#Bringing back another neglected Boi!

[redxriiot]

|| @bringxthexfirexmultimusesx from here: ||

"Really? I'll make it feel worse than it looks,and you are an idiot for making me worry." Deku uncaps a bottle and pores it on the wound to wash away blood and clean it."hope that stings bitch."Deku was so done but he loves this man but this was his way to punish him."anyways away from the knife since you just got home after a long shift."

         ・⊱ Eijiro winced a little, lips pursing into a pout. "Aww, c'mon, Bunny–I'm sorry! I–OW, ow, ow, hngh...!" Okay, yeah, that...really stung, holy shit- "I-I promise I was being careful!" Mostly. Okay, so he'd had a lot in mind and slipped up pretty bad, but still- "Haa...okay....!" Maybe that's what he got for always running himself ragged. Maybe...he ought to see about taking some days off to make it up to him... "Thank you for patching me up, baby. You're the best, y'know that?"

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Close to You - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer is needy and Reader has a work deadline to meet, so they try something new as a compromise.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: me writing another cockwarming fic? it’s more likely than you’d think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (no mommy kink this time cuz this feels more mild as far as the sub/dom dynamic goes, maybe next time!)

TW: sub!spencer, softdom!reader, cockwarming, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, creampie, afab reader

Rating: R/18+ (oops all smut)

——

The blue light of your computer screen was starting to make your eyes hurt, the hours of completed paperwork in your rearview feeling like nothing compared to the digital mountain of remaining work for your proposal you still had to complete by the deadline your boss had given you. Working from home certainly had its perks, but right now the only thing you could think of was how much more focused you’d be if you were still in an office.

“How’s work going?” Spencer’s voice broke your train of thought as he turned the corner into your home office.

“It’s fine, I still have a lot to get done.” You sighed, continuing to type away on your keyboard.

“You know, I was reading an article the other day about studies being conducted that explore the long term effects the extended work hours work-from-home jobs require have on the average adult, it went pretty in-depth on how psychologists suspect the lack of separation between work and the home environment can negatively affect the way we prioritize professional work with personal tasks and quality time.” You could tell your boy-wonder was using his vast knowledge to pick an article with a topic that was a bit too on the nose to beat around the bush of his point, but you didn’t know why.

“That’s very interesting Spencer, but why bring that up when you know I can’t stop working?” You questioned, calling his bluff.

“We haven’t had sex in 2 weeks.” He mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear. You knew that, and it was driving you crazy just as much as it was him, but this project was major and if you wanted to get the promotion you had been working so hard to get, you had to set your personal needs aside for a bit.

“I’ll make it up to you once I finish this, I promise.” You weren’t lying, your accidental celibacy had stretched your imagination to some very interesting places, and you couldn’t wait to try those new things with him, but it had to wait, no matter how touch-starved you felt.

“I want you.” He almost whined, taking a couple steps further into your peripheral vision.

“Spencer, you know I need to get this project completed before my deadline tomorrow, I don’t have time for this.”

“But I need…help.” His words were drawn out, his hushed tone piquing your interest. You pushed your chair out, craning your neck to make eye contact with him before his gaze dipped lower and yours followed. The fabric of his pajama pants was pulled taut over his bulge, his fidgeting hands barely restricting your view despite his attempt to hide the evidence of his arousal behind them.

“Oh baby, that must hurt, huh?” You sighed, giving him a sympathetic look before turning back to your work.

“It does, I need you.” He pleaded, coming up behind you to rest his hands on your shoulders.

“You need to take care of it yourself.” Your statement came out more blunt than you intended and a hint of guilt started to pang in your chest, the stress of this deadline was starting to get to you and you didn’t mean to take it out on him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy, but I already tried and I just made it worse, you feel so much better than my hand does.” He over-explained, continuing to plead his case as his fingers started kneading the sore muscles atop your shoulders.

You mulled over your options, the concept of his admittedly impressive cock filling your neglected cunt sounding all-too appealing in the moment. You knew you couldn’t take the time to fuck him right now, after no sex for two weeks your carnal urges would absolutely take over and you’d wind up ignoring your work for the rest of the night, to the detriment of your employment status. You were about to send him away when an idea popped into your head, something that could be a good compromise to both of your predicaments if done correctly.

“Drop your pants.” You bluntly stated, beginning to stand from your chair. He followed your instruction, a bit confused but too excited to question, always eager to please you. You also stripped from the waist down, ignoring the growing slick between your thighs.

“Sit down.” Came your next instruction, your eyes fixed on his erection, his head blushed pink and dripping with precum. When he was situated you climbed back onto the chair with him, positioning your knees on the suede fabric on either side of his thighs, hips hovering over his member. You reached down, fingers wrapping around his length as you positioned his head at your dripping entrance, reveling in the first sexual contact the two of you had experienced in far too long.

You slowly sank down, your warm walls engulfing his throbbing cock until you were seated fully on his lap, the fullness giving you a sense of satisfaction. Spencer’s breathy sighs and white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were, but you knew he would want more any second. You on the other hand were always better at controlling your desires, even just this level of intimacy enough to satiate you for the moment.

You relaxed into him, back pressed to his chest as you began your work once again, ignoring the dull ache in your core.

“A-are you going to move?” Spencer’s desperate voice broke the silence after a few minutes of you typing away at your computer.

“No. This is all I have time to give you right now. If you’re a good boy and stay still for me, I’ll let you do whatever you want tonight.” You were curious to see how well he’d do with this. Even though Spencer prided himself on being the smartest in the room at any given time, he wasn’t very good at controlling his urges and it amused you how his composure could disappear if he was desperate enough, particularly around you.

“Okay.” He breathed, seeing the muscles in his arms relax and the grip he held on the chair loosen out of the corner of your eye.

You continued your work, busting your ass to complete your project as quickly as possible. Every once and awhile you’d flex your kegel muscles, your walls contracting around his cock to keep him as hard as possible, teasing him to see how hard you could push his patience.

You grew closer to your last tasks, the end finally in sight when you felt him start to shift under you, hips attempting to thrust up into you. You anchored your hips, holding him down to not break your focus. He let out the most pathetic whine you’d ever heard, running his hand through his hair out of frustration.

“If you move again, you won’t cum tonight. I’m almost done, do not distract me again.” You told him sternly, rocking your hips back one time as an incentive.

“Understood.” He groaned, thighs relaxing beneath you.

You wrapped up the last paragraph of your proposal, satisfied with the work you had done. You could feel Spencer tense when you closed out of the last application and shut off the computer, screen darkening and leaving the two of you bathed in the golden glow of sunset in an otherwise dark room. Instead of finishing him there, you rose off of him, leaving him groaning in desperation.

His cock was covered in your slick, veins throbbing and head almost purple from how desperate he was to cum. You started walking out of the room, finger motioning for him to follow you and he almost tripped over the chair, trailing in your shadow. You found the bedroom, stripping out of your remaining clothing while contemplating what position you wanted him in. Your thighs were starting to burn from sitting in the position you had held for so long, so you opted for good old-fashioned missionary. You laid down on the bed, thighs spread as Spencer pulled off his shirt and waited for your instruction.

“Come here.” The words had barely left your lips and Spencer was already on the end of the bed, crawling up to you like an animal on the prowl.

“Do you want to fuck me, Spencer?” You asked, drawing out his torture just a little while longer.

“Yes please, need to feel your perfect cunt again.” He begged, looking down at you with his big brown eyes.

“Go ahead, but don’t cum until I say so.” You instructed, your hand finding the nape of his neck, tugging lightly on his hair. He moaned, positioning himself at your entrance before thrusting fully into you, his gaze locked on the way your breasts bounced with each desperate thrust into your warm cunt.

His pace remained steady, pounding into you, your pleasure slowly building but not quite hitting the spot you needed him to. You wrapped your legs around his hips, angling your hips up ever so slightly and you couldn’t help but cry out, his cock finally hitting the soft spot inside of you that you’d been craving. He dropped his head into your shoulder, bringing his hand to your pussy to rub firm swipes over your clit, clearly desperately trying to make you cum so he could.

“So close, I don’t know how much longer I can last.” He panted, hips faltering slightly.

“It’s okay baby, don’t stop.” You moaned, too close to care about being firm with him anymore after how good he’d been for you today.

His thrusts became increasingly desperate, driving into you at a pace that had you seeing stars, the combined pressure on your clit sending you over the edge in a blur of white hot ecstasy.

“Spencer!” You cried out, nails digging into his back as you rode out your orgasm, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

His moans grew louder, hips stuttering and you could tell he was almost there, but something was holding him back.

“Cum inside me.”

Your request was all he needed to hear, not having to worry about pulling out anymore allowing all of his focus to finally come undone, hot ropes of cum filling your aching cunt. He pulled out of you, collapsing beside you with his head on your chest, long legs almost dangling off the side of the bed. You laid there spent, gently running your fingers through his hair until you both caught your breath.

“Thank you.” He spoke, lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“There's no need to thank me Spence, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. You were right about overworking, I’ll try to delegate a bit more.” You sighed.

“I just don’t want you to overwork yourself, you deserve to enjoy yourself more often.” He leaned up to pull you into a kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist as you finally got a moment to relax for the first time in weeks.

——

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[ceilidho]

my most realistic Ghost headcanon is that he’s so absent father coded that he definitely has a wife and kid squirrelled away in a house somewhere that he visits from time to time but he finds it painful and uncomfortable being part of a “family” for too long so his visits are weird and sporadic, like he’ll randomly pick his son up from school and take him on a drive somewhere and you have no idea until your kid comes home that evening and tells you “oh yeah dad spent the day with me” and you’re GOBSMACKED because Simon never told you he was coming.

And other times he comes just to pick you up and bring you to a motel room he’s rented to fuck you six ways from Sunday and then when he’s done he just zips up and says “put another couple grand in the account for you and the boy” and kisses you on the head before driving you back home. Never stays very long. It can be rough on you, but if he stays too long he can feel his nerves fray. His upbringing made him hard and cold but there’s a part of him buried very very deep down that just doesn’t want to risk being his father.

Also I think he’s got a real kink for seeing you take care of his kid because of his own upbringing and how neglected he was as a child. He sees you sneak an extra sandwich in his son’s lunch and nearly breaks the glass in his hand. Obsessed with talking about how good you are to his kid when he’s fucking you - “good fuckin’ girl - gonna give me another?”

This has some adverse effects though because he has to be the hard ass parent like god forbid you try to tell his son he can’t have a snack before bed, he’ll just frown and go “the kid can ‘ave a snack, he’s no’ gonna go ‘ungry” like chill out, mate, he’s gonna have an upset stomach. It’s kind of a blessing when he’s not around because he always tries to contradict you when you’re trying to instil some discipline in your kid.

[pinkslaystation]

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k -> blurb - rose meets tulips

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[figthoughts]

What do u think Deans main kinks would be?? Tbf though I feel like he’d be into pretty much everything 😭 he’s a slut and we love him for it

you’re so real, that man loves sex and we do love him for it!!!! i personally hc dean as a switch, so i think his kinks would probably be quite general and would depend on his partner, but he’s definitely up for trying new things! 18+

— praise.

that man is heavily neglected when it comes to compliments and gentle touches. his eyes would light up at every little “you feel so good” or “good boy”. it doesn’t even matter if he’s praising you or the one being praised, he just loves seeing you happy and hearing how good he’s making you feel. he definitely sees sex as a way to relax and have fun with you, so he’d be all about wanting to make you feel beautiful and desired through praise and compliments. he shows his love through physical touch and gentle words.

— manhandling.

now hear me out with this. dean wouldn’t be big on being rough with you in the bedroom, considering how harsh the hunter life is. he’d want to be gentle with you, although he wouldn’t be super opposed to some choking or a cheeky little spank here and there. however, he’d love it if you got a little rough with him, like shoving him against a wall or onto the bed, just taking what you want. he’d definitely love when you get a little confident and grab him by the jaw to make him look at you or tug on his hair as he goes down on you. he just likes you touching him, even if it’s in a rougher way, it gets him all giddy and excited.

— teasing.

we all know this man is a brat. dean loves making inappropriate jokes that make you squirm and shoot him disapproving looks in public or touching you in teasing little ways, just to get you riled up. seeing you get all whiny and needy in the bedroom would make him go crazy, though he wouldn’t mind also being teased. in fact, he’d kinda love it. he’d love it if you’d walk around in tight little clothes, taunting him almost, or doing provocative little things just to mess with him. it’d be how you get him back. dean is definitely whining and begging if you tease him, “please, baby. i can’t take it anymore. need you so bad,” that kinda thing. he’d never tell you, but he loves it.

— roleplay.

dean would go crazy for a little roleplay with you. his favourite would definitely be cowboy x damsel in distress, although you playing naughty nurse would be a close second. initially, he’d be nervous about bringing up his lil fantasies with you. he’d wait until he knows you’re both comfortable enough with each other and your sex life. naturally, you wouldn’t be able to wipe the dopey grin off his face as you walk in wearing whatever silly little thing he asked you to. he’d just love it.

— breeding.

dean is a family man. he’d die a thousand times for sammy, for cas, for his parents. so it makes sense that filling your pussy with his cum would make his head go brrr. the idea of starting a family with you fills his chest with a warmth he can’t even begin to describe. the idea of putting a baby in you, watching a life grow inside you, a life that he helped create, he’d lose his damn mind. if you weren’t already on birth control, he’d (respectfully) beg you to go on it, for the sole purpose of cumming in you. he also just really loves watching it pour out of you. to him, it’s the hottest thing in the entire world. again, his head would just go brrrrrr.

— cockwarming.

dean definitely is making you cockwarm him as soon as he gets back to see you after a hunt or something. just sitting in the deancave with his cock up your cunt as you watch some cheesy horror movie, neither of you bothering to move, just completely happy with feeling him inside you. of course, it would eventually lead to him pounding in and out of you, but at least for a while it’d be sweet and innocent.

— somno. (both consenting with prior discussion abt it)

this might be another hear me out, but considering dean is a slut, he’s up for sex just about anytime he can get it. he’d be extremely hesitant to try anything with you when you’re half asleep or fully unconscious (he just doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable), but he’d be completely okay with waking up to his cock in your mouth or you using him while he’s half asleep to get yourself off late at night.

— mutual masturbation.

dean loves the idea of you touching yourself to the thought of him, so he’d definitely beg you to let him watch as you play with yourself. it’d start off slow, until his pants are so tight he has no choice but to let himself spring free and jerk himself off in front of you, while you’re busy trying to get off in front of him. he’d melt at that and the way you call his name when you cum. after that one time, dean’d beg you to let him watch again and again and again.

— edging.

this one’s definitely more-so for himself. dean’s definitely jacking it in motel showers when he’s on hunts, just edging himself in there to the thought of you. he’d be so close every time, your name on his lips as he strokes himself, but he’d pause his movements right before cumming, just teasing himself for as long as he can take it.

— public sex.

dean’s no stranger to a quickie in the impala or even perhaps in the alleyway behind a dingy little dive bar. the thrill of getting caught would drive him absolutely wild. he’d be gripping your jaw, whispering in your ear telling you to keep quiet and be good. public sex would probably force out a more dominant side of dean. he’d wanna have fun with you, whilst also making sure he’s in control of the situation just in case you actually do get caught.

— toys.

i’m not sure if i’d consider this a kink, but i’ll list it anyway. dean is definitely the kinda guy to see toys as an aid to better sex, instead of his competition. he’d love to see you writhing underneath him with a vibrator pressed against your pussy or perhaps even some handcuffs thrown into the mix (again, he’s not fussed on who’s being cuffed). he loves the idea of you using toys on your own when he’s away on hunts. he’d definitely be begging you over text to send him videos of you using them.

— other.

none of these are really kinks, but i do wanna mention them.

i fully believe at some point in your relationship, dean would bring up the idea of making a sex tape with you. it would be exclusively for yours and his eyes only, and he would definitely watch it and get off to it during hunts when you’re not there.

i also think dean would be a little cheeky and steal your panties to take away with him on longer hunts. sure, calling you and receiving pictures and videos helps when he’s away, but nothing beats the physicality of holding your panties in his hands, wrapping them around his cock and cumming into them. maybe this is something he does without telling you, but you’d know when a pair would go missing and then return when dean does. it wouldn’t take you long to figure out. and you wouldn’t really mind.

i believe anything to do with him causing you pain or distress would be a hard no for dean. he loves you and wants to make you feel good during sex, not see you all marked up and sore because of him. he wants you to feel safe and comfortable. he’s definitely the kinda guy to check in with you constantly, “does that feel good, baby? you want me to keep going?” or “tell me what you want”.

your comfortability and pleasure is number one priority for dean. always.

A/N: ahhh such a fun request. these are my personal headcanons for dean. idk how popular these opinions are but i see that man as a LOVER if he’s in a relationship!! <3

edit: added ‘breeding’ to this because i was thinkin’ about it and it totally makes sense. can’t believe i forgot it LOL

[msmk11]

Pretty Boy

Harry Potter x fem!reader

WC: 563

CW: mentions of the Dursleys being neglectful; FLUFF

Summary: You love to make your boyfriend embarassed

Day 21 of mk's mad dash

Sadly, your boyfriend grew up without any affection from his family. So, it was no surprise that any affection he was shown was foreign to him. And, in some cases, maybe even a little embarrassing. You remembered the early days of your relationship- how even a peck on his cheek or a hug would make him blush furiously. With time, of course, he became more comfortable in your affection and even initiated it himself. Still, occasionally, you were able to bring back out his shy side, intentionally or not. 

In this instance, you were very intentional about trying to make your boyfriend blush. After he’d called you pretty girl a few weeks ago and left you a flustered mess, you were determined to get revenge. 

You decided to act completely unassuming, only throwing the term of endearment back in his face when he was most vulnerable and sweet in your arms. 

After a long Friday of classes, you brought Harry back to your dorm to cuddle and relax, simply enjoying one another’s presence. You snuck some food from the kitchens that now left you both feeling stuffed and satisfied. In your current position you were laying sprawled out, back on the bed and Harry nearly entirely on top of you.

In your post-dinner bliss, you two had gone mostly silent, reveling in each other’s company and touch. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through Harry’s wild black hair, pursuing a pointless mission of trying to untangle his curls. 

Your boyfriend’s face was buried in your neck, occasionally pressing gentle kisses to your skin when the urge presented itself. 

When your fingers made their way to the nape of his neck, Harry hummed softly against you.

“Feel good, Haz?”

“Yeah, baby. So good. Love when you play with my hair,” he sighed.

You pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, “Good. You deserve to be spoiled, you know.”

“Why? ‘Cos my parents are dead?” he mumbled.

To those who didn’t know your boyfriend, this type of comment would’ve left them floored. But for you, who was used to his dark humor, you only laughed disbelievingly, squeezing his arm chidingly, “Harry!”

“Well?”

You pressed another fond kiss against his skin, this time to his cheek, “You deserve to be spoiled because I love you and because you’re a sweet boy.”

Then more quietly you whispered, “my sweet boy.”

Harry raised his head from its home in your neck and pecked your lips lovingly, “love you, baby.”

You knew that now was the time to strike. 

“I love you too, my pretty boy.”

Your boyfriend’s face went from loving to embarrassed in seconds, his brown skin coloring red. 

He whined and buried his face back in your neck.

“What’s wrong my love,” you asked teasingly.

“You know what’s wrong,” he grumbled, “you did it on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?”

Harry looked back up at you, the most adorable pout gracing his lips, “You called me…. pretty boy…. just to make me embarrassed.”

“I said what I meant,” you answered honestly, “though the teasing was a benefit.”

Your boyfriend continued to pout at you, “I hate you.”

“You love me,” you reminded him, “Otherwise you wouldn’t feel so embarrassed right now.”

“Fine,” he huffed, rolling his eyes, “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

And damn him, because now you were the one left a blushing mess.

[kolsmikaelson]

— WIN OR LOSE

— a/n - this is the filthiest thing i’ve ever written hope that y’all enjoy <3. please comment and reblog if you did enjoy !!

— warning (s) - 18+ mdni, pwp, switch!reader & switch!art, nipple play, fingering, squirting, pussy eating, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), subby art in the beginning, not proofread.

— word count - 1k+

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post!

“Looking so pretty for me baby,” you murmur, Art’s teary eyes looking back at you from his place in between your thighs. Your cunt clenches around nothing, the mixture of hearing the sounds coming from him and the sight of him desperately grinding himself against the mattress nearly pushing you over the edge. “My good boy, aren’t you baby? Doing so well for me.”

The blond moans in pleasure, the atmosphere in the room overwhelming him. Art hurriedly slides two long, slender fingers inside of your wet heat, almost immediately hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Love the way you taste,” he whined, pressing his lips to your clit, his tongue slipping between them and gliding over your nub before sucking it into his mouth yet again.

“Yeah,” you quip, tugging at his curls and gently pulling his face from your cunt “Then I’d suggest you get back to it if you want to cum, baby.” Deep groans leave his mouth sending vibrations through you, making your toes curl in pleasure. Your thighs tighten around his head and he wallows in the warmth of you, licking from your opening to your clit and back again. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. He isn’t sure he ever will. Art couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time, between your legs, each thigh on either side of his head with your pussy in his face, he could die a happy man.

Your mouth falls open into a silent scream as you squirt, your cum leaving a sleek shine across the lower half of Arts face. He peers up at you again, mouth still attached to your pussy, not wanting to let a single drop of you go to waste and you can see the cocky look in his eyes. He always got that way after making you squirt.

“C’mere baby.” you sighed hazily, relishing in the afterglow of your orgasm.

Art kisses his way up your body, leaving a final kiss on your clit before making his way up. He presses feverish kisses to your hip bones, leaving a trail of them up your stomach only to stop at your chest. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, bringing his hand to your other breast, twisting and pinching at the neglected nub.

He lets go of your nipple with a pop, “Want to fuck you now. Please, let me.” he cried out, wanting more.

You don’t answer him, instead reaching down to grab his cock and line it up with your entrance. Art slides into you easily with how dripping wet you were. He kisses the back of his teeth, sucking in a deep breath at the feel of your tight walls clamping down on him. Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he kisses your lips gently.

“Y’look so pretty when I’m fucking you like this,” his muscles tense as his thrusts quicken. Your walls clench around him at the praise. This exact scenario has played out between you two countless times and each time is just like the first. Hot, messy, gentle, loving. It was the perfect balance.

The blonds hips continue snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, each thrust feeling deeper than the one before. Neither of you could get enough. The headboard was slamming against the wall with how hard Art was fucking into you. It was a wonder to both you and him how there wasn’t a single mark on the wall.

Arts head falls into your neck making needy groans muffled against your skin, grasping his hair you lift his head up again and begin kissing him. It’s a mess of spit, arousal and your teeth are clashing against one another’s.

“‘M so proud of you, y’know that? Win or lose I don’t care.” You whisper once he pulls away. Your words cause the tears to spill over yet again, knowing he needed to hear it you didn’t mind cupping his cheek letting him nuzzle his head against your palm. Turning his head he places a soft kiss to your hand, the simple sign of affection tells you so much. He’s not only thanking you, but showing how much your words meant to him. He’s conveying how much he loves you.

His hips slowed, stuttering, showing how close he is. Reaching down with your free hand you cup his balls, playing with him the way you know he loves. Within moments he’s thrusting all the way into you, spurting hot ropes of cum into you, coating your walls with his warmth. His orgasm and the feel of his fingers feverishly rubbing figure eights into your clit set you off again.

Pulling out of you gently, Art falls to your side panting for a moment before pushing himself off of the bed and leaving the room for a few moments. Once he returns you see the wet washcloth he’s holding in one hand and a glass of water with a straw sticking out of it in his other hand. Walking up to you he sits on the bed beside you, putting the straw to your mouth, “You okay to hold this?” Art gestures to the cup, smiling softly when you nod, taking the cup from his hands.

Sliding down the bed he takes your thigh in his large hand spreading your legs bringing the wet cloth to your core. “Sorry, angel.” he grunted quietly when you wince at the attention to your overstimulated clit. Once he’s done cleaning you up, he wipes himself down quickly, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

Taking the glass from your hands he sets it onto your shared nightstand. Art quickly lies beside you, wrapping his arms around you while you’re curling into his side.

“So good for me,” you smirk lazily looking up at him, pressing a kiss to his pec. Rolling his eyes, Art leans down giving you another kiss smiling into it.

“You know it, baby.” He grins.

dividers by : @.cafekitsune

[microsofttothemax]

the resentment leo would have with splinter post-krang. i genuinely think they would take a bit for them to recover and be comfortable around each other

why do i think that? here’s some reasons. this is gonna be a HELLA long analysis so be prepared. sit down, grab some popcorn, and let’s dive in

in the movie, after raph was taken, leo goes on a whole rant about how he got the key, he gets the answers, and he will get raph back. yes this is irrational and brash, but not in leo’s eyes. in his eyes, this is a foolproof plan that will work

splinter attempts to intervene, and tell him like it is. “it’s not your plan, you need to work with your team.” however, it comes out as a sharp sting to leo’s previous attitude

“My son, listen to your team. This is not about you.”

it’s meant to be sensible and wise, but to leo, it’s a jab at him. it’s a stab at his cockiness and self-centered attitude, and it reminds leo of why they’re even in this position in the first place. which he hates

most of all, it’s splinter saying it. it’s his father telling him that it’s not about him. because to leo, he’s always been last place to splinter’s affection, and it’s like splinter’s confirming it here

don’t believe me? here:

splinter talks to leo, and it seems that for a minute, he listens to his father’s words. that maybe he should really stop and listen. maybe he should stop and think of a plan, listen to his brothers’ input.

but the second splinter says it’s not about him? leo shuts down. he pulls away from splinter, and refuses to listen to him. and while splinter may be right, it was something leo never wanted to hear

it’s obvious that he has a somewhat testy relationship with his father, and splinter is trying to make up for it by giving leadership advice. but to leo? this is the guy who made him leader to seemingly mess with him, never bothered to give him attention or praise on his accomplishments, and never truly knew leo beyond his “acting as the best to save face” charade

which brings me to another reason. no, i do not think splinter was ever abusive or purposely neglectful to leo, or any of the boys for that matter. but its clear theres a bit of a rift between him and leo. i think that he kind of resents leo a bit (without meaning to) because he sees himself in him. he sees the irrational movie star who never thought ahead, and made too many mistakes to count

an example would be when leo got punched by lou jitsu two times. none of his brothers got punched, why just him? and sure it could be a running gag, but i find it also to be intentional

maybe deep down, splinter still resents leo for being so much like his irrational, unreasonable younger self. that every time he sees leo, he sees his stupid past self, and without meaning to, he at times hates leo because of it. and if he doesn’t hate him, he seems to resent him to some extent

splinter also has plainly stated that donnie was the funniest one to him, (s1ep 1, mystic mayhem) and outright laughed when leo asked if he was the favorite son (rottmnt wake-up alarms on youtube, timestamp 1:59) leo also staight-up said that he was splinter’s least favorite (s1ep 4b, down with the sickness)

so yeah, i can see the resentment leo may have for his father deep down. it could be pretty apparent post-krang, hidden behind his jokes and teases

now don’t get me wrong, they have their moments of bonding, and i do love to read little drabbles and fics where they hug and heal. however… realistically speaking, it would take a while for them to get to that stage of father-son bonding post-krang. with splinter naming him leader out of the blue, to the missing lou jitsu posters on the walls of leo’s room in the movie — and we’re definitely talking about that in a later post, trust — i would bet their relationship as father-son pre and post-movie would be extremely rocky.

another reasoning for this could be that splinter often underestimates and undermines leo’s abilities and accomplishments. far as i’ve seen, the most reaction splinter’s given to leo’s accomplishments is an eyebrow raise

for example, when outsmarting big mama, leo was genuinely proud of spending time w his dad and showing him his abilities. he genuinely thought they were working together. however, splinter didn’t say he was proud or anything, just complained he wished he’d brought donnie (s2ep 2, many unhappy returns)

“I knew I should have brought Purple.”

ouch. that mustve hurt a bit

and yes, i will admit, leo was being a bit of a little shit in this scene, and yes, he could’ve told splinter of the plan before starting to yap and blab to big mama about the plan he cooked up. however, the response splinter gives is not much better. essentially, he’s saying, “i don’t like this kid or his plan, so therefore i think i should’ve brought one of my favored children to solve the problem better.”

and before you go and tell me donnie could’ve outsmarted big mama the way leo did, think for a moment. leo fully admitted to manipulating and lying in an episode before

“I don’t lie, I just… change the truth.”

whereas donnie cannot tell a lie to save his life. i love him, but the guy is a shit liar. he has failed multiple times at it

“We are just typical normal humans.. who got lost in the middle of our normal… everyday human lives— nailed it.”

“Uh… nothing. Just having a typical, normal, mystic-free day.” “What? I said mystic-free.”

“Why aren’t you guys more upset?”

“Oh. This… hurts me. Uh… I’m very sad…?”

raph & mikey aren’t much better. mikey straight-up started sweating when he had to lie to splinter about piebald, and raph has so many different stinks/scents to him that it’d be easy for others to tell he was lying

also, mikey has doctor delicate touch. who does not know what lying or “don’t be blunt” means

and donnie’s really only being extremely straightforward with what he thinks or about what’s going on around him. so it makes no sense as to why splinter would want to bring donnie along to outsmart big mama, unless he genuinely doesn’t enjoy leo’s presence, which seems to be the case

now all of this is evidence to point towards a very unsteady father-son relationship with these two. yes, splinter seems to be a very lenient father, and i genuinely think he wants to be a good dad. however, oftentimes that leads to miscommunication and misread moments, empty promises, and overall neglecting behavior on his part, all without meaning to

so while he does try harder to be there for his sons later in the show, it’s pretty obvious that one brother — who thrived off any attention possible — probably stopped caring about that validation after all that he went through. splinter gives, but leo doesn’t take. he doesn’t bother to, because he thinks it’s either a prank of some kind, or because he just genuinely doesn’t care for his father’s input anymore.

(this was based on that one post about splinter & leo by @midwesternvibes, i just figure i revisit that bc i’m thinkin about it again)

[sitepathos]

I've been thinking about a what if for gold and mold

It's pretty simple

Let's say one of the Batfam was chasing killer croc and they come across reader and they managed to save his life

So reader begins to get clingy with them, but not in a sweet "were family again" no, reader is very traumatized and uses them to remind himself he is still alive.

So he's not hugging them, he's clasping their forearm with enough strength to leave a mark, because he wants to make sure he can still move his hands.

And he talks to them, but not about their day or something like that

Reader is asking then simple trivia/math equation, to make sure that he can still have a conversation,

So while the rest of the family is jealous of the time they spend with reader, the member in either is horrified or tries to take advantage of the situation (depending on which member the scenario is for, I decided to keep it in n general)

What do you think? Is it interesting?

A very interesting idea! Hope you don’t mind if I add onto it a little! In this scenario, you were still shot, but were rendered in a brain damaged state and the Batfamily picks up the pieces. And because you weren’t thrown into the cavern by the thugs, you don’t meet the Megamycete. (Note: this will provide insight into the Bats for future chapters. Read at your own risk.)

The Bats had been looking for the Joker, but instead found Killer Croc and gave chase, following him to Gotham Woods.

He forced his way into an old cabin and as they approached it, heard a gunshot, forcing them to surround it and enter from all directions.

They didn’t know what they expecting, but seeing you, lying on the floor with blood pooling around you and surrounded by three thugs and Killer Croc.

The sight of you, his baby boy, spread out on the dirty floor of this disgusting cabin, dying, fills him with a rage, one that burns brighter than his rage for Joe Chill.

In a flash, he takes all three thugs down, leaving Croc for the rest of his children while he carries you out of the cabin and rushes you to the Batcave, already telling Leslie Tompkins to be there with her med kit.

When the others return to the Cave, they see him looking over the doctor’ shoulder as works diligently to bring you back from the brink of death.

As she works, Bruce calls Alfred and inform of what happened, causing the butler to tear into him from the other side of the world.

When Alfred yells at him for not being a good father and ignoring you for years, guilt lands on all of them like a sumo wrestler.

When they look at one another, asking when was the last time any of them talked to you, they realize that they knew less than nothing about a brother that’s been living with them for years.

They sit around the cave in silence for hours, drowning in their collective guilt and promising that if you make it through this, things would be different

They’d give all the love and attention you could handle and more, including you in their post-patrol meals, taking you out on the town, and spoiling you rotten.

They’re only brought out of this state when the doctor exits the surgical suite and tells them that she managed to stabilize you and extract the bullet from your brain, which made the relax.

But when she said that you were brain damaged, stuck inside your mind, only able to speak phrases from your memories, they all felt the world around them collapse.

They made plans to make up for their years of neglect and beg for your forgiveness, and now, they can never atone for their sins.

Dr. Tompkins provides a few places they can admit you to, ensuring you’d be given the utmost care, but Bruce declines it immediately.

“He’s a part of our family and we’ll care for him,” he vows.

He has you moved to a bedroom on their side of the manor, an empty one next to his, to be precise, moving all your belongings and buying anything he thinks you’d like in hopes that some part of you would feel at home.

They all move back to the manor to care for you and abide by a schedule that took them hours to decide on.

Alfred is the first one to enter your room everyday, placing your breakfast in your feeding tube and helping you use the bathroom and change your clothes.

He insists on doing this, no matter how much the others beg to take his place, because he feels ashamed that he failed in his responsibility to you.

He knew that the family didn’t pay you the attention you deserved and thanks to his lapse in judgement, you’re reduced to a shell of your former self.

He’s resigned to doing this for the rest of his life, hoping to make amends.

Bruce always comes just after he finishes, sitting next to your bed, talking to you about anything he can think of, hoping that somehow, it would get you out of this state.

It doesn’t, of course, but he always listens when you mutter about whatever your mind allows you to say.

He notices that you tend to talk to him about your Momma more than the others and he feels like even more of a failure.

Truth be told, he didn’t remember your Momma, at least not until he looked her up.

She was an up and coming writer he had met at some fancy party, they both had a little too much to drink and that’s how you came to be.

When he looks back at how he treated you when you first came to live with him, he wants to go back in time and beat the living shit out of himself.

You lost your Momma, were forced to leave your home, and all you wanted was your father to make you feel like you weren’t alone.

He wasn’t man enough to do the bare minimum.

He lets his tears fall while he wipes yours as you say, “Momma’s in heaven?”

“Yeah she is, baby,” he whispers. “But don’t worry, Daddy’s here.”

Dick pulls out all he stops for his big brother act.

He comes in, taking over for Bruce or standing in when he has to leave.

“Hey, baby bird,” he exclaims every time he enters. “How’s my favorite little brother doing today?”

He always uses his time stretching your limbs to prevent atrophy and shows off his acrobatic skills, hoping it would impress you.

By the time he’s done, Alfred delivers your lunch, which he places in your feeding tube.

He wishes you were able to chew solid food because he totally would spoon feed you.

Jason comes in and out of all of them, he feels the most guilt about how he treated you.

He’s harped on Bruce for forgetting all about him for years, not knowing that he’s done the same to you.

And the memory of him giving you that black eye makes him want to tear himself apart as penance.

“You really drew the short straw when they were giving out families, huh, kid,” he jokes.

He spends most of his time reading his favorite books to you and telling you trivia about them and their authors.

He spends the remaining time crying, his head pressed against your body, begging for your forgiveness.

He totally kills those three thugs when Bruce isn’t look, hoping that act of revenge makes up for his behavior is some way.

Tim comes in after him, pretending not to notice the tear stains on Jason’s face or how red his eyes look.

He goes back to how you two first met, thinking about how he could’ve done things differently. How he should’ve said something.

He knows what it’s like to be ignored by your family, god knows he wasn’t his parents’ favorite child and they only had him.

He uses his time to play your video games, either on the giant tv in front of your bed or siting next to you on the bed, the brand new laptop he bought for you between the two of you.

He 100% your games, getting every achievement possible and even buys new games he thinks you’d enjoy.

He listens to everything you say, committing it to memory and answering back no matter what it is.

“Fear the Old Blood.”

“Bloodborne,” he answers. “That’s a tough one. But you seem like a guy that appreciates a challenge.”

When he discovers the beginnings of your game and the book you wrote all your ideas for it, he devotes all his free time to bringing it to reality, personally developing it and following your book to the letter and when it’s released, everyone knows it was made in your honor.

Steph comes in with Cass since neither of them have the courage to come in alone, ashamed of how they treated you.

Steph spends the entire time talking, filling the room with talk to drown out the awkward silence.

She goes on about anything and everything, from her visit to the coffee shop to her nightly escapades.

“I swear, Kite Man is obsessed with me! I think he wants to be my nemesis and I keep telling him it’s not gonna happen!”

Cass just sits there, not even able to look at you due to the weight of her guilt.

Bruce had taught her how to live in a family and she couldn’t show you the love she shows the others.

Damian is after them, followed closely by Titus and Alfred the Cat.

“Good evening, brother,” he says, hoping for a response, but knowing you’ll never be able to answer back again.

During his time with the League of Assassins, he was taught that one can never redeem themselves after failure and so it must be avoided at all costs.

He thought himself above the rest of his siblings, worth of being the heir to both the Demon and Bat. That he was the very definition of perfect

Seeing your frail body, lying there, doomed to live out the rest of your days stuck inside your own mind?

He knows he’s imperfect in every possible way.

When you first met, he was threatened by you as he was led to believe he was Father’s only blood son, the one who would inherit everything both Bruce Wayne and the Batman possessed.

He knew you weren’t a threat, his trained eye telling him you couldn’t defend yourself against Drake, let alone a real threat, but he just had to go and attack you what his sword to assert his dominance and place in the family’s hierarchy.

He could’ve just ignored you like the others, but no, he had to go and actively make your life more difficult, insulting you at every chance and sending his animals to attack you.

And when Pennyworth told him the pen he stole from you was your late Mother’s?

For the first time in years, he actually sheds a tear.

He spends his time either in your room, his loyal pets on either side of you while he draws you in his sketchbook or paints a complete portrait of you to be mounted in the living room.

Sometimes, he paints scenes of you two together, some of them have you standing next to each other while others have you playing some game.

He wishes you two could do this, but for now, these portraits will do.

Other times, he places you in a wheelchair and pushes you through the gardens (he fought tooth and nail for that privilege), telling you tidbits about the birds you see or the flowers you pass by.

Everyday, he wishes that you’d come out of this vegetative state so you two could walk together, but until that day comes, he’ll take up this responsibility without complaint.

By the time his time’s done, Alfred serves you your dinner and that’s when they leave to patrol Gotham, each of them hugging and kissing you.

And when they get back, Bruce carries you down to the dining room so you can be a part of their feast and watch movies with them.

They failed you before, but they won’t do it again. All of them will repeat this, day after day. Year after year.

They just wish you could talk back so they can make their apologies properly.

[itsabouttimex2]

Y/N’s not the Beloved?

(At least, not at first)

Thinking so hard about Y/N just… not being the “beloved” in the yandere dynamics, and instead being the “neglected” party.

Just, like-

It’s not that Sun Wukong and Macaque don’t love you for being their precious adopted kiddo, but… you’re “just” a person, and you don’t have a tail or fur to groom like them. You can’t climb as well as they can, and you don’t have fangs. And you just aren’t strong enough to keep up.

So there’s this inherent disparity, and you feel sometimes more like a guest than a member of the family.

But then MK’s rock comes along! And then it hatches and there’s a new little monkey in the family for them dote on! They have a new baby, one that’s just like them!

In a way that you just… aren’t.

You just can’t compare. Sure, they still love you- you’re never hungry or cold, your clothes are plentiful, and they still support your interests, but…

They just don’t love you like they love him.

Because MK gets the nicest things, in all the ways you didn’t. He gets brand new clothes just right for a growing boy with a true form that fractures in and out of existence. But many of your “new” clothes have to be hastily sewn up because they’re hand-me-downs from Papa, and they had ear and tail slits- they were made for Mystic Monkeys, after all!

(And you aren’t one of them, no matter how hard you try to be.)

And MK gets his favorite foods and snacks whenever he asks, no matter how far Baba has to travel or how many stores his clones have to trawl to find those illusive treats. And when he digs in, you think of the times Papa taught you to “appreciate” his hard work in the kitchen by making you eat every bite of a meal he made, even if you gagged and coughed through it… but MK gets full impunity to have sides replaced whenever he decides a food is “yucky” without even trying it.

You got gifts for being well-behaved or accomplishing goals, but MK gets them for simply asking. You got money by doing extra chores or babysitting the mountain monkeys. MK is given it because your dads are in a good mood.

Not to mention how many of your hobbies and free days are undermined because you “need” to babysit the favorite child.

So on, and so forth.

And then one day it all grinds to a peak and you can’t take the favoritism anymore, so you eventually have the quietest messy breakdown known to man in the ungodly hours of the morning. When you finally manage to pull yourself together, the decision is promptly made- with a tightly-packed bag in tow, you sneak out through a window, clamber down the house walls, and disappear beyond the horizon.

And Macaque and Wukong are devastated, obviously. Sure, you aren’t the “beloved”, which is clearly MK, but you’re still their baby!

BUT! It gets even worse, because for all the worry in their hearts, MK is even worse!

He throws tantrums and rejects food and has uncontrollable fits where he bites bloody marks into his arms through hysteric tears. And even when the kiddo isn’t screaming his bloodied little mouth off, it’s only to scream for you to come back.

So, while they would’ve always made an honest effort to bring you back home (this is your home, even if it doesn’t always feel like it), having their “beloved” child start to genuinely harm himself over your absence only ramps up the efforts to get their first kid back.

“Open the door,” comes your papa’s tempered voice, barely second after you’ve registered the knock. “C’mon, kiddo. We need to talk.”

His foot meets the wooden door, tapping and testing the strength- not that there was really any question he could clear the flimsy barrier.

Tap. Tap.

At the pause, you drop everything and scramble into the closet, right as Macaque kicks through the door with a huff. The leather of his boot catches the light with a dark gleam, but he retracts it and readies for another blow.

“You in, Mac?”

“Not yet- I missed.”

His next strike lands true, shredding the cheap doorknob out of place so forcefully that it tears through the glass window behind it and disappears into the bushes behind the hotel, entirely flattened into a copper disk.

“Not bad,” cheers Wukong, peering into the wrecked room. “Not bad at all, bud!”

With a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle the sound of shallow breathing, you hunker down and wait- with a bitter thought at how casual they are about all this.

Didn’t they realize how badly hurt you were by the unabashed favoritism, the constant coming in second, the unending isolation?

How could they treat this like a casual outing?

“Alright, bud- pack your bags and put on something warm! We’re heading home!

Just barely you manage to bite back a cry of frustration over this miserable circumstance, expected to return to a home that had essentially shunted you aside.

“C’mon, brat. Did you really think we’d let you spend any more time in this hellhole? The mountain is a lot safer, anyways.”

You don’t even realize that Macaque is reaching into the closet until he has your upper arm in his hold, pulling until you’ve cleared the wooden threshold molding between your sanctuary and the living space.

Barely even on your feet, Wukong is upon you with a scarf, wrapping it tight and finishing with a neat bow.

“You know, MK really missed you,” he sighs, thinking of tantrums that spanned hours and the smell of mold in the kitchen when food the child flung had spilled under the counter and gone unnoticed for far too long.

Why should you care that their baby was suffering?

But whether you care or not (and they’re certainly not waiting for your opinion), they’re going to take you “home”.

With Wukong’s hand to wrap around your shoulders and Macaque’s to grip your wrist, they slowly march the way back to the precious little Mystic Monkey that you’ve come to hate.

And though your heart turns over at the sight of MK wailing on the floor, there’s this strange discomfort that arises when they call it that:

“Y/N is back!”

and it prompts an immediate end of his formerly hysterical waterworks?

Because he runs to you and throws both of his chubby little arms around your legs, demanding that you “never ever leave again!” and both of your dads are right behind him, because their son gets whatever he wants, when he wants it-

And what MK wants is you.

[chaotic-iguana]

desperate | billy butcher x reader

a little something in spirit of kinktober and my delirium. lmk what you think. nsfw below the cut. mostly denial/teasing.

“fuckin’ look at you, doll.” butcher flashes you a shit-eating grin before reaching up to pinch your nipples between his thumb and forefingers harshly, rumbling a chuckle at the whimper it draws from you. you’re all splayed out for him with your hands tied to headboard above, thighs wrenched open by his shoulders; skin hot and flushed under his touch. he’s told you to stay still twice already but you can’t, not when he’s been leaving featherlight brushes on your skin for hours and cruelly laughing at every sound that comes from your mouth, smiling at the way your hips buck in his hold- 

and then he’s leaning in just to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sternum, beard stinging against your sensitive skin, jaw working to nip and bite until your tears are falling and he’s pulling back with a mocking tut, eyes twinkling.

“all these pretty tears just f’me, love?” your frantic nod makes him raise a brow, hand coming down to swat the inside of your thigh - the impact shooting straight to your poor, neglected cunt. 

“use y’words, chatterbox.” 

his tone makes you want to curl in on yourself, because he knows you’re too far gone to form words right now, too far gone to think about anything beyond the fact that you need him and that you might actually die if he stops touching you. but you know butcher, and you know how mean he really is - he’ll keep you writhing on the bed for hours to fix your attitude if he doesn’t hear an answer now; uncaring of the fact that you’re barely grasping at thoughts and completely fucking gone. and like the devil, you  he starts rubbing circles into the juncture of your thighs while you struggle to answer him.

“y-yes, da-butcher. ‘m cr-crying for y-you.” he hums, and suddenly runs a knuckle through your folds, making you keen, tears sticking to your lashes. 

“yes, who?” bastard. he knows you can never bring yourself to say it - not even if it rests on the tip of your tongue every time - and despite yourself, you bite your tongue and shake your head, hiccuping. 

“oh we’re being shy now? fuck me, honey, where was this when i had my cock in your ass?” his hands rest just above where you need him now, thumbs stroking your abdomen in careful, downward brushes. your back arches into the touch, hips chasing him even when he pulls his hands away, and then you’re sobbing in earnest. 

another tut, dripping with condescension. “no more cryin’. tell me what you want, baby.” and you’re gasping another breath and gulping air, wrists straining against the rope before stammering out another response, too delirious with your need to register what you were saying. 

“need you to t-touch me, d-daddy, please.” he shuffles up, gripping your chin to turn it towards him before capturing your lips in his, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. his thumb presses gently on your buzzing clit, making you jolt with surprise. you blink at him, frowning. he’d never cave this quickly. 

until- he’s reaching down to plant a kiss to your forehead, smoothing over your hair before nuzzling against your cheek. 

“gotta give my pretty girl what she needs, don’t i? 

masterlist

taglist: @bastardmandennis and @amanitacowboy (no one else would be into the boys i think) love u both @imherefordeanandbones

@cafekitsune’s divider.

[a-hazbin-reader]

alastor x reader where they already have kids and it connects with the headcanons about reader being insecure about their stretch marks but this time it's after she starts loving them and when they're alone, alastor is just like "how about we have another baby?" over and over again and reader constantly gets flustered because she/they knows what he wants to do

Alastor having MORE kids???

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive, Husband and wife are NOT properly communicating IMPORTANT topics

Description: ☝️⬆️

Being a mother was difficult but definitely rewarding, it was something you had wanted for so long and now you have it

All because of your wonderful husband who fought against the impossible just to make you happy

And you like to think that Alastor is happy with his life too, he certainly seems happy

Well, he's always smiling so..

He's always doting on his babies, practically beaming with pride at every little thing they do

And he doesn't neglect his duties as a husband either 😏

Your confidence is higher than ever and you're living out your dreams with Alastor by your side

You thought your husband would be content with two adorable babies, seeing as the second one was a surprise

Apparently not, he wanted more, your greedy husband

He springs the question on you while you two are alone, enjoying your uninterrupted time together

You barely have time to catch your breath before Alastor is kissing and biting at your neck

His claws scrape ever so slightly against your stomach, caressing your marks and reminding both of you of your miracle pregnancy

He pulls away to admire how disheveled you look now, the happy gleam in your eyes as you stare back at him

"Let's have another baby, darling~"

"What?"

He doesn't answer you, instead going back to kissing the life out of you and leaving your knees weak

The next day, you almost think you imagined it, wishful thinking and all that because Alastor is completely normal with you

You almost believe that all the way up until lunchtime with your babies, you're feeding and cooing at them when Alastor comes in

You can feel him watching you from the doorway as you try to get your little boy to take a few more bites of a new food

His sister is, of course, devouring her own food with no problem

Your husband slinks around behind you and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder

"Mm... they're such beautiful children, aren't they?"

You're so blissed out by the presence of your husband and children that you don't realize where he's going with this

His hands are creeping down to your stomach, rubbing soothing circles into your sides

"Wouldn't it be lovely if we had another one, my dear~?"

Before you can even turn around to ask him if he's serious, Alastor is picking up his daughter and cooing at her

You're left flustered and confused, picking up your son who was getting fussy

You go through weeks of this bizarre ambush tactic of his, your husband never just sitting you down and talking with you

You're in the shower? Alastor slips in, turns the heat up between you two then asks for another baby

You're cleaning up after your babies? Suddenly your husband is there doing all the work and helps you relax afterwards before bringing up more kids

You're not even safe when shopping with him, he brings you tiny baby socks and clothes while lamenting that the twins don't fit in clothes this size anymore

All his little tricks are starting to work on you though

You're definitely getting a second round of baby fever, especially whenever you bump into your husband

You honestly don't know who's jumping who at this point, you just know that you both simultaneously have decided you want another baby

Alastor has you blushing and following after him with just a look

You have him stumbling out of his pants to get to you with just a few curls of your finger

You put the babies down for a nap? Your husband is suddenly right there pulling you into the bedroom

You go into a closet for cleaning supplies? He's locking the door behind you both, and it's a suspiciously long time before you two walk out

Alastor is up in his radio tower? Guess who's strolling in and interrupting his show

Nobody is shocked to find out that you're pregnant again, you two haven't been subtle

But it would've been nice if you guys had asked the rest of them first-

GAH I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG-

[thesuperiorrobin]

➳ Reminder that all of these are Female reader insert

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── one shots ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✶| Headline |

➳ Dating Damian Wayne was It’s pros and cons, cons being the press follows you almost every where when you’re alone or with Damian.

✶| Truth hurts |

➳ you find the truth about that scar on his chest

✶| He has feelings? | part two |

➳ Damian has been coming home late after his patrol, coming home smelling like strong feminine perfume. His brother follow him one night and they are in for a surprise

✶| Her laughter brings me joy |

➳Damians is in loved with the way you laugh. His brothers tease him about it

| “I promise I’m not scared of you” |

➳scarecrow uses you as bait and an experiment for his fear toxin leaving you in fear of someone precious to you

✶ | Is that my shirt? |

➳ playing with Titus a fun but sometimes he gets a little to competitive

✶| “Kind hard to focus when you look like that” |

➳ Damian find you staring at him while he does his daily workout session

✶ | “I don’t like sleeping alone anymore” |

➳ Damian confronts you after acting weird this past couple of days only to find out you haven’t been sleeping, but for what reason?

✶| “He’s only soft with you ” |

➳ Damians really whipped for you if he’s nice

✶ | “He lost his virginity!?” |

➳ the batfamily notice Damian acting off these past couple of months and come up with weird ideas as to why

✶ | “Don’t say a word about this” | Ft: Alfred|

➳ Pennyworth has to keep yet another secret

✶ | Media is stupid |

➳ you and Damian play with social apps—giving people taste of your love life

✶ | “Dance with me ” |

➳ you and Damian dance together at one of Bruce’s Galas and the attention is set on both of you.

✶ | lipstick Stain | part 1 | Part 2 |

➳ a TikTok trend that leads to the media coming crazy

✶ | “Crazy idea let’s make out” |

➳ teens being teens Y’know?

✶ | punished by my body |

➳ period are never fun. Especially when they keep you from killing you for seeing Damian.

✶ | untitled |

✶ | Rainy days |

➳ Damian realizes that the rain rain always put you in a mood—getting moody once you fix your attention one the thunder rather then his lips

✶ | Thoughts |

➳ Damian is neglecting his duties as being your husband—I’m result puts bad thought in your head that make your two confront him about it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Headcannons ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✮ Damian Wayne, the blood son of playboy billionaire Bruce way. Damian Wayne doesn’t live up to the playboy title like his father back in the day

✮ Fem!Reader having a crush on Damian Wayne

✮ Boyfriend!Damian Wayne

✮ Hispanic!Fem!Reader

✮ Damian Wayne doesn’t get crushes

✮ husband! Damian Wayne

✮ bat boys type

✮ random Damian Wayne headcannons

✮ Platonic reader

✮ Quality time

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── scenarios─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

❀ Damian Wayne hates galas , more then he hates his brothers.

❀ Damian ‘Clingy’ Wayne

❀ his bed is more comfortable

❀ “I loves you’s” coming from him

❀ Damian’s not a big fan of holidays

❀ thinking about league of assassins! Damian Wayne

❀ he’s sick to his stomach every time he looks at you

❀ never question why’s your hair is always up

❀ Damian doesn’t get sick often but when he does…

❀ argument | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Random─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✄ incorrect quotes!

One, two, three, four, five, Six, Seven(Jason Todd)

✄ Instagram!

One, two, three

✄ message between you two!

One, two

This is a years worth of writing that I managed to put on one page 🥲

Just let me know if any of the links aren’t working

[silversodas]

Some Interesting Things About Peri and Dev

Truthfully this is more about Peri and his interesting flaws, but there is some character analysis about Dev too.

I think when Peri and Dev finally do become friends, they would actually make an interesting pair, we actually learn that they are conflicting opposites

Peri: Rules are the only thing that separates peace from total chaos

Dev: But Peace is boring

Now, Dev may be a neglected kid, but he is the furthest thing from a wet Cat. He is smart and resourceful and a force to be reckoned with when he feels a certain type of way. It’s not entirely what he can do it’s what he is willing to do that makes him dangerous. Speaking of which, I may be calling it early, but I think that the glass ball on Peri’s wand/cane is a stabilizer and that Peri is still insanely powerful but also a pacifist. So Peri will reason with you and let’s his all powerful self get bulldozed but his human, ten year old Godkid will feed you your hair. That dynamic has the potential to be hella interesting

We also learned that Peri has an interesting flaw, he has jealousy issues. And lies to his parents?

I mentioned before that in the Birthday take back episode that Peri showed to be a little bit jealous of Hazel but didn’t see that it was a hint to his issues with jealousy till he got really jealous of Irep in the next episode

In that next episode Peri tells Dev that he’s done, that he quits. But when Dev informs Cosmo Wanda and Hazel of this apparently Peri told Cosmo and Wanda a different story

Wanda: Peri didn’t quite, he was waiting for you to call

Cosmo: He thought you two were on a brake

Uhhhh that is not at all what Peri told Dev. Don’t get me wrong, I am glad he talks to Cosmo and Wanda about his problems but boy straight up lied. He probably changed his mind and just told his parents that because he feels like they would be disappointed in him if he actually quite. And at this point I am thinking he is only sticking around with Dev for his parents, but that’s not entirely the case

Before Dev and Irep unalives Cosmo and Wanda Peri steps in with Jorgan and straight up LAUGHS in Ireps face (this took me by surprise) and gloats informing him that he never actually quite so Dev was still his Godkid

What’s so interesting is that this is the most immature we have ever seen Peri. Like this is basically the equivalent of a child running up to another child and yelling MINE! Before snatching a toy away. And that’s basically what Peri did, he basically went MINE! And snatched Dev away.

I mean look at him here. He looks like a kid who is happy that another kid he doesn’t like is in trouble. I wonder of Irep brings out this childish side of Peri. And does Jorgan punish Dev for attempted murder-

Nope…man Jorgan must have less fucks to give this time around, from what I remember if Timmy so much as farted while in Fairyworld Jorgan would appear out of nowhere like “TURNER! THIS JACKASSERY WILL NOT STAND!!!”

In case we needed it to be any clearer, Peri accidentally admits that he was jealously spying on Dev, so Peri can be a bit jealous and possessive? Interesting.That actually didn’t really bother me till this frame

Like, really dude? Your just gonna mark your territory, snatch his new friend away and not even talk to him about it? I mean he almost killed your parents at least chew him out! Ok honestly if the episode had went on longer it probably would have shown Peri turning away from his parents to face Dev and talk to him only to see that Dev ditched him. But Peri ONCE AGAIN! Got distracted by his parents at a time he needed to have his attention on Dev.

If seeing Peri at his parents place is anything to go by, I would say that Peri is definitely in the dog house

[phoneduk]

I love Reverse Robins Au but I feel like a lot of people interpret it as reverse roles Au rather than how I interpret it Reverse Age au.

Here's how I see it:

Damian:

Is dropped off with Bruce at age 8 - violent assassin child who meets tired goth Bruce who's not quite used to being batman yet and is nowhere near equipped enough to raise a child but he's damned if he's not gonna try his hardest.

It's a bit of a mission at first trying to curb the violent tendencies and raise a whole antisocial person (and wow, he admires Alfred so much more now). He almost quits Batman for a bit until he figures out that making Damian his sidekick might be a good outlet for him.

Duke

Bruce is out on patrol with Damian when he finds a little boy who's parents are out of commission and is too stubborn to believe that the Bat would actually help him.

Damian hates that he's not an only child anymore but eventually warms up to the idea when he realises they can team up against Bruce and that they are not in competition.

When Bruce finds out that Duke is a meta he wants to flinch back and send him away, but he doesn't, partially because he loves Duke so much the idea of losing him so quickly repulsed him and partially because Damian pulled a sword on him at the idea.

Tim:

Roughly 9 years after Damian is taken in Bruce, Damian and Duke are approached by a small boy saying he knows who they are and wants to join them. Bruce refuses but Damian spots the opportunity to have someone else be Batman's sidekick whilst he can become a hero in his own right.

Damian starts following Tim around and looking out for him and then he realises that Tim is being neglected and come on he can't just leave Tim there so he brings him home and Bruce can't really argue against that.

Two months later Batman has a new sidekick and Gotham has a new lone hero.

Cass

They only notice her because she wants them to and absolutely no one questions it when she's bought home. All three boys had wanted a sister at some point and none of them cared about her past or her speech.

Jason:

Tim's a teenager now has almost finished highschool when Bruce goes out one night with the batmobile and comes back to where he parked it find a kid stealing the tires. Bruce can sense that Tim is going to inevitably leave him as well so what better time to take in a new kid when he also will need a sidekick soon.

The decision hurts Tim more than anything else because he's being replaced and he's not ready to be on his own even though he's never been more ready.

Jason grows quicker than either of his other two boys and he's more determined than either of them to right the wrongs of Gotham. That determination was what led him to Ethiopia where his the joker killed him.

Dick

Bruce was at the circus at Alfred's suggestion, something to distract him from the empty seat at the table where his youngest should be. It's at the circus where he sees the trapeze line fail and he can't stop himself from reaching out to the falling artists. It hurts him to take in another child so soon after losing Jason but the thought of that tiny boy who saw his parents die going into Juvie almost kills him.

Dick brings joy into the manor that hadn't been known since Bruce was a boy and everyone in the family falls in love with him.

When the Red hood emerges, angry at his older siblings for not protecting him and wanting to kill Dick they're all a worrying amount of relieved and angry. Surprisingly it's Dick that manages to get him to come back to the family.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Predetermined.

Written for the very lovely @mars-syndrome.

Pairing: Yandere!Azul x Reader (Twisted Wonderland).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Non///Con, Tentacle Sex, Unprotected Sex, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Implied Long-Term Stalking, and Unhealthy Relationships.

For everyone except you, the Monsto Lounge closed at ten.

It was an unofficial rule. Octavinelle freshmen would try to turn you away, but it was a mistake the Leech twins made sure to correct by the next morning, and everyone who’d ever worked more than a shift at the lounge knew better than to kick you out at the end of the night. That was why you were allowed to get away with something Azul would usually blacklist a customer for – staying balled up in the corner of a booth until midnight, your attention either on your nearly-dead phone or the untouched milkshake Floyd had wordlessly put in front of you when he came down to make one for himself, like a zookeeper offering a pound of meat to a caged animal. Riddle was absolutely going to kill you for staying out after curfew, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how many sugar cubes you’d have to add to your lemonade tomorrow or how many roses you’d have to paint. You were tempted to spend the night here, to beg Azul to let you use one of the unoccupied rooms and just sleep your misery away, but you’d end up collared for the next week if you didn’t come back at all. The price of being in the best dorm in NRC – you were at the mercy of the strictest dorm leader on campus.

Sometimes, when you couldn’t help yourself, you wished you’d been placed in Azul’s dorm instead. He’d let you get away with anything.

 With a heavy sigh, you pulled your legs into your chest and buried your face in your knees. You felt the bench shift under someone else’s weight and raised your head just enough to see Azul sitting in front of you. He’d already discarded his jacket and scarf, his glasses propped low on the nose of his bridge and his shirt more unbuttoned than he usually cared to keep it. He’d probably just wrapped up his own work for the night. You thought you remembered him mentioning a study guide, but it was hard to tell with Azul. He always had something up his sleeve – it was hard to keep track of which scheme he was on, today.

Silently, he slid a mug of something dark and murky in front of you, steam still rising from the top. Although Floyd’s offering went neglected, you took Azul’s up without protest, letting the warmth seep into your hands. You’d been through this a thousand times. You knew better than to ignore his little remedies, by now.

After you’d taken a healthy sip, he spoke. “Who is it now?”

“Muscle-tee guy, from Savanaclaw.” You groaned, shutting your eyes. “He promised we’d be exclusive, but apparently, he thought that included his roommate, and a girl from Pomefiore, and some idiot from Royal Swords. A boy from his class had to tell me – he had pictures and everything.”

Azul offered a skeptical look. “You’re crying over him?”

“I’m not crying!” You hadn’t cried over anyone since middle school. He should know that – he’d been there then, too, to watch you sob your eyes out when your newest crush tore up your confession letter before so much as opening it. You were a third-year, now. If you were going to cry, you were going to do it alone in your closet where no one would be able to judge you.

You were more tired than anything. You could already feel today starting to weigh on you, your shoulders held at an odd slant and your remaining energy dwindling further by the second. Reluctantly, you uncurled, letting your legs fall over Azul’s lap and taking another drink before going on. “I’m just so exhausted. It feels like it always ends like this. I let my guard down, meet a guy I really like, get him to really like me, and then I find out that that he’s an asshole and somehow, I’m the only one who didn’t know.” You groaned, shaking your head. “I don’t know how this keeps happening. Are all men this bad, or just the ones I choose to date?”

“Unfortunately, your taste is the only common factor.” You let out a dry laugh, shooting Azul a narrow glare. He only shrugged, as composed and as disinterested as always. “Honestly, it’s your own fault. How can you expect to find a quality product when you’re latching onto items you’ve only known for a few days?”

Another groan, this one louder than the first.  You really were tired – it was a struggle just to keep your eyes open. “I don’t sulk in your restaurant ‘cause I want to be lectured, y’know.”

“And I didn’t open a restaurant because I wanted people with pathetic love-lives to sulk in it.” It was his turn to sigh, now, to settle closer to you. A hand came to rest on your back, rubbing small circles into the space between your shoulder blades. He was never especially touchy – you’d caught him cringing after shaking hands with a business partner or being nudged by another clumsy student in an overcrowded hallway more than once – but you could tell he tried to an exception, for you. You appreciated the effort, no matter how much it apparently hurt him. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it wouldn’t hurt you if stopped rushing into relationships with people you barely know. Taking your time might save you a little heartache.” He paused. You weren’t looking at him, but you could picture the thin frown playing over his lips, the way his eyes narrowed in concentration rather than anger (because when Azul was angry, hr only ever smiled). He was smart, but predictable. Maybe it was just because of how long you’d known each other, how long you’d spent standing at Azul’s side while he looked down on everyone else, but either way, you could read him like the back of your hand. You didn’t have to see him to know exactly what he was thinking. “Or, if you really have to rush into something, you could try starting a relationship with someone you actually know. It might not be as much fun, but it couldn’t be worse than—” He gestured to you, your hunched posture, your wrinkled uniform. “—this.”

You perked up, letting out an airy laugh. It was rare for Azul to hand out advice without asking for a healthy fee, so you tried to nod, to smile, to look like you weren’t on the verge of passing out and forcing him to carry you back to your dorm. “I… I’ll think about it. I’ll try.” And you would. You’d try, at least, like you always did when Azul pulled you aside and told you to stop embarrassing him with your week-long flings. “If I wait long enough, I might even be able to find someone like you, Azul.”

There was a long, silent lapse.

Then, Azul’s hand fell to the small of his back, and you felt your strength snap and give out. You thought, distantly, about batting his hand away, about teasing him for how uncharacteristically affectionate he was being tonight, but you just couldn’t seem to make yourself move, to keep yourself upright. You felt your body slump against Azul’s side, and without missing a beat, he caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist and letting out a shallow sigh.

“Right,” he muttered, as your eyes finally fell shut. You felt like you’d been hollowed out, sapped of something warm and vital and left to gently float into an unwelcome unconsciousness. You tried to scream, but your mouth wouldn’t open, your lips sealed and your tongue useless. You tried to wake up, but that only seemed to drag you down farther, to pull you that much deeper into that awful, exhausting fog.

“Maybe one day, love.”

~

You woke up to the feeling of something inside of you and cold water lapping against your skin.

In your drugged daze, the latter somehow seemed to take priority over the former. It wasn’t just cold, it was freezing, worse than the Coral Sea in the dead of winter, when the ice drifts blotted out the sun and a stray current alone could send you into hypothermic shock. It only came up to your waist, but you felt the chill run up your spine, spreading through your veins and turning your blood to ice. If you’d been able to move, you would’ve been shivering. If you’d been able to think clearly, you would’ve been more afraid.

But you could move, even if you couldn’t think. You managed to lift your hand, bringing it into your line of sight only to find a slick, pitch-black tentacle wrapped around your end, its suckers latched onto your skin and its dull point tangled around your fingers. You recognized it in an instant – Azul’s, down to the lilac-grey underside and the permeant compression marks etched into the tip, earned through countless hours of writing up contracts. You hadn’t him in his true form since you enrolled in NRC. You wondered what would be important enough for him to break his streak now.

Another wave of frigid water broke against your midriff, and you felt something quirk inside of you. It was a tight, bad feeling – a string of tension wound tight enough to coil in on itself, to ache and throb as your cunt stretched around something thick and awful and a soft, blunt head rubbed and flicked against your inner walls. Wait, that was right – something was inside of you, thrusting as it curled and twisted and thrashed. You felt it curve in on itself, the base rising to grind against your clit as it moved, and you bolted upward, taking a gasping breath. It didn’t stop you. The tentacles wrapped around both your wrists and draped over your legs weighed you down but offered no resistance as you straighten your back, as you panted and blinked and ran your hand over your stomach, half-expecting to feel a bump where it was stabbing into you. You didn’t find what you were looking for, though, or maybe you did, you couldn’t tell, your attention already moving on to the wading pool you were laying in, shallow but wide and full enough for the water to spill over the sides, and then the thing on top of you, your eyes eventually land on–

On Azul.

Azul.

Your mouth fell open, a plea for him to help you dying in your throat. He looked as strung-out as you felt; his hair pushed away from his face, giving you a perfect view of his half-lidded eyes, his parted lips, the dark blush painted across his cheeks. His hands were braced on either side of you, edging too near to your hips for comfort, and you were suddenly aware of just how close he was to you, his chest a breath from pressing into yours. Even that distance was a temporary luxury, gone as soon as your eyes met and he let out a hitched groan, falling forward until his face was buried in your neck and you couldn’t so much as imagine getting away from him.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, your legs thrashing weakly as you attempted to push him away, but now, now he chose to restrain you, his spare arms dragging yours down until they were pinned to your sides. Your legs were caught up in his tentacles, too; a pair wrapping around your thighs and spreading them apart, dragging you deeper into the water and leaving you unable to hold yourself up. His breath was as cold as the water, fanning over your skin and making the heat beginning to drip down the inside of your thighs that much more unbearable. You heard him whine, the noise pitchy and desperate, going on for seconds before he seemed to find the will to actually speak. You weren’t sure which would’ve been worse – hearing his voice in a place like this, or watching him abuse your body without so much as an apology.

“You’re tight.” There was a stilted inhale, a trembling groan. “I— Fuck, I knew you would be, but it’s like your body’s been waiting for this as long as I have. It’s like—” His voice gave out, a manic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It’s like we were made for each other.”

He sounded so happy. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him excited about something other than schemes and contracts and profit margins measured down to the last stray cent. Usually, the closest you got was a sense of smug condescension – a certain light in his eyes and a manic zeal in his grin. This was different. This was so, so much worse.

You felt his mouth latch onto your throat, pointed teeth nipping at the skin just above your jugular before burrowing into you, drawing enough blood to drip down your chest and tint the water pink. He wasn’t satisfied with a single mark, either; his attention falling lower, to the curve of your shoulder, then the vulnerable flesh just above your collarbone. As his concentration wavered, you were allowed to slump forward, but yet another tentacle found its way to your neck, wrapping loosely around your throat, applying just enough pressure to keep you upright. It reminded you of how Azul would correct your posture when he caught you hunching over your desk, or how he’d tell you to stand just a little closer to his side while he was talking to the other dorm leaders, to sit next to him rather than across the room while he was meeting with a student who spared anything more than a stray glance in your direction. He’d never been afraid to pose you. This was just an extension of that, really – a more honest version of the same bad habit.

The rough underside of the tentacle inside of you rubbed against the walls of your pussy, and you imagined digging your nails into his cheek, clawing at his eyes, kicking and thrashing and yelling until someone heard you, until Azul decided the risk wasn’t worth the reward, but you couldn’t bring yourself to so much as attempt to move, to fight against his bondage. It was all you could do to watch him from a distance, to force yourself to be vaguely aware of what he was doing to you. The tentacle inside of you fell into a steady rhythm, and Azul’s hand fell to your clit, clumsily circling the hypersensitive bundle of nerves. His inexperience was apparent, his usual air of confidence discarded in favor of seeking his pleasure and forcing the same misplaced bliss onto you. You didn’t resist, but you jerked away from his touch. If he noticed that you were trying to get away from him, though, if he could see your pained expression or grit teeth, he didn’t seem to care, to think of it as anything other than you bucking into his hand. He tilted his head back, his pale eyes flickering towards your face, a wide smile plastering itself across his lips. Slowly, joltingly, he pulled himself back to your height and before you could brace yourself, his lips were crashing into yours. Teeth scraped against teeth, his tongue pressed into yours, and you thought, through the daze, that this might’ve been his first kiss. You couldn’t remember him mentioning anything, ever telling you about a pretty girl or cute boy who’d caught his eye. In fact, you couldn’t remember him ever mentioning anything about love or romance at all.

Huh.

It made sense, once you took a step back.

You didn’t kiss back. Obviously, you didn’t kiss back. Azul didn’t seem to care. He was panting by the time he pulled away from you, his blush darker and his pupils blown out with lust. You felt the tentacle inside of you twitch, and thought for the first time that it might not be a tentacle at all but something too terrible to name. You were almost thankful when the tentacle around your neck slipped past your lips and forced your teeth apart, giving you something to think about aside from that awful, slick thing inside of you, aside from the revolting heat slowly beginning to curl and flicker in your core. The tapered tip brushed against the back of your throat and you gagged violently, the air hitching in your throat and your body lurching against his. Azul’s grin grew broader, his pace rougher. “You’re going to cum.” It wasn’t an order or a question, just an assessment, an observation. A prediction you could only hope wouldn’t come true. “That’s alright. That’s perfect. I want you to. I’ve waited so long to—”

His voice cut out with an airy groan. He pressed himself closer to you, his stare boring into skin and his lips ghosting over yours. You tried to turn away, to clench your eyes shut, but his hands came up, cupping your face and pulling you back to him. The tentacle assaulting your mouth jutted deeper, forcing you to open your eyes, to meet his. He was crying – you could see the tear tracks running down his cheeks, carving trails across his pale skin. He was smiling, wider than you’d ever seen him smile before.

“I tried to give you a chance.” He was muttering, now, the words barely audible and entirely deafening all at once. “I tried, but this is what you drove me to.” He rested his forehead against yours, drove his nails into your jaw. “This was the only way I could show you that we were made for each other.”

Made for each other. Made for each other.

The conviction in his voice was so steadfast that, maybe, in another scenario, you probably would’ve believed him.

A tight, searing heat washed over you. Your body went rigid, tensing up as your vision burnt white and your cunt clenched around his tentacle. At the same time, something burst open inside of you, filling you with something hot and horrible and so much worse than the water you were still submerged in, the water you wished would’ve drowned you minutes ago. Rather than pull back, you felt Azul draw closer, wind around you tighter, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t.

Going limp, you leaned against the edge of the pool and closed your eyes, letting your mind drift far, far away. Azul let you, his hands falling away but his tentacles persisting with their grinding and groping and invading. It didn’t matter. It was like Azul said – you were made for each other, right?

You could only wonder how long ago he’d decided that.