#i was not attracted him but MY GOD WHAT AN ICON!!!

[sumamitt]

emotionally i am cat gently stepping into the lap of my new psychiatrist (he's so cool)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Can you expand on what you mean by Baron being "too cool" to really fit a horror monster? It's a very interesting concept and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Is it that they're too active/involved/tangible and it detracts from their scariness?

I feel like I should preface this with a wall of disclaimers lmao 1/I am a hardcore, down-to-the-marrow, avid, deeply sincere horror enthusiast, esp. horror creatures. this usually means my mileage is vastly different from the average populace's, and my scaredy bone has been disintegrated by longterm exposure. most things in a piece of horror media won't scare me! so I practically never use that on its own as the scale to talk abt horror experiences, but when something does scare me it's always a special occasion to be treasured. 2/canon d20 is never really meant to be horror horror, and for good reasons: it doesn't fit the company's output, it takes a kind of carelessness in production estimation that is always a huge risk, it's often vulnerable in a way that kinda goes against how TTRPGs usually facilitates vulnerability, and for most people it's just! stressful! d20, even with the "horror-themed" seasons, generally just plays with horror tropes and stays focused in its goal of being a comedy improv tabletop theater show. 3/fantasy high's chosen system is DnD, which as I've mentioned before is before all a combat-based game system, which means the magic circle of play is drawn based on stats that facilitate and prioritize combat. want or not this affects every interaction you have in the game, and given fantasy high's concept from the ground up (everyone's going to school of DnD stuff to get better at DnD) it's doubly relevant. 4/This Is Fine I have no quarrel with this. my meters are internal, I do not ask this show to be anything it doesn't advertise itself to be, and what it is is fucking great! I like it! when I expand on this ask's question it will be like a physicist going insane in a lab. that's the mindset we're going in with.

disclaimers done. my stance on horror as a genre is that it's a utility genre rather than a content genre or a demographic genre; it is the discard of narratives. it's the trash pile. horror, above being scary, is about being ugly and messy, it's the cracks on the ground any story inevitably steps over to stay a genre that isn't horror. the genre's been around long enough to develop a codex and a general language that medias and makers and enthusiasts of the genre can use to talk about and build onto, but if you go into individual pieces there's really no unifying Horror Story. one person's beautiful life can be another's horror story, it's just how it is.

this makes The Monster a deeply intriguing piece of the genre. thing is a monster is in a decent percentage of any story - it's just when the antagonist force steps into something past a certain line traced out in the story's world. monstrousness is in pretty much every western fantasy story, it's in any story with a hero and something to vanquish or win; more than anything it's a proxy of that thing up there. the line in a narrative's world. the monster is the guard of the unknown lands, where heroic, civilized people don't tread.

what does this mean in the context of horror? the genre is about that perceived lawlessness, that "unknown land" so to say. we're in the monster's home. that's the literary context that we often walk into a horror piece with; the monster knows more than you about where you are. it may not understand you, but it holds more information than you, and with that it moves swifter than you, has more covered than you, and is more assured in its existence in this context than you. it's a struggle to catch up to it, it's nigh impossible to get one over it, and you're never sure it'll 100% work, because you just don't have the information necessary to.

with that framing you can kinda see where I'm coming from here: horror's often about the breaking of rules. I always think a monster's most effective when it breaks well-established rules of both existence and visual storytelling. think Possum (2018) or Undertale's Omega Flowey or the Xenomorph Queen - unique change in medium, unique change in graphic, unique change in design language, etc. in that sense I actually really like how canon baron plays out: they don't really function like anything else in the fantasy high universe, the bad kids have not managed to kill them when they've felled literal gods, their domain in fhjy literally introduces new mechanics to encompass their existence! from an experience design standpoint they slap mad shit. BUT! I can't help finding their character, like as a character riz (and the other bad kids, eventually) interact with, to be very... coherent? in design. this is kinda hard for me to articulate in words, it's more often a sense you get once you've looked at enough of these scrumptious fuckers, their general design and the way they show up is just kinda too clean, so to say. always kinda newly made? fresh unboxed. it, once again, makes sense for their lore - they are looking for more about themself from riz - and their function - they're an antagonist in a game experience, they're meant to be interacted with in a way that produces results and meshes with the existing magic circle - but that shininess takes away from the implied history they should have dominion over and the person they're haunting doesn't.

from another angle there is kinda something there about how put-together canon baron is as a concept; the domain they call home is riz's deep-seeded fears, extremely vulnerable things he's drawn borders around to quarantine and refused to walk into. things that from his perspective would irreversibly shatter certain pleasant fictions his world is built on top of. canon baron, While Extremely Cool, I feel is kinda too neat to connect with and signify the apocalyticized mess that'd result from this paradigm shift. the part where they're in riz's briefcase and looking through every mirror is Very Cool And Fucked Up! but ultimately the show draws a line around them as well, by making game-physical, tangible spaces they're in (the mirrors and the haunted mordred manor) and put riz and the bad kids there only when they need to confront stuff. riz is meaningfully narratively away from baron's unknown land for most of fantasy high.

with that and all of my disclaimers in mind my conclusion here is if canon baron wants to be a Horror Monster they'd have to cross way more lines. be a Lot more invasive. hence (holds up my class swap baron like a long cat)

[parkercore-69]

guys im so unbelievably normal about him you wouldn’t even understand

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Taming the Supe

✨ Soldier Boy x Fem!Therapist!Reader ✨

Minors do ¡NOT! interact with this post. Thanks.

A/N: Let me be upfront and say that I actually haven’t seen the boys 😭 not my cup of tea as far as shows go. So this perception of SB might be very far off. But like, he’s hot and he keeps showing up on my feed so this is happening >:) and in my defense I did try to do a little bit of research on America’s Ass(hole), so hopefully that shows lol. From what I understand he’s a TERRIBLE person who just so happens to be extremely attractive, so slay. Oh, also, to any therapist reading this: I am so, SO sorry.

Icons by me! Any and all interaction is very much appreciated!

Also- I’m looking for a beta reader/ editor! If you think you’d be interested, dm me!

Content Warnings: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🌶️honestly that about sums it up. There’s SOME- A LITTLE- plot but it’s more plop if you catch my drift. This is toe-curling, eyes-rolling, name-screaming, tsunami-coming level shit, ya hear?? At least, that’s what I went for. ;)

Just note that SB is… very SB for the better half of it. And he has an INSANE breeding kink.

The ending’s real rushed cause honestly this was mainly written for the spice, but hopefully it’s enjoyable!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible. In all regards.

He was a jackass- apple didn’t fall far from the tree as far as he and his dad were concerned. It wasn’t necessarily Ben’s fault; you cant help your blood. But because of said aforementioned father, Ben was brought up on misogynist ideals and the ideal that he was simultaneously both a disappointment and the bearer of a massive god-complex. The former applied to when he was around his father, the latter to when he was around literally anyone else.

Not only that, but he was separated from society for forty years, being tortured- sorry, “experimented on”- by a skeevy Russian organization that his own teammates had pawned him off too. Sure, he had committed massive, unforgivable atrocities, but quite frankly, the other supes on Payback weren’t much better. Maybe not as bad, but certainly not much better.

He re-walked upon the United States at the very young age of one hundred and three, coupled with PTSD, a god complex and more “back in my day” rants than your weird old uncle could ever hope to spew.

And now the thing is: it’s easy to make him look like he blends in. Trim the disheveled forty-year-old beard, give him some boyish bangs, throw him in a tight white shirt and a Giants jersey with grey sweats and all of a sudden you have a normal looking, abnormally attractive dude. Looks maybe thirty seven. Has a smile that has probably actually, literally charmed the pants off of someone.

But to make him act right? That’s the hard part.

That also where you came in.

You were a therapist with a damn good reputation. Shouldn’t have been involved with Supes in the slightest, but you owed Hughie Campbell a favor. Good kid who just so happened to have powers. So be it.

The kid had stumbled into your office a few years before Soldier Boy returned, and you had had multiple sessions before he dropped of the grid. You paid it no mind- you have a lot of clients, and therapy isn’t a good world to get attached to any of them.

But then one day, after one of Homelander’s many destructive “saves” of the city, you found yourself stuck in a burning building. By some miracle Hughie was in the same building, and he teleported you out and onto safer ground. Sure it was awkward being held up bridal style by a young dude who was ass-naked, but stranger things have happened.

Because of the save, you felt that you owed him, and told him as much. He was gracious, not wanting to take advantage of you, and you went back to not hearing anything from him.

That is, until just after the news article about Soldier Boy’s return broke out. It was definitely a headline that had caused you to raise a brow, but from what you knew America’s first supe was not what Vought made him out to be in the eyes of the public. He was an asshole who killed activists, and was most likely very racist. If anything, seeing the headline made you slightly wary for the good of the world. But you let it slide, figuring that if you already existed in a world where psychos like Homelander did you would probably be fine if there was one more.

Well, you were very much wrong.

A few days after the article broke out, Hughie called you. Asked if you would be okay to take you up on that favor. Of course, you said yes- you were only alive because of him. He had showed up to your house, and teleported you to a dinghy motel with no explanation, rendering you both in the same awkward situation as before. Him holding you bridal style, ass naked. If you had a nickel for every time he’s done that… you’d have ten cents, but it’s still oddly specific of it to happen twice.

“Listen,” he had said, setting you down. You had no choice but to do so, given that he was ass naked and it would be really awkward to see that. So you kept your eyes locked on his as he talked. “You know how Soldier Boy is back?”

“Mhm…” you nodded warily, knowing damn well that that was an ominous hook to your situation.

“Uh, he’s insane.”

“Sorry, he’s, like, he is? Presently?”

“Yeah… he’s in there and I think he would really benefit from a little therapy. His mind’s wired like a grandpa who has stories from every war.”

“Fuck, Hugh,” you cursed. He winced, his sweet eyes opened wide. “Sorry. It’s just.. are you kidding me?” Soldier Boy? It would probably take a team of specialists to figure out what’s going on in that head.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you at least try?”

“Only for you.” It was really hard to have resolve with those puppy dog eyes staring at you.

“Thanks, y/n. Really.”

So you had walked in behind him; waiting as he threw on some sweats that were in a plastic bag outside of the motel room door.

You walked in together, only to see the most beautiful man you’d ever seen sitting on the bed, shoes still on.

Look. Everyone has fantasized about Soldier Boy at least once in their lives. The pinnacle of physical perfection, charisma oozing from his pores- it was hard not to. You were no exception- in your younger years there had certainly been more than a few nights where you were fucking yourself to pictures or videos of him, pathetically rutting on your clit and wishing it was his huge, gloved hands instead.

Of course, that was well before the article on the truth about him broke out. After that he had majorly lost his sex appeal.

However, seeing him in person immediately flashed you back to being younger and sexually frustrated, wondering how a man like that even existed. He was even better looking in person, piercing green eyes boring holes into you.

Thankfully it only took one douchey comment to snap you back to reality.

“So prostitutes are still a thing?” he asked, the question directed at Hughie. You immediately balled your hands into fists at your side, ready to tell this old-ass off, before remembering that you were there on professional business.

“No, no, she’s a therapist,” Hughie told him. “Y/n L/n, the best in the business.”

“You brought me a shrink?” he laughed incredulously. “Fuck you, I don’t have shell shock!”

He definitely had shell shock.

You didn’t bother waiting for Hughie to answer. “Listen, Mr. Boy, I’m only here ‘cause I owe this kid a favor. Would it really pain you so much to talk about yourself for an hour?” Your hands were planted on your hips.

“Man, when did women get so feisty?” he asked, that 1950s accent oozing through his words.

“Once they came to their senses,” I say with sass.

“So what? All I have to do is talk to a pretty thing about me?”

“Pretty much,” you conceded, ignoring the “compliment” he payed you.

“Fine.” Great. He agreed. How wonderful.

“I’m going to get some food, I’ll be back in an hour. If you need anything at all, just text me,” Hughie told me. “Thanks again.”

“Sure,” you replied, leaning in by his ear. “I think you’re going to owe me after this.

“Yeah, you’re probably not wrong,” he agrees, patting you on the back before teleporting away to the store. Man, this power thing… never gets any less weird.

“Take a seat,” Soldier Boy patted his lap.

“Hilarious,” you rolled your eyes, sitting on the other bed. Look, if he hadn’t been the jackass you knew him to be you most definitely would’ve sat on his lap. But you knew better. At least in the moment. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“M’name’s Ben, and I’m a soldier. My daddy hated me, so became a superhero. Surprise, surprise, he still hated me. But I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Might go take a piss on his grave while I’m here.”

“Interesting,” you murmur, putting together a mental file. Name: Ben. No last name? Weird. Daddy issues- makes the god complex make sense. Hmm. “Did you ever have a mother in the picture?”

“No. Died when I was a boy.” Added to file.

“Okay, so then why take the serum?” You know why, but you want to see something.

“You deaf? I said it was cause my daddy hated me.”

“You took a untested, potentially dangerous serum just because of your daddy issues?” you ask, matching his rude tone.

“You- you know what? This is boring. How about you and I fuck instead of this, hm?” he asks. Him saying the word fuck turned you on more than it should, but his misogyny was a quick turnoff.

“I think I’m just going to text Hughie,” you said, moving to stand, wholly unimpressed.

“Wait, no- I did it cause I hated feeling weak. Feeling stupid. Thought it would turn me into someone, just turned me into a jackass machine,” he said honestly, his eyes big and sad.

“Okay,” you said simply, sitting back down. That’s much more like it. “So then what led you to murder innocent people?”

If this were a normal session you would have never asked such a thing. Ever. But this was anything but normal.

“What did you just say to me?” And there it was. A glimpse of that Soldier Boy quick temper. You probably shouldn’t have been making him mad, but you didn’t know how else to go about this given that you weren’t in your professional environment.

“You heard me,” you told him with your arms crossed, trying to bite back the fear caused by

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns, fists balled at his sides. “A question like that’s gonna cost ya.”

You roll your eyes, standing my ground. “Why. Did. You. Murder. Them?”

“Because they deserved it,” he yelled, standing up. You do your best not to flinch, but he was an imposing six-and-some feet tall.

“How? Did the Milk family deserve it? Did their son?” you yell, fighting off the fear in your voice.

He stops then, jaw clenching. “I was the good guy. The hero.” His voice breaks, ever so slightly. His green eyes burn holes into yours. You stare right back, just as intensely.

“So, imposter syndrome.”

“No!” he roared, the sound threatening to bring down the roof of the motel room.

“They were good people. Activists. Made a difference in their community.”

“That got what was coming to them.”

“What? A car being thrown at their house?”

“You…” he steps closer. You sit up in the bed, back against the headboard. “You don’t know me.”

I stand up then. Not nearly as tall as him, but in anger. “Yeah, but I know your actions.”

“Then you should think I’m a hero.”

“I don’t.” I say grimly, arms crossed.

“I’m Soldier Boy, for Christ’s sake,” he spat.

“Yeah, and I’m Y/N L/N. Who fucking cares.” Well this went from therapy to argument real fast.

He leans down then, by my ear. It’s all you can do not to back away as his hot breath fans the column of your neck. “Maybe you should.” His voice is gravelly, rough from anger but also from something else…

“Well I won’t.” You said, maintaining your ground.

“Wrong move, sweetheart,” he said, before crashing his lips to yours. You squeaked into the kiss, surprised, but he just took initiate to shove his tongue in your mouth, exploring with great fervor.

And you knew damn well how wrong this was. How unprofessional you had been; how bad it was that his tongue, this tongue of a murderer, was half down your throat. But in the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, because he was just that good of a kisser. Made you forget about the misogyny and his volatility. At least, for the time being.

He pulled away, smirking down at you.

“If we do this, you’re going to talk to me after. Act like you’re an adult,” you told him sternly, as if your underwear wasn’t soaked with arousal from the kiss.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled.

“I fucking mean it,” you reiterated, hands on his pecs.

“And I fucking said fine,” he retorted. “Ben,” he introduced as an after thought.

“Okay, cool. Ben.”

“That’s the name I better hear coming off those pretty lips in a couple minutes here,” his gaze darkened with lust, emerald green eyes darkened to the color of a forest cloaked in the dead of night..

“O-okay.” And there it is, the first time you gave into the stutter derived from your desire. This was dangerous, but once he kissed you again you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

When he pulled away he thumbed at your lower lip, and you immediately react led to his touch, mouth falling open around the digit. “Good girl,” he praised, and you hated the way you felt proud at his words. He pulled off his jersey and under shirt, urging you to do the same until you both stood before each other, topless. He crowded you against the bed until you fell back, calves draped over the edge. He made room for himself between your legs, kissing you furiously, and you let out little breathy sighs as he did so.

“Attagirl,” he breathed when you gasped his name as he bit along your collarbone. He continued his fiery trail, from the juncture of your earlobe and neck to your collar bone and then down your chest, and you knew damn well that you weren’t going to be able to cover up half of the marks he gave you. But you also couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You-you can come in me,” you mumbled as he kisses the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’ll fill you up real good” he said, eliciting a gasp from you when he bites your nipple.

He continued his path of kisses down your body, and in the bottom of your eye you could already see dark marks on the tops of your breasts, making your head fuzzy.

He stopped at your pants, biting the juncture of your hip and and thigh.

“‘m gonna get you ready for me,” he explained, before ripping off your pants and underwear in one go. This is not a metaphor, he literally tore them of you. You whined in protest, but he dismissed you, saying “I’ll get you new ones.”

And even though you knew he most definitely wouldn’t, his breath on your clit stopped you from caring.

He gave you no warning before diving into your soaked pussy, and you all but screamed his name when he fid, your fingers grasping his hair for dear life. He groaned into your cunt but kept going, spurred on by your actions.

The thing was, you hadn’t expected him to be good at eating pussy. He was from, like, the forties, after all. You thought that most people then probably didn’t bother as no one really cared about women and probably their pleasure back then.

Well, Soldier Boy- Ben- was very different.

He worked at you methodically, licking long stripes before thrusting his tongue in an out of you, testing the waters. He kept eye contact, and you could feel the smugness in his gaze as he watched you come apart.

Eventually he switched so that he was sucking on your clit, which would’ve been enough to bring you over already but then he added one of his long, thick fingers to your pussy. You yelped his name, not ready for the stretch and on the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you urged, whining. “Please don’t stop, Ben.”

And he didn’t, adding a second finger and scissoring within you. If his fingers were already like this, his cock…

But you couldn’t think about that then, nor could you really think about anything at all because he started tracing tight patterns on your bud and added a third finger, stretching you so far that you had no choice but to come. He helped you ride out your high for longer than you thought possible, lapping up all of your release before standing up to full height.

“That good, Sweets?” he smirked, looking down at your fucked out self. You nodded dumbly, and he chuckled. “Thought so.”

Your release covered his facial hair, but he didn’t seem to care much, just wiped a little off with his forearm. He then kicked off his shoes and took off his pants and underwear, and that’s when you saw it.

You were already baffled by him- beyond hot, perfect physique, pussy-eating champion, etc.

But his cock? It was huge. And it was perfect, a word that shouldn’t be able to be used to describe the male genitalia.

“Ben- that’s not going to fit-,” you gasp, sounding like a cheap porno.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, and from his tone you could tell he was going to bottom out no matter what.

Oh, god.

He climbed over you, his large forearms on either side of your head as he rested over you in a plank. He put a pillow under your hips, and you knew you were in for it.

He rubbed his glorious dick over your hole, your clit, and through your folds, covering it in your slick, and you moaned his name.

“Good girl,” he praised, before finally lining up with your entrance. You were already clenching around nothing, but then he started pushing in.

If his fingers were big, his dick… even the tip had you a moaning mess.

“Oh, honey, you’re tighter than a virgin who’s never touched herself,” he groaned as he pushed in, you writhing beneath him. “‘n I just stretched you out, too.” The pillow under your hips let him get impossibly deep, and after an eternity he finally bottomed out, so large that you shouldn’t have been able to take him. But you did, and he hadn’t even done anything yet but you were a whimpering, whiny mess under him.

“I’m gonna move now,” he told you, before pulling almost all the way out and back in, slowly. You were writhing under him, but he was undeterred, and just kept going until you gave him easy access.

“Ben?” you asked, your voice sweet. And you didn’t know what possessed you to add the next part of your question, but you did. “Can you fuck me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he groaned, before rearing back again and slamming back into you. It was hard and it was rough, and it was exactly what you wanted even if you knew you weren’t gonna be able to sit right for a week.

You literally had a supe cock in you. You’d seen dildos of these, maybe even owned one, but nothing could do the real thing justice as you whined beneath it.

And if you thought it was already enough just taking him like this, once he started talking you were through.

“Yeah, take it,” he smirked, pounding into you at literal superhuman speed. “I’m going to destroy this cunt until we’re both leaking out of it, and then I’m going to keep going,” he promised against your collarbone, biting anywhere he pleased. You whimper against him, pussy clenching around his enormous length as it crashed in and out of your fluttering walls.

“You like that? Wanna be my little slut?” he grinned, rutting on your clit so you couldn’t answer. “You’d be a real good slut. Would just keep you at home all day, naked and always ready for me. Always full of me too,” he mused, his pace somehow getting rougher. Your mouth was dropped in a permanent ‘o’ as you reveled in the way his huge hands are squeezing your hips and pulling you against him, filing you to the base.

“No other boy can do it like me, sweetheart,” he said cockily. “Fill you up so good, make you mewl.” And as it turns out he was most definitively right about that. But then it was too hard to think about what’s right and wrong when-

“Ben- I- ‘m gonna-.”

“Aww baby, what’s the matter? ‘M I fucking you too good? You can’t talk?”

You moaned pathetically, pulling on his fluffy hair.

“I know, I know,” he said with a soft grunt. “Come for me, pretty thing. Come.” And you did. Hard, all consumingly. It hurt so good that you almost blacked out, but he kept going, doing his damnedest to overstimulate you.

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart. Ain’t even close,” he told you, pulling you off of him and sitting, legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet planted on the ground. He grabbed you, letting you straddle his lap before slamming you down on his length. At this angle he could get impossibly deeper, his dick easily reaching your cervix on every thrust. You screamed, holding onto him for dear life with your face buried in his neck.

“Gonna fill you until you’re full, and then some,” he promised, lifting you up and down, flexing that super strength. “Rub on that pretty clit for me, doll,” he asked. You tried, you really did, but you were just so sensitive.

“That’s okay, I’ll do everything for you, you just take it like a good slut,” he cooed, bringing a hand between the two of you and rutting on your clit without abandon. You came again with a wail of his name before he pistoned into you sloppily, finally spilling his own release into you. And it was messy, and you were far too full to keep going, but he doesn’t care, somehow still hard even though he had just painted your walls with his thick, sticky cum.

You were babbling at this point, raking your nails against him as he kept going to town on your cunt.

“It’s just been too long, baby,” he explained, kissing the side of your head. “Got a little too much energy.” Yeah no shit, with the way that you knew that you were not going to be able to walk.

But he just couldn’t seem to shut up. “Y’know, if I had you back in my day we would’ve had ten kids. You would’ve give birth to one and then I’d put another one in you the next month,” he said as he continued his brutal pace. And damn, this man really had a breeding kink. It was not really your thing-kids tend to get in the way of careers, and also, you were infertile- but anything’s hot when it comes out of those plush lips with the 50s accent, so, naturally, you moan in response.

“Would’ve kept you sated all the time too, sweetheart. Any time you were hot and bothered, had an attitude… I’d fuck it out of you,” he murmured, enveloping you in his arms to hold you closer. You didn’t know if it’s the proximity to him, his voice, or the way that he hasn’t really let you come down from any of your highs, but suddenly you were coming again… just in a different way.

“Aww baby, did you just squirt?” he chuckled. You did all you can to further hide your face in his neck as he just kept going, only concious enough to register your embarrassment and fatigue. He pulls you by your hair to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart, that was so hot.” You smiled, cheeks pink, your somehow still horny self proud of his compliment.

“It’s okay, just give me one more and you’ll be done, alright?”

“O-okay,” you say shakily. You hadn’t even noticed hot much your legs were quivering until then, and he laughed, squeezing them close.

“You’re so cute, y’know that?” he praised, rubbing your clit. Your blush became even more furious before you came again at him tracing patterns into your poor, overstimulated, sensitive bud. He came in you shortly after with a very sexy grunt, and it was just leaking out of you, going all over the tops of his thighs. He held you at the base of his cock though, not ready to pull out.

“You alright, Dollface?” he asked, gingerly moving- somehow while keeping his cock in you- you onto your back. You nodded, sleepiness overtaking you.

“Good girl,” he nuzzled your nose, gifting you the view of all of the pretty freckles on his cheeks looking like gold specs. You whined as he pulls out, and he tutted, plugging you up with his fingers.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. If you were a supe we’d be going another ten rounds, but I know you’re tired,” he warned, cock still semi-hard.

“Ben,” you gestured towards it, unsure what you were going to say because as much as you wish you had his stamina, you didn’t.

“It’ll be fine, sweets,” he shrugged it off. “Perks of the unbelievable stamina.” He kissed your forehead, before lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of you in attempt to keep the cum in. Pitiful tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation.

“There, there,” he cooed, kissing them away. “Just don’t want to waste any,” he smirked, before leaving his long, thick fingers where they were inside you, all the way up to the knuckle. Your legs can’t stop shaking, and you try to talk but you can’t.

“Let me get you some water, put your fingers here for me,” he said, waiting until you do so, feeling your sticky release on your hand. You knew damn well that you werenot going to be able to stand.

“Here, sweets,” he returned, still ass naked, holding a glass, taking your fingers out of your cunt and licking them clean. “We taste real good, sugar.” You whimpered, ready to go at it again, abused pussy be damned. Speaking of, the poor cleaning staff… your mixed releases were dripping out of your poor hole, coating the bed and the bottom of your thighs in the stickiness.

“You really are an insatiable little minx,” he chuckled, holding you up so you can take a sip of the water. You obliged, eagerly chugging it down.

“I’m not going to be able to walk,” you muttered, resting your head on his freckled shoulders.

“Looks like you’re going to need to stick around, so I can take care of you,” he squeezed you.

“I’ll tell Hughie to take another hour, tell him that the therapy’s going real well,” you suggested.

“Oh yeah, real well. Definitely a happy ending, if you catch my drift.”

“Multiple happy endings.”

“Atta girl,” he kisses the top of your head.

You sat there in silence for a bit, basking in the afterglow as he rocked you back and fourth gently.

You���d seen so many sides to this man: Misogynistic, quick tempered, sex-god… but sweetness? This was the one that surprised you. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Ben?” you broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I could help you, y’know. If you want, anyway. And it wouldn’t even be proper therapy- you know, cause we just- yeah.” your words were shaky but you meant them. There was something about the supe that made you think that maybe, just maybe you could help him.

“I dunno, sweets. I think I’m a little too far gone.”

Vulnerability. That’s progress.

“Could you at least try?”

“I can’t say no to you,” he said. And you’d take him up on that.

••••••••••••A Couple Years Later••••••••••••

Ben Johnson, as he was now known, ended up becoming a normal member of society. After a LOT of work, he’s grown into himself. He cares about people, his ego’s lessened, his temper too. You had helped him through the whole way- gotten him a proper therapist and everything. And now you two were a couple who could just go out and get donuts, and do normal couple things.

“They’re cream-filled!” he beams boyishly, his bangs in his face and his eyes sparkling. He sets the box down in front of you, somehow having already gotten powdered sugar in his beard. He leans in and whispers excitedly, “you know, like you!”

“You’re bad,” you giggle, as if you don’t have him leaking out of you where you sit. You had stopped for a quickie before you made it to the donut shop, it wasn’t your fault that you were so irresistible to each other.

“Not anymore, sweetheart,” he winks with a click of the tongue. Which is true- there’s a certain softness to him these days. His jaw isn’t so set, the crow’s feet by his eyes have deepened. He isn’t so volatile, his tempers dissolved a bit. He’s become more human.

Not to mention that he’s made great progress in apologizing to his victims and making amends to the best of his ability. It may never be enough, but now that he has someone to teach him how to be right and a better understanding of the complexities of the modern world, there’s a chance. And that’s a chance worth taking, to help someone who could’ve been good become good.

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible, but you had nailed it.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed this fic! If you have any ideas for headcanons or fics, my ask box is always open! I don’t bite- not unless you want me too 😏 (so. So. Sorry 😭)

Xx!

[sun-kissy]

fairytale | j.p.

james potter x reader

summary: james takes you to the amusement park on your birthday

cw: fluff!! so much fluff

a/n: i’m dedicating this to my lovely friend rese, @foodiegoogie, happy birthday <333

James’ eyes narrow as he looks at the little signboard on the cotton candy booth. “You’re sure you don’t want the Mickey Mouse shaped one? Like — absolutely sure?”

You tsk, crossing your arms over your chest. “Enough of the whole Mickey Mouse agenda, Jamie. Look at us.”

You do jazz hands towards yourself. James has to admit you’re right — you’re wearing a headband with the iconic round ears, and his sweatshirt has a picture of the happy-go-lucky rodent on it.

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “Can we at least get the heart-shaped one?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you boop his nose teasingly. “It’s my birthday. I think you should let me choose.”

The booth vendor stares blankly at the two of you.

James pretends to pout, but he’d easily let you choose, birthday or not. He doesn’t think he’d ever have the heart to say no to you. “Fine then, go on and pick.”

He takes pride in making you beam so brightly. You turn to the vendor excitedly.

“Can I please get a…” you pretend to think with the tip of your finger tapping your chin. “Hmm… a heart-shaped one, perhaps?”

James grins, bending down to stamp a kiss to your cheek. “You naughty minx.”

“Hey!” you say between giggles, leaning away as he tries to pepper your face with kisses. “That’s not a nice thing to say to the birthday girl.”

He wraps his arm around your waist to hold you in place, giving you a firm peck on the lips. You happily oblige.

“I’ll say anything I want to the birthday girl, cos she’s my girl,” James murmurs into another quick kiss before straightening up and taking the cotton candy from the vendor.

You roll your eyes. But it’s no use, you know you probably look as giddy as you feel. “Flirt.”

James grins proudly. He steers you towards the rides with a hand on the small of your back. “Which one should we go on next?”

You and him had been here all evening. Because you’d been talking about going to the amusement park for weeks, he thought he’d surprise you by getting tickets for your birthday. You weren’t exactly surprised — your boyfriend wasn’t very subtle about it, his own excitement slipping out a lot in the days leading up to it. But you were happy; that’s all that James needed.

You tear some cotton candy off the stick before handing it back to him. “What about…” you ask between stuffed mouthfuls of the sugary cotton, “That one?”

James turns to look at the rollercoaster you’re pointing at, and has to refrain from outwardly gulping.

It’s big, really big, and black, sort of like a metal beast with its fangs to the sky. He feels a shudder go through him at the thought of being flung off those tracks.

“Um…” he scratches the nape of his neck nervously. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I’m not sure if — if you can handle it.”

“Me? Or you?” you snort, looping your arm through his and pulling him towards the attraction. “Relax, babe. We’ll be fine. Unless…”

You pull him to a stop and squint at him, glaring. James gulps. “Unless you’re scared?”

“Nope! No, nuh-uh. Not scared at all. That monst — rollercoaster’s got nothing on me,” he blurts out immediately and puffs out his chest.

You grin, giving him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. The two of you join the queue outside the entrance.

You didn’t think James was secretly just a teenage girl. But judging by the pitch of his screams on this rollercoaster, maybe he was.

Laughter bubbles out of you as the wind rips through your hair, twists and turns pulling your stomach in every direction possible. You turn to look at James.

He’s positively terrified, hands in the air and shrieks getting louder by the second. It makes your laughter worse.

The rollercoaster finally screeches to a halt. You hop off and wait patiently for James to stumble out.

“God,” he groans, immediately wrapping his arms around you as soon as he gets close. He makes another pained sound as he leans forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “That really was something.”

You giggle, rubbing his back consolingly. “You okay? You were so brave up there.”

“So brave, wasn’t I? So brave,” he mumbles, as if to convince himself.

“Very brave,” you nod, easing him off you and gently steering him away.

James mutters some incoherent agreement, leaning against you and pressing a kiss into your hair. You pat his back and squeeze his hip encouragingly.

“So,” he mutters as he straightens up, as though dreading it, “What next?”

You take a glance around you. You were too preoccupied to notice it before — but the sun had begun to set, sky losing its light. Maybe it was time to let James get a taste of the love he so easily showered you in.

You turn to him. “You choose.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he coos and kisses your cheek, marveling at how red you instantly turn. “This is why I love you.”

You pout. “Because I let you choose a ride on my birthday?”

“Exactly,” he grins unapologetically, intertwining your fingers in his before pulling you in the direction of whatever he had in mind. You sigh and follow behind.

“Here we are.”

The two of you come to a stop in front of a looming, lit-up, circular structure, and your smile widens. “Ferris wheel?”

“Ferris wheel,” James confirms.

“You’re so cliché.”

“You love it,” he chuckles. He takes you to an empty cabin and helps you in.

James gets in next to you. His arm goes around your shoulder and open palm on your lap, like he always seems to be doing these days. You take his hand.

The wheel starts up, cabin moving upward. You turn away to look outside and feel your heart swell with something like love at the sight.

Beautiful is too less of a word for it. The sky is painted in hues of pink and golden, straight out of a movie. There’s so many people down below. They get smaller and smaller. The amusement park is adorned in lights and liveliness and laughter; and you think you might just be looking at the closest-to-textbook-definition depiction of love.

That’s until you hear James’ voice from beside you. “Y/n?”

“Hm?” you mumble, eyes fixated on the sinking sun.

“I love you.”

James told you this a thousand times an hour, twenty four hours a day. But something about the way he just said it made you turn around to look at him, and you’re glad you did, because the view was even better.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that mattered, like the loveliness of the sunset didn’t stand a chance against yours. And you want to melt. You want to melt and you want to kiss him and you wish you could do everything all at once; there was just too much love in your heart to be shown through one singular gesture.

Instead, all that comes out is a soft, “Oh.”

James smiles wider.

“I love you too,” you babble, and you know you sound like a lovesick fool. You can’t bring yourself to care. “I love you too, James. So much.”

He doesn’t even give you a second to recalibrate before his hand is on your cheek, lips gently pressing onto yours.

It didn’t feel like a fairytale kiss — like you were a princess, and there were fireworks in the background. It felt like home.

Like his lips had found their safe haven on yours, because you’d definitely found yours in him. James kisses you like he loves you, and you know he does. You know because he says it, because he’s holding you like you’re the most special girl in the world.

You may not have been a princess that night — or any night, for that matter. But you got to be James’ for now, maybe forever. What more could you want?

You pull back, breaths mingling in the loved air for a few moments. James grins and leans in for another one, which you happily give.

“I love you, sweetheart. Happy birthday,” he murmurs, hands threading through your hair as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose.

It really was a happy birthday.

[happy74827]

Forced to Listen

[Dean Winchester x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Dean hated it when you hunted him down for advice, and he also hated that you knew exactly how to bait him into listening.

WC: 1082

Category: Fluff, Ranter!Reader, Mentions of Cheating, Sam being absolutely useless (iconic).

Can you believe that it’s been TWO WHOLE YEARS since I last wrote of him?? I’m so angry at myself 😭😭

『••✎••』

Dean could sense what was coming when he watched you stomp towards him with nothing but a small bottle of beer. The look on your face was one he had come to recognize over the years.

It was the one that said that you were about to coerce him into listening to your woes, and he had no other choice but to do it. The heat outside was unbearable, the kind that made Dean strip off his flannel and ditch the leather jacket, leaving him in his sweat-covered shirt.

But as he stood under the hood of the Impala, trying to get her to start, that bottle of beer was calling his name. The promise of the cool, carbonated drink sliding down his throat, relieving him from the dryness that had settled in his mouth, was something he desperately craved. And you knew that. That's why you were headed straight for him.

"Hey, Dean," you said innocently, the small bottle of beer dangling from your hand.

Dean sighed, his gloved hands pausing as he glanced up at you. He really wasn’t in the mood to listen to you whine about what was going on in your life, but that bottle of beer was too tempting to pass up. It was his favorite brand, too.

Goddamn it, you really were a temptress.

"Two minutes,” he grunted out, holding his hand out for the beer. "I'll give you two minutes."

You grinned, placing the bottle of beer in his open hand. In a matter of seconds, half the liquid was gone, and you were waiting impatiently for him to give you the sign to begin.

After another second, a sigh of content slipped from his mouth, and he nodded, signaling you to start.

You didn’t waste any time. "Do you think I'm a bitch?"

"I think you're a pain in my ass," Dean retorted, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. It didn’t make much difference since his hand was already covered in dirt and grease, but it made him feel a little better. "Don’t tell me you came over here just to ask me that?"

"No, I'm serious, Dean," you insisted. "Do you actually think I'm a bitch?"

You were staring up at him now, the look on your face completely unreadable. You were waiting for an answer, but he had a feeling that no matter what answer he gave, it wouldn't make a difference.

So, he just raised his eyebrows, silently telling you to go on while he took another sip of his beer.

"Dating's hard, Dean," you started, and he already felt a groan coming on. He did not want to have this conversation. "I just don't get it. Why am I not good enough for them? Why do I keep getting cheated on?"

You were pacing around the car as you spoke, and Dean kept his eyes on the beer. As you went on about everything that was bothering you, the more he regretted his decision to drink that damn thing.

"Am I not attractive? Am I not smart enough? What is it, Dean?" You looked at him, hoping for an answer. But when you realized he wasn't paying that much attention to what you were saying, you let out a scoff. "Great, so I'm not even good enough for you to listen to me? God, Dean, you are such a douche."

Dean rolled his eyes and finally looked up at you, the annoyance clearly visible. "Can I get back to fixing up my baby, now?"

"Would you date me?" You asked, suddenly, a hint of desperation in your voice. "Am I worth dating?"

God, you were killing him. He’d rather get heatstroke than continue this conversation, and he was sure Sammy would agree on his behalf.

He could actually see his baby brother from where he stood. He was a few yards away, sitting in the shade. A book in his hand, but his eyes were on the two of you.

Was he…? Oh hell no.

He was laughing.

Sammy was having a good time watching him squirm under your gaze, doing absolutely nothing despite avoiding the work Bobby needed help with.

Oh, was Dean pissed off. He’d get his payback soon, hopefully. It would be whenever he actually gets away from you and fixes up his car. Baby always comes first.

"I mean, c'mon, Dean," you pressed on. "Just give me some advice. You were with so many women, and they were all beautiful and perfect, so what's wrong with me?"

You were pouting, and Dean felt like throwing his beer bottle on the ground and stomping on it. This was the worst two minutes of his life.

"There’s nothing wrong with you,” he finally said, looking you in the eye. "You could be a pain in the ass, but unfortunately, I’m apparently the only one who has to deal with it, so... yeah. You're fine."

"Fine? I'm fine?"

"Yup," Dean replied. He turned back to the Impala, taking the last swig of his beer and tossing the empty bottle into your hands. "Thanks for the beer. Is that all?”

"I just feel… I don't know. I feel like I'm not good enough, ya know?" You said a sad look on your face. "Like there's something wrong with me. Something that's making everyone leave me."

"Listen," Dean started. He looked at you again, but all of his annoyance was gone. The two minutes were definitely up; he could quite literally kick you out of sight, but with the look you had on your face, he just couldn’t do it.

So, despite Sam’s utter lack of help, he was going to do his best to try to make you feel better.

"It's not you, alright?" He assured. "There's nothing wrong with you. If a guy can't see that, then he doesn't deserve you, okay? Trust me, you will have no problem finding someone else."

The corners of your lips twitched, turning into a small smile. "Yeah?"

Dean nodded, giving you a smirk. "If you want, I could always give out the ole hunter's special with your past one. Bobby could use a new rug for his living room."

A loud snort slipped past your mouth, and Dean was satisfied.

"Okay, Winchester," you said. "This is my sign to get the hell out of here."

And so you did, but before you could get even slightly close to the house, he called out to you.

"Oh, and by the way," he said, a small smile forming on his face. If you thought it was going to be wholesome, then you were sorely mistaken.

"Next time you come to me to talk about your feelings, at least have a damn pie."

[ghastlyfilters]

Hi! Saw you were taking Lost Boys requests...

I have a lot of silly concepts or ideas but my favorite is poly!Lost boys with a partner (I usually prefer fem reader but whatever ur comfy with is all good) who loves stealing some of their older clothes. Like, reader is smaller than them so the clothes are really comfy. Especially the older stuff cus decade+ old fabric is so soft.

reader stealing the lost boys’ clothes!!

pairing(s): implied poly!lost boys x fem!reader

warning(s): aside from paul and marko definitely paying attention to your curves, none!!

(now if i was the reader here i know damn WELL i would be stealing their clothes too. each one of their styles is literally perfection and to see that shit on vampires? HELLO? also i may have gotten a bit too carried away with thinking about all their clothing designs.. but thanks for this cute request<3)

gifs not mine! (if you know the original owner please tag them!)

HEADCANONS

• Stealing your boys’ clothes is by far the EASIEST thing anyone could do. The reason being? They quite literally never change out of the fits they’ve had on since 1987.

• The boys don’t have much of a scent, seeing as they’re all undead. So a washing machine doesn’t exist in their little world anymore. Which means they will now forever be outfit repeaters.

More fun for you. 

• All of the boys have the most random shit scattered around the cave. They’re the worst hoarders you have ever encountered. Cough cough.. Paul.. cough cough..

• But the amount of clothes they have laying around is shocking. Boots, band tees, jackets, jeans, leather trousers, gloves, shirts, man you name it. They have it. Every fucking decade.

• The band tees are by far your favourite thing to run around with. Paul has a shit ton of Môtley Crüe tees, and Dwayne has so many shirts with The Doors on them. (Jim’s face is literally everywhere in the cave now. They sure as hell ain’t Christians, so if they’re selling their souls to anyone it’s the horned god below or their icon Jim Morrison.)

• They did let you away with wearing their old band tees until Marko told the boys about EBay.

When Paul found out a vintage Mötley Crüe tour shirt was going for over a grand, the mf was ecstatic..

So much so, he decided to put his own vintage Mötley tees up for bidding.

“Two thousand… three thousand.. FOUR THOUSAND… FIVE THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS!!!”

Poor Paul’s bubble was burst however when David told him there was absolutely nothing they could do with the money aside from unlimited Chinese food for the next few months.

• David’s old clothes are much different from what the others have. He was the first to be turned, therefore he’s lived throughout the most eras.

• He’s got a LOT of leather jackets and trenchcoats. Paul and Marko always joke about him being Jack the Ripper, but you see a different side to his style. There’s been many nights you actually sat down with him and asked where he’d gotten the majority of his old items. Some were by Spanish designers that had been gifts from Max whenever he’d provided David with different clothing, others were from when David had fed off multiple store owners and casually picked out what he fancied afterwards.

• It saddens you that he doesn’t wear any of these anymore. The only reminder he ever gets of them is when you put on the soft wool Trenchcoats that go right down to your ankles, almost looking like a cape. Marko makes mini conspiracy theories that maybe you’re the real Dracula.

• Dwayne’s load of clothes is FILLED with leopard print designs. He’s been a 70s boy even all these years later, and he misses that era so dearly.

• There’s this one satin leopard print shirt that actually fits you quite well in his eyes. It’s still a little baggy.. yet oddly attractive to him. You’ve claimed it as your own now, wearing it like a pj set.

• Aside from the satin shirt, literally nothing else Dwayne has fits you. He’s a muscular guy.. and a vampire. So trying to get his baggy ass clothes to even have a slight loose fit is not for the weak 😭

• Marko however, this is where the real fun begins. You can borrow anything from Marko.. ANYTHING.. and it’s guaranteed to fit.

• He was a big crop top collector. When he used to find a good shirt that wasn’t cropped however, he’d cut it up and make it into a crop top himself. And these are what he adores you wearing. They cling nicely to your curved body, and whenever you wear them you can never get both Paul and Marko to stop staring at your breasts. Assholes.

• Marko’s clothes are by far your favourite pieces out all the boys. Much like the crop tops, he really enjoyed designing all his other outfits when he wore them. And he was pretty damn good at it too. Marko can be a crafty little thing when he wants to be. He’ll even help you design your own outfits too! He’ll cut, sew, stitch, glue, draw, paint, anything you want Marko to design, he’s down. He took so much pride in his unique outfits back in the day. And if you want yours spiced up, Marko’s your man.

• You wear his old belts a lot. One time, you were rummaging through the boys’ old stuff again, and immediately fell in love with this black latex belt Marko had. He’d drawn on perfectly shaped skulls with a white acrylic pen, and added different studs around the buckle. Ever since that day, Marko pretty much customises everything you own now.

FIRST TIME WRITING FOR THE LOST BOYS!! hope you all enjoyed these headcanons and my requests are open for any lost boys related ideas you may have!! <33

[newkatzkafe2023]

What if wukong verse x wolverine reader who said they regenerate faster than a normal human and did not elaborate further until an enemy impaled them with a spear than pulled it out and return to sender

Wolverine is one of my favorite iconic X-man🤩

(Lmk Wukong) I mean that happens to him too but he Genuinely thinks you are joking. Until one day when he was on a date with you, and you both were attacked by another one of his enemies. All large spear was shot though your stomach making Wukong froze pale in his face. His life with you had flashed before his eyes as he watched you fall over with a traumatized look on his face, and he turned to face the Assailant and get complete bloody revenge on them. Although before he can he saw the spear be thrown back at them totally surprising him. After that Wukong vowed never to doubt or leave you vulnerable ever again.

(NR Wukong) WOW really that is quite something, no he totally believed what you told him. Yeah he doesn't totally believe and honestly found it to be far fetch, I mean he knew about your healing but He thought it was for scratches or bruises. Until one night Wukong had brought you out to a nightclub because it was his turn for date night, and soon found these guys Harassing you when he left to get a drink. He saw you growling and was immediately pissed and told them to go away, And It was no time before a fight broke out and one of them stabbed you making Wukong pale and angry. When Wukong ran to help you, you easily took the knife out and brought out your claws and shredded those losers. At the end he was relieved for you to be ok and found your claws to be attractive.

(MKR Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh please you don't have to try hard to impress him he loves you already🙄😒. You told him that you have a healing factor and Regeneration abilities one random day, but Wukong had a difficult time believing it but considering You didn't go further With the conversation, He thought you were joking. Until he quickly learn that you weren't especially helping him protect his master, had jumped infront of the monk and sandy protecting the Two and a pair of spears went right though your torso. Scarying the crap out of the pilgrims and making Wukong see black and absolutely murdering the bandits that possibly killed you but he saw the same to spears kill the last two and Wukong looked over to see that you were alive. Well you had Two large holes in your back and chest, but still alive and joined him in the fight after all that Wukong held you very close to him.

(HIB Wukong) You would put so much stress on him with your power and fighting style. You told him about your power of healing and regeneration abilities, but his stupid ass took it lightly. Which was a huge mistake on his part because when you guys got attack by one of those dragons you ran to get silly girl except you were ran though by a large claw ripped though you scaring Wukong and making silly girl cry. But you quickly bounced back and fought and killed the dragon. In the end, you had to calm down both crying daughter and your sweet traumatized husband.

(Netflix Wukong) WHOAAA HOLY CRAP his life with you just flashed before his eyes oh god its Terrible!!!!😨😨😨 you had not gotten around this big dramatic baby that you had regeneration powers especially during battle. Let me explain it happened during a demon attack at his village but unfortunately he was getting out numbered which led you to step in to help his sorry ass. Wukong never like involving you in any of these fights because he scared of you getting hurt or killed, but then you had bought out your own claws to take those guys out. Then suddenly a demon stabbed though you, making Netflix pale and scream at the sight thinking he just lost you when suddenly you yanked the Thagger out and threw it back at him. At the end Netflix never doubted you as he cuddle close to you shooken.

(BMW Wukong) Would absolutely want to test that theory but not at the expense of you life. Wukong was immediately impressed by your so called powers but he makes extra sure that you don't get hurt by himself and his enemies but it didn't stop the idoits from trying. You sat on the side as your husband was yet again challenged by another idoit demon who wants to get famous by being the monkey king. Until one had come with a partner and planned to kill you infront of Wukong, which is why an arrow was shot at you knocking you out of the tree you were sitting in. Wukong blood lost shot though the roof and he savagely attack the demon that shot you, afterwards you came out of the bushes pulling that said arrow our your midsection and your worried husband took you home to heal and rest.

(Destined one) Ohhhhhhhhhh, that's crazy because he can do that too, but really, the destined one gets very wary of your powers and abilities. A lot of it sounds like it hurts. So the destined one made sure to monitor you and would take extra care to make sure you don't overdo it, especially in fights you both would get into sometimes. Until one day their may have been an ambush and you were shot with a few arrows alerting and frightening your husband, and it was one of the rare times you saw him lost his temper and savagely fight the enemies who dare to hurt you. You were also quick to join the fight while pulling out the arrows that hit you and attack them back for scaring you poor sweet husband, at the end the destined one sat close next to you and wrapped you injuries why kissing and snuggling you.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[hipsdofangirl]

and when i’m back in chicago..

seokmin x reader

summary: what it could have been

genre: meet-cute, idol au, kind of melancholic ending

notes: reader and dk are iphone users, reader is a svt fan and has anxiety lol

a/n 1: DAWG IM BAWLING RN I WAS 30 FT AWAY FROM HIM AT THE BEAN GETTING INTO MY UBER AND I MISSED HIM GRRRRAAAHHH MY FCKING ULTIMATE BIAS so this is me coping and telling my experience with what i wish could have been 🙄

wc: 1.4K

not proofread

1:58 pm CST

“oh my god! the bean is not under any construction anymore!” you point out, able to discern the article text under the glaring sun.

your friend nods, tired from the lack of food and wandering around in clothes not accustomed for the 60 degree temperature. you still were high on energy, the city and sunny autumn weather fueling your excitement; along with the anxiety fueling your flight response.

you sling your phone in your pant pocket as your other palm sweats against your sling bag—one you’ve been gripping ever since you entered the large city in fear of being pickpocketed. you pick up your pace absentmindedly as your friend trudges behind you.

you glance back at them. “since it’s a major tourist spot, no doubt they will have food.”

you could imagine a cartoon-ish sigh of relief exude from them as their own pace slightly picks up.

the gardens slowly wade behind you as you trudge through them, searching for any sign of a enormous metal bean. sweat glues your shirt to your back as your fingers trail against the leather portion of your bag.

after walking on a curved path beside the pavilion, your eyes blank out on the promised free bean. you've seen it before—a long time ago—but your friend has never seen the iconic tourist attraction.

although some conditions weren’t in your favor, you hoped they could at least enjoy seeing some things not everyone gets to. their immediate attention goes to the overpriced food trucks right beside it; however, knowing that both of you haven’t ate in 6 hours means money didn’t mean a thing.

they pat your shoulder. “i’m going to get a hot dog and a water, you want anything?” you shake your head, too entranced with the surroundings of everyone interacting.

“i’m fine—thank you though. i’ll be on the bench over there,” you reply wistfully.

your friend pretends to understand and strolls quickly to the nearest truck. in the meantime, you stand alone on the burning concrete sidewalk, enjoying the scenery.

the air seemed fresh next to the gardens, with the trees colliding alongside the massive skyscrapers, reaching to the clouds past the sky.

“ah—pardon me?” a man under a black hoodie jump-scares you, face flinching in response; your hands absentmindedly clasps your belongings.

you take a brief look at the tall tan man as he himself jumps a bit at your own response.

you chuckle before a light laugh escapes. “sorry! you scared me—is there anything i can help you with?”

he pauses. you discern his previously concerned eyes—the only part of his face you can see—as they focus on the ground before darting back up to meet yours once again. his eyes disappear behind a crinkle, forming smiles of their own you imagine.

he waves his hands, phone in one. “no no! i am sorry,” you can hear an accent, “i took picture of you—“

your brows furrow, lips pursing; he catches on immediately.

“oh um—“ he mutters something in another language which you can recognize as korean, “you looked really pretty.” your face turns hard pink and you hope he only believes it’s from the heat. “and the sun looked pretty and i had to take a photo, but i want your…support for it?”

it was obvious he wasn’t even sure of himself; the hands flailing from you to the sun and back to you says it all. you slowly nod, trying to understand his words. you glance to his eyes, searching for any soul behind them; that soul digs into your own for something sincere that you can’t quite place yet.

the world just seems to encapsulate you two as you can hear light scratching of his fingernails against his phone case, tugging your attention away to the new source. you can feel his gaze linger on your skin before he follows your gaze.

he almost yelps, “oh! here!” he scrambles to open his phone. as easy as it was to open a previously opened app, you linger yourself on his hands, seemingly red and scratchy.

you don’t even notice people briskly walking past you, staring in your direction; you don’t even notice another man, yet older and in all black clothing, walk over to the backside of the man you are talking to.

his phone is brazenly shoved into your face, forcing you to realize how close he has gotten to your right side. you could feel his quick breathing and additional warmth radiating from him; you wonder if you seemed to be the creep between the both of you. the blush returns as you force yourself to stand still. you look down to what he is showing you.

it’s a picture of you. where you were standing. he was right. the afternoon sun glow shined beside you onto the camera perfectly. the trees colliding alongside the massive skyscrapers, reaching to the clouds past the sky.

you swallow, noting your dry mouth. “wow—that’s. that’s really good.”

“right?” he isn’t looking at the photo anymore. he is slightly bending down, so you are able to meet his eyes as equals. he suddenly cuddles into his black jacket a bit more. “you like?”

you swallow again, “mhm! it’s amazing. candids really are something.” you mentally hit yourself with the stupidest remark.

he chuckles. “give me your phone.” your eyes widen. he chuckles again a bit louder but only audible to yourselves. “so you have the photo?”

your mouth opens and his eyes close in cheer. you fiddle through your pant’s side pocket to fish out your phone. once it resides in your palm and faces him for the next set of instructions, he tugs down the top and presses on the bluetooth icon.

you glance over at him as he adjusts his settings—confirming your suspicion that he did speak korean. he then lightly tugs your wrist, facing your phone towards him. he presses the phones together and you observe as the picture airdrops to your phone.

“oh my god..” you whisper. he chuckles, breath hitting your cheeks somehow through his mask. “i didn’t know it could do that—airdrop can be tricky for me.”

he hums in response. he glances briefly at the corners of your cheeks. “only for us.”

you look back up at him with a smile. “oh for sure! thank you so much!”

he waves and nods his head. “have a good day.”

the man behind him tugs his sweatshirt and they begin to quickly stroll away. not before he glances back at you and waves shyly.

you then look around yourself, noticing some girls were angling their phones at you.

“so what was happening over here?” you friend saunters over to you, hot dog in hand and two waters tucked into her side.

you let out a breathy chuckle out of disbelief. “some dude just took a gorgeous candid of me and sent it to me.”

your friend nods and smiles. “good for you! no doubt he liked you.” she hands you the extra water bottle.

“h-huh?” you stutter, eyes widen.

your friend chuckles. “your expressions are so funny sometimes.” they pat your back as you aggressively twist off the cap. you tilt your head back and chug part of the water. they pat your back again. “slow down, you don’t want to throw that up later because i am not cleaning that up.”

you nod, this time slowly swirling the cap around the grooves of the plastic bottle.

“now let me order that uber and you show me that so-called amazing photo.”

9:59 pm CST

“—NICE!” the fifth time the song rings out never gets old. as much as your bones are exhausted, you are determined to keep up.

getting to the venue was a hectic experience, but stepping to your almost-floor seats was a whole separate experience itself. the arena was smaller than expected, but the seats were in perfect view of the extended stage, especially during the encore.

a quick snap of your phone catches the image of that same man you met the previous day.

you didn’t register what completely happened till you arrived at your hotel room, until your friend showed you a specific member’s instagram story. the road signs may have looked familiar in the background, but you hit yourself mentally for recognizing the tan man.

now, in the concert hall, he never looked over in your direction; instead, he waved to the 200s and to the people on the floor, yet you still took his photo.

even if he never notices you or remembers you, you’re content with the thought of him doing something he loves and you being part of a fleeting moment only through his eyes.

.

.

“candids really are something.”

tags: @jcxbliss

a/n 2: did i almost cry writing this ending? yes. did i cry when i barely missed him irl? yes. did i sit down just now and write everything in one sitting? yes. did i cry happy tears at the revelation that i briefly passed him? yes. god i love him so much—

thank you for making it here! have a good day and night 🫶

[bettysupremacy]

HI oh my goodness i just flashed through ur entire page (its LOVELY writing) and i desperately need more!! I noticed the lack of Remus request so here i am B)

OKAY could I request plot for before remus and the reader are together? Like how they came to be ^^ mm maybe like "coincidentally" him running into her at her favorite bookstore or coffee shop (ITS CLICHE IM SORRY BUT I LOVE THESE LOCATIONS) until he finally asks her on a date !! (and maybe his friends spying on him just becuase hehe)

thank uu

HELLO I appreciate the support and there definitely is a lack of Remus. It’s cliche BUT CUTE! thank you for the request babe!!

“But I can’t just.. talk to her.”

“Why not?” James deflates. “Girls love that!”

They sit at a tiny table, in a tiny bookshop, in an even tinier cafe built in. The air crackles with cedar wood and vanilla, swirling around his hazy mind. It’s cozy and intimate but he has no place to put his legs, he sits awkwardly, leg bouncing anxiously. It accidentally hits the table. Sirius flinches from his mug.

“I’ll scare her.”

“Well then,” Sirius stirs his coffee. “don’t be weird.”

They came to study- or rather Remus came to study and his shadows came along. It’d been fine at first, computer out, a quiet Sirius. But Sirius has never had the patience to play quiet for long, especially when James is near.

“Maybe I’ll just leave it..” Remus murmurs.

Two voices shout at him. “No!”

Remus flinches mouthing sorry to the people around him. Sorry students he’d burdened with his rowdy friends. Hands to a sticky table, he pushes up. “M’Kay, I’m going.”

His feet feel heavy. He wants to do this, he wants your number, but god he doesn’t want to do this. Rejection is enough, but rejection in front of his two best friends? Looking back at his table, James encourages him. Two thumbs up and a hopeful face.

“Oh, shit!”

He’s crashed into you.

“Oh,” you startle, stumbling.

James and Sirius sink into their seats behind you. “Wow.”

Remus stabilizes you. “M’so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off.

“No seriously, shit, I’m sorry.”

You laugh, high and sweet. “I’m fine. At least there wasn’t coffee.”

“Has that happened?”

“Yes,” you breathe a laugh, dusting off your pants nervously. “before an interview.”

“That’s awful.” He’s genuine.

“It was kinda,” you ease. “they weren’t nearly as nice or attractive as you.”

He swallows. He thinks your pretty, very pretty. His eyes catch on your lips, your eyelashes. That’s a weird thing to notice, right? Eyelashes? He’s usually smoother than this, he wishes he was smoother than this. He’s embarrassed.

You flatten over his doubts like you can read his mind. “I’m clumsy, we can say this was my fault.”

“Noble.”

You shrug. “It’s not far from the truth.”

“Not very chivalrous of me.” He laughs a little.

“It’s okay,” you’re comforting, he likes that. “Did you need something over here?”

He scratches his neck, speaking before he can himself.

“Do you wanna,” he doesn’t know what to say. He started the sentence and backed out too late, but you stand there with patient eyes. He swallows a whine. “I’m usually a lot smoother than this, yanno?”

You laugh unabashed. “It’s okay.”

“Falling on you like a building threw me off, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s start over?” You ask. “What’s your name?”

“Remus.” He sounds a little more confident. “I was over there,” he points to James and Sirius who wave. “and I thought you were pretty, would you wanna get drinks sometime?”

You hold back a laugh at the formality of it all. “Yes, do you have a cell?”

“Yes.” He breathes, pulling out his small phone decidedly. He doesn’t rarely use it, ‘cept for plans. Skipping past texts from James, Sirius, Lily.. etc, he opens the little contacts icon. He doesn’t ignore them purposely, he just prefers to call.

“Here,” you smile, taking the phone from him gently. “this is where you can reach me if you want to buy me another cookie.”

He looks down, he hadn’t noticed the fallen treat.

“Don’t” you start firmly with an easy smile. “say sorry.”

He laughs, holding back another sorry. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” you reach down to point at the pen in his pocket. “Can I see that?”

He nods, pulling out the pen for you. It’d been abandoned at the same time he’d realized studying was no hope. His fingers brush against yours as he gives it to you, but you don’t let his hand far. Gently grabbing it, you look up at his confused eyebrows for a confirmation. A gentle can I?

“Oh,” he breathes, nodding. “go ahead.”

You take the pen to his skin and work the ballpoint over the rough surface. The ink bleeds into him as you write the address. You notice his scars, jagged deep tissue, and ignore them. His ears heat up. “Really good drinks here,” you explain “and next to a bakery.”

A laugh stumbles out of his lips before he can stop it and you look up to grin. “Noted.”

Letting his hand go, you watch him bring the scribble up to his eyes to read it. It’s messy but he thinks that has something to do with his scars rather than you.

“Time?” Remus asks, and you grab his hand again, writing a messy 8PM under your other ink marks. “I’ll uh see you there.”

“Perfect.”

He turns to walk, almost immediately turning back and grabbing your arm quickly. “Wait, what’s your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Remus.”

“I know.” You laugh.

He knows you’re not laughing at��him, but he cringes anyway as he walks back, heavy with embarrassment, triumphant with the thrill of a date. the boys pat his back when he sits down.

“Poor thing.” Sirius consoles.

James scoffs. “He got the date!”

“But still,” Sirius sulks. “that was embarrassing.”

Remus glares. “Thanks.”

“Well go on,” James starts. “show us the writing.”

Remus sticks out his hand for the boys to see. They hum mildly, looking at him with approval. “Nice bar.” Sirius nods.

“Next to a bakery.” James affirms.

“I, uh,” Remus scratches the back of his neck. “made her drop her cookie.”

“You dickhead.” Sirius laughs.

“I didn’t mean to!”

He slumps in his chair as James hits Sirius. They argue, petulantly and boyish, and Remus looks away. You stand at the register buying a book he doesn’t remember you holding when he’d knocked into you. Smiling at the cashier you grab your change and the bag of goods you bought. He feels weird watching. This has got to be weird, right? But as you walk out, you glance to him, lifting your hand up to your ear during the doorbell chime.

Call me.

[reiderwriter]

Hi I’m new to this so I’ve no clue if this is how you request, but I was thinking Spencer fluff, in earlier seasons where he’s a little bit more awkward but has a little bit of confidence, based on that one episode where hotch says Reid was propositioned by all the prostitutes & you’re dating him but you’re not the jealous type, they know what they have with Spencer is good and knows he worships the ground they walk on, so isn’t worried or threatened by anyone so while he’s getting hit on being a blabbering mess they just giggle to themselves making little suggestive comments. Hope this makes sense🥰

A/N: That's one of my favourite scenes because it's so hilarious to see Hotch cracking jokes for some reason. That and "did you join a boy band?" Iconic, truly. ❤️ Thank you for requesting, I'll shut up now.

Warnings: none

You were aware that Spencer Reid was a catch. Perfectly aware. More than aware. Desperately aware.

He was, quite possibly, the most attractive bean pole of a man that had ever walked the earth. He was beautiful and he was loving and his smile lit up the room and you were quite honoured to be able to call him your boyfriend.

It was not lost on you that many other people - not just women - also desired him. Which led to some downright hilarious instances.

“It's not funny, Y/N.” He pouted, that adorable furrow in his brow coming back and finding it's perfect place on his face as you stared up at him. You knew the expression you were showing him was a little bit dreamy, head in both hands as you gazed admiringly up at him, but you simply didn't care what kind of company you were in.

“Spencer, you were propositioned by 11 prostitutes.”

“I'm sure they were just teasing, Y/N. I'm awkward, I stand out like a sore thumb, I'm not buff or hot, I'm-”

“A complete and total liar!” You stood, gasping and grasping non existent pearls, playing up your disbelief. He cracked a smile and you paused briefly to send up a prayer to God, thanking them for putting a real angel on Earth.

“Spencer, you may be a little bit nerdy, and you absolutely do not know when to shut up. Your hair may always looks like your mom did it for school picture day, and your fashion sense is questionable to out it kindly-”

“Is there a but? I need there to be a but or I'll cry myself to sleep.”

“But those things are incredibly endearing. And did I mention you're really hot? It's like you're all members of the Scooby Doo cast rolled into one body and somehow that really works for me.” To punctuate your words, you took a step closer, letting your hand play with his tie as you slowly encouraged him to take a small step towards you as well, until you weren't sure where the heat that warmed you was coming from.

It could've been rolling off of him, or you, or it could've been a fire burning between you, as you fixed his tie and ran a hand through his hair.

“I'm not joking with you, Spencer. I love watching everyone appreciate your beauty and your intellect. Frankly, it turns me on.”

“Okay. I'll remember that, thank you.”

“Turns on the prostitutes, too.”

“Y/N! They're just trying to make a living, if you'd have been out there canvassing they'd have tried it with you too.” You had to giggle a bit at his loom of exasperation, flas to see that it was tainted with an uncontrollable smile, a small lifting at the corners of his mouth that he couldn't combat.

“Spencer Reid, Hotch told me that one of the girls offered you $100 for a ride.”

“That's not exactly cheap or a discount, Y/N, the going rate for a working girl in the area is-”

“Spencer. She was offering you money.” His brows knitted again and then his eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh. Oh, she did look very disappointed now that I think about it.” You pressed your hand to your mouth to suppress the small pleasurable giggles from slipping out and composed yourself, before slipping your arms around his waist.

“So, Spence. How is it that you know the going rate of a working girl?” You lifted your eyebrow and watched him panic, ready to memorise every expression that ever passed across his angelic features.

[cowboylikeyouu]

i finally watched the making of deadpool & wolverine and wrote down every thought that popped up into my mind while watching, have fun lol

god hugh jackman is gorgeous

they’re talking about all the different ideas they had for this movie and honestly??? i would eat up every single one of them they should still do it lol

god hugh jackman is GORGEOUS

man i missed them sm i haven’t watched dp&w in TWO MONTHS?????

i will never shut up about the deadpool suit in this movie it’s SO AWESOME it’s a blessing for my eyes every time it’s on screen

"that’s what we were striving for with rdj in endgame, is to give this iconic fictional character an amazing ending." yeah well only that endgame‘s ending SUCKED and i will never forgive anyone for it <3

ugh hugh jackman is gorgeous

i could watch him speak forever

i‘m SO glad ryan made that "i should use his body as a weapon" pitch bc GODDAMN that opening scene will never get old

ahhhhhh i love that we‘re getting some insight in the stunt/fight stuff, SO interesting !! the shitty iphone test videos are hilarious

they should’ve made a "he ACTUALLY broke his toe when he kicked that helmet!!!!" reference when ryan kicked logan‘s skull lmao

the marry puppins SNOGGING ryan bts clips will never get old lmao funniest shit ever

THE SUIT LOOKS SO GOOD UGHHHH am i having a gender or a sexuality crisis over it???? guess we’ll never know

EMMA CORRIN ILYSM

shout out to british people gotta be one of my fav genders fr

all the different lines ryan screamed out of the honda????😭😭 honestly they should’ve just kept all of these idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN

"and i knew the fans would love it" ohhh hugh i think we all love it a bit too much

"and yet, i wouldn’t say wolverine is a straight man" awesome, thanks, case fucking CLOSED.

"which i don’t recommend, sending a 10 minute voice memo to anyone"

*me looking at the five 10-20 minute voicemails i send my friends every single day*

THE SUITS LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER (their asses do as well)

GOD hugh jackman is gorgeous

"what we refer to as the van fight" no babe that’s the honda odyssey sex marathon actually!!

"violence is our love language" ITS CONFIRMED (everyone knew. BUT STILL)

choreographing this scene (all the deadpool vs wolverine fight scenes really) must’ve been SO FUN like UGH just coming up with all this violence knowing that it won’t affect your characters in the long haul and you can add of many of it as you want????? THE DREAM

THEM HUGGING IN THE HONDA???😭😭 brb gotta cry

I LOVE YOU EMMA CORRIN

CHRIS EVANS LOML

it’s unfair how attractive he is i‘m gonna throw up

reminder to myself to finally learn johnny‘s monologue i wanna be able to randomly hit people with it

OHHHH i actually did NOT realize that was hulk‘s bed from ragnarok??? which is weird bc i used to watch that movie religiously. but hey that’s so cool!!

channing tatum talking about gambit is so heartwarming man so happy for him😭

jennifer garner is so pretty i‘m so gay lord help

me

dafne keen‘s voice sounds SO different when she’s not playing laura, CRAZY

EMMA CORRIN MY LOVE

just once just ONCE i wanna walk through a street filme set like this UGH it looks so cool & surreal

"this is our baby yoda" i have to be this annoying person i‘m sorry but HIS NAME IS GROGU

i don’t know shit about music but i could listen to people talk about movie scores for hours on end (how did you know sideways is my fav youtube video essayist???)

good fucking god hugh jackman is gorgeous

lmao they should’ve kept the "zoooombies wake uuuppp" again, idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN ‼️‼️‼️

ohh hugh jackman is gorgeous (put your greasy tits away you preening slut)

ugh i‘m getting emotional help

well that was awesome, gonna cry myself to sleep now byeee

(have i mentioned how gorgeous hugh jackman is?)

[jiyascepter]

Midgard Mischief: An Evening in New York

Masterlist

Pairing: Loki x gn!reader

Words: 1,831

Warnings/Content: Fluff. Loki and reader are both Avengers, soft, protective Loki, kissing, mention of other mcu characters (say hello!)

Summary: Loki's first trip to the Earth realm. You take him for an evening out in New York where his protective instincts surface.

A/n: alr first of all let's appreciate this beautiful candid picture of tom. he's so beautiful i can't. i just. can't. this is one of my favourite pictures of him.

Also I needed some suggestions. I'm thinking of writing a series (or more like, parts) ─── 'Midgard Mischief' where the reader & loki visit different places on earth, like they do in this fic. There will be different plots, not connected to each other. How is the idea & if you like it can you suggest some places (countries, famous tourists attractions, random places, anything! ANYTHING!) if possible? It would be a great help! Dms are always welcome !

After a long wait of six months, your boyfriend Loki was finally in Midgard. For the first time. Last time you met him, Thor had invited you to Asgard to fight some dark elves and their leader, Malekith. That’s when you fell in love with his brother, the charming god of mischief.

Today you decided to take Loki out with you and show him around your city like he had when you came to Asgard. But for Loki, it was more like a challenge, almost scary, to face everything in the realm.

The air of Midgard was thick with unfamiliarity— every sound and sight was alien to Loki as he traversed the bustling streets of New York City. His blue eyes darted through the tall skyscrapers, the throngs of people, and the cacophony of noises that assaulted his senses. Layers of confusion built in his mind whenever he saw the bizarre blend of technology and…magic? Is that what it is?

“Images and sounds transmitted through a glowing box? It's like watching a vivid dream unfold before my eyes, except I'm certain no magic was involved. Or was it?” He asks you while you both were passing an electronic shop with many televisions of different sizes on display. “Humans can’t do magic, Loki. I told you before.” You respond with a smile, finding the confused expression on his face too cute.

You were excited for him to be introduced to these things. Things that you used to find normal were a whole new concept to him, and you loved it when he used to listen to you so carefully— the innocent baby-like expression on the almighty god of mischief.

Loki was never one to admit fear. The unfamiliarity of the mortal realm, coupled with the constant possibility of unforeseen dangers, stirred a sense of unease within him. He always had thought mortals were one of the weaker species in all of the nine realms because of shorter life and no knowledge of magic, yet when seen closely, they were a beautiful yet a scary kind. Able to progress so much in a little span of time was fascinating yet frightening at how much these mortals can progress out of curiosity, if given the resources.

Yet, he knew he had to conquer his apprehensions to savor every moment with you, determined to make the most of your time together despite the lurking fear of losing you amidst the chaos of the place.

You take him to Times Square, as what better place could it be for a newcomer to visit?

As you two approach the iconic location, vibrant lights and towering billboards illuminated the night sky, casting a kaleidoscope of colors upon the bustling crowds. Loki’s grip on your hand tightens. So many people. Mortals. Unknown mortals. What if you get lost here? What if someone just grabs you away from him? What if he loses the grip on your hand and gets lost and never finds his way back to you?

You smile at Loki’s reaction, thinking he’s just flabbergasted with the scene. "Welcome to Times Square, Loki. This is one of the busiest and most dazzling places on Earth." Loki looks at you and his face softens and glances back at the buildings. "It seems mortals have a penchant for excess.” You chuckle. “Hm…you could say that. But it’s certainly captivating isn’t it?”

“It’s quite…different from Asgard.” He says with a tinge of fascination as well as skepticism. You snicker and nudge him playfully. “Well, that’s the beauty. It’s diverse, chaotic and endlessly surprising.”

You both continue to move along the street, with you leading Loki through the multitude of people. You notice he was holding on to the helm of your top tightly as you move through a narrow space and turn your head and give him an assured smile. “You’re not gonna get lost, Loki.” He huffs, a tinge of red on his cheeks as you point that out. “But you can."

“Come on, I know this place well.”

He rolls his eyes and looks at you. “The place is too crowded, one glance away and you’ll be gone. And let’s not pretend there are no other dangers as well.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What other dangers?”

Just then, a speedy car whizzes by, its blaring horn causing Loki to instinctively pull you closer to him, shielding you from the potential danger. His heart races for a moment, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he realises the precariousness of mortal life in such bustling environments.

"That," he says, his voice low with concern, "is one of them."

You take a breath, still holding on to him tightly after what happened. “That was close.” He looks down at you, stroking the back of your head and looking at you with concern. “See, I told you. How you managed to survive all this time here is beyond my understanding.”

You chuckle. “I’m fine, Loki, and this incident was just a matter of chance.” You lean in and place a comforting peck on his cheek. He scoffs, cheeks red, but not taking in your point.

“Just take care of yourself, that's what I want…” He mumbles, takes your hand, and walks forward with you.

As you continue your stroll through the vibrant streets of Times Square, Loki's protective instincts seemed to have heightened after the car episode. He was keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings, his grip on your hand never loosening.

Suddenly, a street performer dressed as a superhero approaches, causing Loki to tense up. He positions himself between you and the performer, eyeing him warily as if he were ready to defend you from any potential threat.

You can't help but snicker at his overprotective nature, finding it endearing how he's so quick to jump to your defence.

“Easy there, sweetie.” You chuckle, gently tugging on his arm to calm him down. “He’s just a harmless street performer.”

Loki relaxes slightly, but his guard doesn't falter. He shoots the performer a distrustful look before turning his attention back to you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he realises his overreaction.

"Sorry," he mutters sheepishly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. You’re too precious."

You smile reassuringly, squeezing his hand affectionately. "I know, Loki. But you don't have to worry. I'm safe with you." His face softens and he leans in to place a kiss on your forehead.

Just then, you realise that maybe the hustling roads of Times Square might not be a place of interest for Loki. You hold his hand and start to pull him along with you.

“Where to, my darling?” he asks.

“A museum.”

As you step into the cool, quiet space, Loki's tense shoulders begin to relax, and he takes in the sight of the ancient artifacts and priceless artworks with a sense of wonder.

You guide Loki through the museum, stopping at various exhibits to admire the intricacies of each piece. His eyes light up as he marvels at the craftsmanship of ancient weapons, the delicate beauty of sculptures, and the vibrant colours of centuries-old paintings.

"Impressive," he murmured, a hint of admiration in his voice. "It seems mortals have a talent for capturing beauty."

As you both wandered through the halls, Loki's curiosity was piqued by a particularly striking painting depicting a scene from Norse mythology. He studied it intently, a flicker of recognition crossing his features before he masked it with a smirk.

"Ah, a tribute to my exploits," Loki remarked, his tone laced with amusement. "It seems I've made quite the impression on your kind." You chuckle. “You’re unforgettable, that’s why.” He smirks, then continues reading through the information provided below the exhibits. He liked it here, it was calm, and not many people were visiting at this hour, allowing him to soften his guard a bit.

“You know,” you say with a light smile playing on your face, your voice echoing through the empty hall, “I always had this fantasy to kiss my boyfriend in a museum.”

Loki turns, a grin on his face as he approaches you. “Is that true, darling? And why a museum?”

You blush and look away. “They just used to show it in the movies a lot…” You murmur.

With you talking about movies all the time, he knew what you meant. He cups your cheeks and turns your face back to him. “So I should fulfill the wishes of my beloved like a good lover, shall I not?”

He takes your hand and pulls you into a corner, tugging your hair behind the ear. You attempt to cup his cheeks, but he takes your hands and gently holds on to them, then reaches out to caress your lower lip softly with his thumb.

“Thank you for bringing me here…” he says in a low voice, then lets go of your hands and leans in to meet your lips.

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed with desire, Loki gazes into your eyes with a look of adoration and longing. "I never knew a museum could be so…stimulating," he murmurs, his voice husky with eagerness.

You laugh softly, pressing another lingering kiss to his lips. "Well, now you know," you whisper.

x ────

On the following day:

“Jarvis, read the morning news for me.” Tony calls out while walking in the living room of the Avengers compound.

"Sure, sir,” Jarvis says, reading out the heading, ‘Museum Security Footage Captures Romantic Encounter: Mystery Couple Caught in Kiss.'

“In an unexpected turn of events, the security cameras at the renowned Museum of Art and History, New York, have captured a heartwarming moment between two individuals. The footage, obtained by museum authorities during a routine review of surveillance tapes, reveals a tender exchange between two individuals amidst the quiet halls of the museum.

The couple, whose identities remain unknown, can be seen sharing a passionate kiss in a secluded corner of the museum, seemingly unaware of the camera's presence. The footage, which has since gone viral on social media, has sparked speculation and curiosity among museum visitors and online spectators alike.

‘We are currently reviewing the footage and working closely with local law enforcement to identify the individuals involved,’ stated museum director Dr. Rebecca Thompson. ‘While we encourage visitors to appreciate the art and history within our walls, we must also ensure the safety and security of our premises at all times.’ " Jarvis finishes reading.

Tony, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Ugh, seriously? We’re making out in museums now? Can't people save that for the privacy of their own homes? And here I thought Loki was the only one causing mischief around here…" He shakes his head, a look of mock disgust on his face, before turning his attention back to whatever project he has been working on.

Jarvis, in his usual composed tone after running his data on the museum pictures, "Actually, sir-"

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[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Brigitte Bardot (Contempt, And God Created Woman)—unbelievable charisma off the charts, post-war France could barely handle her because she just radiates sexuality in the deepest, hottest way. i've never seen a woman who fit so clearly in my head the "beautiful woman" category. also i'm including her little suit number because why not [pic below]

Sara Montiel (Vera Cruz, Serenade, Run of the Arrow)— She began her career in the 1940s and became the most internationally popular and highest paid star of Spanish cinema in the 1960s. She appeared in nearly fifty films and recorded around 500 songs in five different languages. She always tells how when she met Marlon Brando, she cooked fried eggs for him and he said they were the best eggs he had ever tasted. She confronted Franco himself first by rejecting his invitation to sing at his Christmas party, and then when she went to the barracks to ask that the police let the homosexuals that they had detained be let out. She defended them tooth and nail, and that's why they returned all the love by turning her into the icon of the gay community in Spain.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Brigitte Bardot:

"Los Angeles Times in 2011 ranked her as the second most beautiful woman in film, she won a David di Donatello award and was nominated for a BAFTA. Literally nicknamed a sex kitten, she used her fame to promote animal rights. And God Created Woman was so scandalous to US audiences that some theater managers were arrested for screening it"

"She was a sex symbol and her style is influential even today"

"She's just so iconic! Wikipedia extracts because why not : "In 2011, Los Angeles Times Magazine's list of "50 Most Beautiful Women in Film" ranked her number two" "The Guardian named Bardot "one of the most iconic faces, models, and actors of the 1950s and 1960s" "According to the liner notes of his first (self-titled) album, musician Bob Dylan dedicated the first song he ever wrote to Bardot. " I mean of course she is iconic in France, but she inspired many women outside of France"

"She wasn't just a sex symbol because men found her attractive and then that imagine of her was further promoted. But she was actually one of (if not) the first women to stand for emancipated women in a sexual way in a time when women were considered to mainly exist to please their man. She was famous for portraying women who lived their sexuality for their own pleasure and knew what they wanted. Very important! And also what's hotter than a woman driving men wild because they don't even know how to handle a woman with her own ideas and needs lol"

Sara Montiel:

[toffeecoco1]

earlier i was trying to find the scene where sqq first meets lqg and i somehow managed to pan to EXACTLY the first page of that scene in my ebook copy

anyway, why is sqq?? so fucking funny??

the first thing he says to us upon seeing lqg’s face:

Fuck! Of all people, he had to meet that guy! Before, he’d wanted to help, but now all he wanted was to flee for his life.

It was too late. The person in white swung his head around, having already detected his presence.

In any other state, Shen Qingqiu might have declared, “What a beautiful man!” But a man could be as beautiful as he wanted, and if he glared at you with crimson eyes and bulging veins, you’d scramble to kneel, okay?!

he’s running at you and you’re thinking about how beautiful he is….

after he saves lqg and starts telling us about bai zhan peak and the fandom:

In his headcanon, Liu Qingge had been a sharp and manly man, powerful and magnificent. A war god, right?!

Shen Qingqiu looked down at that face, as beautiful as a fine woman’s, and his dreams shattered and died. The fantasies he’d always held, destroyed.

fantasies????? you’ve fantasised about a sharp, powerful, magnificent manly man??

Undefeatable in battle, an arrogant disposition, and an attractive face. With Bing-ge around, a second character in the same mold was unnecessary. No wonder “Great Master” Airplane had offed him so early.

This is the real reason I went looking for this scene. It’s… a stallion novel. The appearance of male side characters isn’t overwhelmingly important to the target audience. Had lqg showed up, his appearance probably would barely have been described?? Literally only YOU keep thinking “wow this man is almost as beautiful as binghe… how is that even possible….”

It hadn’t occurred to Shen Qingqiu in the moment, but as he thought about it now, how might saving this person impact Luo Binghe’s satisfaction points?

definitely. but not in the ways you’d think :)

Shen Qingqiu continued to pat his back. “Liu-shidi, to tell you the truth, lately Shixiong has been in seclusion, and he’s come to realize many things,” he said earnestly. “Seeing you at death’s door, a beauty fading—ahem, dying so young, it brought back so many memories. Shixiong is deeply ashamed and filled with regret.”

and of course, his iconic top-tier bullshitting to try and be friends with lqg now. so focused on lqg’s appearance he says it out loud!!!

anyway i love sqq, the repressed idiot. trying to convince himself that binghe is the exception and he doesn’t like men, when that is so clearly not the case 😂

[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

I usually don't post wips so openly like this but I have an idea.

What if canon Ace, after marineford, is isekaied to an old-fashioned, coloniser England? He wakes up confused like what the God-fuck happened and it just so happens that he ends up in a noblefamily's courtyard where he meets their youngest son who's his age who reminds him a bit too much of someone very familiar. The guy's name is Sabo too.

As of writing this, the fic is still a nebulous mess in my head but here's what I have.

Ace's immediately interested. The moment he went up to the study to ask for help, everyone just screams how indecent he is because he's shirtless and very attractive. The women blush, which Ace, being a greasy player to some extent, doesn't mind, but then there's Sabo who blushes in the same way. The neurons started activating in his mind. Ace never did it with guys too often but hey, he nearly died! He'll figure it out! Let's Fucking Go!

Sabo's also interested in this sense, "H-how rude! Who's this naked imbecile (Ace's just wearing his iconic shorts and boots)? Is he mad? In this weather? (looks down. Blushes immediately) That's a rather... large... scar........ What kind of w-warrior is he? Where is he from? Roman soldiers were known for being handsome, is he... (he can't believe himself for looking at his tits again) Why is he looking at me? His hair is too long for a man. (Sabo sees his smoky black eyes once more and turns away, out of breath) He's the Devil himself. I refuse to give in to temptation. I r-refuse to sin. I refuse!"

It doesn't end there, though. This hunk of a man gets thrusted to Sabo's care because no one trusts women to keep it in their pants if the Portgas D. Ace with his infinite, maxxed out rizz is right here. Sabo wants to cut his hair but couldn't bring himself to because it's just too beautiful. He simply cuts the fringe and dry-ends off before forcing Ace to shower and change into more appropriate clothing, aka this multi-layered suit that Ace wore wrongly.

Sabo couldn't stop himself from laughing. Ace pouted so much like a grumpy cat. Sabo started coughing and wiped his eyes.

"Why'd you stop?" Ace said. "Laugh more. I don't mind 'cause you're so cute."

Sabo finally sobered up. What was he doing? Acting like some lovesick fool. He never acted that way towards his own fiancé...

He didn't say anything as he helped Ace wear it properly. He couldn't help but feel he's doing something wrong. Ace looked so uncomfortable but it seemed that he understood why he's wearing this. Sabo hid his smile when Ace sneezed. Maybe he wasn't so bad.

When he's done, Sabo thought... Well, Ace is still handsome but he felt like he had taken something away from him, the thing that made him so special to begin with: his freedom. There's some spite in Sabo's grimace.

Sabo never had the chance to even dream of freedom.