#(insert anon)

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[gilverrwrites]

Discretely touching them down there to their parts and gently squeezing when no one is looking and them not being able to do anything (since it's in public).

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, & Roy. AN: Anon you're a menace and I love ya!

Bruce

You get exactly one, which he acknowledges with a stern pout and a cocked brow. Flawlessly concealing the fire you’ve ignited but for his laboured breathing and blown-out pupils. You’re walking a thin line, behaving like a brat in front of Gotham’s elite.

If he sees you reaching for him again, and trust, he will see; it will take him precisely 0.8 seconds to lock you in an unsuspecting death grip and pull you close. He wants you to feel the increased tempo of his heart against your chest. To feel the growing stiffness of his hard-on grazing your hip as he tells you assertively to; “Behave.”  

Dick

Dick sees your game; he raises you tenfold. He knows you’re up to something when he clocks the determined bite of your lips as you survey the subway car, and the mischievous glint in your eye as you look back at him. When your hand snakes under this shirt, caressing his v-lines, he juts his hips forward, presenting himself to you; daring you to take it further.

When you sink your fingers below his waistband he sucks in a deliberately loud breath. You freeze to survey your surroundings, but Dick does not. Dick starts grinding on you until he senses you growing nervous. He locks a sturdy hand around your elbow just in time to prevent you from pulling away, leans in close and whispers; “What’s wrong baby? Thought you wanted to play?”

Jason

“Is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” You giggle at your own joke, because Jason is always packing some form of heat. He might have laughed too, might have trapped your wrist in his hands and rocked against your outstretched palm if you’d been at home, or the club, or even the casino. But not the fucking grocery store, you little perv.  

“Are you drunk?” He offers you an out, glaring down at you with a gaze fierce enough to make a nun blush. You respond with a brazen-faced shake of your head, and he can’t help but imitate it out of disbelief at your cocky attitude. You stay like that, locked in a stare of, rock vs hard place, until Jason cracks first, noticing a couple rounding the corner at the other end of the aisle.

He grabs your arm with an unapologetic level of force, spinning you around and trapping you between his body and the trolley. Hiding his hardness by pressing it against your back. “You’re in for it later.”

Tim

Tim is the most taken aback. His pale blue eyes are rapidly examining your surroundings the moment he feels your devious fingers ghosting over the top of his thigh. He’s cute when he’s flustered, with pink cheeks and blown-out pupils. Nobody is looking, too focused on the conference speaker.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, but before he can get his words out, your hand is gone, casually pulling a non-existent thread from your sleeve.

You don’t reply, you just smile and shoot him a playful wink which puts him even more on edge. So much so that when you abruptly return, this time cupping his half-hard cock through his jeans that he fucking flinches. His knee hits the chair in front, and he sucks in a loud breath, earning him many pointed glares from multiple members of the audience.

“Babe.” Be tries to warn, but his hushed breathy tone makes him sound exactly as aroused as he feels.

Roy

You get it, you do. It was a long trip, and he’s starving but you’ve really been feeling his absence over the last few weeks, and the fact that you’re currently sat in a Burrito Bucket, watching Roy devour a tray of tacos, instead of being at home and watching him devour you, is a problem.

He seems to have noticed your sulking, but too late. “You okay ho- “

His question is halted by your foot tactfully situating itself between his legs. His gaze flits between his food and you, defiant eyes watching you through a mop of shaggy hair. A knowing grin spreads across his queso-stained lips as you answer faux-sweetly. “I’m fine, baby.”

“Right.” He huffs, breath hitching, freckled cheeks turning red when you press your toes down and something firm pushes back. He knows what you want, but he just loves to play dumb. So, he takes another bite, jerking every time you tap or roll your foot but never acknowledging what you’re silently begging for. “Is this one of those things where you say you’re fine, but actually you’re not fine?”

“I’m going home.” You finally concede with an exaggerated sigh, dropping your foot back to the floor and gathering your things.

“I’m coming with you.” He’s on you the moment you stand, draping his arm over you and placing kisses to the side of your neck, your face, whatever he can reach as you struggle to move with his deadweight over your shoulders. Notably, there’s still half a tray of uneaten tacos left on the table. “Funnily enough, I’m hungry for something else now.”

Taglist: @wandalfnation

[hanasnx]

so.. hot take fix idea..

fire lord zuko would totally try to fuck you anywhere.. i mean, who’d stop him? from the garden balconies to the throne room or even dining room and study.. it’s very evident that he loves you to everyone around and isn’t afraid to let anyone else know it either.

MINORS DNI 18+

"Zuko," you chide under your breath, shying away from ZUKO's lips that brush the sensitive skin of your neck. "Compose yourself." you hushed instruction is paid no heed as he presses himself into your back, pinning you between the railing and his body.

His lowered voice washes warm breath over your ear, sending chills down your spine, "How can I? I can't keep my hands off you." It's in poor taste for the Fire Lord to express such ardent desire so publicly, the balcony overlooking the balcony is hardly the most inconspicuous place to do it. Even through his layers of robing, you can feel a familiar prodding, and you gasp when his teeth bite into your flesh to distract you. "No one's around." he expresses as if it's encouragement instead of a thinly veiled ploy. It's part of the thrill for him.

The official dressings you wear are inaccessible, you're unsure of how he'll proceed without baring you entirely for the world to see. When his hands grab at the fabrics, bunching them up to inch them higher you reach back to catch him. "Zuko!" you whisper indignantly, glancing at him from over your shoulder. He leans in, furthering you over the balcony from his weight as he steals a grinning kiss from you.

"A quick one, my love. If anyone so much as looks in your direction I'll skin them alive." The barbaric threat is entirely to make you dissolve into giggles as a distraction, moving aside the expensive silks so he can get at what he knows is waiting for him underneath.

[k2ntoss]

doing a part of the request my fave jason simp, 🦊 anon, made some time ago AND THAT I FEEL BAD FOR REPLYING UNTIL NOW

so writer's block who? i just needed a sex and the city episode to pull out this so here we fucking GO

it's been quite a while since sleeping on jason's place is a regular thing, not only sleeping but spending time there on his free time watching him cook or just sit together to read a book. it's by far the best feeling ever because even if he isn't fucking you into oblivion during the night being by his side feels just right.

despite everything being so perfect and nice there are some boundaries he isn't letting you cross yet and the reason? explained properly and understood by you, he was trying to make sure you'd be safe without anyone finding a way to get to you and hurt you wanting to hurt him with it. that meant not leaving personal stuff on his place, it was risky to let you spend so much time around but he couldn't resist it, jason loved being able to have his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he read on the couch, leaning in every now and then to kiss your cheek.

the room was still dark, it was early when you had started to wake up from your slumber to squirm under jason's arm that was holding you tight against his chest as he nuzzled his face against your back, the feeling of you wanting to escape his grip makes him drag you more into his embrace and a soft grunt leaves his throat when he finds himself unable to bury his face into your hair "where are you going, ma?" he asks, still more asleep than anything as jason still has his eyes closed.

"i need to get ready, love" the reply reaches him and even with that information jason refuses to let go of off you, his arms now wrapped around your hips as you try to get out of his bed, dragging with you the sheets for a whole second before you almost fall from the bed "jay, i really, really need to leave the bed..."

"but it's still dark, you can't leave yet... i want to sleep a little more and i want you here with me" the smile that reply steals goes missing for him, poor guy is still almost fully asleep but he clings onto you for dear life even knowing you probably have something to do during the day before he's able to hold you again "just one more hour. then you're free to go, angel"

"i need that hour to get ready, jaybird" you chuckle, shifting a little under his arm as you try to push it away from you and when you finally escape the death grip jason has on your body the lazy walk to the bathroom is filled with the guilt of leaving him all alone to get ready for something that wouldn't be as nice and warm as your lover's embrace. picking up your clothes and stuff to get ready you rethink and the final choice is clear as water, that much you don't even realize when you started to lift the comfy sheet to push jason a bit "you win... i'll stay here"

the fact that jason isn't fully awake makes his pretty smile even prettier because he scoots a little with his arms ready to hold you again and once you lay back on his bed he leans in to kiss your lips and almost as if sleepiness was contagious you found yourself kissing him back and ready to drift back into your dreams where just like in the waking, you'd stay into jason's arms. hiding your face against his neck, arms wrapped around his torso and one leg drapped over his hips it's nice and warm to feel his big hand caressing your thigh softly as his lips kiss tenderly your neck making you smile widely.

there's a sweet sense of intimacy on his touch and even if the tiredness washes over both of you, jason's hands are now holding your hips to press you against his body and between soft and tender kisses, his hands and yours start to pull off the little amount of clothes you used to sleep. his practiced hands run sweetly over your skin, undoing the clasp of your bra and taking it off while your hands pull up his shirt, fingers gently caressing his scars as he kissed a trail across your jaw.

"you're just so pretty..." jason's gruffy voice makes you shiver and under the sheets his body is pressed flush against you, his hands holding your waist as he rolls his hips against yours as if testing waters and there's nothing that would make you leave his side. not now, not ever.

"i love you so much, red..." you mutter against his chin, letting out a breathless moan when he's able to push into you, his movement is anything but hard. he takes his sweet time to settle between your inner walls, letting out a soft groan accompanied by a content smile when you wrap your arms around his neck to snuggle against him.

"love you too, ma" he whispers against your temple, he has his eyes closed as he enjoys the warmth you provide and he knows that even in the dark place his life is you're everything he will ever need. with a soft sigh he starts moving, slow strokes as he holds onto your hips while muttering sweet nothings into your ear.

the whole room is filled with the tenderness of the moment, silent gasps and soft moans as he held you as if you could break if he got too rough. your lips peppering his jaw and cheeks in soft kisses as he rolls his hips into you making your breath hitch everytime he hits that sweet spot and the chill of the morning feels like something so strange because your morning is sweet and warm while jason is by your side.

time seems to go by slower, lips swollen from the kissing to drown the soft grunts and to delay everything a little more until you feel jason's slow strokes faltering before he spills himself inside you, drawing a soft moan from your lips as your own release washed over you making your body clench around his in a delicious grip. the room is now filled with nothing besides the soft pants of your breathing, his hands caressing soothingly your waist as you nuzzled your face against his neck.

"can't you stay here today? i don't feel like letting go of my pretty princess" jason asks quietly, his voice is still a bit gruffy and he looks sleepy despite what you just did. it's impossible to leave him like this, shiny eyes and messy hair, looking happy finally because he had his little world into his arms.

[yeosin-n]

Can I give chocolates to nightmare sans? :o

he’s happy :3

[incognit0slut]

hi! what about this: some time after spencer comes home from prison, he finds some toys reader had bought for herself since he'd been in prison for so long. he tells reader that if she was needy enough to do anything without him, she can do it again, without him. he orders her to show him what she was doing when he was gone. you can definitely include edging and/or overstimulation as well as degradation, of course if you're comfortable with that <3 also, if it's not a problem, since it would be a sub/dom dynamic there could be aftercare included, but it depends on what you feel like writing.

anyway, thank you and i hope you're having a great day 🌺

(18+) Dom Spence x fem reader. 1.3k. Sex toy. Squirting.

Spencer forces you to give him a show when he discovers your secret.

-

Spencer wasn't trying to be evil, he really wasn't, but there was a twisted satisfaction witnessing your vulnerability. Maybe it was the sense of power over you, or perhaps you were simply captivating, but whatever the reason, he found himself drawn to the sight of you lying in bed, legs spread apart.

He watched intently as the toy disappeared into your cunt, moving in and out, each thrust met with the tight clenching of your walls. He never imagined he'd witness you finding satisfaction with anything other than him, yet, if he were honest with himself, the sight aroused him more than it angered him.

You had been going at it for a while now—no, he forced you to do it. Though "force" might not be the right choice of word, because as embarrassed as you were by his discovery of the toy you forgot even existed, the pleasure clouded your mind, and you found yourself enjoying giving him a show far too much to stop.

“Is this what you’ve been up to while I’ve been gone?” Spencer taunted, leaning back in the chair positioned at the foot of the bed.

Your response caught in your throat as your climax edged closer. With a sense of urgency, you increased the speed of your hand, plunging the toy in and out of your dripping cunt with increasing desperation, the echoes of your arousal filling the room.

“Answer me,” he urged. “Keep your eyes on me and answer the question.”

With a shiver running down your spine, you forced yourself to meet his intense gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

“I… I needed…” you stammered, struggling to form coherent words amidst the rising tide of sensation.

“Needed what?” he pressed.

You swallowed hard. “I needed… to feel something,” you admitted. “I needed… release.”

“And you couldn’t wait for me?”

“I… I’m… sorry,” you confessed, each word punctuated by a gasp as the toy drove you closer to the edge. “I couldn’t… without… you…”

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the toy. Then, his voice cut through the air. “Do you need me now?”

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his piercing eyes. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice raw with longing. “I-I need you.”

His lips curved into a knowing smile, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners. “Hmm,” he hummed, his voice low and teasing. “That’s too bad because I’m quite enjoying the view.”

You squirmed under his gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable yet undeniably aroused by his control.

“Please,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. “I can’t… I can’t take it anymore. I-I need you.”

A flicker of something akin to sympathy crossed his features, but it was quickly replaced by a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I know you do,” he replied. “But where’s the fun in giving you what you want so easily?”

You bit your lip, torn between frustration and arousal. “Please,” you pleaded again, your voice barely a whisper, “Don’t tease me like this.”

His smirk widened, clearly enjoying the power he held over you. “You’ll have to beg a little harder than that,” he whispered. “Show me how much you need me.”

Your heart raced at his words, the intensity of his gaze igniting a fiery need within you. Without hesitation, you spread your legs further apart, the movement allowing him an unobstructed view of the way your cunt clenched around the toy, your arousal evident in the slickness coating it.

A satisfied groan escaped his lips at the sight, his hand instinctively finding its way to his strained arousal beneath his pants. “I’ll tell you what,” he muttered, gripping himself. “Make yourself come and I’ll give you what you want.”

A whine broke put of you. “I…”

“If you were needy enough to satisfy yourself without me, you can do it again now.”

Your heart was beating fast against your chest, yet you found yourself nodding.

“Three times,” he continued. “Give me three orgasms.”

Your breath hitched at his words. “Three?” You squeaked.

“Three,” he affirmed, his voice low and commanding.

You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of anticipation mingled with apprehension. The thought of achieving such intense pleasure under his watchful gaze both thrilled and intimidated you. But the promise of his reward spurred you on, driving you to arch your back and chase after your first orgasm.

It came fast and fierce, crashing over you with an intensity that left you breathless. Your toes curled in ecstasy, and a blush spread across your cheeks as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure, knowing that he was watching your every move.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “Give me another.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, and you whimpered, determined not to give yourself a break. The faster you obliged, the quicker he would fuck you. So you pushed yourself even further, ignoring the burning sensation as the toy thrusts in and out of you relentlessly.

And then, as it hit that very deep spot inside you, your legs began to shake, spreading even wider in response to the overwhelming sensation. The pleasure surged through you like a tidal wave, from your head down to your toes, and his name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper.

He grunted as he rubbed himself through his pants. “One more, sweetheart, you can take it, just one more.”

You gasped, still reeling from the intensity of the previous climax. “I… I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted. “I know you can.”

Despite the lingering waves of pleasure still washing over you, you steeled yourself for one final effort. Gritting your teeth, you resumed the frantic pace, driving the toy deep inside you.

The sensations intensified, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your breath grew ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as you neared the edge once again.

As the pleasure built within you, there was a sudden, unfamiliar intensity to the sensation. It coiled in your stomach, sending a surge of urgency coursing through your veins. You whimpered softly, a mix of desire and apprehension knotting in your stomach.

You knew what was coming, and so did he, because his grip on his cock tightened, a hunger burning in his eyes. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Give it to me, baby. Just let it out.”

Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t hold back any longer. With a gasp, you finally surrendered, feeling a rush of fluid escaping your body as you reached your high. The force of the liquid pushed the toy out of you, and you gasped, your body arching involuntarily in response to the overwhelming sensation. Your back arched, your head thrown back, and your eyes closed, letting the intense pleasure consume you entirely.

Every nerve ending seemed to tingle with ecstasy as the wave of release washed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. With a shuddering breath, you collapsed onto the bed, spent and satisfied, your body buzzing with the aftershocks of your climax.

In the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, you felt his presence beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. You steadied your breathing as he pulled you closer, his lips pressing gentle kisses against your sweaty face.

“See?” he murmured, his voice filled with pride. “I knew you could do it.”

With a contented sigh, you nuzzled closer to him, reveling in his warmth. “Will you fuck me now?”

He laughed, the sound rich and full of affection. “Maybe we should wait for a while, let you calm down.”

You pulled back and gave him a look. “Spencer.”

With a playful smirk, he leaned in to pepper soft kisses along your jawline, trailing down to your neck. The warmth of his lips against your skin sent shivers of anticipation through your body.

And then he slipped off his clothes, and when he finally settled between your legs, pushing his throbbing cock into your dripping walls, you cling onto him desperately. Because nothing could compare to the pleasure he brought you, leaving you feeling whole and complete in a way that no toy ever could.

[bonsiii-art]

" And they knew Buttercream is a wyvern??" Finally, I got this comic done! o(≧∀≦)o Sorry to anyone who wanted something more romantic between Royal Margerine and Y/N; I just really wanted to draw RM being pathetic-

[reiderwriter]

Hello there baby, are your parents bakers? Cause you're a cutie pie lol sorry couldn't resist the urge to flirt with my favorite writer💕How have you been? How was your day? I wish you a wonderful day and a lovely night💕

It's my first time here sending an ask but lately I've been thinking about shy!Spencer x flirty!reader, I just think is such a cute couple.

So if you're taking requests, I was thinking about early seasons Spencer completely falling for the reader and the way she's so flirty but sweet and kind, the way he'd be blushing hard at anything she says and how he'd like the way she's always touching him cause he felt cherised and desired.

It could be fluff or smut or both cause I can picture them going slow with the relationship but Spencer being eager to please her and show how much he loves everything about her.

You said about choosing a emoji, so can I be the 🐇anon?

A/N: Thanks for the request! Shy Spencer is the best because he's so dumb and silly and doesn't realize when people are attracted to him. I've said it before, but he's basically every nerdy main character in 00s romcoms that are "unattractive" because they wear glasses. I hope you enjoy the fic~♡

Warnings: mentions of case details, slight spoilers for upto s5

With a degree in law and a deep-rooted hatred of businessmen, you'd certainly found your calling in one of the FBI White Collar divisions. Putting away the sleazy bastards was easily one of the biggest perks of the job, but every coin had a second side, and yours was you actually had to interact with the cretins before you could take them down. 

You'd dealt with bribes, dinner invites, and sexual propositions more than a time or two, and had to remind yourself that kicking anyone of them clean in the balls was most likely a firing offense, if not legally off the table. 

The man in the case you were currently working - possibly Bill Hodges, possibly Daniel Brady, possibly so many more men - had been a typical white collar freak until he'd moved on to murder. And when you'd been so close to nailing his ass for fraud, too. 

You'd had no choice but to call in whatever unit it was that actually got to put bullets in the bastards, sure that you were going to be strong-armed out of months of work for the glory of taking down a spree killer. 

Instead, you got Spencer Reid, delivered freshly to your desk like a lamb to slaughter. 

“Sorry, you're the agent from the BAU?” You asked, raking your eyes across his body, smiling at his obvious discomfort with the attention. 

“Yes, Doctor Reid. I'm here for more information on the Hodges files.” 

You dusted your skirt off as you stood, moving around the desk to grab the file. You held it out to him but pulled it back when he reached for it.

“I'm sorry, you're really in the BAU?” An embarrassed look fell across his face, and you instantly felt shitty. 

“Do you want to see my credentials?” 

“No, I'm sorry, it's just - I wasn't expecting someone so…pretty?” 

The embarrassed look deepened to a flush, and you brightened at the sight. You weren't lying. He really was pretty, and you hoped your comment hadn't come off as patronizing. 

“You're adorable. Here's the file, I’ll be at your team briefing in half an hour. Spencer, right?” 

He nodded, finally waking up and taking the files as you pushed it against his chest, using the movement to step slightly closer. 

“I'll see you later then,” you trailed your look down, getting a good look at all of him before meeting his eyes again. “Save me a seat?” 

“I should… I'll, uh, go now. Thanks for the-” he stammered, pointing to the file, backing out of your space slowly, like an animal trying not to show its back to a predator. 

Unlike the long line of scumbags filling the halls and case files of your floor, Spencer was without bravado or ego. His lack of both meant that you were interested. You were very interested. 

Half an hour later, you practically sprinted to the 6th floor, bouncing up the stairs to the office where you'd take your meeting like a giddy school girl. 

“Hello, sorry, I'm not late, am I?” You asked, quietly opening the door and letting yourself in. 

“Agent Y/N, no, perfect timing, Penelope was just about to brief us on your case,” Hotch said, rising and giving your hand a firm shake. He looked around to find a seat to usher you into, but you quickly dropped yourself into the seat right beside Spencer Reid, grin deepening as he flushed and offered you an awkward yet endearing smile. 

Unconsciously, you shifted closer, shooting him your own smile before the meeting officially began, and you were forced to keep a straight, serious face. 

The entire case progressed in much the same way, with you doing everything you could to fluster Spencer Reid and him doing everything in his power to convince himself you were being friendly. 

“Spencer, do you have a phone number?” You asked after slipping out of the meeting, trailing him back to his desk. 

“Yeah, we have to keep connected for cases, so I have a phone.” 

“Great. Your number - what is it?” 

He rattled off the digital as you scribbled them down on a notepad. 

“And Hotch's number is-” 

“Oh, I won't need that. Thanks, Spencer.” You said waving as you left to slink back to your desk. You could hear him calling out behind you, confused. 

“Y/N… Y/N, we split up on cases often, if there's an incident and you need to contact us it's better to have all of the team members numbers,” he panted, jogging to catch up with your focused pace. 

“If I need to contact you, I'll take myself to Agent Garcia’s office and use her direct line,” you said, finally stopping yourself at the elevator and pressing the button. 

He caught up, and stopped abruptly next to you. 

“Oh… oh, yeah that's… that's efficient.” 

You stepped onto the elevator when it arrived, leaving Spencer hesitating whether or not to climb in himself, desperately wondering why you'd ask for his number then. 

“Goodbye, Doctor Reid,” you said, pressing the door close button and blowing him a kiss just before the doors blocked you from sight. 

To tell the truth, you'd had a lot of fun flirting with Spencer on the phone from Penelope’s office during the case. The woman was an inspiration, even if her flirting had a completely different purpose and meaning than your own. Her friendship with Derek Morgan was admirable, but you didn't want to be friends with Spencer Reid. 

“Hello, handsome, what can I do for you today?” You asked, picking up the phone and basking in the stammers that answered you down the line. 

“D-Do you need me to get Morgan for you?” He said, his voice treading lightly. 

“Unless Derek Morgan has, overnight, managed to turn into a 6’1 Doctor with a penchant for cardigans and leather satchels and an IQ of 187, then I am absolutely not looking for him. I have case details.” 

He brushed past your comment, but he kept the slight stammer through the conversation, right until you signed off. 

“Until next time, sexy.”

“Um, yeah… thanks…beautiful?” he signed off, and you guffawed in laughter even as Penelope stared wide-eyed in your direction, not believing her ears. 

“Please forgive our little test tube genius. We forgot to add flirting skills to his childhood curriculum, and now, alas, the poor thing doesn't know a damn thing.” 

He'd called back a few hours later, and you'd purred more compliments down the line, but this time with the team surrounding him as they closed in on your unsub. 

“Hello, this is beautiful speaking. How may I help you?” You giggled down the line, picking up the call after only a single ring. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, catching his breath awkwardly as he struggled to remember why it was you were needed. 

“So… um, like… Hotch has a question about the files you sent earlier. He needs Penelope to… do something as well.” 

You could almost see the awkward nod through the phone. 

“Great. Pass me over to Hotch, then, hot stuff.” 

You heard the tell-tale sound of Derek Morgan’s cackle in the background, and you couldn't help but let another giggle slip out. You were a gonner, and, hopefully, so was he. 

The case wrapped quickly after that, spree killing being a quick game of cat and mouse out of necessity. You weren't happy with three bodies, but it sure as hell was preferable to more. 

You greeted the BAU team at the jet hanger as they returned, reclaiming your fraud files for paperwork and using that simple chore as a reason to get close to Spencer again. 

“Good work out there, Doctor Reid.” 

“What, he's not hot stuff anymore now he's in front of you?” Emily Prentiss laughed, throwing her go bag onto her shoulder and trailing behind where you'd started strolling alongside Spencer. 

“Oh, he's still hot stuff. He's just hot stuff with three PhDs that just stopped a spree killer,” you said, sighing dreamily. “How do you do it?” 

“We were all there too, you know,” the other woman chuckled as you made it inside the building and to the elevator. 

“Yeah, well,” you said, taking a second to reach out and straighten out Spencer's skewed tie, smoothing his jacket and generally just touching him in whatever way you could, respectfully. 

You didn't even bother to finish your sentence, just leaning closer to his ears and whispering directly into them. 

“You're very cute when you're flustered, Doctor Reid.” 

You stepped away for a second while the rest of his team teased him, stepping to the back of the elevator to ascend to your floor while the others departed on theirs. 

They filed out one by one and you sent them off with a smile and a wave, signing in defeat as you realized there was no longer a reason for you to interact with the good doctor ever again. 

If you weren't so stupidly aware of him, you'd almost have missed the fact that Spencer didn't leave the elevator when his teammates did. He instead turned to you and, with the brightest red you'd seen on his face to date, stammered out half a sentence. 

“I.. Y/N, I was just… curious, if you, by any chance…” 

Your eyes widened in joy as you anticipated his question, silently begging him just to spit it out. 

“I was wondering, i-if you had… a boyfriend?” By the end of his sentence, even he seemed unsure of whether that was a question he should really be asking. 

You'd been throwing heart eyes at him for says, and he was asking if you were in a committed relationship. 

“No,” you said slightly breathily, as if your body were trying to expel all the anticipation it had stupidly built up. “No, I don't have a boyfriend, Spencer.”

“Great okay,” he smiled, a boyish grin if you'd ever seen one, before backtracking quickly.

“Well not great for you, great for me. Not that you can't be happy alone, I don't know how you feel about…romantic entanglements and I-I-I’m not saying that your life isn't,” he searched for the words with his hands, as of he could grasp them as a life line while he was sinking fast. “-Great without a boyfriend or anything like that, I'm just - really - pleased that position is currently… vacant?” 

“Spencer?” You said, feeling like a cat who got the cream as a smile twitched at your lips, pulling the corners up as you listened to him ramble. 

“Yes?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend  or are you asking for a friend?” 

You'd meant the words as a joke  but he stood contemplating for a second. You pushed a hand against your mouth to suppress the childish squeal from popping out. 

“It would be a bit presumptuous to shoot straight for boyfriend, right? How about date ....partner?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from closing in on him then, practically cornering him in the elevator as the floors passed you by.

“Presumptuous would be thinking I could have a boyfriend when I've been begging you to stick your tongue down my throat with my eyes for the last half hour. I thought they taught you body language at the BAU?” 

“They teach us how to catch criminals, not how to see when someone is giving us…fuck me eyes, Y/N.” The curse left you a little dizzy - this was it, this was what you'd been trying to do all week, to get under his skin and get him to let his guard down so you could capture him. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm a little scandalized! I didn't know you swore. What a dirty mouth you have.” You reached up with both hands, letting your thumb on his lips before pretending to wipe something away at the corner of his mouth. You were in the perfect position to notice his throat bob as he swallowed.

The elevator pinged at your floor, and you left him behind you with one last swipe of your fingers at his chin. You weren't expecting him to follow, but he did.

“Y/N…please, Y/N…. Can we just…?” You relished the awkwardness in his voice as he trailed you again, a satisfied smile settling onto your face. 

You just kept walking. Or you did until you felt a large hand wrap around your wrist and pull you sideways into the nearest storage cupboard. 

You gasped as he pinned you to the wall, close not, but his eyes still hesitant on what to do next. 

“Spen-” He cut you off with his lips on yours, silencing you before you could get the final word. His lips were clumsy at first, but you felt hot under his touch  arching yourself up into him. His tongue pushed into your mouth as he found his stride, your hands tangling in his hair as you held on for dear life.

This was it. This was what you'd been waiting for. 

Reluctantly, he pulled away, both of you gasping for breath to fill your suddenly empty lungs. 

“Was that….what… you wanted?” He panted, resting his head on yours. 

There were no words. It was what you wanted but now you wanted more, needed more. You settled for a quick nod as your tongue flamed, unable to say anything helpful. 

“Good. Great…” he removed his hands from you and scratched at the back of his neck, putting a more respectful distance between the two of you as he cleared his throat. 

“I'll just-” he pointed to the door and started making his way out. You sighed again, watching him walk away down the hall, his hair a mess, his tie askew, and a whole lot of your lipstick staining his lips. 

Surely, he'd notice by the time anyone else did. If not, you'd just effectively staked your claim on Doctor Spencer Reid, and you couldn't be happier about it.  

[ahqkas]

♯ PUPPY PRINCESS ; remus lupin

PAIRING! young!remus lupin x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! every gift of yours is something remus tends to cherish, especially your love for creating from nothing (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! pure fluff, remus is nothing but smitten and wrapped around your finger

NOTES! autumn’s coming and my obsession with the marauders is slowly defrosting ☹️ all the credits to the pretty devider below belong to @aqualogia !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

I. A TANGLED WEB OF YARD AND ADORATION

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE TALL WINDOWS of the Gryffindor common room, casting a warm glow across the stone walls. You're sitting comfortably on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, with your hands working steadily, creating a rhythm with the yarn and crochet hook. The familiar motion of looping the yarn through the hook brought a sense of calm, a quiet joy that you've always found in crafting.

Remus Lupin sat nearby with a thick textbook in his lap, but the words kept getting tangled in his mind due to his lack of attention on the subject. He was supposed to be studying — there's a Transfiguration exam tomorrow that he really should be preparing for — but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from you. He watched the way your hands moved, the smooth, practiced motions that seem to come so naturally to you. There was something about it that fascinated him, though he couldn't quite put it into words.

"You're staring again," you say, glancing up and meeting his dark eyes with a small, knowing smile. Your tone is light, teasing. You're used to it now — how his attention drifts from his studies to you whenever you're engrossed in one of your hobbies.

Your boyfriend looked slightly embarrassed, flushed cheeks caught in the act, but he smiled back at you. "Sorry," he replied, though it didn't sound as sincere as it should. He wasn't sorry for admiring you and your skills. "I just . . . I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?" you asked, your hands never pausing in their work. The yarn slides smoothly through your fingers.

"Make it look so easy," he said, genuinely curious. "It's like you're weaving magic with your hands."

You gave him a soft chuckle at that, shaking your head as you finish off another row. "It's not that complicated, really. It's just practice. Anyone can learn if they have the patience."

The werewolf nodded thoughtfully, though he was not entirely convinced he could manage it. The heavy textbook was set down, the revision long forgotten. "What are you making this time?" he asked you, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued which charmed a smile on your lips.

"A scarf," you answer, keeping your focus on the yarn as you hold up the length of your still unfinished work that's slowly but surely taking shape. The stitches were tight and even and the colour of the fabric shined in the fire of the fireplace. "Winter's coming soon, and I figured you could use something warm."

Remus' brows lifted in surprise, eyes flickering between your face and the scarf in making. "For me?"

"Of course," you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I wanted to make something you'd actually use. Plus, it's a good excuse to work with this colour."

He couldn't help but linger at the scarf — a deep burgundy, the color of his tie, which reminded him of autumn leaves and Gryffindor pride. It was a shade he'd always liked, and the thought that you'd chosen it specifically with him in mind made him feel a quiet sense of gratitude. 

"Thank you," he said quietly now with sincerity lacing his every word. "I really appreciate it."

You looked up then, meeting his gaze with a smile, the kind of smile that made something warm unfurl in his chest. Something unspoken passed between the two of you — an understanding, a quiet connection that didn't need words to be felt. "I enjoy making things for people I care about," you replied. "And you can't go wrong with a good scarf."

There was a comfortable silence as you returned to your work, and Remus found himself drawn once again to the way your hands moved with such practiced grace. He'd always been fascinated by the kind of magic that doesn't come from a wand — the quiet, everyday magic that you brought to life with your hobbies. He watched as the yarn twisted and turned, forming something tangible and warm, something that wasn't there just moments before.

After a while, you glanced at him again, your eyes thoughtful. "You know," you started, voice casual but inviting, "if you ever want to learn, I could show you how to crochet. It's not as difficult as it looks."

Remus hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. He'd never thought of himself as particularly crafty — his talents have always leaned more towards theoretical things, like books and spells. But the idea of sitting with you, learning something new together, was oddly appealing. "I don't know if I'd be any good at it," he admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. A part of him was terrified his hands weren't stable enough for such work as your own were.

But you just shrugged lightly, focus still on the scarf as it grew longer with each stitch. "It's not about being good at it," you exclaimed. "It's just . . . something calming to do with your hands. A way to focus your mind on something simple."

The werewolf considered this, watching the way your hands moved with a steady, comforting rhythm. There was a kind of peace in it, a meditative quality that he couldn't help but find appealing. "Maybe I'll give it a try," he said finally, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "If you promise not to laugh at me."

"I would never. I think you might surprise yourself."

The hours slipped by as the common room gradually emptied, students heading off to their dormitories as the evening wore on. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls, but you and Remus remained where you were, content in each other's company. The scarf in your hands grew  longer with each passing moment, the yarn slowly transforming into something tangible, something with weight and warmth.

Eventually, you finished your work, holding up the completed scarf for Remus to see. The stitches were beautifully done, the pattern simple yet elegant, and the color — rich and deep — seemed to glow in the firelight. "What do you think?" you asked, a hint of pride in your voice at your boyfriend's speechless reaction.

Remus reached out, his fingers brushing over the soft fabric. It's perfect, he thinks, not just because of how it looked, but because of what it represented — your care, your thoughtfulness, the time and effort you put into making something just for him. "It's . . . perfect," he opened his heart to you, voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

You gave him a sweet smile, pleased with his reaction. "I'm glad you like it."

II. THE ART OF CLAY

THE SOUND OF RAIN ECHOED SOFTLY AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF THE HOGWARTS GREENHOUSE, creating a gentle rhythm that blended with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional drip of water from overhead plants. The air was thick with the earthy scent of wet soil and blooming herbs, an atmosphere so comforting to you that made the space feel like a world apart from the usual hustle and bustle of the castle. You were seated at a small worktable near the back, a lump of cool, gray clay before you, your hands already beginning to shape it into something more.

Remus Lupin stood quietly nearby, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually as he simply watched you. There was a sparkle in his gaze, the kind that comes from someone who finds fascination in the smallest details, in the quietest moments. His curiosity was piqued by the sight of you working with the clay, your hands moving with a practiced confidence that hints at countless hours spent honing your craft.

The room was otherwise empty, giving the two of you a rare moment of privacy amidst the bustling school and your friends who were constantly full of life (named James Potter and Marlene McKinnon). The greenhouse, usually a place for Herbology classes, had became your private studio, a place where you could indulge in your love for pottery — a hobby that was as grounding as it was creative.

"Do you ever get tired of making things?" Remus asked, breaking the comfortable silence. There was no hint of judgment in his tone, only genuine curiosity. He'd seen you immersed in various crafts before — crocheting, jewelry making — but each time, you seemed as passionate as ever.

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Not really," you replied to his question, your hands still working the clay. "It's like . . . I don't know, a way to clear my mind. I like the idea of starting with something so simple, like a lump of clay, and turning it into something that wasn't there before."

Remus nodded thoughtfully, his eyes following the movement of your hands as they smoothed the surface of the clay. There was a certain grace in the way you worked, a rhythm that was almost hypnotic to him. "What are you making today?" he questioned again, this time moving closer to get a better look.

"A bowl," you explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers pressed gently into the clay, shaping the walls of the bowl with careful precision. "Something simple, but useful. I thought it might be nice to have one for our common room. We could use it to hold things — keys, cigarettes, chocolate frogs."

A charming smile appeared on his lips at that, the idea of something as ordinary as a bowl bringing a sense of homeliness to the often chaotic Gryffindor common room. "That sounds like a good idea," the praise left him naturally when it came to you, pulling up a stool to sit beside you. "Do you mind if I watch?"

"Not at all," you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your focus to the clay. "But be warned, it's not as exciting as it looks."

Remus didn't agree. He'd always been intrigued by the way you found joy in creating things, in bringing something new into the world with your hands. As he watched, he noticed the subtle movements of your fingers, the way they coaxed the clay into shape, turning a shapeless lump into something with form and purpose. It was a process that seemed almost magical to him, though he knew it was nothing more than skill and practice.

The rain continued to patter against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the sound of your hands working the clay. Every so often, you dipped your fingers into a small bowl of water, smoothing out imperfections and keeping the clay pliable. Remus had never seen you look so beautiful; hands dirty, hair messy, and you clothed in one of his favorite sweaters.

"You make it look easy," he commented after a while, his voice low so as not to disturb your concentration.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "It's not always. There's a lot that can go wrong — air bubbles, cracks, the clay drying out too quickly. But that's part of the fun, I suppose. It keeps you on your toes."

He gave you a nod, understanding the appeal in a way.

After a while, you sat back slightly, examining your work with a critical eye. The bowl was nearly complete, its shape smooth and even, the walls sturdy yet delicate. "What do you think?" you asked, turning to Remus with a small smile.

He leaned in closer, studying the bowl with a thoughtful expression. "It's an excellent work," he said, his voice sincere. "You've really got a talent for this."

You blushed slightly at the compliment, but there was a pleased look in your eyes. "Thanks, love. I'm glad you think so."

III. CRAFTING CONNECTIONS THROUGH SILVER AND STONE

THE CASTLE WAS QUIET AS EVENING SETTLED OVER HOGWARTS, the usual loud of students giving way to a serene calm. The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, with only the flickering fire casting warm shadows across the burgundy rugs and tapestries. You were seated at a small table by the window, a soft light of the moon illuminating your workspace, where an array of tiny tools, shimmering beads, and delicate chains lay spread out before you.

Remus Lupin sat nearby, his attention drawn to the intricate work you were doing. He had always been fascinated by your hobbies, each one opening a door to your soul. But there was something particularly mesmerizing about watching you make jewelry — something in the way you handled the delicate materials with such care, transforming them into beautiful, wearable art. Watching your smaller hands mend the delicate pieces stirred a feeling in his chest.

"Doesn't it get frustrating?" the werewolf asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes following the careful movements of your fingers. "Working with such tiny pieces, I mean."

You smiled softly, not taking your eyes off the silver chain you were holding. "Sometimes," you admitted, carefully threading a small brown stone onto the chain. "But there's something satisfying about it too. It's like solving a puzzle, finding the right combination of stones and metals to make something that feels just right, y’know."

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to the array of materials on the table. Tiny glass beads of various colors sparkled in the firelight, alongside small stones and bits of silver wire that would soon be part of some new creation of yours. "It's impressive," he said quietly, more to himself than to you. "How you can take something so small and turn it into something so . . . meaningful."

You glanced up at him, a pleased smile on your lips. "Thank you, Remus. I think that's what I love about it — how something so simple can become something special, something that can be important to someone."

He watched as you carefully threaded a few more stones onto the chain, your fingers moving with the kind of ease that came from years of practice. There was a kind of magic in it, he thought — a different kind from what they learned in class, but no less powerful. It was a magic that didn't come from wands or spells, but from the heart and soul, from the desire to create something beautiful and meaningful.

"What are you making now?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned in a bit closer.

"A bracelet," you replied, holding up the nearly finished piece for him to see. It was simple yet elegant, made of fine silver links with small brown and black stones interspersed between them. The stones caught the light as you turned the bracelet in your hand, their colors shifting subtly in the firelight. "I thought it might make a nice gift for someone."

Remus took in the bracelet, admiring the craftsmanship, the way the silver and stones complemented each other perfectly. "It's beautiful," he said, a note of awe in his voice. "Who's it for?"

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a softness in your gaze, something almost shy. "I was thinking . . . maybe you'd like it," you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

For a moment, Remus was taken aback, surprised by the offer. He hadn't expected you to be making it for him, but now that he knew, he felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling of gratitude and something more, something deeper. "For me?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I wanted to make something that would remind you of our time together," you said, a hint of nervousness in your tone. "Something you could keep with you."

Remus felt his heart swell with emotion, a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and something else — something tender and profound. He looked at the bracelet again, seeing not just the beauty of the piece, but the thought and care that had gone into it, the meaning behind every detail. "I . . . I don't know what to say," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's . . . it's perfect. Thank you."

You smiled, the tension easing from your posture as you saw the genuine appreciation in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you said, your voice soft. "It's not much, but I wanted to give you something special. Something that's from the heart."

Remus reached out, his larger fingers brushing against the cool silver links as you handed the bracelet to him. The metal was smooth under his fingertips, the stones cool and solid. He could feel the weight of it, not just the physical weight, but the emotional significance it carried. "It's more than just 'something,'" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "It means a lot to me. Really."

You watched as he carefully slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, the silver and stones catching the light as they settled into place. There was something incredibly intimate about the moment, the quiet exchange of a gift that held so much meaning. It was more than just a piece of jewelry to him.

As Remus fastened the clasp, he looked at you with deep, unspoken gratitude in his eyes. The bracelet fit perfectly, resting comfortably against his skin, the cool metal and smooth stones a constant, reassuring presence. "I'll treasure it," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of contentment that came from knowing you had given him something truly meaningful. "I'm glad," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze drifted through the window. There was a sense of peace in the air, a quiet understanding that didn't need words to be felt. Surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of the evening, he knew that this — these simple, heartfelt moments with you — were what he would carry with him through the darkest nights, a light to guide him through whatever lay ahead.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

May I have Childhood friends to lovers with Loki or Bruce Wayne pleaseee… thank you!

.⋆｡For the Longest Time｡⋆.

Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

You were always there in his life, just like he was for you. A little jealousy and a clingy eight year old might finally give you the push you both need

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, simp!Bruce, vague mention of hook-ups, little bit of Dick’s abandonment issues, mutual pining WC: 2.5k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Where’s Y/N?” A little voice spoke up from somewhere over Bruce’s left shoulder. He groaned and buried his face deeper in the silk pillowcase, he had only just crawled into bed. The mattress dipped as Dick hauled himself onto the bed, making Bruce swallow down a curse.

“What’s up?” He rolled onto his back and pulled back the blankets enough for a little body to slip under the covers. He received a kick to his very sore ribs as Dick clambered over him in his attempt to settle in the crook of Bruce’s shoulder. The eight year old sighed happily and cuddled up close to his adoptive father.

Bruce smiled despite the throbbing pain in his torso and the early wake up. “What did you need?” 

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked again, propping his chin on Bruce’s collarbone.

“She’s at her apartment?” His voice tilted up, confused at the question. Sure, you were at the manor quite frequently given that you helped Bruce with Dick’s care but you had never stayed the night, save for once when both you and Bruce were too drunk to even move.

Dick huffed, his bottom lip poking out as he looked away from Bruce. “That’s stupid.” The older man swallowed back a chuckle, instead he placed a hand on the boy’s back, his palm almost covering the entire thing. 

“Why’s it stupid?” He shut his eyes again. 

“Cause I want her to live with me!” 

“Hmm, maybe you can go live with her and I can finally get some sleep.” Tiny fingers dug into his armpit, making Bruce yelp and raise an eyebrow at Dick.

“No. I don’t wanna move my toys. Make her live here.” Bruce sighed heavily, sinking further into his mattress.

Yeah, right. He wanted to say but held his tongue. He had broached the idea when he had first taken Dick in, needing an extra set of hands for the rowdy child but you had quite literally laughed him off, just the same as you did when you were both eighteen and he had tried to give you one of his credit cards. You were fiercely independent and while you loved Dick, you still had your own work and life.

“You could try, chum but I think she likes her house more.” 

“Then let’s go there today!” Dick pushed himself up onto his knees, eyes shining with this brilliant idea. 

“Chum-“ But Dick had rushed out of the room before Bruce could get another word out, leaving him to contemplate whether he was going to break his son’s heart by falling back asleep or get up for the day and end up with a massive headache later. Distantly, he could hear Dick chattering away to himself and he knew he would have to raid your medicine cabinet in a few hours.

——————

Dick practically flew up the stairs of your apartment building, his backpack rattling with the sound of loose Lego bricks and inevitably a book he would get you to read him, as Bruce trailed behind, dark sunglasses perched on the end of his nose. He himself held a bag of food from Alfred and a bottle of your favourite wine as a sorry for the unexpected visit. He could at least pat himself on the back for delaying Dick just long enough for the boy to get some food and Bruce to get a couple hours of sleep.

“Come on! You’re so slow!” Dick whined as he reached the landing on your floor. He bounced on the balls of his feet before he huffed and threw open the door, darting down the empty hallway. The rattling of his bag grew distant and then, he was banging on your door with all the might his little fists could muster.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Bruce cringed, his head ducked down as he passed by the other apartments on your floor, silently apologising to each of them. 

“Chum you can’t-“ But your door opened right then and the breath was knocked from his lungs. You were wearing a dark red dress that perfectly matched the matte lipstick on your plump lips. The fabric perfectly clung to you, making your curves even more prominent. You were still wearing your slippers and only had one earring in but you were still the most beautiful thing Bruce had ever seen, just as you always had been.

“Well isn’t this a surprise.” Dick wasted no time, throwing himself into your arms, he squealed loudly and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You laughed as his little fingers dug into the neckline of your dress, no doubt ruining the fabric. “I thought there was a monkey at my door with all that noise.” You ran your left hand along his side as you stood up, making Dick giggle and cling to you even tighter. In a couple months, Bruce doubted you’d be able to pick him up anymore.

“I missed you!” You beamed. Bruce felt his knees buckle.

“It’s a good thing you came over then, cause I missed you too!” 

Bruce cleared his throat. “I hope I can be included in that sentiment as well.” You finally looked up at him, your eyes shining like stars. You smirked, biting down on your lip as you gave the man a quick one over.

“Depends, what did you bring me?” 

“So my child doesn’t count?” Dick laughed again, his knees digging into your side. You raised an eyebrow at Bruce who lifted the bottle of wine with a sly smile.

“Why didn’t you start with that? Come on in.” You stepped back into the apartment, leaving the door open for him to follow behind. 

Your home had always been a comfort for Bruce, a safe haven tucked away from the world and his responsibilities. The weight of Batman and being the last Wayne, and even though he loved him dearly, being Dick’s father, lifted from his shoulders as the soft colours of your walls surrounded him. 

You wandered into the kitchen, like you normally did when they stopped by for a visit, Dick chattering away about anything and everything that came into his little mind while Bruce stopped to look at the new photos you had hung up in the living room. Photos of memories he had forgotten. There was one of the both of you in a pillow fort that towered over you, your faces slathered in chocolate from bags of candy at your feet. Another was the 3rd grade dance that your parents had chaperoned, you in a bright pink princess dress complete with fairy wings and a plastic tiara and him in a tiny suit with one of his father’s best ties that was far too big for him. Your high school graduation party where you and Bruce in all your drunken genius decided to race up one of the old trees on the Wayne property and got stuck at the top.

But the most recent one made his heart skip a beat; it was of all three of you curled up on your couch, Dick sound asleep on your lap as Bruce ‘rested his eyes’ while leaning on your shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around both of you as you beamed up at the camera. All of his happiest moments had you in them and for the life of him, he wouldn’t change anything about it.

Bruce turned and spotted your heels by the door, the red-bottomed ones that you only ever used when you wanted to get laid. Something in his stomach turned sour at the thought. “Why are you so dressed up?” He asked as casually as he could though his voice cracked. 

“Yeah! You look pretty!” Dick chirped though his own voice was muffled, no doubt you had already given him a cookie that he shouldn’t be having.

“I have a date,” You cooed (to Dick but Bruce liked to pretend it was for him), “but since you guys are here now. I’ll cancel it.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can go.” Relief made his shoulders sag but Bruce still forced a frown on his lips as you came back around the corner, Dick still perched on your wide hip. You were practically glowing with joy.

You waved him off and pressed a kiss to Dick’s chubby cheek, leaving a bright lipstick stain there. “I would much rather spend the evening with you guys. It also means I get to wear comfy clothes instead of this dumb dress.” Dick slipped from your arms and went to his bag, which he had dropped on the couch.

“Are you sure?” But that wasn’t the question he was really asking. You just smiled at him, putting a hand on his bicep as you leaned in close.

“There’s nowhere else I would rather be. Now let me get changed and we can watch a movie, how’s that sound bud?” Dick grumbled something to the affirmative, making you laugh to yourself as you turned to go to your room but not without a parting squeeze to Bruce’s arm. He watched you go, his gaze dropping to your ass to appreciate the sight for just a moment before he caught himself and turned his attention back to his son.

Dick, who was already observing his father with a curious expression, suddenly lit up with an idea. He covered his mouth with his hand and then disappeared as he fell back onto the cushions, a little laugh escaping him as he landed. Bruce ignored the boy and went to the kitchen to get some snacks together for all of you. 

The TV flicked to life, dousing the apartment with a hazy background noise that served to lead Bruce deeper into the fantasy of this life of domesticity actually being his. If he let himself, he could almost imagine how perfect it would be, just his family spending time together away from the rest of the world. But there was still that nagging fact that you had a date tonight, one that you cancelled for him sure, but a date nonetheless.

You weren’t his wife or his girlfriend, and that made his blood freeze.

He pulled out the cork from the bottle with perhaps a bit more force than necessary, sending a few drops of red liquid directly onto his white shirt. “Fuck.” He groaned and grabbed the dish towel on the counter to try and scrub away at the stain. 

“I can’t leave you alone for a second.” Your smaller hands gripped his waist, turning him around so you could take the towel from him. Bruce let you manhandle him until you could easily rub against his chest but the stain had already set in. Your bottom lip poked out, an almost overwhelming temptation to your oldest friend, before your fingers curled into his belt and tugged him away from the kitchen counter.

Bruce went willingly, eagerly. “I’ve got some of your shirts in my wardrobe, go get changed and I’ll finish up here.” He nodded blankly and wandered away from you.

You watched him go for just a moment before finishing pouring out the wine and laying some of the cheeses Alfred has so thoughtfully packed on a small tray. You grabbed some hopefully not stale crackers from the cabinet and journeyed back into the living room. “What are we watching tonight Dickie?”

Dick looked up from his spot between the couch and coffee table as you sat down with an almost bored expression on his little face. “Star Wars.”

“Duh.” You replied.

Soon Bruce wandered back in. “Why exactly do you have so many of my shirts in your closet?” You shrugged behind your glass, though he knew your cheeks were heated with embarrassment.

“Cause you’re clumsy and I knew I’d have to keep clean clothes for you.” He flopped down on the couch next to you, his arm immediately finding its place across your shoulders.

“Yeah right.” You curled into his side, settling in for a nice little evening.

It was halfway through the movie that Dick climbed onto the couch between you and his dad. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” He muttered wistfully, taking yours and Bruce’s hand into his. You looked at Bruce from over his little head.

“Aw buddy, we can do this whenever you want. You’re always welcome here, you know that.” He shook his head and Bruce's heart sank.

“What do you mean chum?” He asked, wondering if there was something more going on. Dick’s chest inflated as he took in a deep breath.

“But we always go home and you never come with us! You-you don’t really want us, you live so far away. And,” he sighed heavily, giving you the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes he could muster, “and you go on dates with people who aren’t my dad. You’ll leave.” His grip on your hand tightened like you would disappear right then.

Bruce’s heart lurched as your lips parted. “You should date him instead! And then we can all live together at home like we should be!” Dick continued and then, he slammed your hand into Bruce’s, forcing your fingers to intertwine.

“Dickie-“

“No! You’re supposed to be together! Even Alfred says so! So just do it already and then we can go home. Together.” His gaze switched to Bruce, who caught his glare. The man swallowed thickly and looked at you and for the first time in his life, Bruce couldn’t tell what you were thinking.

You let out a shaky breath after a moment, your fingers pressing into the back of his hand. He could feel your pulse against his wrist, your heartbeat was fast, almost matching his own. “Maybe you’re right Dickie.”

“What?” The word escaped him like he had just been punched, making your lips curl up into a bashful smile. 

“Maybe, I should be dating you and not those other men who I always end up comparing to you anyway. Maybe I should be going home with you.” 

“I think maybe you should.” Bruce leaned over his son, his free hand coming up to hold your full cheek. “Because I have spent my whole life with you by my side and now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t want you so far away anymore. I want to see your face everyday and hear your voice from beside me every moment that I can.” 

Your eyes dropped to his lips and that was all it took for Bruce to close the distance and finally kissed you like he should have done years ago when he realised that no other woman would live up to the place you carved out in his heart. You immediately melted into him, laying your hand on top of his own. 

Just as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Dick got up on his knees between you and threw his skinny arms around your necks. You separated just as he shouted, “I told you!” 

You both laughed and hugged him back, sinking back down into the couch all together. Bruce’s chest warmed. Maybe, finally, he could get you to come home.

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[blondwhxrewrites]

Ugh I so struggle to choose between Theo and Mattheo- so why not both!!

Fwb with Theo, but the three of them get really high and one thing leads to another and they’re visiting France to see the Eiffel Tower (iyk yk)🌚🥴

Theo just likes to sit and watch at some points in the chair, finds her so pretty being taken by his best friend.

She’s on all fours, being pounded by Theo and Mattheo is just forcing her to keep eye contact with him as she falls apart- that’s when he realises, oops I think I’m in love with her 🫣

Something's purring.....

"You're doing soo well, princess." You could only moan in response as Mattheo's cock buried itself in your cunt, repeatedly pounding that sweet spot inside you that made you gasp and see stars. The rational part of you would be embarrassed with just how much of a mess you were making, but the pleasure you felt blinded you from all such feelings. 

"o- ohh!"

"Shit— isn't she just the most perfect thing you've ever seen?" Mattheo smirked, lightly smacking your ass and letting out a groan as your pussy clenched around him. His eyes darted over to Theo, who sat right in front of them, snug in a chair, enjoying the scene being played out right in front of him. His hand jerked his cock, his hips jerking up to lazily meet each thrust of his hand. "I knew she was pretty but fuck- she looks absolutely mesmerizing like this."

With your eyes rolled back and your breasts jiggling with the force of each thrust, Theo was pretty sure you were some sort of goddess. "Can see why you fell for her, she's just too pretty not to fall for." He chuckled.

"Merlin and those eyes-" he groaned, watching Mattheo gently slap your cheek, scolding you and forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him. "Yeaah thats right baby keep on looking at me."

You mewled, the precious sound of it tumbling from your lips, making both men coo at you. "t- theo.. matty.."

"If you keep on moaning our names like that..we might just not let you go princess.."

[facioleeknow]

Stray kids fav positions as of 2024?

(Love your work btw) 😌

Thank you!! <3

Chan: mating press

Dead set on breeding and that is clearly the best position for that. This man WILL get you pregnant!!

Lee Know: face down ass up

Lee Know likes to pull the strings inn the bedroom and this position allows him to see you submit to him which riles him up more than it should, sometimes he also ties your hand behind you rback just for added spice eheh.

Changbin: missionary or cowgirl

He is a simple, traditional and romantic guy. He likes the more common positions because they allow him to look at you and your body and your face.

Hyunjin: missionary

Lover boy wants to be as close to you as possible, he wants to become one with you. Sex is a very intimate act for him so he wants to feel that skin to skin contact, he wants to kiss and lick at your skin. Missionary for the win!

Han: on your back with your legs on his shoulders

I don't really know if this position has a name but Hannie is way too desperate for some complicated position, what matters the most is that he is getting his dick wet and that he's cumming inside you. With your legs on his shoulders he is also able to go deeper and to hear you moan harder, which makes him bust quicker.

Felix: lotus

He is such a sweet guy and wants to feel you close, he is especially fond on doing it on his games chair after he won a game or while he is playing a game with the mic on if you guys are feeling particularly frisky.

Seungmin: cowgirl or doggy

See with him it depends on the mood he's in, if he's feeling lazy or not, he is he wants you to do the work or he wants to do it. Either way to him the only thing that matters is that you're both cumming, he also does not get the complicated positions.

IN: doggy!!!!

Listen this man is a menace and an ass lover so doggy all the way, is he can smack your ass as hard as he can he is happy and content. When he's going more rough he also likes to push you down into the matress which turns to you on your stomach and him on your back fucking you like an animal

[gilverrwrites]

Man, I need something with Jason's big hands, so big that one hand can cup your entire sex...

He will smack your clit, cup your sex, you'll grind on it and he will do something while cupping your lady bits.

I can live off of your body heat

Jason Todd/Reader, 2.4K

AN: I've actually had mutiple req for Jason and/or Dick slapping and pinching the readers clit which is like so specific, but I get it. Like I feel yall so much. I know Jay being a giant is fanon thing, but goddamn my 5'4 ass wants to be crushed by his hands so bad. CWs: Mentions of Jay's scars, swearing, size difference, Dom!Jay, teasing, Jay being really rough, nipple play, clit pinching, clit slapping. Petnames: Baby, babe, babygirl, good girl, Name-calling: Filthy girl, bitch, slut. Recommended listening: Body Heat - Kate Nash

There’s a scar on his chest. Actually, there are many scars on his chest. However, there’s one in particular that stands out; a long taut piece of skin that stretches from his left shoulder blade, right down to his sternum. Its pale sheen stands out against his tan skin and begs you to trail a finger along it.

Despite the temptation, you don’t.

Jason hasn’t slept this well in weeks so you daren't risk waking him yet. Instead, you watch the gentle rise and fall of his torso under the mellow light of the morning sun until the need to move is too great.

Your feet have barely touched the ground when a pair of sturdy arms close around you, enveloping you in the warmth of the very body you’d just been admiring and pulling you back into the bed. Or more, pulling you on top of his body, primarily by his choice, partially because there isn’t enough room for you both to lay without some overlap. Every time you mention buying a larger bed, Jason vetoes it; says he likes the close proximity. That feeling your body against his helps him to relax and you can’t really argue with that sentiment.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” He asks from the spot in the crook of your neck he loves to nuzzle into. He peppers the side of your neck with sleepy half-kisses.

It would be endearing, were his hands not already under the oversized Red Hood tee you’d stolen from him to sleep in.

“Oh, I don’t know.” You hum, hands wrapping around his wrists, purely for additional skin-on-skin contact. You couldn’t stop him from ghosting his calloused fingertips up your body if you wanted to. It’s strange, and arousing to think that he can, and has trapped both of your wrists in with just one hand.

“You don't know?” He’s rousing properly now, amused by your answer.

“Probably just to shower, make a coffee, maybe read a book until you wake up.”

“I’m awake now.” He reminds you, rolling his hips to emphasise his double entendre. The heat of his mourning wood grinds against your backside, and at the same time, one of his wandering hands finally settles on a target. He cups the underside of your breast, and you can’t help sucking in a breath as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Already so brutal, despite the slow, sensual way he’s been exploring until now.

You sigh in relief when he lets go, allowing just enough time for the blood to rush back before he clamps down again, this time in a twisting motion that has your hands shooting up into his hair. “Jay!”

He seems unaffected by your attack on his scalp, chuckling into the tender spot behind your ear, and causing a chill to run down your spine. “Yeah, baby?”

“You should be asleep.” You’d intended to deadpan for comedic effect, but it comes out in short, strained breaths that only serve to make you sound needy as hell.

It’s at this point you hear a snapping sound, followed by the light sting of your underwear’s elastic waist snapping against your skin, drawing your attention downwards just in time to feel Jason cupping your entire sex in just one of his hands. All the while he never stops the assault on your now raw tits.

“Do you want me to stop?” He questions. At the same time, he palms your folds through the fabric of your underwear, pressing the ball of it against your increasingly aching clit.

“Feels nice.” You sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, allowing him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck which he eagerly accepts, honing in to suck and nibble, sloppily leaving marks in his wake. You don’t want to back down, but God, you do not want him to stop.

“Come on baby, I need a real answer. Do you want me to go back to sleep?” He eventually circles back, lips barely leaving your flesh as he speaks. Distracting you from the erotic sting of your nipples and the heat between your legs as his rugged fingers push all the right buttons. “Or do you want me to keep playing with your cute little pussy?”

“Fuck, Jay please- “ You’re ready to give in but as you speak he hooks two fingers under the crotch of your underwear, and the resulting, embarrassingly wet squelch that sounds out as he presses them between your folds has you hissing.

“Please what?” He goads, now upping the pressure. He’s doing it on purpose, cause he’s a fucking tease. “Please stop?”

“No! Please don’t stop touching my cunt!”

“Your cunt? You’re fucking filthy, girl. You know that?” He plants a quick, hard kiss on your cheek and, as if you weigh nothing, lifts you by your pussy, repositioning you for his own ease until your legs are stretched wide, his own wedged in between to keep you in place. The speed at which he moves is enough to give you whiplash. You barely have enough time to gasp at the retraction of his hands before they’re on you again, settling in new positions. With one hand he completely pulls aside your panties, exposing your hot, soaked folds to the tepid air. The other pulls your tee over your head before cupping the back of your head, forcing your gaze downwards. “Don’t move. I want you to watch everything I do to you. Can you do that for me, baby”

Shit. You think your heart might beat out of your chest. All this vehement energy so early in the morning. “Yes, Jay!”

Immediately contradicting yourself, you turn your head to admire his handsome profile. The determined squint of his eyes, the bed head, the morning stubble, you really lucked out with him you think as you lean closer to kiss his cheek. Before you can make contact Jay's grip tightens on the back of your head, sharply turning you back to watch as he dips two long fingers between your slit. Your clit practically twitches at the sight of them; long enough to span from top to entrance in excess.

You try your hardest to watch as he repeatedly strokes your lips in short, lazy motions but it’s a challenge not to close your eyes and get lost in the moment. It’s even harder not to throw your head back and scream when he suddenly sinks his fingers around your clit and starts pinching, it. Tightly rolling the sensitive bud between two curled fingers.

“Shit, Jay.” You pant through gritted teeth. “That hurts so good.”

Just like with your nipples, what feels even better is the rapid return of blood flow when he releases it. He repeats the process twice over, laughing every time you flinch or whine. Whispering in your ear about how you’re his “good girl”, how “you can take it” every time you dig your nails into his arm in an attempt to relieve the pain.

“Help me out here babe. Spread your pussy out for me.” He instructs, playfully gasping into your ear when you pull back your lips to reveal your now dark and swollen core. You’re too turned on to care about the sight of it. Happy to expose yourself, certain that the moment he starts kneading you with care, you’ll cum in seconds.

Jason must be thinking the same as he dips one finger into your entrance, just enough to coat it with your arousal before returning to your puffy clit to rub around it in circles. Even at twice the size, your clit is smaller than the tip of his finger.

“Ohh, I’m gonna cum soon.” Before you’ve even finished your sentence Jay retracts his hand, ripping a distraught weep from you in the process. You’ve been here a hundred times before, splayed out for him, gasping, and begging for his touch, but the red-hot shame at your flagrant desperation never eases. “What the fuck, dude!?”

“Dude?” Without warning, Jay comes back down. Hard. Your whole body shakes under the intensity of the vicious slap he delivers to your clit. “Who the fuck are you calling dude?”

He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he smacks your open folds again. Flipping the switch in your body from heady to adrenaline-filled arousal.

“Say my name.” He barks as he dispenses a third slap.

“Jay!” You don’t have it in you to say his full name, but it seems to satisfy.

“Say it louder.” His words are punctuated by the lewd echo of sharp, stinging strikes. “I want the neighbours to hear what a dirty fucking slut you are. Want them to know who you belong to.”   

“Jason. You Jason!” You close your eyes and throw your head back, crying with everything you can muster, not caring how raunchy or pathetic you sound. Ignoring the pain of your own nails digging into your flesh. “Jason. I’m yours, Jason.”

“That's better.” He growls. Finally, his arm falls slack. With no friction from your dripping, wanting walls, Jason glides two fingers into your entrance and you tremble, your whole body tingling, ecstatic to finally feel him inside you. It’s just two fingers, two impressively strong, thick fingers that make you feel so full. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

Abashed by his sudden gentleness you open your eyes once more, positioning yourself to look at him as best you can. He’s one to talk. You’re always telling him he could be a model if he decided to quit being a part-time crime lord, part-time crime fighter.  

You’re unable to concentrate on him for long, however, as he starts pumping in and out of you in torturously slow thrusts. After all the excitement, it quietens your mind and eases your muscles. For the first time since he’d repositioned your bodies, you notice the pressure of his cock, pulsing against your lower back. The rigged hardness of it makes you feel fuzzy and content at his equal levels of arousal.

You stay like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying the calm as Jason gently massages your insides until it’s not enough. You need more, your body yearns, your core practically twitching for his touch on your clit again. An orgasm is approaching steadily, but you’ll get nowhere without it.

The heel of his hand is so close, so sturdy, you don’t even think about what you’re doing, you just start undulating your hips, rutting up against him in unstable motions. He doesn’t stop you; in fact he curls his fingers and brings his palm down closer, letting you use him to chase your orgasm.

“That's it, baby. Hump me like a bitch in heat.” He coos so softly in your ear that it would set your pulse racing if it wasn’t already running at a mile a minute. “Remember I'm the only who does this for you, the only one who can make you feel so full and cock drunk on just my hands.”

He's right, he's so fucking right.

“Keep that up, I might just cum too.”

“Fuck me.” You breathe, affected both by his words and the reminder of his throbbing dick squeezed between your bodies.

“Not until you cum on my fingers.” He’s only half joking. “Can you do that for me baby, cum all over my finger like a good little slut?”

Fuck yes, you can. You want to say, but all your energy is focused on riding his hand, fucking yourself on his brawny fingers, and gyrating against his palm like it's your job. His groans and rasps become a motivational mantra as you keep bucking your hips.

“You’re nearly there.” He comments, able to feel your walls tightening around his digits, convulsing uncontrollably as it hits you. It takes all your strength to ride it out; to keep going as you topple over the edge but fuck it’s worth it for the full extent of your release. “That it babygirl, cum for me baby, fucking soak me.”

Worth it for the explicit sound of your wet cum streaming against Jason’s hands, for the rush of ecstasy that bleeds through your body, and especially for the unexpected heat that spreads across your lower back in spaced-out intervals; Jason's own ejaculation seeping through his boxers and dispersing on your skin.         

Simultaneously, you both grow limp, breathing in time with each other until the rapid movements of your chests begin to ebb back to a steady pace.

“You were so good for me, I’m so proud of you.” Jason praises as he rolls your bodies onto their sides, never releasing you in the process, but allowing him a better ability to press a smattering of kisses to the side of your head, lingering along your jawline. You're grateful for his sweet words, but still too fucked-out to speak, but you coo when he lifts a hand to run his thumb along your neck, presumably checking out his earlier handy work. You arch to get a better look at him, and given the subtle, but smug smile on his face, you’re certain he’s left quite the mark.   

“Let me guess.” You find your voice. “It’s not just the neighbours who’ll know who I belong to?”

“Hmmmm.” He tilts his head and puckers his lips in mock consideration. “I think you should donate all your scarf.”

“Jay!” You punch his shoulder, and he has enough decency to play along, briefly leaning back as though you could even make a dent on his towering frame. “Is it really bad?”

“No. No no no.” He’s lying through his teeth, snickering as he leans in to crush your lips with his own. His skin is slick with sweat you realise when you reach up to gently grasp his other shoulder and guide him closer to you. His morning breath is frankly kind of gross, but yours probably is too. Nevertheless, it’s a price you’re willing to pay for his affection.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks when he pulls back from your mouth, continuing to press kisses down your neck, along your collar, and slinking closer to your chest with each brush. He asks some variation of this same question everytime you fuck. Letting you direct how much you can take from him in one go or what kind of aftercare you need.

“I don’t know.” You hum, imitating your earlier indecision, as you stretch against the mattress. “Shower, coffee, and a book still sounds good to me.”

“Sounds very good. Mind if I join?” He’s not actually asking, that much is evident as he lifts you in his arms and cradles you against his chest as he stands. You’ll both be grateful to get your sticky, cum soaked underwear off. You’ll be even more grateful for the chance to lather and massage your boyfriend up in soapy bubbles, to really get your fingers on those pretty scars that call to you. Maybe you can convince him to take a nap later when you’re curled up on the couch, reading together.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Jay.”

[hanasnx]

Just found your Noir content. Glad someone is writing for him. Noir and breeding kink? Been thinking about Noir fucking me in a mating press ever since he attacked Starlight in season 2. He can hold me down and choke me out like that any day.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: babe that fuckin mating press goes hard doesn’t it? goddamnnnnn. noir putting you in a mating press <333that whole thing with starlight was fuckin crazy i was clawing the walls

Rough grunts expel from BLACK NOIR’s nose with each sharp thrust, plowing into you from the angle the position provides. Folded up over yourself with no regard to your comfort, he’s got you bunched up in a way that pleases him. Heavy body leans over you, harsh hands on the backs of your thighs keeping you good and spread from him. You’ve certainly gotten more flexible since you’ve started fucking him. The edges of his armor dig into you, but you can’t even register it over the overwhelming sensation of being filled. Fat cock drives into you at a reckless pace, forcing air from your lungs as if its piston defines your diaphragm’s every move. You can barely breathe from being crushed.

There’s something different about his angle, not only is it mind-bending, tremors wracking through your body as your eyes roll so far back in your head they ache, but it’s the way he handles it. Grabbing you like he owns you, redirecting your body in any way he desires, muscling you into submitting underneath him so he can fuck your hole in peace when you squirm too much. Your cervix gets kissed by his tip occasionally, but he wants you to be still and take it. For his dick? You’ll do anything.

You let him mate with you. The way he’s fucking you reminds you of an animal. Pinning you down as if you’ll escape at your first chance, growls escaping him, possessively filling up your cunt with the wet sounds of a cock finding its home. Usually, you’re the dirty talker in the bedroom, but he’s effectively silenced you, yanking you into his bucks with his firm hold on your thighs.

It used to be difficult to tell what he’s thinking, but he can’t be more clear now. The stutter in his hips is a dead giveaway to his impending load, and usually this would be the point in which he’d pull out and fist his cock to cum on you. Stomach, face, ass, he loved to paint you. Instead, he’s keeping it in, not only that but he’s still moving. Like he wants to fuck a baby in you.

“Noir— Noir!” you scold, but he continues. Swollen cock bullying your insides as it twitches with need to cum. “Don’t you— don’t you dare—“ you’re able to get the words out, concentrating hard on forming a sentence when your brain is so empty. The idea of him cumming in you is appealing, but you don’t know how Supes work. You’ve never had that conversation with him. What if he’s not sterile?

Lips slot against your ear, and if you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn they form and mouth the word “baby.”

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part one (3.842 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

“I am really not sure we should do that, Stark”, you repeated for what may be the tenth time since you picked up the phone, “it sounds like a really, really, bad idea, and you know, I am not sure sh~”

“Come on!” he said, cutting short your ramblings.

Your thoughts are racing, your mind imagining all the things that could go wrong. It is an endless series of “what ifs” that is only stopped by Tony’s voice. You both knew that if he lets you think too much, he would lose his battle. It’s a risky plan he wants to drag you in. 

“I am sure you are dying to say yes,” he added when you didn’t answer him, and you could hear his petty smile through the phone. As he sensed that you were about to accept, the man tried to convince you with one last argument, “she won’t know anything, I promise. None of them will, I thought about everything,” he assured you, and you believed him.

He was right, you wanted to say yes, but you couldn’t get yourself to say the word aloud. There are too many ways for it to end badly, and you really don’t need to make your situation worse than it already is. Two years ago, you lost everything. None of your teammates tried to understand your situation, they didn’t give you a chance to explain what happened. Instead, they threw you away from the team, and the tower, without giving it a second thought, as if you were just garbage.

Maybe that’s what you are.

Sometimes, when you think about the events, you surprise yourself by siding with them. It’s easier to think that you deserve what they are doing to you than to accept the injustice of the situation, which you can’t do anything about. After all, the proof was against you. You’ve seen the pictures, everyone has seen them, and they felt so real that your certainties have faltered. How to convince them that you are innocent when you are not even sure yourself? Eventually, you gave in, it is a battle you couldn’t win.

“When is it, already?” you sighed, eventually giving in. An argument against Tony Stark was another battle you knew you couldn’t win.

The man has been the only exception. He has watched over you from afar, and believed your version of the events. For once, he has listened, and it means the world to you. So even if you try to not wince at the enthusiasm he lets out on the other end of the phone, a part of you is happy. It doesn’t matter if things don't go well, at least that would have pleased the billionaire, and you owe it to him, even if you couldn’t match his enthusiasm, too anxious for that.

For a second, you thought about changing your mind. Your fingers were a centimeter away from the interphone, but you haven’t rung the bell yet. It would be so easy to listen to your instinct that is screaming at you to run away. It would be so easy to break the promise you’ve made to Tony, he wouldn’t mind right? Yes, despite the disappointment, he would understand that you couldn’t do that. It was too early and too much. You shouldn’t even have taken that call, it is always a bad idea to trust a billionaire, especially when his last name is Stark.

The last time you’ve set foot in the Avengers Tower, it has been two years ago. You haven’t seen them since, only their pictures in the news. One time, you’ve thought about going to one of those press conferences they hold sometimes, but you knew you wouldn’t be welcome — Maybe they even added your name to the list of bans. You aren’t welcome anywhere near them, they made it clear when they threw you away.

It is as if all the years spent by their side have been erased. Even the world seems to have forgotten your name. It is almost as if you have never been a part of the Avengers, as if you’ve never existed, and it was just something you mind made.

Maybe it’s for the best, you thought.

Yet, here you are. In front of the building you left years ago, promising to yourself that you’ll never come back in here. That day, you felt so humiliated that you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t add the shame to crawl back at their feet, begging for their forgiveness. No, no matter how bad you were craving to throw yourself in their arms, you won’t. Never, ever. Except that, sometimes, circumstances change, and you find yourself unable to refuse your friend’s crazy invitation, despite the dangerousness of his plan.

“Pl- please, ‘tasha, let me ex~,” you were begging the woman. It wasn’t your kind but exceptional situations call for exceptional reactions, and the one you found yourself in certainly was. 

Tears aren’t your style either, nor it’s Natasha’s. Yet, both of your cheeks are stained with them, your eyes reddened. She is angry, and you are frustrated. She is full of hatred, and you are full of despair. But, today, something broke in both your hearts.

“Shut up,” she said firmly, not giving you a chance to explain yourself. She didn’t want to hear a word from your bullshit. None of them want to. “You’ve lost the right to call me that way,” she added, spitting every one of those hate-filled words in your face, “honestly, you’ve even lost the right to talk to me. I don’t want to hear your voice or to see your face ever again. Did I make myself clear?” she yelled. You would have never thought that she could speak to you in such an angry, hateful tone, and yet, here you are.

She has, indeed, made her intentions clear. When you came home, you found your clothes scattered on the pavement in front of the tower. She hasn’t waited for your explanations before deciding to throw all your belongings away. You were quick to follow them, you barely stepped into the building that she was here to drag you out of the building.

You have never seen your loved one in such a state. She isn’t even acknowledging your pleas for her to slow down, or at least to loosen her grip on your arm. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care anymore if you were hurt, or if you were stumbling on your feet — If she had to drag you out by the hair, she would do it without hesitating. 

The Natasha that was scared she could hurt you was long gone. She wasn’t the one that swore to protect you anymore, you’ve seen in her gaze that the promises she made no longer stand. She has a stern, harsh expression painted on her face, and it was your fault. She hadn’t hit you, not yet, but you could still feel how her nails are digging into your skin, leaving a mark that will stay for days. It is a reminder of what you’ve lost that day, not that you could forget.

A second later, you collide with concrete. She throws you on the ground, alongside your belongings, with all the strength she has — And she is a former russian spy, so she’s got plenty. The force of the gesture causes you to stumble over your own feet and fall, scraping your hands and knees in the process. You don’t even try to get up. Dejected, you remain on the ground, barely daring to turn around to see her one last time.

“Don’t you dare to come back, you are not welcome here anymore,” she said before walking away, and disappearing behind the doors of the tower. You wanted to say something but the words didn’t come out, nothing you could say felt right.

It is the last time you’ve seen her, and as pitiful as it is, you have long cherished this last contact with the redhead. No matter how violent and hateful it has been, it was still the last time you’ve touched the love of your life, and you missed it the moment she let go of your arm. Her, and her touch. Despite everything, despite the years, you still needed her presence by your side, and it doesn’t matter if your relationship has to be brutal, you are ready to accept anything if it means being close to her for a few more days.

The rest of the team stayed here until you left. Your eyes met theirs, pleading them to at least say something, but you didn’t get the help you were looking for, their hatred toward you matching Natasha’s. Clint, Steve and Sam, they are all people that you thought were your friends, except they didn’t hesitate a second before siding with the redhead.

Steve has been the first one to leave, almost running after the woman. Before they disappear in the elevator, you’ve caught his hand resting on her shoulder. You should be the one to touch her like that, the one to hold and comfort her, but this right has been taken from you, and maybe you deserve it. You broke the trust she put in you, one that she doesn’t grant easily.

You’ve always known it was a bad idea. In fact, since the moment he suggested that you should come to Natasha’s birthday, you’ve had a bad feeling about it. He thought that it would help you, knowing that you had been living in isolation since you’ve left the team, and a part of you believed him. The same part that never stopped hoping that things could go back to the way they were. 

Until today.

If there is something you’ve learned from that experience, it’s that things will never be as they were because it’s nothing more than a pipe dream. The past two years, you have continuously dreamed about that moment, when you would eventually see her again. You’ve even made up a whole apology speech, one that would erase all your mistakes, and if it’s not enough, then maybe you would have begged them until they forgive you — Promises be damned. In any case, it would have ended with a hug with Natasha, a happy reunion after all those years spent apart. 

Except that none of that happened, because reality isn’t fiction, and you don’t deserve a happy ending. To be fair, you could have never imagined that the reunion would go like this, that you wouldn’t even be able to exchange a word with them because they had no idea that you were here. You couldn’t have imagined that the barriers you have built over the last few years would crumble the moment you set foot in the tower that once was your home.

The tears were streaming down your face, hidden behind that ridiculous mascot costume Tony had forced you to wear. He assured you that it was all part of his plan, the one that’s supposed to make everything better, but honestly, you’ve never felt so ridiculous and pitiful than when you put on that costume that’s supposed to look like a cartoon version of Natasha. That is the genius idea Tony’s came up with a few weeks ago ; having you wear a suit so that you could attend Natasha’s birthday party without anyone knowing.

You thought that you were strong enough to face them, but it turned out that you weren’t. There is nothing that hurts more than realizing you are nothing more than a stranger in your own house. An intruder, that’s exactly what you are. You should enjoy the moment, but you can’t, your heart races, fearing they could guess you’re the one behind the costume.

You were watching them from the corner of the terrace where you found refuge after giving them a little show, and you noticed that all of them, without exception, had a bright smile on their faces. You should be glad that they overcame the difficulties of life, right?

Then why is the only thing you are feeling agonizing jealousy?

Because you were slowly realizing that things changed after you left them, and maybe it was for the best. That’s what you’ve heard them saying in an interview they held a few months after your departure — “Yes, the team has undergone some changements, and we believe it’s for the best” — and maybe they were right, because you don’t remember seeing them being so peaceful in the past. They never clearly said that you’ve been banned from the team, nor they talked publicly about the events that lead to your departure, but people weren’t stupid, they guessed that it was because of something you did.

All days are the same since.

You wake up early, but it’s not the sign of a healthy life, only of a light sleep that is disturbed by the slightest noise and glint of sunlight. The thought of a new day only makes you sigh, what’s the point when every day is the same? They are all filled with loneliness and misery, and you are not sure you have the strength to deal with that, so you don’t move an inch, waiting for the night to come again. 

Sometimes, you get out of the bed you’ve been rotting in, but it’s not before you are so hungry that your whole body is uncontrollably shaking. That's the only time you leave the darkness of your flat, when you go to that small shop at the end of the street to get something to eat. You would buy anything and everything here, but especially junk food that can be eaten quickly. Most of the time, it’s PastaBox or anything with chocolate,  the papers piling up in the kitchen as the days go by, but you’ve never had the heart to take down the overflowing bin.

Waking up, rotting in bed, eating a bit if you are really hungry, going back to rot in your bed, then crying until Morpheus comes to get you, that’s now what your days are.

It’s a strange situation. You have mourned people before, but never someone who’s still alive, never your whole life, never yourself. You are still alive. You know it because you are still breathing and your heart is beating, but it feels like you are not anymore. You don’t even want to cry anymore, you are just laying here, waiting for something to happen, anything. Maybe death. Maybe it’ll eventually come for you, and that moment will be the sweetest. It would be a relief, and not only for yourself.

You don’t want to think about the fact that it may not be. What would be the point in suffering if it’s not to get a threat at the end? The possibility that nothing will come after that life feels unfair, and scary. When you are not finding comfort in your death, you are looking for it by imagining a universe where your life with Natasha wouldn’t have ended that way, where none of that happened.

These are the thoughts that lull you to sleep every night, but the next day, when you wake up, the ache in your heart is back. It never seems to fade away, the pain being as strong as it was on the first day. If anything, it got worse. You are aware that every day that passes takes you further away from those ideals, dashing your hopes of getting your old life back. Your despair grew as you realized that all you were doing was pulling away from the love of your life, and there was nothing you could do to get her back. 

What is going to happen when you’re going to forget about how it feels being close to her?

What if you forget everything? Her voice, smile, and the smell of her clothes? 

The few times you are getting out of your apartment, you are walking with your head down, hiding behind the hood of your sweatshirt, and today isn’t an exception. The weather isn’t that cold, but the collar of your sweatshirt is still up to your chin, leaving only your eyes for the world to see. The ones that are fixed to your feet, avoiding to look around.

You used to do that to avoid paparazzi and insistent fans the days you were too tired to interact with the world, but you are now doing it to avoid problems. Your face and name have been all over the news after, and not for good reasons. People had no idea what had really happened, but their imaginations had no trouble imagining the worst and spreading rumors. It has been years, but the world still hasn't forgiven you for things you’ve never done.

In a few days, the way people see you changed drastically. You went from being one of the country’s greatest heroes to being canceled. The smiles turned into hateful looks, compliments into insults, and although no one has tried to hit you, you prefer to keep a low profile. The fall has been painful, but it isn’t surprising.

How could you expect strangers to believe you when even your oldest friends didn’t?

You have never been their favorite anyway, and you are perfectly aware of that. You are not a former spy, nor are you a genius or an enhanced human. You have nothing special, and the world knows your name only because of your teammates. It’s not a big surprise that they prefer them, and decided to side with the real Avengers.

But maybe they’re right. Maybe things are better that way, because you are not sure you deserve being loved. What you’ve tried to say to ‘tasha is true, you can’t remember what happened that night — At least, not the details that matters —, and that is the worst in your situation. The doubt creeping inside of you, and the guilt mixed with the frustration because you're as likely to be innocent as guilty.

Did you do it?

Did you cheat on her for real?

You are walking as fast as you can, only wanting to get home as quickly as possible, shaking your head in an attempt to get rid of those poisonous thoughts. You didn’t stay long at the party, barely half an hour has elapsed before you decided that you had enough. At least you’ve seen her blowing the candles, even if you left without saying a word to the woman. The thought crossed your mind for a second before you decided it was safer not to break the peace she had built up.

She deserves to be happy, even if it means that you are not a part of her life anymore. 

The only trace of your passage that you have left is a black box. You have hesitated to leave it on the pile of gifts, as she would know it was from you, but it didn’t feel right to keep for yourself the gift you were supposed to give her two years ago. It isn’t yours. You wished you could have stayed longer, just to see her reaction when she opens the box, just to see her smile one last time, to make her smile one last time before saying goodbye forever.

That night, you’ve been crying uncontrollably, and so did you the following days until you have no more tears to shed. Gladly, thanks to Fury, you have a bed to spend your days in. The man has been kind enough to pay for your rent until things get back to normal — That’s the promise he has made to you, that he will quickly find a solution. 

A new place for you to work at, in another country, far from everything you’ve known, where you weren’t hated by everyone: that’s the solution he came up with. “The furthest you are from the Avengers, the better it is. At least for a few months, we need things to calm down,” he told you that day, and you agreed. Not that you had a choice because if you had, maybe you would’ve said no. But there was no choice but to accept to leave everything you’ve ever known behind you — Your family, your friends, your memories. 

Did you for real?

That story is sticking to your skin, and the memories to your mind. Whenever you are going, people are glancing at you, and you are sure it’s because they know. Whenever you are going, all you can see is a glimpse of your past, ghosts that are haunting your present. The world will never forget, nor forgive your mistakes, and you understand them, because you don’t think you can either.

Every morning, when you wake up, it is the first thing you are thinking about. Every night, when you are about to sleep, it is the last one, until it becomes an obsession. Except it didn’t give you your memories back. The opposite has even happened, your mind confusing what you remember with what you've been told, trying to fill the gaps.

At one point, you were so desperate that you almost asked Fury, or Tony, if they didn’t have some technology that could help you to recover your memories. You’ve even thought about asking Wanda, but it was impossible to reach the woman, and maybe it’s for the best. You can’t deny that a part of you is scared of what you might find. You’ve once read that, sometimes, the brain keeps some memories away for a good reason — It is a response to trauma.

But for you, you were sure it was alcohol. You don’t remember how many drinks you had that night, but probably a lot if you can’t remember how the evening ended. The last thing you remember is talking with Astrid, one of your colleagues from SHIELD that invited you for a drink. The next time you remember is when you wake up in that motel. From the moment you opened your eyes, everything happened so fast.

You couldn’t take your eyes out of the pictures which were hung up all over the offices, you even kept some of those. But they are the worst. The thing you can see on those, the two of you in that stupid bed, her kissing your throat, and even more, it feels so foreign. Your brain refuses to accept that you are the one in the pictures. Yet, it's undeniable proof of what you've done that night. 

You are so lost that it hurts your brain. 

Sometimes, you wish that someone was here. Anyone that would take your hand, and guide you through this story. Most of the time, you imagine that it’s her, Natasha. That she is here, holding you in her arms, whispering in your ears that everything is going to be okay, exactly as she used to do. 

Then, you realize that she is not here, and everything crumbles again. 

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

| Taglist — @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0

[yeosin-n]

Why Cadet so angy?

There’s a couple things that would tick Cadet off ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯!!

You know, besides killing all of his friends :,D

1. People who can’t take no as an answer

2. Hates repeating himself.

3. Dislikes when people spout misinformation. Or bad opinions.

4. People flirting with you would only get him a little annoyed (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) but if someone was harassing you, even after giving them a warning.. he’d be quick to act, getting them to feel at least a little dizzy and dazed. Tripping them… or suddenly head butting them… o(-( “THEY’LL BE FINE." He would say as he leads you away... If anyone tried laying a hand on you though, he would not hesitate to break a limb or two.