#do you all just fall for pr that easily

[salutethesargeant]

"How could you see Kelly's pregnancy and hate her about it?"

She's racist. She said she was "interested" in Max when he was 17 and she was in her late 20s. She's used her family's power to gain more custody over her last child and is trying to erase the father from her life (the one parent who's actually present). She has history of being shady. She is connected to and supports fascists. Etc etc. I don't feel happy that a horrible person is having another child for attention and her own benefit. I just feel bad for that kid.

[nevermind-i-dont-wanna-know]

We all know Wymack would have easily accepted Jean as one of his players and I have no doubt that he already considers Jean one of his kids. But like, you can’t tell me that man didn’t almost fall to his knees in relief after realizing he won’t have to deal with the PR nightmare that would have been Jean and Neil doing press duty (and Kevin “I’ve never been skiing” Day) Like he’s been exposed to Jeans sass and I just know that man sent the Trojans coaches a nice bottle of liquor each with a note that just says thoughts and prayers

[munsonsmixtapes]

May I request sub!eddie wanting attention but being too shy to ask for it?

Reader maybe teases him for it, and only touches him through his clothes until Eddie finally has to ask for what he wants.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) grinding, sub!eddie, dom!reader, use of nicknames (baby, good boy, pretty boy)

Eddie is never one to bring attention to himself no matter just how much he craves it. It doesn't matter what kind of attention it is, whether it's just a gentle touch or if he wants to get inside you, he won't say anything until you cuddle him or he's rock hard. He doesn't know why, but he can't ever get himself to voice it. It doesn't matter how long the two of you have been together.

And tonight isn't any different. You're lying on top of him as you watch a movie. He wants you and he wants you bad. That much is obvious by the bulge in his pants. And because you know he won't directly ask you for what he wants, you decide that you want to have a little fun, to make him beg for it.

Your hand slides between your bodies, grabbing hold of his bulge and give it a squeeze, leaning up just in time to see his eyes widen as a gasp falls from his lips. He stares back, loving what you're doing but wondering why you're doing it. Just as he's about to ask, you give him another squeeze before lowering yourself back down on top of him, your lips ghosting over his as you begin to grind against him, your legs straddling his waist as you do so.

His cock is even harder now and you try to hold in a laugh at how easily he falls for your tricks. Your lips find his and he's kissing you hungrily as one hand rests on the back of your neck, the other grabbing your ass. He's grinding against you so eagerly, still not asking for what he wants. All you need is one more push and you're sure he's bound to crack.

"You want me, don't you, pretty boy?" You ask as you bite down on his bottom lip, a whine escaping his lips.

"Need you so bad," he breathes.

"In what way, baby?" You ask innocently as you push his hair away from his face, your hands pushing up his shirt and he leans up so you can take it off. "Gonna need to hear you say it."

"Need you to fuck me," he says impatiently, his soft brown eyes going dark and you have him right where you want him.

"Good boy," you reply as you take off his shirt, tossing it to the side. He lies back on the bed as he watches you take your own shirt off, that pretty bra he bought for you now on full display. You're spilling out of it and he winces at how much harder he is thinking about taking it off of you.

You take off your skirt and panties while he does the same with his sweatpants and boxers. You save your bra for last, reaching for a condom and putting it on Eddie before straddling him again. You then take his hands and guide them up to your bra, leaning down so that your chest is against his, his hands unhooking your bra with ease. He slides it out from between the two of you before you lean up, Eddie staring at your hard nipples as he grabs hold of your hips, the two of you working together so he can slide inside you.

Your movements are slow as opposed to usual because you really wanting to savor the moment, to show Eddie just how much you care for him. You want to show him how gentle you can be as your hands grab hold of his, intertwining your fingers. Your lips find his in a sweet kiss as you move against him, his hips bucking against yours slowly.

"Fuck," he says against your lips as his hips buck against yours again, the two of you finding the perfect rhythm, your bodies moving together perfectly.

"That it," you reply. "Such a good boy for me."

This is all Eddie wanted and more. You're so good to him, always knowing what he wants and when he wants it. He didn't even mind the teasing, in fact, he encourages it, the whole thing never failing to make him hard.

You pull away and look down at Eddie, your pretty boy. His hair is fanned out around him and the sweat dripping down his body gives his skin a pretty glisten. And the faces he pulls as he responds to you are nothing but beautiful.

Your paces picks up and Eddie responds to your every move, eating it up as he whines and moans, his hands squeezing yours as he does so. He's trying to hold out for as long as he can, but he can feel his vision hazing, like he's close.

"Shit," he whines as his back arches, trying his best to keep up with you as you move even faster, the prettiest moans falling from your own mouth.

"Yeah? You like that don't you, pretty boy?" You ask in a teasing tone. "God, you're already close, aren't you? Aww, honey don't go stupid on me now," you push his sweaty bangs away from his forehead as you move even faster, trying to get him there.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whines as he feels his eyes roll back into his head, an orgasm finally coursing through him and you help him ride it out.

"That's it, that's a good boy," you say sweetly as he lies back against the pillow, coming down from his high. "You did so good, baby," you tell him and he smiles widely at, you, that drunk feeling still evident on his face.

You climb off of him then clean yourself up as he does the same before you climb back into bed with him, puling him to your, bare skin to bare skin as you wrap your arms around each other, sharing nothing but kisses and I love you's shared before you go for round two, getting tangled up in the sheets until the early morning, Eddie being nothing but your good, pretty boy.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi, how are you? Hope everything's peachy. I've been waiting for your requests to be open since probably December. I figured, maybe I could leave you my thoughts and you'll decide what to do with them. Is that fine? 😅 You can throw it straight to the trash if you'd like.

So that now every F1 Team have a girl driver in F1 Academy, I thought maybe they want to promote the Academy more and includes it in DTS series. So the reader is a driver for Ferrari. They assign her to Carlos and they've to film a Training camp before the season. Carlos sort of being her PT. Plot twist: they HATE each other. But their combined fury can easily catch on fire and lead them to other type of sport, more sensual one. So it's like enemies but/to lovers sort of thing. A lot of arguing, angst but also a bunch of steamy sex

The Uphill Battle || CS55

Warnings: Smut, angst, name calling WC: 1.8k

Pre-season Training - Dolomites This had to be the worst PR disaster in the making. Whoever thought it would be a great idea to pair you up with Jr Sainz needed to fall right off this mountainside. To make matters worse, they had a TV crew following you around all day and you were fairly sure your suite was bugged like Big Brother.

“Hurry up, I want to make it back in time for dinner,” Carlos growled as he stopped to look back at you. 

You narrowed your eyes, not that he could see them beneath the snow goggles, and sarcastically replied, “Oh no, baby boy can’t go to bed without his supper.”

He stabbed his sticks into the snow and pulled his googles up over his beanie. “You think I want to be out here babysitting a spoiled little brat? I am crawling just so you don’t get left behind and lost up here. Pick. Up. The. Pace.”

“Fuck you,” you spat as you pushed harder, your calves protesting the hardship you were putting them through to prove a point. You overtook the Spaniard and made sure to only just miss his foot from the piercing pike on your ski stick. “Keep up, Junior.”

You were both panting by the time you arrived back at the luxury accommodation in the resort town at the base of the mountain. You were starving but you were also damp with sweat beneath the layers of cashmere and feather-stuffed coats so you went straight to the private pool. You figured after the whining Carlos had done about his dinner you wouldn’t be disturbed in the heated outdoor pool, but you were wrong.

Carlos curled a brow at the trail of clothes that led from the twin penthouse suites to the rooftop pool they shared, each layer getting thinner until it ended with a sports bra and panties. Snow littered the ground and he shivered in his bathrobe as he watched you float on the surface of the steaming water with your eyes closed. You looked relaxed, peaceful. It was a look he rarely saw on your face and it immediately washed away when you opened your eyes and caught him watching.

“Dirty perv,” you hissed as you slipped back beneath the water up to your neck and covered your breasts. 

“I’m not the one going for a skinny dip. You’re just looking for attention.”

“I don’t have to look for attention, it comes looking for me,” you said as you eyed up the goosebumps on his legs below the robe. “I figured you were too busy stuffing your face.”

“The Netflix crew were in the dining hall,” he admitted quietly.

“Ah, so you are not nearly as comfortable in front of them as you act. Could have fooled me.”

“I don’t think that would be hard.”

“I hope your balls get frostbite.”

Carlos winced at the idea and took a step closer to the water's edge and the warmth it promised. 

“If you get in here with me we are going to have a problem,” you warned, swimming closer to defend your territory. “There’s no cameras around to keep you safe.”

Carlo snickered and dipped his foot in. “I’ve seen your training in the ring, I think I can handle it.”

“Brave words when you are all the way over there.”

Your blood could have heated the water to boiling point as he slipped his robe off and tossed it over the rail before taking another step in, then another. You watched the water disappear over his skin tight trunks and darken the happy trail before rising over his abs. The team at Ferrari at least assigned you someone who was taking their PT position seriously, you could see from his physique that he kept his own routine solid and you could learn a thing or two - if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Take a picture, malcriada,” he said with a wink when your eyes finally reached his face.

“Such a shame,” you murmured wistfully.

“What?”

You dragged your eyes back over his body before sighing. “That a body that fine has a personality like yours.”

A wave splashed over you as he dove into the water and you lost sight of him in the dark. You should have put the underwater lights on but hadn’t wanted to light the water up when you hadn’t bothered to even change into a bikini. 

A large hand grabbed your ankle and you barely had time to inhale a breath before you were pulled under. Just as quickly as he grabbed you, he was gone again and you spluttered to the surface, wiping the water from your eyes. “Asshole!” 

“Is that the best you can do?” he laughed from the edge he was leisurely reclining against. 

“Come here and find out.”

He slipped beneath the water but this time you were prepared and met him halfway. Your bodies collided, twisting and turning trying to fathom some kind of dominance until your legs wrapped around his waist and he sank to the bottom with you on top. His hands found your thighs and dug into the soft skin until your lips parted with a sudden thought and the last of your air bubbled to the surface. 

“Not the attack I was expecting,” he taunted as he rose to the surface behind you. The water falling from his hair cooled as it dropped to your shoulder and his hand traced the curve of your neck. “Someone plays dirty.”

“I’m not playing.” Your voice wasn’t the cold detached sound you had hoped it would be, but a needy sigh. Your legs pressed together and you were suddenly reminded of how very naked you were. 

“Is that another invitation? You almost won that time.”

You turned around with a glare to find his smirk growing as wide as his pupils as he looked down at your body. “It’s not a fair fight anyway. I am naked and vulnerable.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t think anyone could mistake you as vulnerable, malcriada, not with that prickly attitude and sharp tongue. But, if it would make you feel better about losing again…” his hands brushed over his hips and pushed his trunks down his thighs before he tossed them out of the pool. “Happy now?”

“I’m certainly something,” you murmured before realising you spoke aloud. Anger flushed your body again at the distraction he caused and you shoved your hand across the surface, spraying him in the face with the water. His momentary surprise was only that, momentary, and he leapt into your personal space with his own attack.

You weren’t quite sure how it happened, or how it started. Maybe the tension that had been brimming all week finally reached its breaking point and it was a mutual decision. One moment you were writhing to escape from his attack, your hands trying to find purchase on his body as you wriggled in his arms, the next you were writhing for an entirely different reason. 

His chest brushed over your sensitive peaks and your nails scraped down his back. Your legs tightened around his waist and felt the large length pressed between your stomachs. Your heads broke the surface but the gasp had nothing to do with the need for air when his palms squeezed your ass to hold you still. 

“What are you doing?” you moaned as you clit pressed to his shaft and every little movement rode you over the rigid veins. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he rasped, his voice dropping as he felt the heat of your core on him. “I’m trying to not fuck you right now.”

“Right, because you hate me,” you laughed humorlessly as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp but you both moaned at the feeling.

“No, because you hate me.”

It had been a while since you last had sex, that was the excuse you gave for being so needy and wanting to be filled right at that moment. “I can hate you and still want to fuck.”

Carlos stared into your eyes and saw the desire in them, felt the desire that had your nipples hard and begging for his mouth. “Fuck it,” he decided aloud. “I can hate you and still make you come.”

“Bold words.”

He didn’t give you a response, at least not in words. His strong hands lifted you higher and pulled you back down on his cock. Your teeth clamped around the muscle where his shoulder met his neck and he groaned at the pain and your muffled cry. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“You’re too big,” you whispered as he slowly speared you down his shaft until you looked down your body expecting to see a bugle at your belly button. Easing you back up, he set a slow rhythm as your body adjusted to his size and walked you both to the edge of the pool.

“You can take it,” he promised as your legs untangled from around him and you found yourself facing the mountain you had climbed earlier. His hips snapped forward and buried himself back in you from behind and your cry echoed out into the night. “That’s it, make an avalanche, malcriada.”

You didn’t care that he called you brat. You didn’t care if you brought the mountain down on the whole town. You only cared about reaching your own high and you chased it with your hips, pushing back to meet him stroke for stroke. Waves rippled out across the water and soon turned to splashes as your core tightened and those ripples began to make their way down your spine.

“I can feel you shaking,” he teased in your ear, his hand snaking over your hip to find your clit. “Let go, dulce, let me feel you come.”

Your eyes slammed shut as waves of pleasure rocked through you and his name tumbled from your lips, betraying yourself with the reverent tone it held. His pleasure grew at the sound and he slammed himself as deep as he could in your cunt, letting your tight walls milk him as he came. There should have been anger at the idea of being filled with his seed, but you took delight in the liquid warmth pooling inside you. You had made him come undone, it was a win of sorts in your mind.

Satisfied for the moment, you pushed his body back and walked up the steps, into the biting cold night. Carlos was still high from his release and he didn't realise until it was too late. You were already halfway to the suites when he noticed his robe was missing, a quick scan of the snow confirmed his trunks had found the same fate.

“Brat!” he called out as you disappeared inside.

“Asshole.”

Click here for part two.

[ashwhowrites]

Dad!eddie x pregnant mom!reader who is suffering with severe pregnancy brain and she forgets to do something important and Eddie gets upset with her, raises his voice a little. He just needs a second to cool down so he leaves the house and reader is just distraught with her hormones and when he comes back he doesn’t realize he left her so vulnerable and upset it really wasn’t a big fight so his heart is broken seeing her tears so he needs to make it up to her

LOVE the angst in this. I hope this is what you were hoping for and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting<3

Missed call

Y/N was just days away from going into labor. She waddled everywhere, constantly in pain, and had a bad case of pregnancy brain. She put soap in the fridge and butter in the shower, and Eddie had a good laugh about it. She spaced constantly on the laundry, piling up. She tried to get out of the fog, but she couldn't.

Eddie was patient and understanding of it. He found it adorable how she'd walk into the room and pout because she couldn't remember why. He tried his best to help her remember things, and help around the house.

Eddie was gone at a meeting as Y/N cleaned the kitchen. Her attention was cut short when the house phone rang, she moved as fast as she could.

"Hello, this is the Munson's, how can I help you?" Eddie's PR manager talked on the other line. Y/N wrote down the important message that had to be delivered to Eddie immediately. Y/N hung up the phone and tucked the piece of paper in her pocket. Eddie didn't get personal calls until lunch, so she had a few hours before she could call.

~~~

Eddie slammed the front door as he marched through the house. Y/N easily could tell he was upset as he sat on the couch, angrily throwing his shoes. She grabbed him a beer and sat next to him. He grabbed the beer as she softly played with his hair. He felt his body relaxing as he leaned against the couch.

"what's wrong?" She asked, her fingers massaging his head.

"Tracy bitched me out for missing a meeting for a late night talk show that I had no idea about! I tried to explain that i was unaware of it but she wouldn't give me a chance to fucking speak. " Eddie ranted, going on and on but Y/N felt the guilt in her bones. Her hand reached into her pocket, the piece of paper with the message she never called about.

"Um, babe?" She said quietly, Eddie hummed and looked at her. His hand was on her knee as he waited for her to speak.

"She called the house and told me. I wrote it all down! I just forgot to call you on your break. I'm sorry." Y/N apologized, handing him the crumpled piece of paper.

Eddie knew he shouldn't get upset at her, it was the pregnancy brain. But he missed a huge opportunity because of it.

"DAMMIT Y/N!" He groaned, getting off the couch, and ran his hand over his face. She jumped at his loud voice, sinking into the couch as he paced in front of her.

"WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS NOW?" he screamed, throwing the piece of paper on the floor. Y/N felt tears in her eyes as he shouted. He was shouting around her, not directly in her face but it almost felt like it.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, tears falling down her face as she tried to stand up. She struggled but made it to her feet. Reaching for his hands. She smiled through her tears when he allowed her to hold his hands. Her hands softly held his.

"This would have been a huge opportunity for me, Y/N." He wasn't yelling anymore but she knew he was still mad. His voice was stern and low.

"I know! It slipped my head, and I completely forgot." She explained. Eddie nodded as he took away his hands. She quickly tried to grab them again but he stepped back.

"I just need a second, okay?" He groaned, throwing on his shoes as he grabbed his keys.

"WAIT! Baby don't leave! Just come relax on the couch, I'll go to the room." She pleaded. But he kept walking towards the door.

"I said I need a second. Your pregnancy brain is out of control and it needs to be fixed" He snapped and slammed the door. Y/N covered her mouth as she sobbed. She always fucked everything up because of her pregnancy brain. It was always the little things but now she cost Eddie a huge opportunity in his career.

~~~

Eddie sighed as he rubbed his face. The loud bar filled his ears as he tried to calm down. He called a friend to come sit with him, he needed to vent but couldn't stand to watch his wife cry because of him.

"So let me get this straight, your PR manager called your house phone, instead of your personal cell to deliver this huge important message and left it with your wife. The wife that is like two days away from birth is suffering from pregnancy brain, and you yelled at her instead of your PR manager? The manager should have called you in the first place." Steve explained, a frown on his face.

"Son of a bitch," Eddie groaned, smacking his head against the bar counter. "You're right. God, I am like the biggest asshole, and easily the worst husband." The guilt ate him alive. It wasn't her fault, Tracy should have called him directly if it was such a huge deal.

"Go home and apologize, own up to it, and make her feel like she didn't mess up your career."

~~~

Eddie slowly walked into the house, the lights off as he looked around. He figured she must have gone to bed, another feeling of guilt knowing she struggled to make it up the stairs.

He sighed and walked into their bedroom, a light on near the bed and her laptop rested on her stomach as she slept.

Eddie stripped off his clothes and crawled into the bed, grabbing her laptop to shut it off. He scrunched his eyebrows as he read the article she was on.

"How to overcome pregnancy brain"

Eddie closed the laptop with a sad sigh, lying down as he wrapped his arm around her. Softly rubbing her swollen stomach as she slept. He kissed her head and whispered apologies in her ear.

He'd wait until the morning to talk it out with her.

~~~

Eddie yawned as he walked down the stairs, Y/N was already out of bed when he woke up. He could hear her on the phone, her voice trembling as she cried.

"No Tracy, please! It was all my fault. He didn't miss it or anything. I forgot to tell him. You have to set something new up, like just ca-" Eddie grabbed the phone from her hand and hung it up. Her wet eyes stared at him as she tried to grab the phone.

"EDDIE STOP!" she sobbed, choking on her tears as she tried to grab the phone, but he threw it across the counter.

He wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his chest. He held her tightly and kissed her forehead.

"It's okay, shh," he cooed, swinging them back and forth as he held her. "I'm not mad and I'm sorry for yelling. None of it was your fault, and it was wrong of me to blame you."

"No! I messed it up. I'm just so stupid and forget everything."

"You're not stupid!" He argued, holding her head to make her look at him. "You are having our baby, and you've been carrying her for nine months. You are amazing. Tracy never should have left the message with you and I shouldn't have acted the way I did. You have every right to be spacey. Nothing is wrong with that or you. I love you so much. Please don't cry because of me." He softly wiped away her tears and kissed her forehead.

"I love you too." She said, cuddling into his chest.

"Now how about we take a nice bath and eat pizza" Eddie suggested, knowing that was her favorite routine to do when she was upset.

Eddie laughed as she yanked herself out of his arms and headed for the bathroom.

A few more days until their family had a new member.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Interrogation

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader 18+

wc. 1.2k Warning: 18+, MDNI!, fingering, edging, <33333

“Satoru~” you moan as you sit in his lap, his fingers thrusting themselves deep into your poor, dripping cunt.

“Come on, baby. Tell me. You wanna be my good girl, don’t you~” He asked, feeling your juices drip down his hand onto his chair.

“I-I can’t! That would be cheat-ngh-ing~” you whine, fat tears clinging to your eyelashes. His thumb rubbed faster on your clit, his fingers thrusting up deeper to the point where he was knuckles deep inside.

“Come on, it's just a test baby. There's no shame in a little cheating~” He said, placing open mouthed kisses on your neck, making sure to leave plenty of marks.

Indeed, it was all true. This entire situation stemmed from a ridiculous test designed to evaluate Satoru's interrogation skills. He was tasked with solving a fabricated crime scene by extracting information from a few people: Kento, Shoko, and you. Kento and Shoko had already taken their turns, and unsurprisingly, Satoru easily coaxed the necessary information out of them, mostly due to the fact that he was being hella annoying and they just wanted to leave.

Satoru was nearly finished unraveling the mystery, with only you, his beloved wife, left to question. He assumed it would be straightforward, expecting you to simply provide the answer so he could complete this absurd test. However, you proved to be far more challenging than he anticipated, and Satoru found himself struggling to elicit any useful information from you.

But then, a solution to his predicament dawned on him. And that’s where you both find yourselves now.

“B-But this isn’t how a pr-proper–fuck–interogation s-should go. You would never do this in a real si-situationnn~” You whined, feeling your climax approaching once again.

“True, but this is a stupid fucking test that my wife is making unnecessarily difficult for her sweet and kind husband. The man who worships the ground she walks on, who can't ever stop thinking about her, and who loves seeing her unravel right in front of his very eyes~” He said, speeding up the pace. He knew you were close, so very close to that wonderful and toe curling orgasm that would leave you in shambles.

“Toru, please~” You begged, not wanting him to stop again.

“Please what, my love?” He asked, acting all innocent.

“I wanna cum…please let me~” I whined, looking at him with desperation. However, seeing that you still haven’t answered his question, he quickly pulled his fingers out of you. You gasp once more, feeling that long awaited orgasm slowly disappear.

“Not until you tell me what I want to hear, my sweet~” He teased, looking at his coated fingers. He spread his fingers apart, seeing the sticky residue you left on them.

He looked at you and placed them in his mouth, licking them clean and savoring the flavor.

“N-No! I won’t!” I said, trying to gain back control, failing miserably. Satoru looked at you, his jaw clenched at your stubbornness.

“Fine.”

He picked you up and slammed you on his desk, digging his fingers back into your aching pussy. And he was ruthless. You arched your body into his chest, feeling his fingers hit just the right spots inside of you.

”Then we’re gonna keep doing this until you tell me. And trust me, my love, I have all day and night. Only thing is, can you survive that long? Hmm?” He asked, kissing down to your chest, placing his mouth over one of your sensitive nipples.

”Fuck! S-Satoru!” You cried out, grabbing onto his hair to have some sort of leverage. He moaned, feeling your delicate fingers intertwining themselves with his locks.

”You like that, baby? You like feeling my fingers drive into you like this?” He asked, kissing back up to your neck.

”You like when my thumb presses hard, right here?” He asked, pressing down hard on your clit, rubbing quick little circles over it.

”Mmmm~” You moaned, feeling yourself slowly fall into the brink of insanity. He had been edging you for so long now and you were getting desperate.

“Fuck, you know I love you, right?” He whispered in your ear, licking the outer shell. And as soon as he said those words, he felt your sweet and needy cunt clench around his fingers.

”Oh, you liked that, didn’t you~” He said, grinning sinisterly.

”You like when I say how much I love you~” He asked, bringing his other hand to your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this…Open your mouth for me.” He ordered, and you were quick to oblige. He leaned over you, spitting right in your mouth.

“Now swallow, my love~” And you did, hoping he would now let you cum.

You fool…

Satoru quickly removed his fingers again, making you cry out again.

”Don’t stop! Please baby!’ You begged, trying to move closer to his hand to get that sweet relief.

“You know the rules, Yn. Tell me what I need to know. And then I'll make sure you cum so hard, it's all you’ll think about.”

He reinserted his fingers again, moving at the same pace as before.

“Come on, baby. Tell me. That’s all you have to do~” he said in your ear. And at this point, you were so blissed out that you didn’t care anymore.

“Fine!” You moaned, telling him everything he needed to know. He looked deep into your eyes, giving you a small little kiss on your lips.

“See, that wasn’t that hard now, was it? And for being such a good girl, you can have your reward~”

He sped up his fingers, curling them inside as he spread you out. He rubbed your sensitive clit once again, sensing your upcoming orgasm.

“Cum baby. You did so well that you deserve it. Fuck, I love you so much.” He said, placing his lips on yours in a sloppy, heated kiss. He drove his tongue into your mouth, exploring all over.

Within seconds, you feel a wave of pleasure hit you like a train. Warmth spreads throughout your entire body, blood rushing to your ears. Your body tenses up, your muscles clenching as you let out a loud, gorgeous moan. It was music to Sartoru’s ears. You finally came and it was one hell of an orgasm. It left you shaking and breathless on his desk.

Satoru pulled away from your lips, watching you slowly come back down from your high. He gently pushed back one of your stray hairs from your face, kissing your nose.

“You, my love, did so well for me~” Suddenly, a knock was heard. “Now, let’s see how he did.” One of the higher ups said, alerting both you and Satoru.

“Damn higher ups. Come on.” He said, picking you up bridal style.

“S-Satoru! What are-“

“You think I’m staying here for those losers? I’d much rather be with you, Yn. Now, let's go finish what we started, shall we?” He asked, teleporting you two away back to your guys’ home.

And you slept happily ever after~

_________________

[zibiscusloon]

Feeling sappy today for no in particular reasons and I wanted to make one of these for the hell of it so feel free to use if you’d like! ^^

(When asking please be specific on the ship!)

~OC / Self-Insert x Canon Ask Game~

🤝: How did they meet in the first place? What was there first impression of each other?

🫶: Who ended up falling first? Which of them actually realized that they’d fallen in love first?

🦀: How did they handle realizing they were in love? Embarrassed? Nervous? Mad?

🫣: Who stumbled the most with their feelings around the other? How much did the other person notice?

🦅: How good are their friends at being wingmen? Do they even help at all or just sit back watching the pining with a bag of popcorn?

💕: Who confessed first and how? Did it go as planned or did shenanigans ensue?

🦋: How long did it take them to get out of the awkward early relationship stage? Have they gotten more confident around each other?

❤️‍🔥: Who tends to take the lead with showing affection?

💔: Do they have any previous relationship experience from past partners? How does it reflect on how they handle their current one?

😑: How easily do they get jealous and how do they handle it?

🐱: Do they have pet names for each other, if so what are they? How does their partner feel about their pet name?

🌙: Who has to force the other into having healthy sleeping habits? How well does that go for em?

🗣️: Who’s the one that will ramble on about their highly specific interest while the other just sits back and nods along?

🐕: Do they have any pets together? If one of them had a pet from before their relationship how well does the pet get along with their partner? Do they have the pets approval or does said pet sit in between them and their partner any time they try to make a move?

✏️: How canon compliant are you with them? Do you stick pretty close or just have fun cause it’s your ship so no one can tell you what to do other wise?

💀: If the canon character is canonically dead, how did your OC handle their death? (Or did you completely omit their death cause fuck canon?)

💧: How well do they comfort each other when they’re upset?

🧸: Would they want to have kids together? If so what are their kid(s) like? How are they as parents?

👁️: What exactly do they want with their future with each other? Is that something they think of often or do they just stay in the moment?

🕊️: Give just a general domestic tidbit for em (things they like about each other, routines, habits, and just overall sweet stuff)

Edit: as a result of the blocking spree I had to go on I would like to state for the record pr*shippers this is not for you!!!

[ventismacchiato]

40 behind the lens — paper rings !

scaramouche x g!n reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ time skip of three years ࿐ྂ

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ you and kuni graduate at the top of your respected classes and have been dating for almost five years now, known properly as the campus it couple

✰ neither of you moved in together until last year when everyone else started moving out of the shared content houses

✰ first xiaoae move out together, then childe, then heikazu, albenari, then ayaka going back home and venti living on his own

✰ living in the houses on your own was essentially a waste of money and space so jean ended your leases and you guys finally moved in together

✰ and after graduation, with jean’s help, you’re able to slide into the industry pretty easily with your large fanbases

✰ you start off as side characters that grow in popularity since your fans watch the shows and movies you star in just for you both

✰ i like to think kuni double majored in child psych along with film in case acting didn’t work out in his favor so he’s pretty and smart

✰ but since this is fiction it did work out for him cus dreams come true #livelaughlove

✰ id like to think star/you would also act but probably dials it down to direct full time instead

✰ you preferred to direct compared to acting so eventually you started to fund your own projects with kuni on your cast which helped you grow

✰ you try not to cast kuni in every one of your movies because then it’ll look like favoritism but he prefers to star in ones you direct

✰ you also get your friends to be extras a lot, most of the time it’s childe who begs you to let him be in the back for movies

✰ you guys probably don’t get engaged for a while despite living together, blaming it on scara’s commitment issues and the fact that your careers are your main focus

✰ alongside luna, your previous black cat, you probably adopt another white one alongside scara

✰ as for actor!scara headcanons imagine scara on hot ones, that one show on youtube, and he has a straight face the entire time as he eats the hottest wings and answers questions about you

✰i think he’d have a lot of fun on shows like that, example would be eat it or spill it by jimmy fallon, he would annihilate them

✰ he probably does all his own stunts, always giving you a heart attack as you see him falling from heights on harnesses, sometimes he convinces the staff to fool you into thinking he actually got hurt due to a broken rope as he plummets to the ground

✰ he does it so much that there’s enough content for ‘scara pretending to die in front of yn for ten minutes straight’ compilations

✰ you guys probably stream when you can but not as much with your jobs, i think star doing behind the scenes vlogs of you and scara together would be so cute though

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ was a communications major so he’s the PR manager for scara and you after graduating

✰ yes i know technically jean could do this but she has enough on her plate! i’m just thoughtful like that #feminist

✰ constantly trying to prevent you guys from getting into scandals, which is hard when scara cannot keep his opinions to himself

✰ aether probably has a heart attack everytime scara goes off to do interviews since scara always ignores the pre written answers and goes on tangents, which his fans love but twitter not so much

✰ xiao as an animator wud be so sexy guys. like walk with me here imagine an operation true love anime after the drama and webtoon are a hit so he gets to animate for the anime and storyboards with albedo

✰ i’m tryna intertwine all of them even after they graduate can you tell

✰ as for him and aether they probably tie the knot a little while after graduating, small wedding with just close friends and family

✰ xiao would edit one of those pretty wedding videos that youtubers do

✰ but they don’t film the entire wedding for their channels cus they gotta gatekeep

✰ id say xiao probably still streams but he mainly just draws with music in the background or works on his stardew town with aether

✰ xiao probably strains his wrist a lot from all the work he does so at promotion events he’s always wearing a brace on his hand

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ okay in this au let’s all pretend he’s the creator of operation true love cus rmbr he’s a writing major and a huge romantic

✰ like how sexy is that, obviously it does well cus all his fans all read it and so it gets turned into a drama

✰ directed by you of course starring kuni as eunhyuk

✰ he’s still head over heels and throwing up in love with heizou, they probably adopt a cat together when they move in together

✰ i imagine if kazuha ever wrote a murder mystery novel he’d have heizou read it to decipher if the culprit was too easy to figure out

✰ nothing really exciting about heizou’s major in this au, he probably just becomes a detective and streams on the side, known as kazuha’s partner in the entertainment industry and attends all the events when he can

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ obviously goes into the art industry, works on a lot of graphic novels and novel covers and sometimes album covers

✰ when kazuha’s work gets turned into mangas or graphic novels he always does the art for it

✰ he probably paints nari’s favorite flowers for him and they adorn their house’s walls

✰ i’d say he doesn’t stream as much anymore but if he does it’s probably just him doing commissions with music in the background

✰ nari’s major is also not exciting in this au, probably becomes a forest ranger or a college professor

✰ albedo builds him a greenhouse in the back of their house for him

✰ the type to bring hurt animals home and fosters them back to health

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

childe

✰ stealing from my pookie mrbeast for inspo

✰ he probably does stuff like has a whole business for his videos and side hustles like merch and a food company

✰ like maybe he and diluc collab to make an energy drink or something

✰i mentioned he fancies diluc like once in a previous chapter so that’s why he’s with diluc who streams a little

✰ they probably met properly at another twitch con or creator event

✰ very wow factor oriented like he does more than just stream games, he prefers to work on big challenge videos and loves giving away money

✰ like he would host those extreme hide-and-seek challenges with all his youtuber/streamer friends in weird locations and get them to do weird dares with him

✰ i think heizou would win those types of videos most of the time, whereas scara barely tries and still seems to almost win

✰ diluc probably does one stream a month because it’s not his entire focus, probably also a business major and just appears in childe’s videos once in a while

✰ how cute would it be if childe was always at his 110% in videos and extra hyper to make them more entertaining but when diluc joins him he’s more calm and cute

venti

✰ his streaming fanbase gives him a jumpstart in his music career yk how it is

✰ does a bunch of osts for shows and movies. still streams but also is a popular musician

✰ not an idol 😍🤞 has to be a little different than jptp but does start out by opening for tours and makes it on billboard

✰ i do think he’d eventually do a world tour though on his own and stray away from streaming to focus on his music, would probably just upload vlogs if anything

✰ does the operation true love ost so everyone is working tgt and he’s single in this au cus #singlerep

ayaka

✰ honestly i don’t care what happens to ayaka she’s just there ig

✰ keep doing what ur doing queen! i’ll support you from all the way over here!

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

yes i’m using yeonjun as scaras face 🤞

also sorry if this isn’t as in depth as the jptp one i’m just tryna wrap this fic up ☠️

author’s notes — just like jptp i just wanted to do a bunch of headcanons :] this is how i envision their future and if u don’t agree talk to the wall cus idc 😊

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilacponds @uma-umie @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos @cartierfiles [1/3]

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Kinktober 2024 Day Nineteen

Balcony Sex

Captain John Price/Nikolai

Price grunted, pushing his plate back as Nik placed the last croissant half on it.

“Go on.” Nik pushed it back, nudging the pot of jam along with it.

“I shouldn’t.” John mumbled, tilting his head back, sighing as the dressing gown slid off his shoulder again.

“We’re on holiday.” Nik tutted, but when John didn’t move, took the pastry back and ate it himself. “Your loss.”

“Hardly.” John glanced over the table with the demolished remains of the room service breakfast scattered across it. He slowly stood up, crossing to the sunbed as he watched the sun finally rise high enough to break over the tall hotel building they were staying in, leaving the light free to beam down across the sea of roof tops that stretched out in front of their balcony. He sighed appreciatively as the tiles glowed in the early morning sun, all seeming to wash together in a golden glow, like there was one unbroken wave across the whole city to the west of them.

“Looks as good as it did the first time we were here.” Nik followed him, taking John’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“We were younger then.” John pulled him down to sit on the bed with him, chuckling as Nik pushed his robe off John’s other shoulder too, kissing the newly exposed skin as he curled up next to him.

“Maybe.” Nik rested his head on John’s shoulder. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe. We were. Fucked in every corner we could find, as far as I recall.” John settled back, bracing his knees up, running his fingers over Nik’s wedding ring, matching his own.

“We can still fuck in corners.” Nik chuckled. “Just, maybe not as many.”

“Now you’re talking.” John tugged Nik up by his chain and kissed him.

“Could start now.” Nik mumbled against his lips. “Sun’s barely up. City’s still asleep.”

John chuckled. “As long as you’re not planning on involving us standing and using that railing. I’m too old for that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Nik smiled, rolling to sit where John had been as John sat up and shuffled down the bed so he could sit between Nik’s legs. He finally gave up on the flimsy excuse of a dressing gown, undoing the belt and letting it fall down his arms to be abandoned behind him, revealing the pyjama pants hanging low on his hips. Nik stared.

“You don’t need to do that.” John muttered when he saw him, leaning up over Nik. “You’ve seen it a million times.”

“I’ve seen the sunrise a million times. Doesn’t make it—”

“Shut up.” John groaned, smacking Nik’s thigh. “Shut up.”

“Sorry.” Nik slowly shed his own robe, leaving it lying underneath him as John pulled his boxers down. “Don’t treat me too harshly.”

John grunted, chucking Nik’s boxers back inside their hotel room through the open door. “You want to control, you top.”

“No.” Nik shook his head.

“Fair enough.” John trailed his hand up Nik’s thigh, moving it over to cup his balls. “I’ll do it nice and slow. Cause, we’re two old men.”

Nik groaned. “Slow’s no fun.”

“I’ll show you it is.” John quipped, seeing through Nik’s false complaining easily. Nik liked to complain, and John liked to prove him wrong, even though they both knew the truth, and that slow was the best.

John pushed his hand down from Nik’s balls, pressing his fingers against Nik’s hole, teasing it open with his fingers. He quickly found that he was able to nudge one inside, glancing back at Nik to see him staring up at him, a lazy smile on his face. Nik reached out and pulled John close enough to kiss him, anchoring him there, up by his head, by tightly grasping John’s hand. John pushed Nik’s leg to one side to accommodate his arm, as he pushed his thumb into Nik. He rubbed just inside his hole, slowly, carefully, biting Nik’s lip as he groaned, ass clenching tight around John’s thumb.

“Relax…” John murmured, running his other thumb over Nik’s. “I got you.”

Nik shivered, and grunted when John pushed a finger in along with his thumb, teasing Nik wider. He gave into the position Nik was pulling him into, laying down and pressing his body onto Nik’s, trapping Nik’s half hard dick between their torsos. Nik whined at the pressure, grabbing John by the neck and half-assedly trying to push him back, as John took the opportunity to free his hand from Nik’s grasp.

When he had both of his hands to himself again, John gave into Nik’s pushing him back, slowly sitting up and using his free hand to slide the waistband of his own pyjamas down, freeing his dick. Nik whistled, and John jabbed his fingers up inside him, grinning as Nik groaned, and his head rolled back.

John took his dick in his hand, stroking it before gently prodding it into the rim of Nik’s hole. He used his fingers to stretch it wide enough for the head of his dick, smiling as he watched his head sink in and Nik’s hole close around it, freeing up his other hand. He moved it up to cup Nik’s face, tilting his head forward so he could kiss him. John kissed him to keep him quiet as he fed his dick into his ass, as while they were both hot and needy, there were balconies in all directions around them, and Nik could be loud.

“Fuck, John… Still so big.” Nik mumbled. “Still so big. Fills me up every time.”

“Course I do.” John grunted back, slowly rocking his hips back and forth. “Why be surprised?”

Nik groaned, slowly running his hand down John’s spine before grabbing hold of his hips. “Don’t brag. Don’t stop.”

“You were the one that started bragging.” John muttered, jostling his hips forward slightly harder, the bed creaking against the stones beneath them.

“We’re on holiday.” Nik replied. “What’s the point if we don’t indulge?”

“Good point.” John kept rocking his hips. “Should do it more often.”

“What, holiday?”

“Indulge.” John ran his hand down Nik’s torso, wrapping it around Nik’s dick, stroking it in time with each slow roll of his hips. John’s head was buzzing. He knew he was going to come soon, and he wanted Nik to come with him.

“We’re retired, John.” Nik mumbled back, after a beat. “We can indulge as much as we want.”

“And we will. As much as old men can.”

Nik nodded, as the pair of them fell silent, rutting against each other until Nik came, messing John’s hand, groaning into his mouth as his ass squeezed tight, slowing John’s strokes as his head fell onto Nik’s shoulder, his mouth hanging open with against Nik’s skin, groaning as he came too.

“Treat, you are.” Nik reached up, running his hand through the hair John had finally started growing out, after years of adhering to military regulations. He kept his grip tight as John slowly pulled out of his ass and flopped down next to his side, letting Nik take charge and cuddle him close to his side.

“Yourself.” John kissed him. “We still getting up for that gallery slot?”

“That’s not ‘til ten.” Nik squinted at the clock tower visible amongst the crowd of roof tops. “Barely gone half past seven. Plenty of time.”

“Good.” John stood up. “I’m going to order more food.”

“We only just finished…” Nik groaned, referring more to the fact that John, at sixty-eight, could still spring up like he was twenty-five after fucking, than the first breakfast they’d arranged.

“So, nothing for you, got it. I need me some bacon.” John crossed back into the hotel room, seemingly uncaring that he was naked as he stood next to the glass doors, squinting at the phone in his hand as he dialled the room service number.

“I’m not going to bring you around to sweet breakfasts, am I?”

John looked up, a smile forming on his lips. “It’s taken you forty years to realise that?

Nik chuckled. “Happy anniversary, love.”

“You too.”

[inzsanewrites]

Morning Temptation

Leon S. Kennedy X fem!Reader

⚠︎: NSFW-ish, Suggestive Content, 1k words

♡♤▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬♡♤

It was the dip in the bed that initially woke you up, you hoped to ignore it turning around to bury your head into your soft pillow in an attempt to fall asleep once more. However, a loud metallic clack followed by a mumbled ‘fuck’ that shut down any ideas you had to returning back to your slumber.

Groggily, you began to stretch, sighing when you heard your bones pop followed by a lingering soreness that gave you the exact reminder as to why you were persistent in your desire to go back to sleep.

“Leon, honey, you couldn’t have been just a bit more quiet?” Your voice husky from last night’s activities as you brought the blanket closer to yourself.

A low chuckle sounded through the room and didn’t fail to put a smile to your face

“Of all days this thing decides to act up, it just had to be today.” Leon motioned to the strap on his thigh, adjusting the second on beneath it in a more comfortable position.

Rubbing your eyes, you blinked away the last trace of sleep as you made out his figure picking up a brown coat from your shared wardrobe. “You know you could wear one of those shoulder things. Wouldn't it be more practical when you’re walking?”

“I would but then you’ll have no reason to feel me up, my love.” A smug grin plastered his features as you sat up, holding the blanket against your bare chest. “Need I remind you it’s you who always escalate things, Agent Kennedy. Although seeing as you're up so early, I can only assume you have another mission.”

Leon turned around after he made sure all his gear was in place, but instantly froze at the sight of you. Somehow you always managed to look so pure yet tempting.

he didn’t to think too hard to recall the night before, his memory instantly bringing up the recollection of your warm skin against his and the softness of your lips he felt every time you pulled you into a frantic kiss, he swore the sound of your moans were the sweetest thing he ever heard. “Well I can’t exactly reject the President.” Walking to the bed, Leon placed his hand on your side and leaned down to grant a gentle kiss you happily received. “Sorry for waking you, sweetheart.”

You hummed softly against his lips, bringing your free hand up to cup his neck. “Is there anything I can possibly do to convince you to stay with me a bit longer?” The question was innocent at first but the unintentional sultriness of your voice changed it’s meaning completely.

He groaned outwardly, setting his attention on your neck that now seemed to be begging to be marked by him again. “Don’t start. I don’t have the self-control to be as gentle as I was last night.”

“Now you’re the one tempting me, Leon.” Your hand slid to the back of his head, giving his scalp a pleasant scratch in the process. “I may not let you leave this time,” you sighed at the feeling of his lips latching on to your pulse point and tilted your head back to give him more access.

Leon nipped at your skin while his right hand easily ventured to your chest, cupping your breast through the blanket and squeezing tentatively, paying little mind to the strain forming against his pants as a sweet moan left your lips. At this rate he was nearly back in bed with you as he propped a knee on the bed to keep his balance, wanting nothing more to untangle himself with you once again.

Though, as alluring as the thought was, the mission he was tasked with began to pull him back to reality and he heaved a heavy sigh against the crook of your neck, cursing himself when he felt your shoulder tremble with concealed laughter.

“You're too easy to read, Leon,” you cooed, a slight tug on his hair urging him to pull away - unsurprised at the lust you found in his gaze. “Go on, I’ll still be here when you come back.” He moved his hand from your breast to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I know you will, love. Get some rest, alright?” Pressing his lips to your forehead, he went to pull himself away until you grabbed the lapel of his coat.

Releasing your hold on the blanket, you reached to smooth his hair back down, a cheeky smile playing on your lips.”We can’t have you going to work disheveled now.” Unfortunately, work was the last thing on his mind as he took in the expanse of the skin revealed to him, gaze trailing across the soft skin of your breast and swallowing thickly at the sight of your slightly pebbled nipples.

“I think I can call in late today.” He said, quickly making plans to inform Hunnigan of his change in schedule. Biting back a laugh, you covered your chest with your arms. “Shoo! you just told me to rest.” You laid back on your pillow and pulled the blanket back up to your chin, cutting off his trance with a teasing smile.

Leon chuckled again as he leaned down to kiss your check before catching your lips a kiss goodbye. “I suppose that can be my reward for coming back in one piece then.” Standing upright, He went towards the door, looking back to give you one last loving look, “I’ll try to bring back a souvenir.”

“Lovely, but don’t you even think of going out of your way to get me something just come back safe.” The glare was mostly playful, but given the amount of times you had patched him up over the years, it became painfully apparent you cared much more for his cuts and bruises than he did.

“For you? I’ll try.” He gave you one last grin before finally making his way to his ride, leaving you in the comfort of your shared bed. Smiling, you shut your eyes to rest a while long, wanting nothing more than for time to pass by faster.

[vilhelios]

-; I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU. / IT'S ROTTEN WORK.

(NOT TO ME, NOT IF IT'S YOU) ; in which wriothesley lets you tend to his wounds after the dramatic affair with the beret society.

CW: not beta-read. cerberus chapter spoilers! gn!reader, slight hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of blood, injury, and violence. mention of scars (+ my headcanons of how wrio got some of them), & finally, lovesick loser wrio!

"i'm telling you, sunshine, i can handle it myself."

at his words, your hands still, pristine rolls of gauze and bandages already soaking in red blood. a frown breaks across your countenance as you glare up at wriothesley, eyebrows furrowed. there will be no stopping this, you know; there will be days where your beloved duke returns to your arms with a new wound that you're sure will scar. days he brandishes blooming bruises on his knuckles, and you'll eventually press butterfly kisses to them. perhaps, he will crawl into your loving embrace, his warm home, with blood dripping from his fingertips. (grimly, you wonder how much of it will be his own. you know you'll thank the archons when it's not all his.)

with a sigh and a dab of the alcohol-soaked cotton against his exposed side, you mutter: "you always say that. look where that's got you now."

"it's just a scratch."

"wri, it's a bullet wound. you're lucky it only just grazed you."

"so... what i'm hearing is that it really is just a scratch."

now that earns him another glare (which he sheepishly smiles at).

"look, as stupid as it may sound," he sighs, clear blue eyes finding your own, "i didn't think dougier would have a gun with him." the duke's expression contorts ever so slightly, a weak hiss slipping from his gritted teeth, as you rub a cooling ointment against his angry, red wound. "didn't think he'd have that many gardemeks either."

(another comment, much quieter: "and i thought it'd be cool, really.")

and with that, you both fall into relative silence. the classical music playing from the office gramaphone, your steady breathing, and the occasional pained hiss from wriothesley (followed by your whispered string of apologies) permeate the space between. in the quiet, your mind eventually runs rampant with thoughts of your love getting injured. wriothesley may have proven to you time and time again that he would always return to your side, but he wasn't invincible. your gaze wanders, frowning further when you soak in the sight of the scars that mar his chest. they do nothing to comfort you.

"hey," wriothesley starts, when he notices your stare on the claw marks etched into the skin of his neck. they stretch downwards, the cruel tally marks stopping right above where his heart would be. you try not to think about how they could've easily torn out his throat. "i know you'll still worry about me, but i've been through much worse." he raises his own hand to trace the scars, playing with the black wraps around his neck; "and, as you can see... i fought and won."

( you know he has. he's told you all about them, once. on a sleepless night, where you two lay in bed and traced designs on each other's skin. his calloused fingers against your softer flesh, your touch along the lines of his many scars. some were from fierce sea creatures, he tells you, with a teasing lilt in his voice that makes you giggle. others from his time serving his sentence, fighting for his life in the ring. when you trace one along the back of his arm, smaller than the rest, his voice gets a little softer — he got it on the day he spilt his first blood. you had kissed along all his scars that night, and he had returned the favour with a shower of kisses along your cheeks.)

"promise me you'll be more careful." you say, as you unroll a new roll of gauze and begin wrapping it around his torso. it's a beat, and then two, and when he doesn't respond you turn your gaze back to him.

wriothesley frowns, now. he could do cheeky proclamations of victory, tell you he'll always crawl back to your side alive... but he can't promise you that. not with your current lives in meropide. "you know i can't—"

"wriothesley." the syllables roll off your tongue and he quickly seals his mouth shut—it's been a good, long while since his full name has graced your lips. (he much preferred wrio, or sweetie, or darling; something from you that made him kinder. softer.) "please?"

the silence comes back for a heartbeat. you think you feel tears pooling at the corner of your eyes—

"alright, alright. i'll try." he says, quickly relenting to your teary-eyed gaze. and when that's not good enough for you, highlighted by the pout of your lips and the slightly-aggressive tightening of his bandage wrappings, he says: "fine. i promise to be more careful. as best as i can."

a smile graces your lips. (wriothesley thinks he's seen the sun. you, his darling star, whose mere presence lights up his gloomy underworld.)

"sigewinne and i will keep you to it then."

he can't help the way he leans into your warmth as you press a quick, gentle peck to his temple nor can he help how he almost whines when you step away from him. his gaze is on you even as you pack up the first aid kit and make your way to the stairs (how cruel you are, leaving your lover while he toils in pain!) wriothesley stands from where he leans against his table, just as you reach the bottom of the stairs. he stands up a little straighter, smiles as you shout out:

"oh, and i heard from the traveller! your stunt did sound pretty cool."

a/n: happy birthday wriothesley! here's a very short, indulgent, not beta-read thing to celebrate his birthday and his c1 coming home during his banner! sorry if he's a little ooc or this is just. a really oddly worded / structured fic — this was very much so written in a haze after seeing his story quest cutscene... he's so dreamy. . ..

[jkftkth]

i really do wonder what a bts comeback will mean and does every member have a plan figured out for themselves.

fan accounts going awol when some members were exploring their artistic individuality and only now resurfacing because a group reunion is closer - it makes you think. was there ever even an artistic connection? or was it more about what has been sold to the audience over musical talents - an entertaining family dynamic/bond fans can project onto. fitted roles where a member is only likeable if they’re playing it just right.

2024 changed my feelings for good on where i think i belong, and there’s probably little that could happen for me to want to be part of bts’ fandom again.

firstly, there’s only so far you can go being a fan of tae and having to witness on a daily basis the level of disrespect he faces from both company and fandom no one else has. when you see quite literally the worst of the worst, day after day, but it’s only a limited amount of fans who voice concern and make actual space for the exclusive severity of it all to be acknowledged and discussed and questioned…you either stay and pretend it’s not happening/it’s not “the actual worst” because it’s impossible to satisfy every fan, orrrrr—

i mean, everything until up to now has been with the intent of a) making us fall for the brainwashing so we stop advocating for him as an individual, or b) exhaust us into quitting being his fan so his label can turn around and say to him hey look—why did you think you could make it when no one likes you?

and i obviously believe other members are a victim in their own way too. because you would have to be living under a rock to not see that hybe does not respect its idols as workers, as money makers, and as humans. neither does it protect most of them, the actual opposite for specifically taegikook and so a fan of the group or not, anyone would naturally want better for hybes idols across the board because they deserve better than staff badmouthing them in official reports and on online platforms.

of course there are other reasons i’ve had enough, such as contractual fan service being pushed so much whilst at the same time fandom reactions being intensely watched and made note of to the extent labels are out here monitoring fanfiction and assigning tropes to members and not caring what type of delusion and hate that cultivates??! to the group motto of “us is always before me” being celebrated, to fandom not actually caring about idols’ rights, to fandom falling for a dirty pr firm’s media manipulation/fabrication so easily, to hybe basically being in all fandom spaces with their dumb ass bots to sway opinion, to i mean the list goes on.

i don’t think i’d call myself bitter, or a hater, or a “solo.”once they return i’ll feel relief for all of them that that chapter of their life is over and they came out safe and sound (🙏), but i confess i have little excitement for a group album because group songs mean one thing for fans of tae and group arrangements always do the opposite of wanting him to shine and group entertainment is hard to enjoy when you know there’s a script running more often than not at his expense.

a tour? well i know there’s sincerity in how important performing is, and it’ll probably mean a lot after 18 months of being forced away from that, so it will be nice to see them doing what they find enjoyable yes. do i look forward to the exerting schedules for the sake of making up for hybes financial losses? do i look forward to the billionaire continuing to rip them off while he carries on riding their success as his own?

i know there are contracts. i know idols’ rights are a topic of concern and few are willing to talk about it and make a change. i know their industry can get really manipulative really fast as soon as they step out of line and that can lead to a really dark reality. i know there’s always a bad guy in the story. i know the group is still important and loved by tae (and jk), i know he wants to think the best of the group’s fandom because he is still a group member, i know i’ll support him wherever he goes but like

it’s just hard to forget the least three years and stay unaffected.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

in my opinion, the relationships between the dod are pretty reasonable the way they exist already. These guys were raised like siblings, not AS siblings. The differences between them were brought up by their guardians, day by day, and they were constantly jugded by their tribe's traits. On the other hand, they have known only eachother in the first six years of their life, and they also had to cope with constant abuse. Their personality differences, especially in coping, gave them enough reasons to view eachother pretty variably, and all of those views are justifiable somehow. However, i will make an attempt to explain each:

Clay: as a bigwings, he will not only view the others as siblings, but also as his whole life, although i think he instinctively makes the difference in his head between his unsibs he had grown up with and is responsible for, and his biological siblings he craves to take care of. He could never form any romantic feelings towards the others (in my opinion.)

Tsunami: by the nature of seawings and by personality, her views on relationships are the most human-like. She has distinctive places in her heart for her childhood friends and team, her family, and her love. Of course tsunami is a big dreamer deep down, so she tried to view both starflight and clay as a crush, but i suspect she was just young and experimenting with feelings. She even said she could no longer IMAGINE choosing either of them as partners. With her always-so-determined thinking, i doubt she would be able to combine these labels. What do you mean she'd fall in love with any of the dod? They are her silly goobers and friends!! What do you mean anemone wants to be part of HER team?? She is tsunami's sis, she has to make sure anemone is safe!!

Glory: for her, i am pretty sure she sees the dod simply as family, plus counting jambu and deathbringer (that one, of course, romantically). Glory had the toughest back then in the caves; she naturally closed off and tried to remain cold, so to dodge any more harm towards her. This became a habit that she'll never let go off, therefore it is pretty hard to emotionally get close to her, even if she admires you. Plus she is much more down to earth than to call the others "siblings" when that's practically untrue. She will remain saying friends, but by then, she really means "that few that really matters", but i'd guess it doesn't really matter for her WHICH WAY she is close to them, she just loves them for who they are. I'd say, but please argue with me if i'm wrong, that glory is the most likely to form a relationship with any other dragonet of destiny, except that she has deathbringer and she had never liked the others in that way.

Sunny: sunny's feelings are simple in this regard; what else could the others be than siblings!! This can be easily explained with the sandwings family oriented behavior and sunny's absolute faith in the fact that they are a team. She believes in the others a lot, and views them as her destiny; all of them equally.

Starflight: well, he is my absolute favourite when it comes to this question. His relationship with the others are complicated, but he clearly sees them as friends, not siblings. Maybe that's the result of the guardains' distinctive behaviour towards the mysterious magical nightwings; or maybe starflight just views this as a scientific question; the dod are not bloodly related. but on the other hand, starflight had it pretty rough, with all of his gut wrenching anxiety, plus he is very much of a dreamer. His escapism were the scrolls and the only other thing that brought light into his life, sunny. Sunny was his beacon through nightmares and anxiety filled days, and his point of love and admiration was a lot more of some imaginary and hope that kept him going, than real desire and passion. Therefore, he did love sunny, but he didn't really want her for himself; he could finally admit his feelings the exact time he no longer needed to rely on these feelings (and probably found someone he liked a tiny bit better than sunny). He could hypothetically also form a romantic relationship with the other dragonets, but i think he is much too loyal for that, and also, he looks up on his friends a lot. Maybe as much that he'd rather see them as pillars of his life and embodiements of different strenghts, than potential romantic partners.

Anyways, ship who you want, you are pretty cool to do so<3

.

[dangerousduckcloud]

take my hand, i'll fly you to the stars - a superbat oneshot

Clark Kent, Daily Planet reporter, doesn't know that Bruce Wayne is Batman. Bruce Wayne, Gotham's billionaire, doesn't know that Clark Kent is Superman. So when Superman confesses he kissed Bruce Wayne in front of Batman one day, there's only one reason as to why he began acting weird with him. Batman's homophobic. or: two idiots in love that don't know how to communicate and instead make their own assumptions.

Read it also on AO3

I know I should be writing for 'Flowerbeds' but I got a bit of writer's block and I had this idea in my head for a while so I began writing a bit to get inspiration for the fic, but I got too much inspiration for this fic and so I wrote it all. Sorry.

English is not my first language.

𓆩𓆪 Being a reporter comes with a lot of benefits; you are privy to information before anyone else. You uncover truths, bring down empires. You’re the voice of the people, helping to be heard those whose voice is underwater.

You fall in love.

Although, well, maybe that last one is not exactly tied up with the job description, but for Clark Kent, Daily Planet reporter, it sure felt like it. Born out in space and raised in a Kansas farm, the possibilities of being invited to a Wayne Charity Gala were close to none. Nonexistent. Zero. He would’ve been turned away by security the moment he set foot in the vicinity had it not been by his neatly plasticized reporter ID, confirming his name on the list.

Though, for most, ‘invited’ might be a bit of a stretch, more like Cat Grant had gotten sick and there was no one else available to cover the event.

Point is, he’s here now. His tall, broad figure easily ignored by the one percent that with just one glance at him knew he didn’t belong; they could sense his suit was off the rack, his glasses from the dollar store, his watch older than most people here, a gift from his Pa when he turned eighteen, a Kent heirloom that’d been passed down every generation from father to son.

So, no. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t have an expensive watch, or a custom-tailored suit, he barely had an apartment that didn’t leak every rainy season, but that didn’t matter. He was here to do a job, hoping ‘Clark Kent, clumsy Daily Planet reporter’ would strike enough pity with the guests to grant him an interview.

“Mr. Paul!” Clark squealed, his voice breaking at the end, an ability he’d perfected over the years to sound natural, his pen ‘accidentally’ falling from his hand, clattering to the polished marble floor. The stifled chuckles were still loud enough that he didn’t need to make use of his super hearing. “Do you have anything to say about the recent allegations regarding your company’s involvement in money laundering?”

Clark liked to believe he was a good man, with honor and a strong sense of justice. He cared about the safety of every single soul that wandered this earth, be it human or animal. Yet he still allowed himself from time to time to take pleasure when nagging people about their criminal activities.

The mighty, haughty smile on Mr. Paul’s face fell, a sour look replacing it.

“There’s not much I can say that hasn’t been on the news already. We discovered the person behind it all and we’ve left the police to handle the matter.” A generic, simple, memorized answer that Clark was sure his PR team had advised him to learn by rote. The words covering the reality that he most likely had paid someone enough to not do anything about it.

“There are rumors the money was found on one of your bank accounts off shore.”

“It’s just that, rumors.” Mr. Paul said acerbically. “Such a brilliant mind as yours should know better than to believe what the common mouth spews. A shame, Mr. Kent, that quite an outstanding reporter as yourself has been reduced to writing gossip columns.”

“That’s why I’m here, actually. To stop the rumors. Wouldn’t you want an outstanding journalist writing on your behalf?” The man had a reply ready on his lips, only to die down before it could come to the light. His mouth was left open like a gaping fish, the gears on his mind working overtime. “That is, if you’re telling the truth.”

Saved by the ring, the executive lift of a finger to politely shut him off, a frown on his face at whoever the caller ID showed on the screen. “One moment, please.”

Mr. Paul walked away to an open balcony facing the vast gardens, and despite the intensified chattering, clinking of glass flutes and the live orchestra, Clark had no issue eavesdropping on his conversation.

“—Don’t care how. That fucking bald asshole backstabbed me—I said I don’t care. I want him to pay.”

So Luthor was involved in the money laundering. He shouldn’t be surprised.

The rest of his conversation fell back on stocks and irrelevant information Clark couldn’t care about.

He checked his watch for the umpteenth time that night; he was itching to step out of the ballroom and the gala had started just two hours ago, but the main event of the night had yet to make an appearance, the only reason he hadn’t bolted out of the place the second he stepped foot on the marble floors. The reason Perry had sent him here and get something noteworthy to print.

Bruce Wayne. The man every reporter couldn’t get a serious answer out of him that wasn’t laced with an innuendo or the most mindless reply one could think of.

Bruce Wayne. The Prince of Gotham, labeled as the hottest man in the world by several magazines for over ten years straight.

Clark knew about Bruce. Everyone did. He hadn’t had the opportunity to meet the man, but he’d done his research: orphaned at eight, disappeared at sixteen, came back at twenty-three. More children than brain cells, according to some people.

Single. Hot.

Of course, Clark was an alien, but he had eyes and they always had a feast with every photo published of him that were now stored in a secret folder on his phone. He’d watched all of his past interviews to learn about him, about topics he’d already talked about, about what holes in his stories he needed to clarify, what projects he needed to update on.

And he’d re-watch them again. And again. Despite not needing to after the first time. His notebook was filled with Clark’s somewhat legible handwriting on charities, school fundings and medical breakthroughs involving the company.

And in between the words, the laughs and the smiles, he discovered something else.

Bruce ‘Brucie’ Wayne was a liar.

The man wasn’t as stupid as he pretended to be. Every single word that left those plump, pinkish lips shaped like a heart and oh so perf— was a lie. Idiotic on purpose. To keep up the façade of a bimbo. But why? Business advantage, perhaps?

The moment he noticed that, he thought he was seeing things, he was becoming as paranoid as his nightly, battyfriend tends to be, reading too much into everyone’s words and actions thinking they all had second intentions. Still, he shared his findings with Lois, who thought it was his slight, minimum, non-existent ‘crush’. And with Jimmy, who thought the man used to have a brain until he started getting hit so many times in all his vacationing accidents he was surprised he was still standing.

No, it wasn’t anything like that.

And Clark intended to find out why.

Bruce Wayne, the man running circles around Clark’s mind (simply because he was a mystery, not because he was almost as tall as Clark, with a stretched suit barely doing its best to hug around his arms and torso without ripping apart and expose his toned muscles to the world, a torso he wanted to discover what would it feel like under his hands, holding tight and drenched in sweat while they both—), had barely stepped one foot in the ballroom before he was swarmed by potential opportunists—err, shareholders, businessmen, reporters and gorgeous single men and women and mothers with single children that would do anything to get their daughters married off to the richest man in Gotham.

All lovely people, Clark was sure.

Brucie didn’t seem to mind, though. Not externally, at least. While on the outside he was all smiles, handshakes and flirtatious jokes, Clark could hear his rapidly beating heart, he could see the way his eyes were scanning the whole place, as if looking for an excuse to escape.

And Clark could easily make a beeline towards the horde of people, throw in one or two questions to which he would probably not receive an answer and twist his responses to whatever way fit him better if only so that he could get back to his hotel room and sleep the night away (yes, he could fly in less than a minute to his apartment in Metropolis, but he wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity of being pampered).

But in lieu of interrupting his conversation with a stunning blonde woman holding him by the arm attempting to seduce him and act like a disreputable reporter, Clark opted to take another walk around the venue, staying out of view.

If he wanted a good interview, or at least a quote with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, he needed to wait, not corner him like a wild animal.

Maybe the staff had re-stocked the baked brie?

In the few formal events Clark had been invited to, he loved to wander around the food table, eating the hors d’oeuvre and trying not to make faces to some of the ‘delicacies’ rich people loved to eat.

“I recommend the stuffed mushrooms, they’re my favourite.” A deep, alluring voice brought a shiver down Clark’s spine, making the man jump in his place, not expecting to have anyone approach him, much less him.

“Mr. Wayne!” Clark had fought with a lot of ethereal beings in his life as a superhero, but no one had come closer to portraying the same kind of divine beauty Bruce Wayne possessed, so out of this world the pictures didn’t do him justice. “It’s—Uh, pleasure to meet you!”

He chuckled. “Bruce, please. Mr. Wayne was my father.”

“Bruce, then.” Clark’s smile was so wide it almost split his face in two, shaking Bruce’s hand with so much enthusiasm until he heard a groan from the billionaire. “I—I’m so sorry, I—”

“Quite a strong hand for a reporter.”

“I… Exercise.”

“I noted.” Bruce’s gaze travelled over every part of his body unabashedly, keeping his injured hand close to his chest. This time, Clark wasn’t pretending to be clumsy, he was flustered and anxious. “Usually, I would rather be left alone, but why is it that a Pulitzer winning journalist favours to hover the food table rather than getting an interview with me? Am I that uninteresting?”

“Not at all, Mr—Bruce! I was just… Wait, you know about me?”

“Of course. I read all about your piece on ecological alternatives to reduce carbon emissions. I’ve been a fan ever since. In fact, I implemented quite a few of your ideas on my companies.”

He wrote that almost a decade ago.

He’s been noticed by him for that long?

“Thank you, Bruce. It’s good to know someone like yourself cares about the environment.” Ever the journalist, Clark already had his trustful pen and paper in hand, riffling through the notes from the night to find a clean page. “If you let me, do you have something else to comment on the topic?”

“Well, my parents always taught me to give back to the world that helped us be where we are now.” His words were sincere, coming from the heart. “Be it the people or mother nature, and without her, we’re nothing. So I urge people, but most importantly my well off peers to research how we can help heal our world.”

Are these words coming from the same man who last week said turtles can’t have sleepovers because they always sleep at home?

“And the charity held next month, it’s all due to your youngest son, right?”

“Yes!” Bruce’s face lit up like a child on Christmas day. “Damian is such an animal lover. He brought to my attention there aren’t a lot of animal sanctuaries in Gotham, and the few that exist don’t have the support they need. So, we will be raising money and awareness to help them rebuild their buildings, to give those precious dogs and cats a proper place to live while they’re waiting to be adopted. And to encourage people to adopt and not buy pets as well. He won’t be able to attend as it’s a school night, but he always volunteers in one of them during the weekends.”

His eyes shone with pure love and pride, a broad smile exhibiting his perfect white teeth. A real one, not the kind where it seemed as if it physically pained him to smile when talking to others.

He was gorgeous. And Clark wanted, needed to taste those lips, to savour the cherries he’s been picking off the three-layers cake that now had red stains of where the cherries had been, as well as the shape of his fingers around the icing.

Rao, he needs to know what else those fingers can do.

“You never answered my question, though.”

Yes, Bruce, I will marry you. “Excuse me?”

“Why didn’t you want to interview me?”

How could one man hold so much power? To look at him with those blueish-grey eyes and turn him into putty? To ask him one thing and Clark would spill the secrets of the universe without a doubt. “I didn’t— I mean, I wanted to wait for the right moment. With all those people...”

“Well…” Bruce took a step closer, wandering fingers taking hold of his red tie to pull him even closer, feeling the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. Clark’s neck tingled with excitement, his burning body only comparable to the sun’s heat. “You got it. Now, why don’t we go somewhere quiet and… Finish this interview?”

𓆩𓆪

Life had gone back to normalcy —or as normal as it could be for an alien on Earth. But at least, he’d gone back to Metropolis.

And life had also found a way to ruin his chance to sleep with the most handsome man on earth, though.

Bruce didn’t wait until the gala was over, he barely cared he’d been in there for less than thirty minutes before he took Clark’s hand and paraded him around the room on their way to the exit, the warm summer night greeting them on their way out. They’d gone back to Clark’s hotel room, as it was just a block away from the building they were in.

He felt as giddy as a teenage boy getting his first kiss. And turns out he can sweat, as proved by his clammy hands he hoped Bruce didn’t find disgusting. The billionaire didn’t wait a second after they closed the door to start kissing him, touching him everywhere. Clark held his face in between his hands, feeling the strong but delicate skin under his fingers, the small nips and cuts that littered his face.

Why did he have so many of them?

Bruce had already unlatched his belt, pulling down Clark’s pants painfully slow while leaving a trace of wet kisses on his abdomen when he heard it.

‘MOMMY!’ A small, distressed girl was all he could hear. ‘HELP!’

He needed to reach her now, to aid her and taker her some place safe.

But he couldn’t fly out of here just like that.

He stopped Bruce’s hands from pulling the clothes down any further, earning a confused look from the man. “Is something the matter?”

“Yeah. No! I’m, uh.” Clark didn’t know what to do, what to say as to not hurt the man’s feelings. “I forgot… Could you wait here, just a second?”

Before Bruce had the chance to nod, he’d already ran out of the room, clumsily pulling up his pants. The moment he was out of sight, he flew out of the hotel and to the source of the calls for help.

Only to find a girl too scared to go down a slide in the park.

“Are you kidding me?” Clark muttered under his breath. He was glad the girl was in no danger, don’t get him wrong, but he wished she’d chosen another slide closer to the ground.

At least he got a beaming smile his way when the girl noticed him.

Before the girl could take up most of his time, he flew back to the hotel, expecting to find an empty room and lingering traces of what could’ve been. And even though it wasn’t the case, he was still surprised to see Bruce sitting at the end of the bed, briskly typing through his phone.

“You’re back.” He said, raising his head once he heard the door opening.

“Yeah.” Clark replied sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that, I just…”

“No need.” He stood up, a hand raised to politely ask him to quiet down. “I got thinking… It would actually pain me to use you as a one-night stand. And I can’t assure you this could become a regular thing. You deserve better than me.” Bruce placed a soft kiss on his cheek, staying there for more than a second. “I’m… If you ever need an interview, or help with anything, I won’t say no to you.”

And with that, he left. And Clark was chiding himself for letting him go. For not trying to change his mind instead of standing there like an idiot. That he didn’t mind.

But when he thought about it, he did mind. Because there’s no way he could’ve had a taste of Bruce Wayne and not becoming addicted to him like nicotine.

Hero life had taken an unusual rare break as well, with little to no serious attacks but an attempted robbery here and there.

“In more recent news, Gotham’s billionaire, Bruce Wayne was held for ransom two nights ago.” The T.V droned out, taking away Clark’s attention away from the game of Scrabble he and Flash were playing.

Like all nights for the past week, the night-watch at the Watchtower had been long and dull, a sense of pride in his chest at not being needed anywhere in the world. But he still had to stay in there the whole night just in case. “When questioned after his rescue, the man had this to say:”

“Oh, this was real? I really thought they were pretty bad strippers.” The image on screen showed a dirty, bloodied Bruce, with a lip split open, messy hair and a shirt halfway unbuttoned, his tie loose. “So that’s why they taped me up? It wasn’t a kink thing?” That explained the reddened area around his mouth.

Before he could embarrass himself further, a very tired man in a chauffeur outfit asked to have no more questions, guiding Bruce back to a shiny limousine waiting for him.

Was it simply a game for him to appear so dense in front of the cameras?

Back in real life, Flash chuckled, his mouth half-full of a protein bar. “Can you believe someone like him owns half of a city?”

“He’s not that bad.” Clark felt the urge to defend him in his stead, arranging the letters on his tile rack to see if he could form a word with his remaining letters. “He’s a nice guy, actually.”

A nice guy that put Clark’s feelings first, even if they weren’t exactly what the reporter wanted.

Oh the computer behind him, the click-clack of the keyboard stopped momentarily. Taking advantage of the slow nights, Batman thought it best to update the Watchtower’s security system, bringing Robin along, the one you would rarely see without an energy drink. According to Nightwing, the kid was a prodigy with computers, maybe even more than Batman.

“Wait, so you know him?” Flash asked, his hand halfway through placing a tile on the board.

“I’ve… Met him. Once. We, uh...”

“Oh, Sups! There’s a child present!” Flash chuckled. “Our Sups has a crush! It’s his pretty face, isn’t it? Can’t be his brains.”

Despite not facing them directly, Clark could hear Batman putting down his coffee mug with more force than necessary, his super hearing catching on a low, muffled chuckle from the kid.

“I… No.” He sighed, placing I and R on the board to spell ‘liar’. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Guy’s already being kidnapped every other day; he wouldn’t be able to leave his house for the rest of his life if somehow word spreads that he’s dating Superman.”

Flash’s smile waned, slow fingers placing carefully each tile to form ‘soul’. He was unusually quiet for someone that always had something to say, even more if it came to the love lives of everyone in the League. “Cape life’s not easy, is it?”

Clark knew he wasn’t talking about fighting villains.

𓆩𓆪

Bruce knew, sensed chaos bubbling in his son’s mind, sure to ensure as soon as they got home.

Tim had been suspiciously quiet all the way home from the zeta tube location to the Batcave, a leg going up and down repeatedly. And he knew it wasn’t the caffeine from the energy drinks he so desperately wanted him to give up drinking.

“Don’t.” Was the only word he grumbled the moment the waterfall came into view. The dark tunnel gave way to the lights on the cave, his speed slowing down.

“Don’t what?” His question was innocent.

“Don’t say anything.”

“Say what about what?” And he would’ve believe he didn’t know what he was talking about if he was younger, when Tim still needed a booster seat while on the batmobile, but he’d learned to read his face, his big eyes full of naivety that drew the attention away of his true intentions. Bruce was giving him what Dick once so eloquently named ‘the bat-glare’, but his only response was a meek smile, an inconspicuous hand reaching for the door’s handle, waiting for Bruce to unlock it.

He couldn’t hold him here the rest of his life, could he?

With a loud and theatrical sigh, he unlocked the door, and the teenager hurried out of the car and up the stairs leading to the manor, not caring about Alfred’s ‘no capes inside the house’ rule. “DICK, YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS.” Was all he heard before the clock closed.

There goes Bruce’s peace.

Making use of the few remaining minutes of tranquillity, he sat on the computer, his cowl removed and hanging behind his neck.

So, Superman had interacted with him in his civilian identity.

Question is, when? How? Why? Everyone had agreed they would reveal their identities when they were ready. And Bruce was forced agreed not to investigate them, as they knew he could easily discover it. And he’d kept his promise.

Kind of.

He knew, and understood, how if discovered it would be a total break of their trust in him.

But he also knew this kind of information could be necessary in the —hopefully not probable— case any of them ever went rogue.

Thus, with Barbara’s help, they’d written a code to analyse every bit of information online and compile possible candidates on who was who. Information heavily encrypted and hidden.

Information he was now opening.

Surely this is something he’s allowed to do? It involves him, after all. It might even be Superman’s way of letting him know he knows, and Batman doesn’t.

He scrolled past the names of people that were likely a fit for Superman’s physique and relevant events in the kryptonian’s file. There were quite a few, but the stats always showed a probability below sixty percent. Besides, the names were unfamiliar to him. He could’ve used an alias, but the data didn’t fit his criteria.

All except one.

Clark Kent.

His file had a ninety-eight percentage of being Superman.

Clark fucking Kent. The reporter. The one he almost slept with if it wasn’t interrupted by an Arkham breakout.

He almost slept with Superman.

Before falling into a state of stupefaction at this revelation, he needed to confirm the facts first: he was adopted by a couple in Smallville, Kansas, moving to Metropolis… Right around the time Superman was seen for the first time in the city, but strange sightings and miracle rescues had already happened in Smallville before that, starting when he was around his pre-teen years.

Upon further inspection on his adoption, Bruce was met with an unsuccessful result, as there hadn’t been any records of him before the Kents adopted him; no birth certificate, no archives on his staying at any orphanages, it was as if he didn’t exist for the first few months of his life.

And the adoption agency only handled one case before going bankrupt just weeks after opening. His.

God.

He almost slept with Superman. He was sure of it now.

The man he’s been dreaming with ever since he met him.

When the echoes of hurried steps going down the metal stairs reached his ears, he closed the file, heart beating frantically with this new information, yet his years of training allowed him to keep a stoic face.

“Superman what?” Dick asked, rushing to his side, with Tim closely behind.

“Irrelevant.” Bruce said as he stood up, taking off his gauntlets.

“B, you have to date him.” Dick jogged until he was in front of him, impeding him to escape to the showers. “Can you imagine how cool it would be to have Superman as your dad?”

“What about Batman already being yours?”

“No offense, B.” Tim said, making him turn to looks at him. “But you’re just a regular guy with an unreasonably amount of money enough to buy this.” He gestured with his thumb to the screen behind him, leaning on the desk of the computer.

“Yeah! And Superman is Superman!”

“Hng.”

“Oh, you know we love you.” Dick hugged him from behind, the acrobat’s arms keeping his unmovable, and Bruce knew he was done for when he saw Tim on the computer, fast fingers gliding over the keyboard. “And you’re our favourite… After Superman.”

“And Wonder Woman.” As much as he would forever love to know his second oldest son was home, this was not a good time.

“And Wonder Woman.” Dick agreed, his chin resting on Bruce’s shoulder.

“So...” Jason grabbed a marker from the desk, flipping it on his fingers and getting worryingly too close to Bruce’s comfort. “Why are we dissing Bruce?” Taking the cap off, he drew something on Bruce’s forehead.

He loved his children. He did.

“Superman has a crush on Brucie.” Tim answered, gaze still on the computer. Jason’s laugh resonated through the whole cave, and maybe all this wasn’t as awful as he thought if it meant to hear that sound again in these walls.

The finishing touches to Jason’s art was what he assumed a moustache drawn on the top of his lips, Dick strained his neck to see the result and he couldn’t contain his chuckle, only stopping once they heard a gasp from Tim.

“The reporter?”

Three heads turned to see what he’d discovered, a quarter of the screen occupied by the photo of a brightly smiling Clark that made Bruce feel warm inside, and a blinking ‘98% MATCH’ in red going off and on.

Shit.

𓆩𓆪

“KENT!” Perry’s shout shook the building. And while Clark had perfectly crafted his butterfingered persona and was content when real accidents occurred to keep his cover up, he didn’t appreciate how the sudden yell made him spill the coffee he’d been craving all morning. “KEEENT!”

If years of working for the man had taught him something, was that making him yell for you a third time was a sure way to get yourself thrown to the worst tasks no one wanted to do. Hurrying up, Clark rushed to the editor in chief’s office, closing the door behind him. And before the fastest man alive (he refused to believe Flash was faster than him) had a chance to speak, he was already being thrown his newest assignment.

“Pack your bags, you’re going to Gotham. Again.”

“What for? I can’t, Perry, I’m still working on my investigative piece—”

“You can do it later.” Perry said, lighting up a cigar. “You’re going to another Wayne Gala. The man loves to throw his goddamn parties...”

“And why can’t Cat do it?” Clark complained, an arm pointing to the woman’s desk, visible through the office’s window.

“Wayne asked specifically for you.” The phrase shook him, rose tinting his cheeks. Why would he ask for him specifically? “And the man owns the company, so we can’t exactly say no to him.”

Had he been thinking of their past encounter?

No, it was because of his past article regarding the gala, focused on the actual event rather than the gossip running around, as even the official account of the Wayne family had shared his reportage on their social media.

Surely, it was simply that. Not because Bruce wanted to see him. Or talk to him. He just wanted good publicity for his family and his company.

𓆩𓆪

Once again being shunned by the magnates who could afford to buy a new suit for every event, Clark was casually eating a stuffed mushroom waiting for the horde of guests to stop hogging Bruce’s attention.

The man had been on time for the gala this time, the reason of the event having so much importance to one of his children was the speculated reason for it, something that warmed Clark’s heart. Not many people would care about their children’s interests and beliefs.

He saw Vicky Vale, Toby Raynes, and even Robinson Sprang along with other reporters trying to get a word from him, pushing and shoving each other in efforts of getting their questions answered.

Clark didn’t worry, he’d promised he’d get an interview if he asked, and he hoped the billionaire was a man of his word.

Besides, he’d asked for him to be here. He wouldn’t do so only to ignore him all night.

But the melted cheese and toppings from his appetizer now felt too sticky and plain with the bewildered and flustered look Bruce gave him when he saw him.

It was almost as if he didn’t think he’d show up.

That didn’t him make feel all that confident any more.

Clark left the rest of the mushroom on a small plastic plate, pulling out his creased notebook and a pen he needed to shook a few times to get it to work. He needed to have a backup plan in case his ‘free interview’ card didn’t work.

On this occasion Bruce hadn’t come alone, instead he had the company of two of his sons, his oldest Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson and the third oldest, Timothy Drake.

Both had made their rounds around the ballroom shaking hands with everyone important on site; magnates, investors, the commissioner, even the Mayor was present. And once their presence wasn’t necessary, they’d ditched their father to make a beeline towards the food table.

“You think we should?” Clark heard one of them say. He didn’t need to use his super hearing as the kids weren’t talking particularly low.

“B’s getting lonely and I can only handle so many ‘father-son’ days when Damian’s not around.” The youngest one groaned. So, they’re playing matchmaker, that’s cute of them. “But do you really think it’s him? He doesn’t… Well, you know.”

“If you think about it, it’s the same tactic Bruce uses.”

Whatever they were talking about, Richard’s sentence shut him up, an audible click of his mouth closing and swallowing down any counter opinion he was forming. Clark’s placed his focus on the main event, taking photos of the few areas set up for dogs to be running around freely without tripping with the attendants, taking notes of everything useful for his article, as well as grabbing a business card of the shelters to add them on the note if people wanted to adopt or volunteer.

An hour had turned into two and he’d yet had no chance to speak with Bruce. Clark had rounded the hall once, twice, thrice even. He sat down for a moment to play with an injured chihuahua missing a back leg doing her best to convince him to take her with him to Metropolis.

She was close to winning.

And during those two hours, Clark had noticed the Wayne kids were always somewhere near him, sometimes catching them looking at him.

They couldn’t know about that night, could him?

Of the few times he eavesdrop in their conversation, he never once heard his name, or anything related to him. In fact, he didn’t understand much of what they were saying, as they’d switched to another language he didn’t recognize (that didn’t even sound human, (and he was supposed to be the alien here)) after he caught them spying.

He was on his way to fill out the adoption papers when someone caught his attention.

“Excuse me. You’re Clark Kent, right?” That was Timothy who approached him. The poor kid had more bags under his eyes than a Christmas tree, his face looking a second away from falling asleep in the middle of the Gala. Just what could be so dire to keep a billionaire kid staying up all night?

It couldn’t be parties, Clark was sure. Unlike their parent, none of the Wayne kids old enough had taken to be the life of parties. They rarely were seen in one if it wasn’t hosted by Bruce.

There wasn’t much about Timothy Drake online besides what he wanted there to be; son of the deceased Jack and Janet Drake, taken in by Bruce, suspected to be Wayne Enterprises next CEO, despite barely being legally able to drive.

“That’s me, what can I do for you?”

“We want you to interview our dad.” Richard said, standing behind Timothy. The acrobat also led a private life, albeit a bit more public than that of his brother. He was the son of the world renown acrobats John and Mary Grayson, whom sadly passed away in an ‘accident’ at the circus, taken in shortly after by Bruce. A gymnastics prodigy outshining everyone in all his school competitions during his youth, a mystery to everyone why he never made a career out of it to go to the Olympics despite being highly sought after prestigious team coaches and colleges. “We liked a lot your past coverage, he could use someone interested in something other than his looks.”

Well then, he got the wrong person.

It was a simple and logical request, (he knew the way people treated Bruce, after all), but there was something in the back of his head that was telling Clark not to trust them. At least, not to believe those were their only intentions. The way they smiled and shared a look was unsettling, the kids knew how to be creepy if they wanted to, and there was something in the twinkle of their eyes that only spoke of mischief. Clark might not be a top-notch detective as his nightly friend, but he’d learned to tell when people weren’t being fully sincere.

He wasn’t opposed to the idea, he was here to do that after all, but he first needed to know what he was actually getting into, why they actually wanted him to interview him, instead of Raynes or someone equally ethical.

However, before he could even reject their proposition, the sound of glass shattering and screams put him on alert, barking echoing around the ballroom. “Oh, great. Not another one.” Timothy mumbled. Were Gothamites plainly this desensitized about criminals taking in hostages?

His eyes were scanning for somewhere to hide while changing into his suit when the cold end of a gun’s barrel was pressed to his back. “To the centre! Now!” Clark complied, if only to not risk the chance of the man accidentally shooting one of the kids. Kids that were much calmer than they should be.

He’s never coming back to Gotham.

The trio moved to the centre of the ballroom, where every attendant and shelter workers were huddled in a circle. “Everything of value in the bag!” Another man shout, holding a dirty, ragged bag in a hand, a semi-automatic gun in the other.

Clark ‘tripped’ with his shoelaces to take the opportunity to slide behind all the hostages, to make his disappearance easier in case things went awry —more than they already are.

There were only three armed men inside. Another sitting in a car Clark assumed must be the getaway. His x-ray vision didn’t reveal any dangerous objects besides the guns being waved in front of his face, but there was something about the car that didn’t make sense to him.

The car had the trunk open, waiting to be filled with the spoils of the night. The thing is, they’re not taking that much stuff to requite the extra space; wallets and jewellery are not that big, after all, it will all fit in the empty seat on the back seats, so what could be the actual reason? Kidnapping, maybe?

But who?

“I love playing rough, don’t get me wrong.” Ah, it had to be him. “But even I think this is a bit overkill.”

“Shut up!” The man holding Bruce by the scruff said, pushing him to the floor and letting the end of his gun crush his hand. Bruce’s howl of pain mingled with the cry of Timothy, ready to get up and run to help his father. He was stopped by Richard, who held him by down by the back vents of his suit and sat him down, hushed whispers being exchanged. It was the only reaction the kid had shown so far tonight.

They’d already taken Bruce outside, leaving only the guy still collecting money, walking backwards towards the exit, his gun pointed at the attendants. The split second he took to turn to bolt out of the place was his mistake, colliding with a body as strong as steel that almost made him pass out. Clark swiftly took his gun, pulverizing it in his hands, the scraps falling to the ground. “I don’t think you were invited to this party.”

The kidnapper’s eyes were wide, full of fear. Clark didn’t need to use any strength to knock out the assailant, a simple hit with his index finger was enough for the already concussed man.

A rumbling vehicle speeding down the driveway was heard outside. Clearly the other men wouldn’t bother waiting for their partner. They already had what they wanted, the things in the bag were just a bonus they could afford to lose.

The car had, of course, not make it far before Clark stood in front, his extended hand pressing down the hood enough for the back to go up in the air for a second before falling. Yet before it could crash on the cobbled path, the kryptonian rushed to hold it and gently drop it, lest he hurts Bruce even more.

Clark made sure the delinquents were unconscious and unable to escape before opening the car’s trunk. “Are you alright, Mr. Wayne?”

Despite looking a bit green and having a broken finger, he didn’t seem to have any other serious injury. Not recent, at least. Clark used his x-ray vision again to check for anything that would need urgent treating, but he was met with the sight of all of the man’s bones broken in several places, several times, some not fully healed correctly.

Just in what kind of accidents was this man getting into?

The billionaire, in turn, was oblivious to the revelation he’d just had. Awestruck and eyes wide, Bruce accepted the hand Clark lend him to get off the trunk, careful not to put too much pressure on the broken finger. “Superman.” He whispered. “I… I’m fine. Just a broken finger. I’ve had worse.”

“No doubt.” Clark mumbled. Wayne looked at him curiously, but shook his head after a second, his dazzling smile back in place.

“How can I pay back the man who saved me?”

“It’s not necessary, Mr. Wayne. I’m glad to be of help. Please, let me take you to a hospital so that you can get treated.”

“No need, I’m sure the ambulance will be here soon.” And true, a siren in the distance was getting closer. “Besides, my sons will worry if they don’t see me, but…” He placed his good hand on Clark’s shoulders, standing on his tiptoes to reach him and place a soft, warm kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Superman.”

𓆩𓆪

Batman hates him. There’s no other way to put it.

It’s not particularly difficult to make the man broodier and angrier, Clark thinks. He just never expected it would be because he’s disgusted by his choice in romantic partners.

He’s never said it outright, but he shows it in the way he’s began to distance himself from the man every time they are together in a mission or in a meeting debriefing. If his hands happened to slightly touch his, or any other part of his suit, Batman pulls away as if he was burned.

Tonight was his turn to keep watch at the Watchtower. And with his unlucky luck, he’d been paired with Batman to do it. It was as if he was back again in elementary school, being forced to do a project with a friend he’d had a brawl with earlier —but this time he doubted ice cream would bring them closer again.

“Evening, Batman!” Clark greeted him once he saw the man walk in on the Observation Deck towards the computer, ready for a night of sitting down in front of the screen until sunrise, waiting for an attack to happen. Clark had been hovering on the air with his legs crossed looking at the Earth through the windows, but his feet touched the floor the moment he saw the dark figure.

Despite always keeping up his appearance of unbreakable, it was clear the bat had had better days. He was weary, walking slowly and grunting with every slight movement of his shoulders.

He hadn’t seen the vigilante in a while, as the man was ever busy with all the criminals running rampant in Gotham after they escaped recently. He and Wonder Woman had offered to help, of course, but being the stubborn bat that he was, he never accepted, despising the presence of other supers in his city.

Which was the topic he wanted to talk about.

“Superman.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of me being in Gotham last week. I know you don’t like it when we step foot in your city, but…” The man’s hand twitched slightly at being reminded his rules had been broken. “I was visiting some friends, and happened to hear the screaming. I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. I hope you understand.”

Silence filled the room. On the window behind the kryptonian, the dark shadows cast on earth were being eaten away by the slowly rising sun. He should get back home soon if he needed to catch up on some sleep before heading to work —not that he needs to, it’s purely habit at this point. He, as much as anyone else, loved the calm feeling of nothingness sleeping brought.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The man had always been cold, talking only if needed, but for Clark it wasn’t hard to notice how colder he’d begun acting towards him. He wouldn’t even spare a glance to him.

He never thought Batman would be homophobic.

Clark was conflicted. He didn’t want to get involved into his companions’ personal matters and preferences, but this was something he couldn’t simply ignore, this wasn’t a pineapple on pizza situation, but something far more urgent and relevant to attend to. Clark would always stand up for the people, for humanity, and it didn’t matter to him if they loved the opposite gender, the same, or both or none, the only thing that mattered to him were their actions.

And it raised the question; had Batman ever acted on this belief? Was the man that claimed to fight for justice and peace used it as an excuse to commit hate crimes? Clark didn’t want to even imagine how many people had been wrongfully incarcerated for this—

No, he wouldn’t. He’s a man of honor and integrity. He wouldn’t let his ideology get in the way of what’s right or wrong.

Unless he’s the one deciding what’s right and what’s wrong.

He didn’t know how to approach him. He was distressed. Even though they don’t know each other names, he’d always considered him a reliable ally —how ironic, now.

But now it all made sense. He’d seen Batman work with the Red Hood a few times, and if the red bat symbol embedded in his chest wasn’t misleading, he was also part of their growing colony, probably one of the kids that’d taken the mantle of Robin throughout the years.

He’d also seen how distant both of them were. And he knew Hood was involved in some kind of a ‘romantic mess’ with Arsenal, as Green Arrow once told him in passing.

“I’m surprised Batman hasn’t threatened you already.” Flash nonchalantly mentioned days later. “Or has he?”

“What?” Clark turned to him, his cape slightly billowing. Was it common knowledge the man’s narrow-mindedness? “Why would he do that?”

“’Cause you slept with his boyfriend?”

Clark had to rewire his brain for a second. “What did you say?”

“Oh, come on!” Flash gestured with his hands, bits of granola flying around from the energy bar he was eating. “It’s an open secret those two are dating! How do you think Spooky gets all his toys?”

That would explain why Batman has suddenly turned so hostile towards him.

But… No. It doesn’t explain why he’s also distant with the other guy who’s also dating a man. And he didn’t want to believe sweet Bruce would cheat like that. At least, he didn’t seem the type the other night.

But if it was true… Why would Bruce flirt with him so carelessly if they were indeed in a relationship? Could it be to throw off rumours about them? That would explain why he’s getting kidnapped so frequently.

But he was still acting even behind closed doors.

If Clark hadn’t bolted out of there, would he have found another excuse to leave? Or keep up with the act?

He’s starting to feel used, even more if they’d had a one night stand.

This is all a mess.

He’s a mess.

He should go to the one person that could have the answers.

Even though he’d promised to never come back to this city if he could help it, he still found himself coursing through the high polluted skies in Gotham City, his need for an answer far outweighing the necessity of spending an hour and a half in an uncomfortable bus seat to avoid detection from the bat.

It didn’t take long to find the man he was looking for. He simply needed to keep an open ear for any gunshots heard, as he knew the vigilante wasn’t opposed to using guns.

Clark was concerned about the number of shots heard in one night.

“Red Hood.” Clark said before the man could get on his bike.

“Boy scout.” The vigilante’s stance was calm, leaning on his bike with his arms crossed, yet the beating of his heart gave away he was startled. The robotic voice from the helmet’s modulator reached him. “What brings the Man of Tomorrow to our lovely, green city?”

Walking from out of the shadows and ignoring the sarcasm, he got closer to him.“We need to talk.”

“About…?”

“I know about you and Arsenal.”

Without using his vision to invade his privacy and look under his headgear, it was hard to gauge a reaction out of him with the helmet on. The silence stretched for several seconds, ambulances in the distance filling in the quiet.

“And that concerns you, because…?”

“I… First, I want to say that it’s alright. And if you ever feel that you’re not safe, you can always count on me if you need help.” Clark heard a small ‘what the fuck’ coming out of the helmet. “I don’t know what the extent of your relationship with Batman is, if he’s your father or just a mentor, but whatever it is, you shouldn’t have to be shunned for being yourself”

He raised a hand, only to drop it again. “Look, man, I appreciate the feelings and whatever. But I must know, what the fuck you’re talking ‘bout?”

“I… I thought Batman was mistreating you because you’re dating a man?”

“What?” The robotic voice was high pitched, a low chuckle coming out. “You think B’s homophobic?”

“He’s... Not?”

“Of course not. Hell, me dating Arsenal is probably the only thing he’s approved of ever since I came back.”

Clark wasn’t sure what he meant for ‘came back’, but it wasn’t something of importance right now.

“But then… Oh, so the rumours are true?” Clark sags, coughing to cover up his voice breaking. He felt as if a kryptonite dagger had been stabbed right trough his heart. Bruce wasn’t interested in his feelings in the slightest, he simply had an agenda to keep up. Bruce had tried to sleep with him even though he’s with someone else and in turn he’s also now on the bad side of the Batman.

“What rumours?”

“Batman’s dating Bruce Wayne.”

Hood’s boisterous laughter was hear through the whole alley, placing his hands on his knees for support.

“You’re on your own, boy scout.”

𓆩𓆪

Being a reporter comes with a lot of detriments; you’re exposed to compromising situations. You can easily paint a target on your back.

You get your heart broken.

Although fancying a known playboy wasn’t on his list of reportage to cover and he had no one else to blame but himself, he would still find himself laying late at night wishing to go back in time and not going to that damned gala in the first place.

He hated the bats. He hated Gotham City and he hated everything that’d ever come out of that place.

“Why the long face, Smallville?”

“How would you approach a long time friend that you’re not sure he’s either homophobic or utterly mad because he thinks you slept with his boyfriend?”

“You could’ve just said ‘fine, thank you Lois.’” She joked, leaning on the edge of his desk and taking a careful sip of her coffee. “I suppose talking like two adults is out of the question?”

“He’s an… Angry person, overall.” Clark was reclined on his chair, the eraser part of his pencil lightly tapping his chin. He was supposed to be working on his investigative piece, but with every word written on the page, his mind would find a connection to both Bruce and Batman, unable to keep the topic out of his mind. “He’s part of my… Game night group. He’s a night person. You can see why it’s not easy to simply confront him. I don’t want to create tension between the rest of the group.”

“Ah, I see.” Clark was glad Lois had discovered his identity —he wasn’t in the first place, worried about what it could mean to him and his parents if she ever went public with this information, but she’d vowed to keep it secret and Clark knew she would. And now it was easier to come with her regarding issues arising within the League that he didn’t need to keep dodging around the truth so much that her help wasn’t even useful in those cases. “I’m sorry, Smallville, but I don’t think there’s much you can do besides talking with the man. Maybe he’s not as batty about the situation as you think.”

Clark chuckled at the concealed pun. He bit his lip and his eyes were drawn towards the latest issue of The Daily Planet resting on his desk, half of the front page a flattering photo of Bruce taking up most of the page, his first Wayne Enterprises branch in Metropolis to begin construction next week.

It was painful to know that smile with the dimples he’d been charmed by was just a façade.

Several weeks had gone by since the gala fiasco and the man had already been kidnapped twice. His lucky star —or now that he thought about it, his lucky bat— had helped him leave unscathed just a couple hours later.

Of course Clark would only find out about it in the evening news, as he hadn’t step foot in Gotham since he met with Red Hood. He’d already broken Batman’s promise once and he didn’t want to know what he’d do if he did it again.

The clear sky was painted in a deep blue with tiny, bright freckles adorning it. Clark had taken a couple of minutes after his rounds to admire the vast space that surrounded them and tried to imagine where his home world was once located.

Out of the corner of his eye, a shadowy figure was making its way from rooftop to rooftop, a familiar grappling gun on the silhouettes hands. Clark didn’t bother to be quiet, letting the wind flap his cape and rippling through the silence.

“Funny seeing you here.” Batman grunted in greeting from where he was crouching, pulling out a pair of binoculars and pointing them to a lit window in the building opposite them. “You know, I don’t step foot in your city per your request. I thought the sentiment would be the same.”

“Red Hood told me you did.” Clark’s cheeks tinted red at being caught lying. He coughed and was thankfully saved by the man’s next words. “I’m following a string case of murders and the leads brought me here.”

“You could’ve told me, at least.” His only response was a silent side eye before returning to the window, where the figure was moving left and right until it seemed to lay down on a bed and the lights were turned off.

Clark, being an alien, wasn’t sure if Batman wasn’t one. Or at least a magical being. Autumn was approaching and the winds were picking up speed each night, but despite that, the bat’s cape wasn’t doing noise in the slightest like Clark’s did. “I apologize for my comment the other day.” He wasn’t sure when his body and brain had decided to talk before he agreed on it, but he couldn’t stop now. “I didn’t know you two were...”

“What are you talking about?”

“You, and Bruce. I didn’t know you two were a thing. And you don’t have to worry about me, I won’t get in the way.”

“We’re not… You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Clark crossed his arms, a heated, non-lethal glance thrown to the man standing up. “Because then I’m not sure why you’ve been acting so austere with me. Even more than usual. If you hate me because I kissed the man you’re dating or if you hate me because you’re a bigoted idiot, then please let me know and stop with these childish attitudes.”

He waited one, two, three seconds and the man had barely moved. Clark didn’t know what he wanted to come out of this, but he thought he’d at least would be giving a response. “Figures.” Clark scoffed, walking past the man and doing everything in his power to not shove him with his shoulders, not knowing if he would actually hurt him.

He’d already taken off in the direction of his apartment when a familiar voice called out a name that had no right being said by him. It was a name that’d never come from him, but it strangely seemed to belong to him.

“Clark.” Batman said again, and it had him taking an 180 turn and almost break the sound barrier to reach the man. He expected to see the knight with a smirk on his face, with something on his phone linking everything from Clark to Superman and ready to threat him with leaking the information if he ever did something.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see the man without his cowl.

“Bruce?”

“I don’t hate you.” The man who spoke wasn’t Batman, nor it was ‘Brucie’. It was simply… Bruce. “Quite the opposite.”

Taking long strides, Bat- Bruce walked until he was so close to him they could almost melt into each other, placing his hands on his cheeks. He didn’t need to stand on his tiptoes this time, as Clark was hovering in the air low enough to be at the same level as him. “Totally the opposite.”

And as the sun rose beside them, they shared the first of what would be a myriad of kisses.

[goddessofroyalty]

Keep Coming Back To You

Fandom: Marvel (Xmen)

Pairing: Magneto/Professor X

Tags: omegaverse, mating bites/bonds, sexually explicient content

Summary:

Despite spending most of their time on opposing sides everyone knows Magneto and Professor X still somehow maintain their mate-bond.

This is how.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59648722https://archiveofourown.org/works/59648722

Authors Notes:

I had this idea that I shared on my tumblr about how Charles and Magneto spend most of their lives mated to each other despite mate-bonds fading if not maintained because every time they team up together no matter how short they rekindle their bond.

This idea should be done as a like 5 times fic from the POV of Xmen/Brotherhood. I however do not know enough about the Xmen characters to write that fic seeing I only watched the movies. If someone does know more about it and would like to write that fic you have my full support.

Instead I wrote two of the moments they rebounded from their POVs to show how it tends to go down.

Again my characterization is based on the movies. Because that’s the Xmen content I’ve consumed.

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

Magneto may only be intending to stay there until the attention on him dies down, but he still finds himself falling into his old habits while staying at the Xavier mansion.

Each morning he finds himself taking a run along the perimeter of the grounds, looking for any gaps or weakness in the defense as much as he is maintaining his fitness. He could try and tell himself he is cataloguing them for his own future uses but he’s already done what was needed to close the two of them he could and would accidently leave the notes he has made on the others behind when he leaves. If he truly needs access to the school and Charles not naively willing to just give it there are more direct routes he would take.

The days themselves are spent watching the various trainings and lessons that make up the curriculum of the school the place has become. He does abide by his agreement with Charles not to try and instruct any of the students or corrupt them to his cause. But the odd comment or suggestion said in passing could hardly be classed as instruction. And Charles has yet to claim he has overstepped any line.

At night, after dinner is had and the children retired to their rooms to sleep or study or play, he sits across from Charles in the study, chessboard between them.

There’s a part of him that doesn’t understand how Charles can live like this. Pretending that the facade of safety and normality the school represents is the whole reality of the situation. That it isn’t just a matter of time before the anger and violence that exists outside its walls finds its way in and that all their time hiding has just given their enemies time to better ready their arsenals.

There’s a part of him that understands it entirely. That cannot deny the reassuring reliability of the schedule built around safety. The prideful satisfaction of watching young mutants grow every day feeling supported and safe.

He knows how easily it could be snatched away. Will be snatched away one day if they do not go on the attack first. But the soft smile Charles gives him from across the chessboard makes him all the more determined to protect the refuge the omega carved out for their kind in the cruel world they live in.

“I was wondering,” Charles says as they finish up their game for the night, their glasses of scotch now nothing more than melted ice, “must you return to the guest room tonight?”

“I didn’t realize I had done anything to warrant me having to sleep in the barn,” Magneto says, because he knows it will make Charles blush and bite his lip.

When they were younger and less sure of themselves Charles would often bluster at any perceived refusals to his poorly-hidden advances, while now he only gains a soft flush to his cheeks. Not that Magneto is complaining that much – it is still an appealing look on the omega he had once had the privilege to truly call his.

“No, I would never do that to you,” Charles says as if it is not his favorite threat when the wounds between them are too fresh and the sanctuary given because of Charles’ personal creed and not any fondness for the alpha that had once been his closest ally with whom he had almost built a life with.

Charles laughs awkwardly as Magneto waits for him to find the words of the question they both knew was coming with Magneto staying under this roof. In doing so he bares his neck, revealing his scent gland and the pale scares of all the bites they had shared over the years already. Charles may not smell mated currently but surely those would be enough to deter any alpha from trying their luck.

“I was more thinking that, well, we are hardly strangers to each other and my bed is rather large,” Charles says as if his request is merely about the practicalities of it and not the inevitabilities between them. “Save the cleaners some work and all.”

“They would already have to clean the sheets seeing as I already slept on them.”

“Ah, quite right.” Charles doesn’t look the slightest bit ashamed about his ruse being seen through because really it is tokenistic at this point. “Still though.”

He lets the words hang and the silence surround them. Sitting there content to wait for an answer.

“I suppose it would be the most strategically sound place should anyone try and attack in the night,” Magneto says more to get a rise out of Charles than being serious. He isn’t entirely lying though – he will sleep better knowing that should any humans try and attack he will be there to protect what is most important to him.

 The fact Charles doesn’t rise to the bait despite the twitch of his lips that tells Magneto he has something he wants to say to it betrays how badly he wants the night to end in the way he has planned.

Magneto would be lying if he said he didn’t want it as well now that the offer and possibility are on the table.

“Shall we retire for the night then?” Charles says. His smile the one he gets after he’s placed a suggesting into someone’s mind – proud and satisfied with the cheeky edge of having done something he feels he shouldn’t.

There’s no telepathy involved here. And the suggestion not something Magneto would not otherwise want to do. They may not agree on the best way to ensure the safety of their people but the affection once shared between them a flame that has yet to fully extinguish no matter how far they find themselves from each other.

“If you are ready to.”

Magneto let’s Charles lead the way despite it hardly being an unfamiliar route to him.

Charles starts his usual routine when they get there. Not even asking for help getting into bed as he sometimes does as an excuse for Magneto to hold and carry him.

Magneto follows the cue and ready’s himself for bed as well. Sliding under the covers on the opposite side to where Charles settles in for the night. Perhaps this is all the omega wants – company in the huge bed in his ivory tower.

“I know I said my bed was large but I did not mean for you to put all of its space between us.”

Or perhaps it is something more that Charles wants this night.

Magneto slides across the bed and Charles settles against him. The all-too familiar weight pressed against Magneto’s chest and all-too familiar scent filling his nose.

It’s a nice scent. Charles always believed himself bland for an omega but it’s one of the nicest Magneto has found in his life. One that reminded him of simpler times and makes him wish theirs was a world where settling down was an option he could take without condemning them all to the human’s want to exterminate them.

Charles shuffles to press them closer again. A move that might be able to be passed off as innocent if the scent of satisfaction wasn’t right beneath Magneto’s nose.

Magneto responds with an action that may be a nuzzle against Charles’ neck or may just be him settling in for the night.

Charles lets out a breath that might be a huff of annoyance or just him relaxing for the night.

He stills when Magneto lets out a soft growl. But it isn’t fear that shoots through his scent.

“Oh Charles, have you spent so much of your time manipulating others to your will you have forgotten to be direct even in matters like this?” Magneto wraps an arm around Charles’ hips and waist so his hand can rest against the soft skin of the omega’s belly.

“Only you would think my behavior thus far has been anything but direct,” Charles says with a laugh, shifting his head around to look Magneto directly in the eyes. A playful mirth in them that is rare to find these days now he seems to live and breathe his role as the stalwart professor of all those within his walls.

“That is another matter I believe we must agree to disagree on,” Magneto says as he leans in to capture Charles’ lips. On this one matter he may admit that secretly he agrees with what Charles has said.  

“I suppose it is,” Charles says accepting the kiss easily.

It is, as far as kisses go, a rather lazy one. There is no need to rush in this moment – the night is still young and there is nothing in the morning past a return to the routine that has temporarily become their lives.

“I hope that is not all that is in store this evening,” Charles says when they break apart.

“What more would you have?” It is perhaps a dangerous question when he knows what Charles wants of him extends far past bedroom activities.

“All that you are willing to give.”

In a way those words are a mercy. There is so much Magneto is not willing to give despite his softness for the omega pressed against him. And while he knows Charles would be ecstatic if he was to relent on his position about how they should best respond to the threats against their people, the other has long accepted that it will never happen.

But right now he can give Charles this. Can recapture his lips in a more dominating kiss and run his hands over the well-learned parts of Charles body that makes the omega shudder and moan. Can kiss and kiss and kiss until Charles calls him a bloody tease and then sink his teeth into the familiar neck adding another future-scar to the collection so that even when they part again people will still know Charles’ is his and he is Charles’.

Right now they can lie there in the afterglow together. Charles’ scent sweet and satisfied and sex-heavy as he takes lungfuls of Magneto’s own. Both pretending for the moment that this could be their forever.

“Top marks as always,” Charles says once he’s come down from the high of orgasm and bond. Patting against Magneto’s chest the way one does a car they are particularly proud of.

“Did you just grade me at sex?” Magneto doesn’t know how, despite all the youthful playfulness and recklessness faded with age and wards, Charles’ horrid sense of humor managed to survive. 

“Perhaps I did, what are you going to do about- Hey! Don’t you go anywhere! Not after what we’ve just done.” Charles grip on Magneto tightens when the other moves with a threat to get up.

“I didn’t do anything you didn’t ask for,” Magneto reminds as he settles back into the bed he never truly intended to leave. Not with how rarely he gets nights like this – the threats of the world momentarily forgotten about in favor of enjoying the company of an omega as exceptional as Charles’ is.

“And I stopped asking for my bed-partner to be gone by the morning when I was in colleague,” Charles says. A tactic of his to get under Magneto’s skin, that somehow is still as effective as it was when he first discovered it.

“I suppose I can stay until then,” Magneto says, with another lazy kiss between them.

He will have to leave eventually. He cannot protect Charles and all he has built by staying in the peaceful illusion of the school. He must return to his cause to ensure the safety of all of their kind from those who wish to see them destroyed.

For now though he can cuddle with his omega in the warm bed at the heart of their community.

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

Charles hates when it comes to this. When the humans decide to rain hellfire down on them, bringing his school and their home once more to borderline rubble while they huddle in the basement licking their wounds and planning how to rebuild. Planning how to retaliate.

He hates how he can read some of his students wonder if maybe Magneto is right. Especially with how this time Magneto had come to warn them. Come to save them.

Hates the part of himself that wants to let the man he still thinks of as his alpha crush the threat to them under the weight of his powers. That stupid biological hindbrain that just knows how fantastic Magneto is at protecting their den and pups.

They are meant to be the next stage of evolution from humanity. And yet they still are cursed with instincts best suited from when they were cavemen.

“Fuck- Charles.” Magneto’s already bruising grip tightens on him. Crowds in closer in the tiny private room that on the blueprints is labeled an office, designed for where private discussions and planning can take place in the event they need to bunker in the basement. But they all damn well know its real purpose is to be a den and a nest when things go to shit like this. Somewhere that can be used for privacy for those of them who need to touch and feel their beloved in a way not suitable for the children to see in order to reassure themselves that in that moment they are both alive.

He knows of at least five students who mentally call it the fuck room, and can’t even bring himself to chastise them because it wouldn’t be an entirely incorrect description.

“Charles please,” Magneto says, his tone getting heavy with need and desperation. His hands moving from Charles’ arms to his legs and Charles’ doesn’t need feeling in them to know the grip is just as tight.

Charles sometimes wonders what their enemies would think if they saw them in these moments. The terrifying mutant terrorist Magneto kneeling before his omega and nuzzling against his chest in a desperate need to remind himself that the one he loves is okay. And he is truly desperate, it coming off him in waves that Charles does not need to read his mind to feel it as well.

Would that be enough to make them realize that really they are not all that different from one another?

“Charles I need-“ Magneto says, his fingertips grazing against Charles’ stomach as he tugs the shirt up just enough to find the gap between fabric where he can touch Charles’ skin. “Whatever happens next I need you to be mine again.”

Charles knows what happens next. They both do. It has happened so many times now it feels more like Déjà vu then reality – they will make it through, together, rebuild what has been lost and then when things are looking perfect Magneto will leave to return to his bloody crusade leaving their bond, both biological and emotional, to fade once more. And Charles, like a scorned housewife, left holding the children.

It is foolish to give in to their biology and instincts right now just because the threat feels so heavy bearing down on them. It is foolish when Charles knows Magneto will not stay this time just as he hasn’t any other. The momentary rush of confort and relief not worth the inevitable betray.

“Magneto-“ Charles fully intends to tell him no. To push him away and return back to what they had claimed to be the reason of going into the room together in the first place – plan how best to pool their resources and tactics to get them all out of it alive and in one piece.

Magneto looks up at him with a heavy needing gaze and the refusal dies on Charles’ tongue.

He knows how it will end. Knows it all too well. But he survived all those times and he cannot deny the part of him that needs this now as well. That primitive instinctual part that wants to reward the alpha for coming to protect them and try with the only thing he has to offer to keep him with them for when the threat returns.

Charles’ reaches out to touch Magneto’s cheek. The alpha following as he draws it back like it is attached with cement. One of Magneto’s knees coming to rest on Charles’ lap, hands holding on Charles’ waist as if to steady himself, as his head follows where it is led to the crook of Charles’ neck. A shiver going through Charles’ spine as breathe tickles against the gland there.

“Charles?” Magnet asks as if this isn’t exactly what he’s been begging for.

“Now is not the time for second guessing,” Charles tells him and the hands on his waist tighten.

“Of course,” Magneto says and Charles can’t help but wonder what atrocity he has also given permission for when they do leave the room to face the reality of the situation.

That is a problem for later. Right now his alpha is kissing along his neck and jaw. Purposely avoiding the gland Charles had given access and permission to as he had so many times before. Drawing it out because Magneto also knows that once his moment is over the clock will start to tick for them to return to being on opposite sides.

“Stunning,” Magneto calls him when his clever hands find the spots on Charles’ skin that makes him gasp and shudder. A deep rumble echoing through the small room as he nuzzles against the delicate, sensitive skin on Charles’ neck. “Always so magnificent.”

It’s silly how so few words can send a wash of pride through Charles’ body. Can strip away the years of exhaustion and wear and leave him feeling like when he was young and so terribly, dangerously, in love.

“Please.” It is Charles who is begging now. Desperate for the feeling of love and safety that only Magneto could give him. Not needing to be the one in control, the one who has his shit together, even if only for this stolen moment.

Magneto grants him the mercy of silencing him with a kiss.

The desperation in it has Charles wrapping his arms around Magneto. Whatever happens next is not for them to think about. Nor are the burdens they carry. For now they are both alive and with each other. Right now they are simply alpha and omega.

It is only after they break apart and Magneto returns his mouth’s attention to Charles’ neck does he feel comfortable loosening his grip. A hand slipping into Magneto’s pants. First for a cheeky grope at the frankly unfairly still well-toned arse before taking hold of a well-familiar cock.

The sound he’s rewarded with is deep and primal and nostalgic. Taking Charles back to a time before all the betrayals and hurts when it was the two of them working together to better the lives of all mutants.

For the moment he gives himself into it. Revels in how his alpha ruts up against him as his mouth makes its way over all the exposed flesh of Charles’ neck and jaw until finally, finally, he returns to where Charles had initially directed him. The initial pain of the bite gives way almost instantly to the pleasurable satisfaction of the claim.

Clarity comes while they are still panting.

They will need to change before they leave the room. While it will no doubt be obvious to all who have matured noses what has transpired they do not need to see the evidence of it on their clothes. The wipes on the desk should be sufficient to get the sticky spit from Charles’ skin until the threat hanging over them is gone and he can afford to take a shower.

He meets Magneto’s gaze where the other is staring at him not finding any of the now familiar distain or disappointment in them. Only possessive pride.

“I will never regret this,” Magnet tells him after they share one, final kiss. The alpha’s voice rough and heavy.

“Neither will I,” Charles says. But it will never change what they have become and the decisions they will always make.

Magneto rests his weight against Charles for another moment before drawing back and cleaning himself. Charles watching as the man gives way to the persona.

He can hardly judge seeing how he is doing the same thing.

They have borrowed as much time as they could to drop their persona and allow their instincts and needs rule them. Now they must be who the others need – the leaders and pillars of their community who are turned to for safety and guidance.

Charles wonders how long the truce will last this time.

[gothsuguru]

okay what is phantom busters about and who are these baddies i keep seeing on my dash

RAHHHHHHHH ALEXIS I’M SO BEYOND HAPPY THAT YOU ASKED OMFG I’M LITERALLY ON THE “PHANTOM BUSTERS” PR TEAM SO BEAR W ME BELOVED 🙂‍↕️🩷

OKAY SO. phantom busters is literally the best manga so far that i think i’ve read (w only 12 chapters translated into english mind you) and it’s a blend of hilarious high school shenanigans, friendship, badass action, mixed with a bit of occultist horror <3

AND ONTO THE BEST CHARACTERS RAHHHHH okay so the ones i’ve posted about are mogari (black hair) and kanzaki (white hair w scars around his eyes) + there are two other main characters who are korekishi (ginger w glasses) and tamon (green hair) ((plus there’s ren who gets mistaken for geto suguru which is so funny & president ichimiya who has black hair & a beauty mark))

OKAY SO BASICALLY the manga is about the core four finally meeting and creating an occult club where they can find ghosts and do exorcisms!

mogari has a tattoo on his tongue and he eats ghosts! he’s the exorcist of the group and he’s very loud, friendly, & impulsive! HE’S ALSO A BAD BITCH WHO PROTECTS AND CARES FOR HIS FRIENDS ABOVE ALL ELSE!!!

korekishi is the only one who can’t see them so he’s immune to it BUT he wants to help him bc he now has a friend group that he cares about :’) he’s the most intelligent of the group & he’s also class president! he’s also really kind but also Terrifies the group NXNXNXN but they respect him so much <333 canonically the most handsome to the group!

kanzaki is someone who’s troubled by the burden of seeing ghosts all the time, so he doesn’t want to join but then he sees the lengths that eugene & mogari go to get to know him/have him join and he feels flattered! he’s an otaku/manga NERD to the extreme + looks like a delinquent and has an attitude but deep down he is soft hearted :’)

tamon is so comfortable talking to ghosts but is unnerved talking to humans! he just wants ghosts to pass on easily so he makes sure that the group talk to ghosts before just consuming them! he’s very shy & nervous but when he gets into his own he’s loud & kind & caring! :’)

the group also is just so precious in that they enjoy just doing normal high school stuff bc it’s SO foreign to mogari bc he lived in the mountains!!! but overall they also know and recognize that they might be the only ones who can perform these exorcisms and help humans feel safe + allow ghosts/entities to pass on! the manga is SO beyond fantastic and i highly highly HIGHLY recommend it! you can read the first 12 chapters online in english <3

((AND I THINK I MANIFESTED PHANTOM BUSTERS GETTING AN OFFICIAL ENGLISH LICENSE BC VIZ IS PICKING IT UP FOR TRANSLATIONS IN FALL 2025!)) PLEASE READ IT IT’S SO AMAZING I LOVE THESE CHARACTERS & THIS MANGA MORE THAN ANYTHING! and tysm for asking beloved :’) there’s SO much more to this story and these characters that i want to get into but the joy is truly in reading it and seeing their journey so i HIGHLY recommend reading it! :D ILY