kick him down the stairs. It’s tempting. He’d deserve it- but that isn’t you. Besides it would take the Death Eaters not even two seconds to figure out who left him there to die and they might come back to hurt you.

You heave him into your bed and peel the blood-soaked clothes from his chest. There is a deep gash across his side. Blood steadily runs down his pale skin. What happened to him?

“He’s a Death Eater that’s what fucking happened to him.” You scold yourself. “And you are fucking helping him- fuck! Why did you choose my flat to die in, Snape?!” You flick your wand at him, and his own wand comes flying through the air, landing in your hand. You shove it into your pocket.

Snape looks like shit. He’s thinner than a few months ago, his skin paler and dark, deep shadows have seemingly permanently attached themselves to the skin under his eyes.

The glorious Death Eater that defeated Albus Dumbledore.

You scoff.

“Good- that is that…disarming the Death Eater that is twice your size and can probably do wandless magic…or simply snatch them back from you because let’s be honest here - we aren’t a fighter!” You have no idea who you are talking to, but you feel hysteric and talking to oneself is what hysteric people do. Right? Right?

“Please don’t die here and start haunting me!”

“I’m not dying.” Snape grunts and you scream.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck- you scared the living shit out of me! What the fuck are you doing here?” Without bothering to answer you, he examines the wound on his side. He grimaces.

“I advise you against attempting that.” The deep, velvety rumble of voice makes you shudder in all the wrong ways. You keep your wand trained on him anyway.

“Get the fuck out of my flat!” You hiss, raising your wand higher, keeping it aimed at him.

“So hostile.” He tuts. “Did I leave you unsatisfied last time?”

“You’re a murderer!” Your voice is shaking, tears pool in your eyes and you have no fucking idea why you feel betrayed. You hadn’t spoken to Snape in five years before your one-night stand. But had you known…had you known he is a Death Eater you would have never let him into your bed.

“Yes.” Snape says and he somehow sounds bitter. What right has he to be bitter? “I heard you ran into some…trouble.” You shove your wand in his face and perhaps he sees in your eyes how serious you are, a faint promise of hexing him or something else, but he raises his bloodied hands slightly as if to tell you he isn’t a danger.

“Do you have a first-aid-kit? So I can get out of your hair.” You look at him, considering. You could make him leave. “I’m not a danger to you.” To you. To others, yes, but not you. You have no idea how to feel about that thinly veiled confession. You flick your wand towards your bathroom. Snape rummages through your first-aid-kit.

“Who the fuck doesn’t stock dittany?” He asks, glaring up at you while aggressively opening the fuckton of buttons on his robes. Who needs so many buttons?

“Why would I have fucking dittany? Sorry I did not expect you would choose my home to almost fucking die in!”

“I wouldn’t have died!” He sneers.

“Tell that to the puddle of blood on my floor. Why are you here?” He hesitates. His shoulders droop and he stops messing with his clothes. Something profoundly vulnerable flashes through his eyes.

“Where else would I go?” And that is that apparently. He peels back layers of blood-soaked clothes, and you try not to ogle him. He hadn’t taken off much of his clothes when he fucked you…

The moonlight hides the currently sickish undertones of his pale skin, making him look like one of those marble statues you’ve seen in a muggle museum once. His skin is littered with scars, a visual reminder that this man is a Death Eater - a fact your body is more than willing to ignore judging by the uncomfortable, damp spot in your knickers.

You watch him patch himself up from a safe distance, your wand pointed at him at all times. His fingers tremble, his skin is chalky pale and beads of sweat cling to his forehead, but his movements are precise and purposeful.

And yet-

You have never seen him like this.

Small somehow.

Vulnerable.

“I was told you were assaulted.” His voice is quiet, he usually speaks soft and quiet - a man like he never has any trouble getting a classroom full of hormonal teenagers to shut it. But today it’s different. There is something…inherently broken about the way he says the words and it gives you pause.

“So what? You decided to break in? Who do you think you are that you get to check up on me?” You spit the words at him because if you don’t, you might do other things and you really can’t afford that.

“That wasn’t-” He inhales sharply and impossibly enough pales even more. You summon a glass of water. “Thank you.” He whispers and downs the whole thing in one go.

“Wouldn’t want your cult friends to show up here because I let you die.”

“You should be careful what you say.” He doesn’t say it as a threat. He says it softly, with dread mixing into his worry.

“I thought you weren't a danger to me.”

“Plenty of people are.”

“Right…then. You know where the door is.” You nod towards it. Snape rises to his feet - far more graceful and steady than he has any right to with how shit he looks. He comes closer and you bite the inside of your cheek to resist the urge of stepping back. He comes closer still, his much larger frame hovering above you and any sliver of thinking Snape is small evaporates into thin air.

His silky hair falls into his face and hides it in the shadows of your flat, with only the moon illuminating the small space.

You take a shaky breath and attempt to ignore the heat between your bodies or the way your heart beats all wrong. His eyes have an intensity to them that makes you shudder and involuntarily recall how his hands felt on you…his breath dancing across your skin…the way he tastes-

“You still have my wand.” He says, his voice impossibly deeper and smokey and his eyes- these damn stunning stupid eyes that burn into yours, whispering promises of things you can’t even begin to wrap your mind around.

You automatically close your fingers tighter around your own wand. He is so close now the tip of it digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. Like the threat of a curse does not even affect him, like he doesn’t give a shit that you could simply kill him right now or perhaps it’s arrogance. He believes you incapable of it - which is the truth but still! Is it asking too much to want him to be at least a little afraid?

Snape reaches out and his hand brushes over your side and you inhale sharply.

There must have been a lapse in the fabric of time - in the universe itself because suddenly you are kissing. You don’t know why or how but the wands clatter to the ground and Snape’s hands are on you and your body scream fuck the universe because this feels right.

Snape’s arms wrap around your smaller form and press you to his chest and you let him, weaving your hands into his hair while he claims your mouth with a feral hunger. You moan into the kiss and lean into his touch and try to smother the whisper in your head repeating the last two words you’d want to hear right now over and over.

Death Eater

You slide your tongue over his. There is a faint taste of iron in the kiss but it doesn’t matter. Snape’s fingers dig into your flesh like he is trying to devise a way to never have to let you go again.

He clings to you like a dying man to life.

Death Eater

He stumbles backwards and takes you with him, plopping down on the bed and pulling you into his lap. It feels natural. Your bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces and something somewhere in the universe just clicks.

You run your hands down his neck and over his shoulder, noting how much thinner he feels now compared to last time. You shove his frock and dress shirt down his shoulders. The feeling of his naked skin against your hands feels electrifying. A buzzing prickle seeping into your body through the pad of your fingers and spreading throughout your very being like blazing wildfire, pooling deep in your belly.

Death Eater

You moan into the kiss and grind against Snape, feeling his hard cock against your core through your knickers.

Death Eater

Two pairs of hands drop to his fly at one, frantically fumbling with buttons and stumbling over each other. Snape retreats and returns to thoroughly groping your arse under your skirt. You manage to free his cock and Snape helps lift your hips. You push your soaked knickers away and align his cock with your entrance.

“Fuck I forgot how big you are-” You hiss at the stretch. Snape kisses your neck and nibbles on your collarbone.

“Have you been with someone since-?” He leaves the question open. Further specifications aren’t needed. You are still slowly lowering yourself on his prick, until the delicious kind of stretch turns to a stinging stretch where you pause to give yourself time to adjust.

“-no.” You pant. Snape groans against your sternum and wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close. He kisses down your chest and over your breasts. Nuzzling you through the fabric of your blouse.

“Fucking hell-” You mutter once he is finally sheathed inside you. You’re out of breath and sweaty and so so full. His cock is throbbing against your inner walls, hot and thick and you need a moment to collect yourself.

“So good.” Snape groans and continues peppering kisses over your chest. You whimper in response. “You take my cock so fucking good-” He rips your blouse open and shoves your bra up, locking his lips around your nipple instantly. You moan and cling to his shoulders. Snape licks broad strokes over your nipple, alternates between sucking and kissing and grazing you with his teeth.

His lust-drenched sounds make you squirm in his arms and arousal leak over his cock, soiling his trousers.

It takes a little moment for you to get a hang of how to move on top of him, but once you’ve figured it out, you earn approving groans from Snape.

“Fucking missed you.” He murmurs against your skin.

“Did you now?” You raise a brow.

“I’m talking to your tits, dear.”

“You have issues.” You moan and sink back down on his cock.

“I thought we had already established that.”

“Yeah, when you decided my floor was the proper place to die!”

“Wouldn’t have died.” He groans and locks his lips around your nipple again. You cradle his head with your arms and rest your cheek against the crow of his head while bobbing up and down his length in an unsteady, unrefined rhythm.

Snape doesn’t seem to care.

And neither do you really.

The voice in your head shut up a while ago and you bid farewell to it, telling it to never come back.

Snape inhales sharply and you stop instantly.

“Did I hurt you?” You ask, unable to keep the worry out of your voice. Snape’s face is contorted in pain. He reaches for the footboard of your bed and his knuckles turn white under the force with which he holds onto it.

“Lie down.” You murmur and push against his shoulders gently. Snape looks at you both irritated and untrusting, but he eventually (less than gracefully) lowers his back onto the mattress.

You reposition yourself above him and lean back to brace your hands against his thighs right above his knees. Slowly you begin moving again. It feels awkward for a while but then you find the right angle and Snape presses his fingers against your clit, stroking tender circles over the throbbing bundle of nerves and pleasure overshadows any feeling of awkwardness.

“You’ve always been a fast learner.” Snape groans. “Such a studious girl.”

“When the subject interests me.” You chuckle and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Am I an interesting subject?”

“Hmm…Certainly one I can’t seem to escape.” You raise your hips and sink back down, moaning in tune with the delicious stretch of his girth.

“Do you plan on almost dying on my floor in the future?”

Snape laughs, an uneasy sound accompanied by a concerning rattling sound coming from his lungs. “Are you planning on stocking Dittany in the future?”

“Nah, but I was thinking about getting a runner and- ow!” He slaps your thigh, not hard, but a pleasant sting runs through your flesh and the sudden slapping sound startled you. “Bastard.” You hiss and push yourself up, planting your hands on either side of his head, careful to avoid the dark strands of hair spread out around his head.

“Is that the thanks I get?”

“Thanks?” He hums. An expression of raw pleasure flickers over his face and it pulls you in, captures you like a fly in a sticky trap - and like a fly in a sticky trap you realise the danger you are in just by associating with Snape, not to mention by fucking him.

You never thought yourself to be a morally depraved woman but here you are, with the enemy quite literally in your bed.

An injured, weakened enemy.

As if you’d have a chance against Severus Snape no matter how weak he is! No, leave the heroism to other people, people that value their lives less or think the world will be grateful for their heroism.

You close your eyes and lean down to meet Snape’s lips, to get lost in the feeling of a warm body against yours, the mechanical workings of what a romance would feel like, to draw some comfort from a man that is willingly giving it to you when all other male specimens on this earth seem to not give a shit about you.

“Started University.” You murmur against his lips. Snape has put his hands on your arse and is helping your movement, pulling you and down on his cock, guiding your cunt or using it for his own pleasure or revelling in having a former student of his so messed up she lets him fuck her.

“I heard. I’m glad.” He mutters back and takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Keeping taps on me?”

“Only a little.” And it’s back to kissing. Wet, heated, burning kisses. And passion or maybe erratic obsession but if obsession feels this good what does it matter?

The heat of his tongue against yours, his hands squeezing your arse, his breath dancing over your face, his cock spearing open your cunt repeatedly, it collects inside you, runs through your limbs and veins and fills your whole body. You can feel it rushing alongside your blood, feel your body respond to it by picking up the pace of your heartbeat, sweet clinging to your skin, especially on your thighs that straddle Snape’s. It floats through your body and eventually pools in your lower belly and deep inside your cunt, welcoming Snape’s prick on each thrust by splitting into two and regenerating like cell division-

Heat grows and morphs and hardens into a brooding mass that threatens to rip free of you. It scratches against your insides, searching desperately for a way out, a way to release this pressure and then Snape presses his thumb down on your clit and it rips free of you. Snape thrust up into you in one hard stroke and he groans, his grip on your arse tightening and you collapse above him and he pulls you down by putting his arms around your torso - his wound long forgotten by both of you.

His cock throbs as he spills inside you, splatters of warm, sticky cum painting your inner walls and with a content hum you rock against his softening cock to relish the last flickers of your orgasm.

Snape grunts - a pained one this time - and you push your trembling body up and lift your hips to sit down on the bed next to him. His now limp cock slips out of you and you hate that you miss the feeling of it, hate the emptiness left behind. You pull your knees to your chest and lean against the headboard of your bed, staring at the window just to not look at Snape.

“I-” Snape begins but stops himself. With another pained grunt he sits up and does the many buttons of his clothes back up. He sighs and rubs his hands over his face, raking through his hair. “I will try to not almost die on your floor again.”

“Good.” You want to sound stern, but it comes out sounding exhausted and confused.

“Good.” He murmurs. A knock on your door rips you from your thoughts. Who would knock so late? Perhaps it’s your elderly neighbour…

You pick your wand up from the floor and fix your skirt and blouse and walk towards the door.

Still caught in a whirlwind of confusing and contradicting feelings and perhaps Snape’s presence has led you to let down your guard a little, whatever it is you forget to cast your detection charms before opening the door-

Silver glimmers in the moonlight. You recognise the mask. It’s the young Death Eater that killed the man who wanted to assault you. He is flanked by two taller Death Eaters. Whatever you had wanted to say gets stuck in your throat as it swells shut. Just out of their sight you grip your wand tighter.

“Miss.” The young one says. “Apologies for the interruption.” Why the fuck is a Death Eater addressing you so polite? Movement behind you catches your attention but you don’t dare move.

“Was I not clear enough when I said this shop is not to be disturbed.” Snape drawls and all hints of pain or injury have left his voice. He looms behind you, tall and menacing and you can actually see the taller Death Eaters shrink back.

“My mistake. Again, apologies, Miss. Your presence is requested, Sir.” The younger one says to Snape.

“Do not repeat it in the future.” Snape scoffs. He ignores them and closes the door.

You can’t seem to find your voice again.

“This all will be over soon.”

“How do you know?” You whisper, uncertain what Snape means. What will be over? The resistance? You-Know-Who? His presence in your life?

“I hope you won’t have to see me again.” His lips brush your forehead ever so slightly, his fingertips dancing over your arms.

He turns to leave.

“Snape-” You don’t know what to say. His eyes linger on you for a moment, you think to see something flash in them, a hint of some deeply buried emotion but then he turns, opens the door again and he is gone.

You lean your forehead against the smooth wood. You can still feel his touch lingering-

A sob tears through the silence and you press your hand to your mouth as you sink to the floor and you don’t even know why. You kneel on the floor in front of your door and sob and cry.

When you eventually regain your composure and return to your flat you are met with the sight of drying blood…

The next day you go to the apothecary down the street and buy a bottle of Dittany.

| Part 3 |

#severus snape x reader #ao3 fanfic #snape x reader #snape x you #severus snape smut #dividers by cafekitsune

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