#and being in a PLACE that is like this because of him

[ridingthatd]

𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐍

older man.

something about them.

something about their fat meaty cocks.

something about the girthiness of their veiny cock.

something about the way their swollen red tip push your meaty pussy lips apart, ripping through the sticky gummy walls of your pussy.

something about the way their fat cocks pound the cervix of your needy wet pussy.

heavy balls slamming with a wet sound against your soft ass with each hard thrust.

veiny thick forearm flexing as they keep your little sore pussy spread, gaped wide open ready to feed on cock.

pushing your leg next to your head, putting you in a position you never thought you could be put in.

leaning in close to your face while their rough hands never leaving your legs, sweat dripping from their messy hair as they huff, grunt like a dog in heat, rutting into your pussy.

something about them got you obsessed.

so obsessed to the point you had no dignity, being degraded like that at your work place.

your wet pussy gaped widen open at the meeting table. hot fluid gushing from your twitching hole, dripping down the table, coating it with your sticky juice.

four hungry eyes on you, four heavy cocks out, swollen with boiled cum that was ready to be fucked in you.

you were blindfolded, a chokeball was pushing down your wet tongue causing you to drool everywhere, warm saliva dripping down your lips.

you can feel a rough finger slowly circling your puffy clit before trailing down and circling your hole.

"already this fucking wet?". your boss, sukuna tsk at the filthy mess your pussy was making.

he doesn't give you time to react to his words because he already shoved two of his thick fingers deep inside your leaking hole.

two fingers turn into four fingers. your eyes were crossed, choking on your own drool as you tremble. you can feel sukuna slowly shoving his whole fist into your already sore pussy.

you hear gojo groaning behind sukuna as he watches the way your poor little pussy was spurting juice everywhere, trying to swallow sukunas fist.

your hole was gaping wide open as it gets hammered by his fist, your needy pussy sucks his whole fist in with a squelchy wet sound.

he was ripping your pink gooey walls apart, sukuna hiss as he feels the warmth and stickiness of your walls gripping his fist tightly.

"tryin to milk' my fucking fist? hm?". sukuna growls before pounding his hand further into your pussy, creating a belly bludge. your eyes widen, a muffled scream rip out of you as you feel him hitting your cervix, you can feel him in your belly.

he doesn't give you time to adjust. his fist was already thrusting out with a wet sloppy pop, your pussy was gaping open, your gummy slimey walls were visible to the other men in the room, before he shoves it back in.

your pussy effortlessly sucks his fist back in, the lewd sound of your swollen pussy being fisted filled the room.

sukunas fist kept bludging your belly as he fucks it in, and the bludge dissolve as he fucks it out. drill it inside your belly.

you were choking on your sobs, getting treated like nothing but a pussy socket.

you were squirting everywhere with each pound of his fist, hot fluid flying across the room as your warm cum was spurting down his forearm, spilling, dripping and coating his shirt that was rolled up his forearm.

they didn't go to waste, because little did you know toji was rubbing his fat cock on the table that was coated with your hot fluid.

coating his swollen pink tip with your juice, mixing it with his precum that was leaking down his veiny dick.

your mind was to foggy, to fucked to realize gojo and geto were stroking their meaty cock in front of your face.

panting as they squeeze their sensitive tip one last time before hot piss shoot directly into your choked mouth.

mixing with the drool that was dripping down your lips.

continue?...

[sugucide]

two weeks.

it's been two weeks since kento has been inside of you. He's gone months, hell even years without sex before he met you and he was fine. he didn't even wish for it like most of his bachelor counterparts did.

but now that he's had a taste of you? two weeks may as well be a death sentence. which is ironic, giving the nature of this sex ban. everything you do is inviting: maybe it's just his underworked sex drive or maybe he's reverted back to his teenage years because he sure does feel like an impatient, entitled brat whenever you walk past him.

he can smell you. not the smell of your perfume you spritz on each morning. not the product in you hair. not the moisturiser you use. but you, the scent of your self, your body, the skin he's so often inhaled as he bit down between your thighs or up the column of your neck. he can smell the memories of sex, sweaty and tangled in pheromones and all things primal.

he can hear you. not your words or laughter or the way you hum absentmindedly when you're pottering around the house. he can hear that sharp little intake of breath when you accidentally, or not-so-accidentally, brush against him. he can hear that whining tinge to your voice when you tell him you won't sleep with him, that you're punishing him, as if its moreso a punishment for you than him. he can remember the way you'd moan for him, desperate and glassy eyed and oh so perfect for him as he ruins you from the inside out.

he can't take it anymore.

"two weeks is more than enough time for me to think about my actions," he tells you over dinner one night, eyes cast downwards at his plate. "...and to come up with a suitable apology."

you place your chopsticks down at his last words and look up at your husband. "oh? let's hear it then."

over the frames of his glasses, kento's eyes meet yours. "i apologise for worrying you and risking my life for my work."

you tap your fingers against the table. "and will you continue to do it?"

"yes," he admits. "it's my job, one that i do well. if i die doing it, i hope it's in place of someone who didn't sign up for it, like you."

kento reaches over the table and takes your hand. "i can't just stop being a sorcerer. that would be too selfish of me. but i do promise that i will make more of an effort to reduce my chances of getting hurt from now on: no more unnecessary risks. okay?"

though that was all you needed to hear from him, you start to wonder if lifting the sex ban was a good idea when your pent-up husband is swiping plates from the dinner table to make room for you to lay back on it. claiming he can't wait the few extra second to carry you to the bedroom, he has you stripped and laid bare on the dining room table in no time, and he's ready for his meal.

"missed her," he mumbles as he parts your legs with a strong hand and bends down to kiss once at your clit. that's about and gentlemanly as it gets, though, because soon after he's making out with your pussy like he's a virgin. no technique, no precision, nothing but unfiltered need and its so much hotter than you'd imagine it to be.

eyes locking onto yours from between your thighs, he adds two fingers and works you open. two weeks was a long time for the both of you, so he'll need to get you used to the stretch of him again. he scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them upwards to hit your g-spot and smirks like a saint when your back arches off the table in response.

"missed you ken," you ramble on as your climax nears. "missed you so much. hated doing this. love you. loveyouloveyou god i love you."

you cum hard, harder than you've cum in a long time and kento laps it up like he's never tasted anything so good. he savours your taste on his tongue like he would an aged wine, something expensive and delicious and worth keeping bottled. though he's harder than diamond and worried he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't sink inside of you soon. so he stands and undoes his belt in record time (with those lovely hands of his) and repositions you at the end of the table with his leaky cock already pressing against your wet entrance.

he leans over you and shares a kiss with you as he pushes in. he inhales the gasp you let out at the stretch and moans into your mouth as a gift in return. he pulls out almost entirely, so it's just his head nestled in your tight pussy, and then slams in again. hard.

"god kento—" you start, about to chide him for being so rough with you when you notice his face dip into your neck and the sudden warmth filling you from the inside. kento's hips stutter and he bites at the skin of your shoulder to muffle the heavy moans that ache to free themselves from his chest.

"did you just—"

"don't," he cuts you off, cock twitching inside of you with his release. he's plugging you up, keeping you full of him and his cum. "give me a minute and i'll fuck you so stupid that you forget that just happened."

"you just—"

"don't laugh."

"im not laughing! it's just, you know like our first time..."

"shut up." kento's hips pull away and then slam back into yours as he starts a brutal pace with you.

that shuts you up good.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

when you were five, you stole rin’s soccer ball.

you had no malicious intention, really. but rin didn’t realize that and ended up saying some nasty things (“you’re a stupid and annoying poo-head!”) to you, which ended up had you sobbing while you explained that you were really just cleaning the ball because of the grime and dirt on it. rin ended up feeling bad and buying you an ice cream.

when you were eight, you stole rin’s glances.

he was always looking at you, and even when he was supposed to look somewhere else, his eyes stayed on you. like a moth drawn to a flame, he followed you around. he hid when he got shy, blushed when he got caught, and smiled when you talked to him. the reason for it was simple: he realized that you were pretty and nice, and so he liked you.

when you were eleven, you stole rin’s breath.

when he looked at you, his heart would quicken, he would go red, and he almost stopped breathing every time. he always found his heart skipping a beat and his breath quickening to the point where they were non-existent whenever you smiled. he didn’t understand it, it was weird. he wanted to ask sae about it, but he had already left for spain, so rin just assumed he was sick.

when you were fourteen, you stole rin’s first kiss.

it was just experimental; you had seen so many other classmates have their first kiss, and you had to admit that you felt a bit jealous. you wanted to have your first kiss too, but you wanted to save it for someone special. rin, not wanting to see you upset, awkwardly muttered that he was fine with kissing you. he didn’t know how to word it correctly, but it ended up okay in the end. you were both inexperienced and didn’t know how to kiss properly, but it was only a short and soft kiss after all.

when you were seventeen, you stole rin’s heart.

at this point, with the (unwanted) advice from stupid isagi and bachira, rin finally realized that he fell deep down the rabbit hole of being in love. his heart felt like exploding when you touched him, even if it was something as ridiculous as your fingers brushing accidentally. whenever he sees you, in all your ethereal glory, cheering for him in a game, he feels like he can score 50 more goals. the media had never seen the cold and calculating itoshi rin act like this, although the paparazzi and journalists enjoy every moment of his soft look whenever his eyes land on you.

when you were twenty, you stole rin’s virginity.

self explanatory, although rin was surprised he ever got it taken in the first place. it was an awkward first time for the both of you, and although you both had little to no idea of how the hell you do it, you both pulled through. after the session, rin only seemed to fall for you even more. even after he turned into this cold and rude soccer obsessed person, you never left him, and now you’re here, in front of him, sleeping softly in his arms after doing the most intimate things two humans can do with each other.

when you were twenty-three, you stole rin’s last name.

it was a day of tears, love, and eternality. rin’s eyes gleamed with tears when he saw you in that snow white dress, looking like the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen and ever will see. hearing someone call you by his last name, seeing you laugh and talk with his mother, seeing you holding a pastel bouquet of flowers while walking to him, they were all rin’s dream aside from winning the world cup. the shared kiss had much more experience and passion than the one from nine years ago, and you almost cried knowing just that.

finally, when you were twenty-six, you stole rin’s genetics.

okay, maybe you didn’t. he sort of gave it to you in a way…but your kids sure stole his genetics. bright teal eyes, exceptionally long underlashes, and an undeniable passion for soccer. even at 3 months old, your daughter can’t sleep without holding a soccer ball. rin has never been happier, his soccer career at it’s peak, being with his beautiful wife and daughter, and not heaving to worry about you stealing everything else, because you had already stolen everything from him.

and rin prefers it that way.

[wormspoodle]

okay. au thing (?) i needed to get out of my head (its been sitting there for 2 months) its pretty half baked so bear with me

more context/ drawings under the cut:

im not sure if this has been done before, im pretty out of it fandom wise,, but!! this takes place during "Time Traveler's Pig" (s1 ep9)

the idea is that, while fighting over the time tape, dipper and mabel end up running into krampus and henceforth get taken by the krampus and the time tape gets dropped/ left behind in the process (classic)

ford hears the ruckus ofc and goes to investigate like he does in tbob j3 pages and also gets taken by krampus,, dipper and mabel see him and assume it must be a young stan or something bc at this point in the show they don't know anything!

they've never met bill, they only really know/remember mcgucket from the gobblewonker, and they don't know stan has a brother

so they just assume life was hard on stan and he looks different because he's younger (something still feels off to them ofc)

anyway story proceeds how it does in canon, ford is arguing at the krampus while dipper and mabel remember that they dropped the time tape and are also trying to plot a way out, mcgucket shows up and saves the day, and because dipper and mabel don't really know where to go from here, they decide to see if that guy is stan (which he is but not the one they're thinking of)

they all make their way back to the lab/shack for the time being, dipper and mabel find the time tape on the way back and it's damaged (another classic) so ford and mcgucket will have to fix it ofc

some conversations are exchanged, information is gleaned, dipper and mabel watch tv to pass the time and end up seeing on of stan's commercials on the tv and the dots start to slowly connect that something is going on here

those are the more. fleshed out concepts, everything else is pretty vague and undecided but ill also probably never revisit this

some more details/thoughts:

- ford is wearing no winter clothes bc im assuming when he grabbed the lantern to investigate the foot prints, he didn't think much and just threw on his boots or something, which is why he has to take refuge in that cave to stave off frostbite

- dipper and mabel don't connect that old man mcgucket is fiddleford mcgucket bc i don't think they a) think about mcgucket that much to make that connection at this point and b) assume he's just related and not the same person given how old old man mcgucket looks

-dipper does have the journal on him but he's keeping it hidden ofc just in case,, after they find out about stan he'd find out ford is the author probably but i don't want him figuring it out beforehand bc it would complicate things (i also don't think hed show ford his journal bc of. time/ space continuum reasons

- maybe bill will show up or something i dunno. dipper and mabel are armed with the j3 that knows bill is dangerous but they've also never met bill

- idk if they'll find out about the portal, idk if mabel will try and bring stan and ford together, idk what happens,, maybe the time police catch them before they do anything,, shrugging my shoulders

-this au doesn't really have a point i just wanted to draw it bc its fun for me to think about the implications !!

[enigmaris]

If Lois Lane had a nickle for every time she had to help an overpowered boy from the midwest with the power of journalism, she'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but its weird that its happened twice.

Danny watched as Lois pulled out her phone and pulled up a recording app.

“What are you doing?”

“You came to a journalist and are surprised to get an interview?” She asked him, her tone clearly joking. “What you’ve given me here is great kid, but newspaper clippings and copies of federal laws don’t get the public’s attention. I need a story, Phantom’s the story.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

Lois looked at him, less than impressed. Slowly, she turned the screen of her computer until it was visible to both of them. There, in full clarity, was a front-page story from his hometown newspaper. ‘Danny Phantom saves Bus Full of Children!’ and there was a picture of him in his ghost form, his face crystal clear on her screen.

"Phantom’s a ghost. I’m just a dumb kid.” Danny tried again.

Lois pinched the bridge of her nose with her right hand and muttered to herself.

“Why do all you midwestern boys have the same schtick?”

“I’m sorry?” Danny said, unsure if he should be apologizing or not.

“Changing your last name from Fenton to Phantom does not a secret identity make kid. It might work for most civilians, but anyone familiar with the hero game will clock you from a mile away.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

“Sure, kid. But I’m sure you have a way for me to interview him, right? Because I want to talk to him before I do anything else about your town.”

Danny hugged himself and looked down at his knees.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Not the worst I’ve seen. Wonder Woman’s is paper thin. I'm pretty sure most people in DC know who she is outside of the cape and just don’t say anything because she scares them.”

Danny snorted involuntarily at that, looking back up at the woman.

“What’s going on in your town, Phantom? Why come to a journalist and not the Justice League?”

“The Anti-Ecto Acts got passed like a year ago. They state that only being that produces or contains ectoplasm above a certain amount is considered non-sapient and is to be turned over to the government for disposal.” Danny said. “I put the whole thing in there for you to read, but it's long. Amity Park has a lot of ectoplasm in it. It's seeped into the air and water. Normal human people have it in them now. At first, those agents were just firing at me whenever I finished a ghost fight. I could deal with that. Their aim is terrible anyway. But then they figured out that humans can become contaminated with ectoplasm. They decided that meant the entire town was under their jurisdiction. They've decided that means that no one in town counts as human anymore, that we don’t have rights, that they’re doing us a favor by not just exterminating the entire town like the law says.”

Danny leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk in front of Lois Lane. He looked right into her bright eyes and spoke seriously.

“When it was just ghosts under attack, I didn’t think anyone would care. I’ve tried calling the Justice League for help, but they’ve brushed me off. People need to know what’s happening. Anyone can become ecto-contaminated. You just have to be in the right place at the wrong time. It’s not right what’s happening to Amity, Miss Lane. I came to you because if anyone could get the world to listen, to believe, then it's got to be you.”

And Lois Lane smiled. It was a proud, eager smile. The kind of smile Danny had seen on Sam right after she convinced the school to serve a vegan lunch. He barely held back from shivering.

“Well then, Mr. Phantom.” Lois said, before tapping onto the recording app on her phone and starting a recording. “Let’s begin.”

[hotchnersangel]

BUT SHE’S LOOKING AT YOU.

Aaron Hotchner.

cw: It girl!reader x aaron, you’re just so hot everyone wants u tbh, alcohol, men.

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

You are aware that you were attractive, you never had any struggle getting attention from the public, not growing up, not in college and certainly not now. It was rare, apparently, to have both intelligence and beauty but you didn't believe it defined you and your capabilities. Though, it shocked people when you told them your job. They assumed you modelled or were a social media influencer or something of sorts, some guy even told you that your beauty was being wasted on working for the FBI. Yeah, saving people's lives is realllyyy unattractive.

The team was out in a celebratory drink for finishing a rough case, even Aaron had joined the team this time. He didn't often come out but he liked it when he did, he liked spending time with the team, with you, outside of working hours. Though, he disliked having to watch men goggle their eyes at you.

Rossi ordered drinks and a bar tender brought an extra one over.

"Sorry, I didn't order that." Rossi exclaimed and gestured to the drink in the bartenders hand.

"Oh, it was sent by the man at the bar for you." She eclaimed looking at you, you widened your eye and looked to the bar, seeing a man wink at you.

"Lovely..." you said sheepishly and pushed it away, back to her. "Am I okay to send it back?"

The bartender smiles and nods at you, as you watch her walk away and you look back to the team embarasssed.

"Hey pretty lady's on the radar." Morgan exclaimed and you shoot him a look, shifting in your seat and looking at Aaron who was already watching you.

"You act like it's not always like this," Emily shrugs and sips her drink as you protest, "honey, I don't blame them, I'd buy you a drink if you so much as breathed in my direction."

You laugh at her dramatic comment and shook your head. "I appreciate the praise but really I'm not interested."

"By him or by anyone because in the time we've known you, you've been hit on by all of us combined and tripled." JJ laughs and sips her drink, genuinely curious.

"You're dramatic," you say softly, "but, it doesn't mean that I don't want a relationship just... I don't like the men that hit on me I guess." You shrug, looking at Aaron.

"Some of the men are absolutely delicious sweetie, you can't deny that." Garcia argues excitedly.

Morgan seems to catch on. "Oh, oh."

"What?" you ask him curiously.

"Pretty lady over here has a crush." He smirks and the others gasp with excitement at the gossip.

"I'm getting another drink." You stand up and go to the bar, Aaron getting out to follow you. You both head to the bar and order your drinks, Aaron paying.

"You didn't have to pay," you smile at him, ignoring the glances being thrown in your direction from well... everywhere.

"No but I wanted to." He shrugs and looks at you as your drinks are getting prepared. "You look beautiful by the way."

You blush and look down them back up at him, grinning widely. "Thank you. So do you."

You thank the bartender but make no move to leave the bar to return to the table just yet, looking back at Aaron. "You're different with me, why?"

"What do you mean?" You smile as you look at him, you knew what he meant.

"You know what I mean. You don’t seem to be sending the drink I bought you back.” He smirks slightly and you laugh, looking into his eyes.

“I feel safe with you.” You shrug and sip your drink. “Plus, you’re double the man these are.”

He raises a brow at you. “How so?”

You sigh and look at him. “A girl wants to be considered more than ‘hot’, to be called more than ‘sexy’ in her lifetime.” You shrug and look up at him.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, you make me feel beautiful.” You say softly looking at him, tilting your head as you admire his face.

He smiles at you, a genuine smile as he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you back to the table. Sitting opposite you once more. You join in a conversation with Emily, Garcia, Spencer and JJ.

Aaron on the other hand id being smirked at by Morgan and Rossi. “Don’t.”

“Oh- we don’t have to say anything.” Rossi smirks, with a knowing look as he raises his glass to Aaron.

“You’re in the big L Hotch,” Morgan chuckles, shaking his head.

“Everybody watches her… she is probably the most wanted woman here tonight. I have no chance.” Hotch shakes his head.

“Everybody may be watching her, but she’s looking at you.”

——————

[pathologicalreid]

all the debts i owe | s.r.

in which Spencer takes your kids into account when deciding whether or not he should take a plea deal, and it doesn't go the way you expect

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: prison reid, takes place during 12x14 "collision course", i love my little reid family so much word count: 1.29k a/n: caamp song fic caamp song fic caamp song fic everyone cheered!!!!

Somehow, you felt like you were invading a conversation that you shouldn’t be a part of. Emily and Spencer knew this world much better than you did, and you were nothing more than a fly on the wall, grateful to be in close proximity to your husband after a few days of him being in jail.

You’d stopped by yesterday, dropping off a bag of his belongings and leaving them with Emily. You had wanted to see him then, if for nothing more than a confirmation that he was still breathing, but he was finally getting some sleep. The comfort of knowing that he had Emily watching over him had to be enough.

Spencer wasn’t allowed to keep his wedding band on. It was something that the jail was going to hold on to, but Emily had intervened and arranged for you to keep it.

The gold band weighed heavy against your chest, suspended by a chain around your neck for safe keeping, you kept it tucked into the collar of your sweater while you watched Spencer and Emily talk. “Please, just think about it,” Emily pleaded with him. “Think about the evidence.”

“I know,” Spencer assured her. “Scratch dots his Is and crosses his Ts. We know that,” he responded, brown eyes flickering over to yours for just a moment.

Leaning heavily against the wall for support, Emily shook her head, “But a jury won’t. A jury will only see what Scratch wants them to see.”

You shifted on your chair, resting your elbows on the table and propping your head in your hands. “You think they’ll convict me?” Spencer asked, a string of hurt threaded through his voice as if the thought of a jury of his peers thinking he was a killer caused him physical pain.

“I don’t know,” Emily answered, her voice barely above a whisper, “But if they do. Five years—that’s doable. You are young. You can have a life after that.” You were grateful for Emily; it seemed like she was doing the begging that you didn’t have the energy for.

“Not as an FBI agent,” Spencer rebutted, “I’d be a convicted felon.”

Her face softened as you watched, “Yes,” she acquiesced, “but you’d be free.”

At the first sign of tears in Spencer’s eyes, you felt water lining your own, “The FBI is my home. It’s where I belong.”

Emily looked at you for help, but you couldn’t get yourself to speak. You understood Spencer in a way few people ever could, the idea of him not being a part of the BAU made your chest ache as much as it did his. “You don’t belong in prison, and if you play Russian roulette with this… twenty-five years. That is a lifetime.”

Your husband lifts his chin in a display of false confidence, “If Scratch is framing me, you guys will get him. I know you will.”

“Yes, we will. I promise you we will never give up, and we will exonerate you.” Familiar silver started to line Emily’s eyes as well, “But what if we can’t do that this week? Or this year? Or this… decade? Because I know we can’t do it before your arraignment.”

Spencer turned to look at you, fully facing you for the first time since you arrived at the conference room this morning. “Thirty, twenty-seven, and twenty-five.”

Emily shook her head, confused. “What? What is that?” Her dark brows were knit together, looking between the two of you as she waited for an explanation.

You faced the two of them, wiping your sweaty palms across your jeans, “That’s how old our kids would be when he gets released.”

“They won’t even know who I am,” he said miserably, looking up at the ceiling to stop tears from gathering in his eyes.

Standing up from the chair, you stepped over to him, taking your rightful place at his side. “You could take the new deal, Spence,” you reminded him. “Five to ten—”

“I need to see them grow up,” he pleaded, brown eyes boring into you as he begged you to understand. Spencer always accounted for every possible outcome. Despite the haze of the past few days, you were sure that he knew what he was getting himself into.

You nodded up at him, taking one of his hands in yours before glancing over at Emily, “Can you give us a minute?”

Prentiss sighed and gave the both of you an understanding look before she slipped out of the room. “I need to see them grow up,” he repeated himself, dragging his free hand down his face while you squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“I know,” you whispered, “but with the deal… five years.”

“Or ten,” he countered. “Ten years… Nell would be in high school.”

Your stomach flipped at the idea, your oldest baby in high school, and just like that, you understood Spencer’s decision. You’d be there, outside in the world with your kids for those five to ten years; you’d see all of the in-between. Spencer would miss everything, learning about his own children through phone calls and letters, he’d play a passive role in their lives. If there was even the slightest chance that he would plead not guilty and win, then this whole nightmare would be over. “You have to fight,” you said, announcing the conclusion that he had already come to.

He nodded in confirmation, “Angel,” he whispered, “I don’t want you to come to the arraignment.”

Your breathing hitched, “What?”

“I want you to be with the kids. You’re the only parent they’ll have for who knows how long,” he explained himself.

You hadn’t worked out what you were going to tell the kids. They were too young to understand. Finn was barely out of the newborn phase, Livvy’s vocabulary was expanding every day, and Nell… Spencer was Nell’s best friend. Steeling your expression, you nodded once, “Okay, I won’t go.”

His lips parted and closed like he wanted to say something but stopped himself, you squeezed his hand in an attempt to be encouraging. “Just in case things don’t go the way we want… don’t wait for me.”

You dropped his hand, shaking your head in horror. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing from him, without a second thought, you reached into your shirt and pulled his wedding band out, leaving it on the chain, “For better or for worse, Spencer.”

“This is far worse than anything we could have ever thought of,” he continued, trying to give you an out. You could leave and he wouldn’t fault you, but you’d fault yourself.

Instead, you waved away his offer, “It would be an honor to wait for you. If that’s what it takes for me to see you again.”

He kissed you. Ducking his head until his lips met yours, there was nothing chaste about it. You both knew it was the last kiss, and it had to be good enough to last a lifetime. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, fueled purely by emotion; you kissed him like you’d never see him again. You gripped the collar of his sweater to discourage him from pulling away, and you tried to memorize the feeling of his hands on your waist.

A hollow feeling filled your chest when he pulled away, “I love you,” you breathed.

He nodded, resting his forehead against yours, “I love you too.” He pressed another small kiss to your lips, “I’ll make this up to you.”

You let yourself be pulled into his embrace, burying your face in his chest. You held onto him because this moment couldn’t last forever, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to drag it out.

[ventique18]

Dragon Malleus headcanons

You're used to how he looks in his two-legged fae form. Everyone is, honestly. But the thing is, that's not really how he truly, originally looks like. And though he knows his form of flesh is just as much of who he is as his origin, there are times when he undergoes some sort of withdrawal; a primal need to be back in the skin he was molded in. So he would occasionally spend a few days living his life as a gigantic dragon.

He doesn't particularly like being in his dragon form. He knows he's glorious and takes pride in that, of course, but it's just that it's so inconvenient. He can't fit in places. He can't grab things. He can't make gargoyles. He has to eat an entire town's worth of food just to not be hungry. But most of all, he can't really feel.

He's extremely durable. He's already impervious to damage in his humanoid form, but even more so as a dragon with walls and walls of the hardest material on Twisted Wonderland permanently attached to his body. Which is great, of course-- it's essential to his survival, but it comes with the caveat that no matter how much you touch him, no matter how much you try to show physical affection towards him, he simply cannot feel.

But there is one part of him that's soft. Something that isn't covered inch to inch in scales. His tongue.

So what best to take advantage of this little weakness than to cover you head to toe in slobber, of course?

Take note that him doing so doesn't imply anything malicious (unless you want to, of course). It's just that it's so easy to feel your presence by licking you. He can touch you without accidentally hurting you. And, as much as he refuses to admit it to avoid sounding like a pervert, being able to smell your familiar scent gives him a tender comfort. A sense of welcoming even in this world that refuses to welcome him in his rawest form.

But being covered in slobber isn't exactly the best feeling in the world. When you tell him that, the... fins on his jaw draw back, and he plants himself on the ground; snout partially buried behind his curled claws. Dragons aren't particularly expressive, but you can safely guess that he's feeling guilty of bothering you.

So you offer to help him find somewhere else to touch. He's a bit hesitant-- it seems dragons don't like the idea of exploring their weaknesses, but he agrees because it's you.

And would you look at that. He can feel you when you vigorously rub his belly. The feeling isn't really as detailed as his tongue's, but he can feel something. And it feels rather... Rather... Relaxing. He's huge though, so from your perspective it's like washing a car, but with exaggerated movements as a stroke from your height's head to toe is like scratching a spot for him.

It's tiring, but you persist with the power of love.

So this becomes a habit for you. When he transforms into a dragon, he would ask you to rub his belly, or ask for your permission to be licked if you don't look like you're in a bad mood that day. All of this is done somewhere private, of course.

So when someone would walk in by accident... And witness their prince rolled over like a dog, getting petted on his tummy... It goes to say that the dragon would be gone in a flash; replaced by a very angry, very threatening unit of a man very politely asking the intruder if he saw something. Of course the answer is always "not a single thing, sir!".

You laugh, and ask if he wants to continue with what you were doing. He sighs, refuses, and says he's not in the mood for childish amusement anymore.

"But... I can think of other, more enjoyable things we can do together."

And so the dragon, now in his villainous, irresistibly devilish form, whisks his prisoner away to a place no one knows.

[gf2bellamy]

Can you write about reader and Spencer’s wedding night and him helping reader take down her hair and wash off her makeup and take off her dress. And reader and Spencer being goofy and practicing calling each other husband and wife because they’re new titles that they’re so excited to use

wedding night — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader saying she's suffocating in her dress?😭 a/n: i hope i did your request justice !! <3 i hope you like it <333 ( i wanna be married to spencer so bad oh my god )

You stood behind Spencer, your fingers resting lightly against his back as you waited—not so patiently—for him to unlock the hotel room door. 

“Hurry up,” you huffed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I need to get out of this tight dress.” 

Spencer fumbled slightly with the keycard, mumbling something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

Finally, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open, stepping aside to let you in first. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamps casting a warm ambiance over the space. Rose petals were scattered across the bed—a sweet surprise you hadn't expected—and the faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air. 

You barely had time to take it all in before Spencer turned to you, his eyes sweeping over you with the kind of admiration that made your breath catch. 

“You look beautiful,” he said softly. 

Something in the way he said it made your heart melt. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was a statement filled with pure admiration, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were his. 

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Thank you, Spencer.” 

But then you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “But you’re going to have to appreciate my beauty without it now because I’m about to suffocate in this dress.” 

You turned around, exposing the intricate lacework of the back, and pulled your hair to one side.

There was a brief pause before you felt his fingers graze the zipper at the top of your dress. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, and the warmth of his hands sent a shiver down your spine. 

He took his time, carefully pulling the zipper down inch by inch, revealing the bare skin of your back. His fingers brushed against you ever so slightly, and despite the fact that you had been with him for years—had just married him today—his touch still made you shiver. 

Spencer let out a quiet breath, and you swore you could feel the warmth of it against your shoulder. 

“You have no idea how breathtaking you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

You turned your head slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror across the room. His gaze wasn’t just admiring—it was adoring. Like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. 

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you reached back, taking one of his hands in yours. “I think I do,” you said, squeezing his fingers gently. “Because you always make me feel that way.” 

Spencer exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment. 

You smiled softly, the warmth of the moment still lingering between you and Spencer. But as the cool air hit your back from the half-open zipper, reality set in—you needed to get out of this dress completely and into something comfortable. 

Your eyes flickered around the room, searching for your bags. “Where did Penelope put our stuff?” you murmured, more to yourself than to Spencer. 

You were practically dreaming of slipping into one of his shirts—something soft, loose, and big enough to drown you in warmth. The thought alone made you sigh in relief. 

Spencer, still standing behind you, let his hand drop from your back, his fingers briefly brushing against your skin before he turned to scan the room. It didn’t take long for him to spot the neatly placed bags by the bed, courtesy of Penelope’s insistence on handling every little detail. 

Without a word, he walked over, unzipping one of the suitcases and pulling out a familiar button-down shirt. He held it out to you, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric. “Here,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours. 

You smiled, taking it from him, your fingers brushing briefly. As he turned away to shrug off his suit jacket, you wasted no time in stepping out of the gown. The heavy fabric pooled at your feet, and you sighed in relief as the pressure around your torso was finally gone. 

Slipping Spencer’s shirt over your head, you felt instant comfort. It smelled like him—clean, warm, and familiar. The fabric hung loosely over your frame, the sleeves falling just past your wrists. You buttoned it up halfway before rolling the cuffs slightly, already feeling cozier than you had all night. 

By the time you turned back around, Spencer was standing near the dresser, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. 

You couldn’t help but admire him for a second—how even after all these years, just looking at him could send warmth fluttering through your chest. 

Spencer glanced up just in time to catch you staring, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “You look good in my shirt,” he murmured, his voice softer than before. 

You grinned, hugging yourself slightly as you rocked on your heels. “I love your shirts. I think I might steal this one permanently.” 

You turned away from Spencer with a smile, heading into the bathroom. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes widened in pure awe. 

“Wow,” you breathed out, staring at the luxurious space in front of you. 

Spencer, hearing your reaction, quickly pulled on something more comfortable before following you inside. “What—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyebrows raising slightly as he took in the enormous bathroom. 

The walls were lined with elegant marble, a massive soaking tub sat in one corner, and a glass-enclosed rain shower took up nearly half the space. But what really caught your attention was the mirror—the biggest bathroom mirror you had ever seen. 

“I have never seen a bathroom this big,” you marveled, still taking it all in. 

Spencer chuckled softly behind you. “I think this is bigger than my first apartment.” 

Your gaze shifted to the countertop, and your heart swelled at what you saw. Lined up neatly beside the sink were a variety of makeup removers, cotton pads, and skincare essentials—things you hadn’t packed. 

“Oh my God,” you sighed happily, pressing a hand to your chest. “The girls are angels.” 

Penelope, JJ, and Emily must have planned this—always looking out for you, always making sure you had everything you needed. It was such a small gesture, yet it made you feel so loved. 

You reached for one of the makeup removers, ready to start wiping away the remnants of the long day, but before you could, Spencer stepped closer. 

“Let me help you,” he murmured, gently taking the bottle from your hands. 

You blinked up at him, a little surprised, but you didn’t protest. Instead, you let out a soft hum, leaning back slightly against the counter as he got to work. 

Spencer carefully poured the remover onto a cotton pad, then reached up, his fingers grazing your jaw as he began to wipe away the makeup with slow, featherlight strokes. 

His touch was so delicate—as if he was handling something rare and precious. His gaze was focused, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, and the warmth of his fingertips against your skin sent tiny shivers down your spine. 

You couldn’t help the soft smile that crept onto your lips. 

“Spencer?” you murmured. 

His eyes flickered to yours, pausing his movements slightly. “Hmm?” 

A grin tugged at your lips as you stared at him, really stared at him. The man standing in front of you—the man who was so impossibly brilliant, kind, and completely yours. 

“You know you’re my husband now?” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice as you grinned at the word. 

Spencer’s lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. He resumed his gentle strokes, wiping away the last traces of your makeup before whispering, “Yes.” 

He tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the softest caress. 

“And you’re my wife now,” he murmured. 

Your heart melted. 

Hearing that word from him—knowing that it was real, that you were truly his and he was yours—made you want to throw your arms around him and never let go. 

You bit your lip, happiness bubbling up inside you like an uncontrollable wave. “Say it again,” you whispered. 

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his hands still cradling your face. He leaned in, pressing the lightest of kisses to your forehead before whispering against your skin: 

“My wife.” 

Your stomach fluttered, and you grinned at the sound of it. Wife. You were his wife. 

Spencer paused for a moment, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. Then, without a word, he set the makeup wipe aside and reached up, his fingers finding the pins holding your hair in place. 

You sighed as he carefully pulled them out one by one, loosening the strands from the elaborate style they had been twisted into all day. His fingers worked through your hair, letting it cascade freely around your shoulders. 

When he was done, he ran his hands through it gently, smoothing it out before tucking a stray piece behind your ear. 

“There,” he murmured, his voice laced with something deep and fond. “Perfect.” 

You met his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of him—of you together, standing in this quiet moment as husband and wife. 

Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against him. You let your hands rest on his back, leaning into his warmth. 

“I think I could get used to this,” you whispered. 

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his embrace tightening slightly. “Me too,” he murmured. “For the rest of my life.” 

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

random turn ons ♡ - lads headcanons

prompt: just some things i think would get the boys in the mood that aren't inherently naughty ;) rating: n-fw, 18+, minors dni cw: slight smut, implied fem!reader, some physical descriptions given (mostly vague, but please feel free to imagine mc however you like, regardless of what i've written!) ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

Xavier: -Lounge wear! -Because it means he can probably convince you to take a nap with him, but also because no one else has the privilege of seeing you wearing that -He likes literally every type of lounge wear, but he is partial to tight fitting shorts and lace camisoles -His hands will wander while you’re watching TV, fingers brushing against the skin on your stomach and your thighs -You: “What are you doing, Xav?” Xavier: “Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just think you feel so soft.” -He’ll make sure to plant plenty of kisses on every inch of skin he can reach, hiking up your shirt to kiss there, too -Also unabashedly into watching you eat anything that could be taken sexually -Ice cream? Forget about it. Popsicles? He’s gonna cream his jeans -He just really loves watching your lips close around certain things -“Maybe you can show me how you do that later?”

Zayne: -Sundresses -There’s just something about the way the summer air billows through the fabric, framing your body, each particularly strong gust showing him the tiniest peak of your ass -If the straps fall off of your shoulder, so help him now he might just have to make a quick detour with you somewhere private -Also loves when you try on his glasses, even though he’s far too pragmatic to admit it -You: “Do I look smart enough, Dr. Zayne?” Zayne, trying to hide the blush blooming on his cheeks: “Smart? Yes, of course. Let’s go with that.” -Will fully make out with you when you’re wearing his glasses, pulling you onto his lap in his office to help him relieve some of the pressure building up from seeing you in them -When you realize this, you make sure to steal them more often, feigning innocent the entire time so that he doesn’t catch on to your schemes

Rafayel: -You know those cliche videos of women getting out of the pool in slow motion? Yeah, that’s what Raf sees every time you go swimming or get out of the shower -Your wet hair slicked back, water droplets clinging to you skin, the glow of the light reflecting shimmery sunshine -Eyes would do that cartoony ‘awooga’ if they could -Pulling you against him, he says, “You got me all wet, guess we’ll have to take off these clothes, huh?” -Also super into your hands -As an artist, he appreciates the nuances of the human body, and you are his forever his muse -He’ll play with your fingers, turning your palm over in his hand, kissing each individual digit -Usually leads to your hands moving to touch him elsewhere, his dramatic ass claiming all breathy that he’s being touched by the hands of a goddess

Sylus: -Putting your hair up The first time you do this is during a sparring session with him in his boxing ring -You: “Hold up, my hair is in the way.” Sylus: “You’re giving your opponent too much time to plan their next move, kitten.” -You bend over to secure the hair tie in place, and when you flip your head back up Sylus.exe has stopped functioning -He rips the velcro on his boxing glove free with his teeth and corners you in the ring -“Distracting your prey is a good move, too,” he’ll murmur in between kisses -Yeah he’s definitely using that hair tie to pull your hair in bed later -Also loves watching you do your makeup -Will stand in the doorway in the bathroom, one leg crossed over the other to hide how absolutely turned on he is watching the way your mouth slightly hangs open when you put on mascara -You know by now to start getting ready early so you and Sylus have enough time for a quickie before you leave

Caleb: -Cute marks on your face -He absolutely gushes over dimples, birthmarks, freckles, or beauty marks -Likes to poke each place they mark your skin and if you get annoyed with him when he does this, he will only laugh and then kiss each one -The easiest way to get Caleb absolutely feral for you is to wear his tshirts or hoodies -You devise the plan when he is in the shower, taking his favorite shirt and spraying his cologne on it, before pulling it over your naked body -When Caleb enters the room, towel already hanging dangerously low on his hips, he stops in his tracks when he sees you -“My favorite shirt and my favorite girl. Do you want to take it off now or should I ruin both of you tonight?” -Definitely going to take you from behind while you’re wearing it, both of your smells mingling on his skin and driving him crazy

[kashverse]

*inhales* PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GIVE US MORE TEACHER NANAMI AND TEACHER READER OLEASE I AM BEGGING ON MY KNEES I PROMISE TO GIVE YOU MY FIRST CHILD EVERYTHING YIU NEED PLEASE JUST GIVE US MORE TEACHER NANAMIII 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

everyone keep their children to themselves...!!!

the day nanami realized he was madly in love with you was not some dramatic, earth-shattering moment. no, it was when he walked into your classroom, expecting to borrow a simple whiteboard marker, and instead found you holding a live pigeon like some kind of disney princess. "why," he began slowly, blinking at the scene before him, "are you holding a pigeon?"

"oh, hey, nanami," you greeted him, as if nothing about this situation was abnormal. "meet genie."

"genie." he repeated, tone flat.

"yeah! the kids wanted to name him 'mr. pipi,' but, you know… obvious reasons."

nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. "right. obvious reasons."

the children were gathered around you, eyes wide with wonder, absolutely enchanted by the pigeon sitting comfortably in your hands. the bird, for whatever reason, looked completely at peace. in fact, it looked happy. "we were talking about birds today," you explained cheerfully. "and i thought, what better way to learn than with a real one?"

"and how did you acquire a real one?" nanami asked, already dreading the answer.

"i found him in the parking lot. he just let me pick him up."

"of course he did," nanami muttered, because if there was anyone who could just randomly befriend a pigeon, it was you. as you continued your enthusiastic (if wildly inaccurate) explanation of bird anatomy, nanami barely registered the nonsense leaving your mouth.

“this is his wing, and he uses it to flap around.”

("very informative," nanami murmured sarcastically.)

“this is his beak, it's like a built-in spoon!”

("i'm going to pretend i didn't hear that.")

“and his feathers help him fly, just like how airplanes have wings!”

("you are personally offending every biologist alive.")

but the kids were enamored. they nodded along, absolutely believing every word you said. meanwhile, nanami’s class—who had followed him like little ducklings—stood in the doorway crying about how they wanted a pigeon too.

"mr. nanami, it's not fair!"

"we wanna see genie too!"

"why does their class get a cool bird and we don’t?!"

nanami sighed. “we are not getting a pigeon.”

a week later, nanami's class had a hamster named pringles. “so,” you said, leaning against his desk as he watched pringles roll around in his little enclosure, “how does it feel, being out-parented?”

"we are not their parents," nanami deadpanned.

"aren't we?" you grinned. "i mean, we literally argued over pet custody. we had meetings to ensure genie and pringles had separate, safe spaces. you had a full-blown existential crisis when genie tried to eat pringles."

nanami massaged his temples. "genie should not have been near pringles in the first place."

"oh, so now you agree with me?" you teased. he sighed. "i always agreed with you. i just—" he cut himself off, lips pressing into a thin line. you tilted your head. "just what?"

he glanced at you, at the way you smiled at him so effortlessly, and he felt the realization hit him like a freight train. 

he was so incredibly, hopelessly in love with you.

"...nothing," he muttered. "i'm going to lunch."

"oh! combined lunch today?"

"no."

you laughed, and nanami hated how it made his heart race.

[promptedwordsmith]

When you make their favourite meal

Caleb

The moment Caleb stepped through the door, the rich, savory scent of braised chicken wings filled the air, stopping him in his tracks. His sharp purple eyes flickered with curiosity before settling on you, standing in the kitchen with a proud yet slightly nervous smile. His gaze softened immediately.

“You made this?” he asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it from you.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. “I know you’ve been busy, so I thought… well, you always cook for me. I wanted to return the favor.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, taking it all in—the warm, homey smell, the sight of you standing there, the effort you’d put in just for him. A slow smile curved his lips, something rare and unguarded.

He stepped forward, slipping an arm around your waist as he pressed a slow kiss to your temple. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “I hope you made extra, because I’m eating all of it.”

The table was already set, and as soon as you placed the plate in front of him, Caleb wasted no time. He took the first bite, and the instant satisfaction in his expression made you grin. His usual composed demeanor cracked, revealing something far more open, more boyish—genuine delight.

“This is perfect,” he said between bites, barely pausing. “I mean it. The sauce, the seasoning—you got it all right.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You really like it?”

He glanced up at you, giving you a look that said, Are you seriously asking me that? He reached for another wing, effortlessly devouring it before shaking his head with a smirk.

“Like it?” He gestured to his nearly empty plate. “I love it. Is there more?”

You laughed, already reaching for the extra batch you had set aside. “You’re unbelievable.”

Caleb’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the second helping, his expression unreadable for a moment—until he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You didn’t have to do this… but you did.” He met your gaze, his usual intensity softened by something else. “I like taking care of you. But it feels nice… being taken care of too.”

You squeezed his hand, and in that simple moment, Caleb understood—this was love, given back in the way he understood best.

Rafayel

The moment Rafayel stepped through the door, his nose twitched, and his eyes widened in delighted surprise. The scent of his favorite meal filled the air, rich and warm, something he hadn’t had in far too long. His usual languid grace disappeared in an instant—he was at your side within seconds, arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

"You made this for me?" he asked, voice muffled slightly against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes bright with something almost childlike. "You really made this?"

You laughed, pressing a hand against his chest to push him toward the table. "Of course I did. Now sit down before it gets cold!"

He obeyed—mostly—but not without making a show of dragging his chair closer, his expression full of mischief as he picked up his fork. He scooped up a bite, inspecting it dramatically, as if he were a food critic about to judge a five-star meal.

The second it touched his tongue, his face twisted.

"Did you… mix the salt and sugar up again?" he asked, setting his fork down with an exaggerated frown.

Your heart dropped. "What?! No, I— I was so careful this time—!"

His lips twitched. A telltale smirk flickered at the edges of his mouth before fully blooming into his usual grin.

You gaped at him, realization dawning, and then slumped back against the counter in relief. "You’re awful!" you groaned, throwing a napkin at him.

Rafayel merely laughed, catching it mid-air, before promptly ignoring it in favor of shoveling another bite into his mouth—then another, and another, eating like he’d been starved for weeks. "It’s perfect," he admitted between bites, his words slightly muffled. "Seriously, I could eat this every day. You should make it again. Like, tomorrow. And the day after."

"You’re insufferable," you muttered, though warmth bloomed in your chest at his obvious delight.

He only grinned wider, reaching over to tug you down onto the chair beside him. "Maybe," he teased, bumping his knee against yours, "but I’m your problem."

You rolled your eyes, but as you watched him happily devour every bite, you couldn’t help but think—if he wanted this every day, you’d be more than happy to make it for him.

Sylus

Sylus doesn’t look up immediately when you enter his office, his focus still locked onto the documents in front of him. He’s been working for hours, lost in his endless calculations and strategies, barely acknowledging anything outside of his own mind. But when you set the tray down in front of him, the scent of the meal catches his attention. His crimson gaze flicks up, sharp as ever, and then his brow raises—not in judgment, but in surprise.

“You made this?” His voice is smooth, laced with intrigue.

You nod, feeling slightly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze. You could have ordered something, could have asked one of his many personal chefs to prepare his favorite meal, but instead, you went out of your way to make it yourself. The effort shows—not just in the careful arrangement of the dish, but in the tiny smear of sauce on your jaw, evidence of your time spent in the kitchen.

Sylus leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk, his eyes locked onto yours. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he reaches out, taking your face in his hand. His fingers are cool against your warm skin, his grip firm yet careful. You freeze under his touch as his thumb brushes against your jawline, wiping away the stray bit of sauce.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his lips and licks it off.

Your breath catches. Heat floods your face, a reaction that only seems to amuse him further. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, deep and rich with satisfaction.

“How sweet,” he muses, tilting his head slightly, watching the way you squirm under his gaze. “You went through all this trouble for me?”

You swallow, trying to find your voice. “Of course.”

Something flickers in his expression—something unreadable, something softer beneath the usual arrogance. Without another word, he picks up the tray and sets his paperwork aside entirely, pushing it away as if it no longer matters.

He takes his first bite, savoring it, eyes flicking up to you once more. His smirk is subtle, but there’s a rare sincerity behind it.

"It’s good," he murmurs, voice laced with something softer, something real. "You have my full attention now, darling. Tell me—what else do I owe you for such a thoughtful gift?"

Xavier

When you arrive home after a busy day of shopping with Tara, the apartment feels unusually quiet. You make your way through the entryway, setting down your bags, and catch sight of Xavier asleep on the couch, his silver hair spread out messily across the cushion.

It’s rare for him to be so still, especially after such a long day, but he hasn’t stirred even when you entered. He’s usually alert—always on guard, always prepared—but today, he looks like he’s finally let himself rest. His chest rises and falls steadily, the soft sound of his breath filling the room.

You smile softly, your heart tugging at the sight. He’s worked so hard lately, his missions never-ending, always pushing himself past his limits. You’ve been wanting to do something nice for him—something small to show your appreciation for how much he does, for how much he means to you.

You quietly slip into the kitchen, putting your shopping bags aside, and start preparing his favorite meal. The scent of cooked food soon fills the air—the warmth of it feels comforting, almost like the home you’ve built together. The process feels like an act of love, each step taken with care.

When it’s ready, you pause and take a breath before returning to the living room. Xavier is still asleep, his expression serene. You walk over to him, crouching beside the couch and pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then another on his jaw, and one more on his forehead, each kiss soft, careful, trying to wake him without startling him.

His eyelids flutter, and soon, he blinks up at you with groggy blue eyes, trying to make sense of the moment. “Mmm…?” His voice is rough, and he yawns, reaching out with a half-smile that says more than words could.

You lean in and give him one last kiss before pulling away, quick and playful. He reaches for you, his arms still heavy with sleep, but you’re already standing, laughing as you help him up and gently push him to the table.

He sits down with a smile, his eyes still sleepy but grateful. You place the plate in front of him, and when he picks up his fork, he takes the first bite, savoring it as though it’s the most important meal of his life. His gaze lifts to meet yours, and his smile deepens.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice warm, eyes glimmering. “You’re so good to me, you know that?”

You smile back, heart swelling with affection as you sit beside him, happy to see him so content.

Zayne

The day had been longer than usual for Zayne. His normally composed demeanor had been tinged with a faint weariness, the weight of the long hours spent at the hospital starting to show in the slight furrow of his brow. You noticed it—how he seemed a little more quiet than usual, how he sighed a little more heavily when he sat down, how his eyes lingered a moment longer on the clock than on the charts in front of him.

You knew exactly what you had to do.

When you heard that his shift was nearing its end, you slipped into the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for his favorite meal—a dish you knew would comfort him, a warm, homey meal he rarely had time to enjoy. The scent of simmering broth and spices filled the air as you worked, each movement deliberate, each step taken with the intent of giving him a small moment of respite.

By the time the meal was ready, the sun was just beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow over the city. You packed it carefully in containers, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you imagined his reaction.

You arrived at the hospital just as Zayne’s day was coming to a close. His office door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly before stepping inside. He looked up in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your presence.

“Hey,” you said, your voice light, but there was warmth in it. “I brought you something.”

He blinked, his stoic expression softening as he stood up to meet you. “You didn’t have to,” he said, his usual calm demeanor laced with genuine surprise.

When you revealed the meal, his lips curved into a small but pleased smile, a chuckle escaping him. “Well, this is a first,” he teased, eyeing the carefully packed containers. “I wasn’t expecting you to bring me dinner at work.”

You laughed, feeling the tension in your chest ease. "I hope it’s as good as you remember," you said, waiting for his verdict.

He opened the containers, his eyes lighting up with the familiar sight of his favorite dish. “You even got it right,” he murmured, impressed. Then, his teasing nature returned as he looked at you with an exaggerated frown. “But no utensils?”

You hissed in realization, scrambling for something to use, but Zayne just chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said, reaching into one of his desk drawers and pulling out a pair of disposable chopsticks. “These will do just fine.”

He dug in, the first bite making him pause for a moment, savoring the taste. “This is... perfect,” he said between bites, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “Thank you.”

He offered you some of the meal, but you waved it off. “I already ate,” you said with a smile.

As he finished his meal, he stood and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “I really appreciate this,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. “I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, he was off, rushing once again to tend to a patient, but not before giving you one last glance—his eyes filled with a warmth that stayed long after he had left.

[rafesangelita]

bf!rafe x thick!reader.

i’ve been thinking about how reader is insecure about her thick thighs and ass so rafe fucks her dumb in the mirror forcing her to look at herself as he says how perfect she is <3

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, mirror sex, mentions of body image issues and insecurities, body worship, praise, hair pulling, slapping, dirty talk, pregnancy kink (but rafe is serious about it??)

a/n: if you want to read more thick/bigger girl!reader, read this ‘thinking thot’ if you haven’t <3

“fucking look at yourself!” rafe grunted, wrapping a fist in your hair before forcing your head up to stare at your reflection. besides the obvious fact that you looked like a fucked-out mess, rafe wore a smirk that had you squeezing around him with a broken sob. “you’re so insecure and for what?” he landed a harsh smack to your ass, the loud sound making your cheeks heat, “if it wasn’t for this body i wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this..” you cried out when he let go of your hair and grabbed your hips, planting a foot on the mattress before drilling into you even deeper.

in this position he was easily nudging your cervix with every thrust, his fingers digging deep into your flesh as you struggled to keep your eyes on the full length mirror in front of you. “you make me so fucking mad when i hear you talk bad about yourself,” rafe said through gritted teeth, “saying you wish you looked better,” he scoffed, “..it doesn’t get better than this.” your knees nearly gave out from under you when he snaked a hand around your waist, his fingers working on your clit until you felt that familiar heat starting to simmer in your tummy.

“you’re so pretty, baby, it freaks me out sometimes,” rafe leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear, “you have no clue how many times throughout the day i have to resist the urge from bending you over and fucking you dumb— just like the way i am right now.” your eyes rolled back at his words, his praise shooting straight to your soaked cunt. “you make me hard without even doing anything, you know that? these curves are so fucking perfect, i could squeeze you and grab and rough you up just the way i want to. you drive me fucking crazy.” you weren’t only crying because of the way you were being pounded into right now, but because you knew rafe was coming from a place of genuine love.

you couldn’t help but feel insecure when you saw the kind of girls that always tried to get at your boyfriend, some even going as far as flashing you a wink when they stroked his arm while passing by. all of them looked flawless in your eyes, your insecurity creeping up on you and making you question why on earth rafe was even with you. questioning rafe’s devotion was exactly what got you in the position you were in right now. “look up, ‘pretty, i need you to see what i see.” he clasped a hand around the back of your neck, dragging you up so your back was flushed against his chest.

your body was on full display, your teary gaze meeting rafe’s as he fixed your head in place to make you look at yourself. “starting with this face,” he was still thrusting into you when he stroked your cheek, “i don’t think you’re real sometimes. especially when we wake up in the morning and the sun is hitting you just right..” he planted a kiss in the curve of your shoulder. “you don’t even know this but on the days i wake up earlier than you i just watch you. admire you.” you moaned when you felt him hit your sweet spot, your eyebrows knitting together as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“these tits,” rafe took both of his hands and cupped you, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers, “this is why i love it so much when you’re on top.” you laughed softly, a small smile playing on rafe’s lips as he continued rocking into you. you knew rafe wasn’t lying, he always looked hypnotized and dazed whenever you rode him, his eyes glued to your chest while you bounced on top of him. “these thighs are the same thighs that i always need my head in between. whether you’re sitting on my face or i have you pinned down on your back, i fucking love them.” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he began approaching his high.

“your hips and your waist..” your mouth fell open in a silent moan when he found your clit again, “you’re gonna carry my kids, i’ll make sure of that.” you gasped when he picked up his speed, his words hitting you right where you’d feel them most. “m’gonna make you have my babies, ‘give you even more reasons why you should love your body the same way i do. you understand?” you nodded frantically, turning your head so he could take you in a searing kiss. that was all it took for both of you to fall over the edge, rafe carefully laying you down on your tummy as he filled you up.

you two stayed like this, your kisses growing more feverish once he pulled out, rafe wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. he traced the curve of your lips, thumbing away the tears from your eyes as you sighed. “i don’t ever want you to question the love that i have for you, do you understand?” you cozied up to him, whispering a ‘yes.’ before he hummed sleepily.

[suiana]

(yandere! golden boy x reader)

you don't think you've ever felt special. well, maybe your mom or something told you that when you were younger but you never really believed it.

you're too normal.

not exceptionally good at one thing, nor are you decently good at everything. you're okay at some stuff and you don't have any particular interests that you're really passionate about. and you know bevause you've tried changing. it's never worked, it never will.

because you're just you.

sometimes you wish you had talent, because then at least you'd be good at something. to lack the passion but have talent, that would be a dream for you. could you imagine? being effortlessly good and having people flock to you without trying? or even the opposite would be nice. being passionate about something sounds... like a life worth living. like your life has purpose. meaning. so what if you don't have talent? at least you'd want to be better, to improve yourself, to have the drive to live.

you have neither, what can you do?

all you do is go through the motions. wake up, go to work, come home, repeat. you don't have any hobbies other than watching the occasional television. it's not like your life is exceptionally hard either. you're blessed with good parents who love you and a select few friends that you're thankful for.

yet there's this... aching gap in your chest that's yearning for something more. something you can't give it. why? because you're just not special enough. you never are. you know this already, there's no use trying to change it.

so you scroll on social media constantly, trying to fill the empty gap in your chest.

but if anything, it only makes the gap worse.

it shows how much you're missing out, how others have it better than you. how others have something going on for them that lets them stand out. something that makes them alive.

maybe it's just the way things are, the way your life was always destined to be. to be the background character that admires others, never the one being admired. the supporting character that stays stagnant with no character growth.

you're just too average.

just plain old you.

plain like a cracker.

never the first choice, never a choice at all.

you merely exist on this world, you're never truely alive and living life like others. and it's a rather unfortunate thing to be doing when you could be achieveing so much but you're just... you. you don't even know who you are. you're just someone, really.

or at least that's what you think of yourself. he could never see you like that. not when he thinks that you're the best thing to ever happen to him.

he's the exact opposite of you. charming, handsome, an absolute adonis on earth. he's perfect in every sense of the word. and he chose you to give his heart to.

you have no idea why he even fell for you in the first place. you're average. not pretty, not ugly, just somehwere in between. you're not particularly charming or whatsoever, a little awkward but can hold a conversation. sure you've dated once or twice but they weren't serious and you didn't feel bad about break up either. you didn't feel much to begin with.

but with him... well, you think that maybe you just might have a chance.

those encouraging words and affectionate gazes, do you think that perhaps there's someone out there who could potentially change the way you live? the way you've been aimlessly drifting about?

there's just no way.

but you think you'll take the chance. with him, you'll get to do things you've never done before. if not, you'll just go back to where you were before. stuck in the middle, living out your days in an endless cycle of contributing to the Earth's death. there's nothing bad in accepting his hand, his promise for a better life.

at the very least, you'll have someone who tells you he loves you. someone who tells you that you're special and that you mean something. someone that partially fills the hole.

you just want to be somebody, and he'll gladly help you out. he might be a little bit too obsessive and protective, but you guess it's just part of him. he can't change something that makes him who he is, change isn't easy. you know that well.

and doesn't it feel nice to be wanted?

just trust him, everything will be fine. he'll teach you how to live, what love feels like. he'll protect you, take care of you...

"i love you, darling."

are those lies or the truth? you don't know, but you don't really care. would someone who wants someone as average as you ever lie about something like that anyway?

his affection burns with such a hot intensity that you're pretty sure could never be fake. you can see that, you're not blind. he very obviously adores you. that much you're sure.

so just give in already, would you? it would make things a whole lot easier if you stopped trying to resist and make sense of the world. sometimes... some things are just destined to happen. like how you see yourself as shit and he thinks you're perfect. that destiny also includes being with him. he won't accept anything else anyway.

don't worry, you'll be very happy. he's sure of that.

[aleskie]

YOU DON'T NEED TO LIFT A FINGER | Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When a guy just cannot get the hint, Jack makes sure to put him in his place. He's got your back. Always.

Warnings: none!! pure fluff and jack gets protective!! Full discloure, this is for realsies Fem!Reader!! Author's Note: This was supposed to come out a dayyyyys ago but Tumblr was NOT letting me post my drafts 😭😭 my poor therapist spent an hour watching me crash out about it najsjsshjjk

You were beautiful.

Of course you were.

In Jack’s eyes, you were the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth.

Which is why he understands why you get hit on. He really does. Hell, once upon a time, he was hitting on you. And he still hits on you, even now, years into the relationship, because you’re worth it. Because you light up rooms without even trying. Because he’s always been a sucker for the way you roll your eyes and smile at his cheesy attempts to be smooth with you.

You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and you’re so effortlessly charming—of course people would want you for themselves. He gets it. He really does. And honestly, there’s a part of him that loves it. He loves that people notice those qualities about you, that they see in you what he sees every day. It feels like validation, like the universe itself is confirming that he’s the luckiest guy alive. He basks in the knowledge that no matter how many people give you those hungry looks and shitty pick-up lines, he’s the one you're coming home with, his hand resting possessively on your hip as he gives all those people a smirk, his claim laid without him even lifting a finger.

What he doesn’t love is when people don’t take the damn hint.

And you give a lot of hints.

Take this guy right here—Dave, or Doug, or whatever his name is—He’d somehow wiggled his way into the booth you guys shared with your friends for a night out and, while he seemed harmless at first, he was now solely focused on you. And your legs that were highlighted by the body shimmer Jack helped put on you earlier tonight (his fingers still slightly shimmering to prove it—a badge of honor, in his opinion).

You’d been giving him that polite, fake smile since he joined in—the one Jack knows so well and that always makes him chuckle, the one you use when you’re being patient but are clearly not enjoying yourself—and you’ve barely paid him any attention, save for a few fake laughs and an “Oh, that sounds cool” every so often as Darren, or Dino, continues to brag about himself, not even trying to ask about you (a grave mistake, Jack thinks, since you were the most interesting person he knew).

Jack wonders if this guy even realizes you’ve been leaning against Jack this entire time, your head on his shoulder and his hand resting on your upper thigh, or if he’s chosen to ignore that in favor of trying (and failing) to shoot his shot. Better yet, does he even recognize Jack is here, drink untouched and jaw tightening as he watches Danny (or was it Dylan) lean in just a little too close?

Jack glances at you. You’re still handling it with grace, of course you are. You always do. But he knows you. He sees the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you lean further against him to put some distance between you and Dexter, the way your fingers tighten around your glass, and he knows you’d rather not have to deal with this.

He shifts slightly and stands, leaning forward to smile at the intruder, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, Diego, right?” he says. His tone is casual, even pleasant, but there’s steel underneath it.

“It’s Dave, actua—”

Jack extends a hand, cutting through the guy’s attempt at small talk. “Right, yeah. Sorry to interrupt, but I think my girlfriend and I are gonna go dance now.”

He puts an emphasis on girlfriend, just to make sure this guy gets the point.

Jack gives you a soft look, the kind that makes your breath hitch just a little, and you immediately stand up, reaching for him. His arm wraps around you instinctively, his touch steady and familiar. You can already feel the tension in his body lessening now that he has you close, now that he’s leading you away from whatever-his-name-is and back into the safe, easy rhythm of you and him.

But before you can leave, the guy speaks again.

“Sorry, man, didn’t realize she was yours. You know how women are. With that dress and those legs, she was totally leading me on.”

Jack freezes.

For a second, the world seems to pause, almost like he couldn’t believe what was coming out of this guy’s mouth, like he didn’t want to believe anyone could be that stupid.

Slowly, he straightens, turning back toward the guy—Dave or Doug or whatever his name was—with a look so calm it’s almost serene. Too calm. And that’s how you know Jack is angry.

Not the playful kind of angry, where he pretends to pout when you steal the last fry or kiss him everywhere but his lips. Not the frustrated kind, like when he can’t find his keys for the third time that week or when he’s had a particularly bad game.

No, this is something deeper. Colder. Controlled.

His fingers graze your arm lightly, a small, grounding touch meant just for you. It’s subtle, but you know what it means. I’ve got this. You don’t need to lift a finger.

Jack tilts his head ever so slightly. “You wanna say that again?” His voice is so even it borders on soft, a quiet thing wrapped in steel.

Dave—or Dino or Darryl—seems to think Jack is inviting him to elaborate, which is perhaps the worst decision he’s made all night.

“I’m just saying, y’know,” Dave shrugs, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial, like he thinks Jack might actually agree with him if he just explains it better. “When women dress like that, you can’t blame a guy for—”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to shut up before I do something we both regret.”

Jack doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. The weight of his words alone is enough to send a ripple of silence through the space between them.

Dave blinks, the beginning stages of intimidation creeping onto his face. He glances at you, as if expecting backup, but you’re already leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as you watch Jack dismantle him.

There’s a small smirk on your lips. Because this? This was a sight you didn’t get to see in public too often.

Many times, people assumed your lovely boyfriend—so easygoing, so effortlessly charming—would lack the sharpness to cut someone down when needed, would stick to uhmms and ahhhs and crassness.

They mistook his laid-back nature for passivity, his warmth for softness. But you knew better. Your Jack could be quite a wonder with words when he wanted to be. He didn’t need to be loud to command attention. He didn’t need to throw a punch to land a hit.

So you hang back and let him handle this one, finding comfort in the thought of his arms around you later, his breath warm against your ear as you danced the rest of the night away.

“Listen, buddy,” Jack continues, stepping closer. His tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s no mistaking the edge beneath it. “You don’t talk to anyone like that. You definitely don’t get to talk to her like that. You hear me?”

“God, c’mon, man! No need to get all—”

“I already told you to shut up.” Jack’s scowl deepens. His words are slow, deliberate. “The fact that she was polite enough to give you the slightest bit of attention doesn’t mean she was hitting on you. Whatever you thought was going on tonight? Not an invitation.”

Dave—Dino? Derek?—opens his mouth, probably to dig himself into an even deeper hole, but stops when Jack leans in slightly, just enough to make his presence feel heavier. Like a storm cloud about to break.

“She’s kind,” Jack says, voice quieter now, deadlier. “So she tolerated you. But she doesn’t owe you a fucking thing.”

The last of Dave’s bravado starts to crumble. His shoulders inch inward, his gaze flickering around the booth, searching for an exit, for reinforcements—for anything that might save him from this moment.

Jack watches him for a second longer, then exhales sharply, like he’s already bored. “You think being desperate and cocky gets you the girl,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t need any of that to keep her by my side.” His fingers brush against yours, finding their place like they always do. “And we don’t need to waste any more time entertaining douchebags like you.”

Jack steps back, his hand sliding fully into yours as he finally tears his gaze from Daniel? Don?—who cares?—and looks at you instead. The shift is immediate, his features easing, the sharpness in his eyes softening into something familiar. Something yours.

“Let’s go, babe,” he says simply, his voice lighter now, more like himself.

And just like that, the moment is over.

As you stand, letting Jack guide you away from the booth, you hear Dave mutter something under his breath—something weak and defensive that doesn’t deserve acknowledgment. It’s the kind of parting shot people throw out when they know they’ve lost. Neither of you glance back.

The music swells around you, the bass thrumming beneath your feet, but Jack doesn’t lead you straight to the dance floor. Instead, he pulls you toward a quieter corner, away from the crowd, where the lights are dimmer, the world a little smaller.

He exhales, then wordlessly nestles his head in the crook of your shoulder.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly grazing his scalp. He sighs at the touch, his arms slipping around your waist as he lets himself melt into you for just a moment. You press a soft kiss to his hair, breathing him in, grounding both of you in something steady, something real.

After a beat, he tilts his head up, a sheepish grin playing at his lips. “Did I go overboard?”

You roll your eyes fondly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You were absolutely perfect,” you murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

His grin widens, boyish and bright, and just like that, the weight of the night lifts. He tugs you closer, his arm tightening around your waist as he starts to sway you to the music. You laugh as he spins you unexpectedly, sneaking in kisses between the DJ’s transitions, his lips catching your temple, your jaw, the curve of your shoulder.

The man who bothered you is forgotten. The tension, the sharp edges of the night—gone.

All that’s left is this. You and him and the music. The warmth of his hands on you, the sound of your laughter melting together, the rest of the world fading into nothing.

[brawberryz]

Little Demon

Batfam Yan! × Neglected Nezuko! Reader

Note:English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You were normal

You weren't the monster you've become, before everything you were just an ordinary high school student

Everything had happened so fast that you didn't even have time to process it

A few hours ago everything was normal

You woke up as usual adding yourself to go to class, you greeted alfred while you were having breakfast

Breakfast felt as lonely as always your family was never present not even in things as common as having breakfast together as a family

No one ever had time for you, everyone was so busy with their responsibilities and you understood it, you always understood

They were vigilant and you knew they had a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders but sometimes you would like them to look at you or ask you how your day was

If someone in the family turned to look at you or talk to you it was a miracle, the only person you had by your side was alfred

He was a father figure more than your real father could be

Bruce, as you called him because father was too big a name for someone like him, maybe he wasn't even worthy of being called father

You saw his relationship with the rest of your siblings and how he treated them with so much respect and affection

At some point you felt jealous, why was he so good to them? Why couldn't you feel that affection

Why?

Why!?

Nobody took care of you or protected you, since you were little you understood that if you didn't protect yourself nobody would

Everyone had talents and they were amazing

You were just (name), the shadow of the family because the only thing that was important was having the last name Wayne, but then you were nobody

You were never anybody

You stopped thinking so much and picked up your bag and walked out the door of the mansion giving Alfred a last goodbye

_

Classes went by faster than you would like, school was a safe place for you, there you could be yourself with your friends

To your friends you weren't (name) Wayne, the daughter of a billionaire playboy, you were just a (name) L/N a girl full of energy and eager to help others

You lazily got up from your seat grabbing your bag heading to the classroom door

There was Aoi waiting for you as usual, you were grateful to have such a good friend like her

"You look more tired than usual, is something wrong (name)?"

The black-haired girl asks worriedly, walking with you to the exit. You just nodded, giving her a fake smile.

"Yeah, don't worry, I just didn't sleep well today."

That's a lie. You had slept more than well, but since this morning you had felt that something was wrong, as if something bad was about to happen.

You couldn't shake that feeling off after hours. You decided to ignore it, but that feeling still remained.

Aoi just nodded, unsure of your answer. She had been your friend for years and she knew you too well to know when something was bothering you.

"Hey, today me and shinobu are going to a new cafe that opened. Do you want to go?"

You stayed quiet for a few seconds thinking about the proposal, you liked going out with your friends but this time you felt like you shouldn't go

"I'm sorry aoi but... I'm really busy today I have homework to do"

You politely apologized to her

Aoi raised an eyebrow, there was something she didn't like, she knew something was happening to you but she wasn't going to force you to tell her, she didn't want it to seem like she was someone insistent

She simply gave you a nod and then looked ahead, this was where your paths separated as you lived on totally opposite streets

She gave you a big hug as a farewell and then separated from you with a smile on her face

"See you tomorrow (name), take care!"

She said as she shook her hand and her presence disappeared more and more as she walked away

You let out a tired sigh before turning on your heels and taking the path home

You walked with your head down, your thoughts consumed your head that you didn't even notice the imminent danger that was approaching you

You didn't understand why your family seemed to hate you, you were always obedient, good and polite

You were the best in your class and you had great intelligence but you were still invisible to all of them

Sometimes you just wanted to disappear, being someone else didn't matter you just wanted to leave

But you knew that until you turned 18 it would be impossible to get out of that house

You were so distracted in your thoughts that you didn't even have time to react before something too strong pushed you into a dirty alley

You tried to get up and defend yourself but that strange man grabbed you by the neck cutting off your breathing and not being able to get up

As your vision blurred you could see his red eyes and a cynical smile forming on his lips

The last thing you felt was something embedded in your neck causing you to lose consciousness

Everything was black, you couldn't move or feel anything

So you died?

Is this how it all ended? Dying in a dirty alley full of trash and rats?

Maybe this is what you deserved, you were never anything important just trash

And trash should stay with trash, right?

Alfred ran at full speed through the mansion towards Bruce's office, he couldn't believe that this had happened

He slammed open the door to Bruce's office causing Bruce to stop concentrating on the paperwork to look at his butler

It was too strange for Alfred to enter without knocking, and he was also struck by Alfred's worried and disheveled attitude

Only something too important or serious would have to happen to break Alfred's impeccable personality

"Master Bruce...Miss (name)..."

The old man struggled to find air in his lungs, having run all over the mansion had left him exhausted

"What's wrong with her? Don't tell me she got into trouble-"

Alfred interrupted Bruce in the middle of his sentence to speak again

"No...she...she's dead"

Those words hit Bruce hard

Dead?

Your death couldn't be true, it had to be some kind of joke

"What?"

It was the only thing he could say in shock, he knew that Alfred would never lie to him, much less about a subject as serious as death

But his brain simply couldn't process it

_

The entire batfam was at the police station, the news of your death shook the entire family in a bad way

Now they were here to identify your body, they found it in an alley according to the police record a woman who was passing by found your body covered in blood that was supposed to have been yours

According to the police it was a very crude and bloody crime scene

They couldn't believe that someone would be capable of doing that to a being as innocent as you

The simple fact that someone had done all those things to you made everyone's blood boil with rage

Richard felt terrible, remembering all the times you asked him to spend time together and he simply made the excuse that he was busy or that he didn't have time

He was the worst brother, he was supposed to be the oldest one who should have protected you but all he did was push you away and cause your premature death

Jason could barely handle all the emotions he felt at that moment, he felt rage, sadness and regret

He still remembered the times he had insulted you and told you not to interfere in his life

No matter what he had to do, he was going to avenge his little sister and he was going to make the person who had done that to you suffer

In Tim's head he tried to find some possible suspect for your death, maybe the joker had already killed Jason once, it was just a matter of time before he did it again

He could still remember the times he had ignored you, that moment when you made cupcakes was still in his mind and you had the brightest smile of all

You had prepared them especially for your family but all you received was their rejection telling you that they were busy

Remember the rude way in which I refused your food and asked you to leave, right now, anything to be able to be with you and try your desserts

Damian was burning with fury, who was the bastard who dared to kill his sister!?

He, unlike the rest, didn't want to accept his guilt. He firmly believed that the times he had hit you, humiliated you, and insulted you were for your own good.

You should know well that you were too weak for this world, that he was your protector.

Cass could barely process everything. She had lost another important person to her again, and this time it was her fault again.

She leaned against a corner and let her thoughts consume her. She felt the worst. Maybe if she had paid attention to you, you would be alive now.

Barbara felt the same way as Richard. She still remembered the times you begged for her attention, wanting to spend time with her, but she only pushed you away more and more each day.

Steph could only stare at the floor. It was her fault for ignoring you. She thought that at some point you would adapt to the mansion, but it never happened. All she did was make you feel more like a burden and a nuisance.

But the one who felt the worst was Bruce. He was supposed to be your father, he was supposed to be the first to protect you. But he didn't. All he did was ignore you

He was the worst father ever, now because of him you were dead

They took him to a room to identify your body and left him there alone for a few minutes

Right there he collapsed, his serious and unwavering facade broke

His daughter, his baby is now dead because of him, he would do anything to revive you, he would even use the Lazarus pit even knowing the consequences that caused

But suddenly he felt like something lunged at him

And there was you

Alive

You were alive in some way, but he saw that it wasn't you...

Your eyes had that wild look, your teeth were sharp and long nails that you had never had before

He grabbed a metal pipe he found on the floor and tried to fight you by putting it in your mouth so that you wouldn't bite him or disfigure his face with your claws or teeth

Your strength was superhuman, as if you were no longer the (name) that he knew

Now you had become something wilder

But he felt small tears falling on his face, he was crying

It seemed as if a part of you was trying to control your instincts, he noticed your distressed and scared look

Suddenly Richard entered the room with Jason

They had heard a loud noise coming from the room

The men's faces were surprised when they saw you alive

Or rather, you didn't look human and your skin looked paler

Also, your hair had changed, the tips that were completely black before were now orange

The two quickly came out of their trance and helped Bruce get you off of them, you were still struggling and trying to get out of their grip

Then Damian and Tim appeared through the door when they heard all the commotion

Before either of them could speak, Richard interrupted them

"There's no time for explanations, distract the police now!"

He said trying to keep you from getting out of the grip, Tim and Damian just nodded confused as they went with the others to distract the guards

Meanwhile Jason decided that the best idea was to knock you out so he did, but he earned a scolding from Bruce for hitting you so hard

"Stop complaining so much and be thankful we didn't let her kill you"

He said dryly, he saw how you fell surrendered to his arms, for now they should find a way to get you out of here without anyone noticing

_

The days passed quickly in the mansion, they had you with a kind of muzzle on your mouth to prevent any incident

Although after having "revived" you were only aggressive once, to tell the truth this version of you was much calmer and less energetic than the previous one

After Bruce asked Constantine for help he told him that most likely you had been turned into a demon and that if they wanted you to be human again the person that turned you into a demon was supposed to turn you back into a human

For days the batfam spent their time investigating and trying to find information about the person who did that to you but they found almost nothing

But almost nothing was that bad, it seemed you rejected human flesh and blood and you recovered energy by sleeping, you didn't need to eat or drink water just sleep

Most of the day (not to say all day) you spent somewhere in the mansion sleeping

Everyone fought over who would cuddle with you during your morning nap, they agreed on a deal that every day of the week it would be a family member's turn to sleep with you and take care of you

And after everything worked, most of your memories disappeared so they didn't have to worry about you remembering what horrible siblings they were

They also found out that you can't be in the sun unless you want to disintegrate and die

Tim thought it was a good idea to open the windows so you could see the sun after so long

Tim's expression The horror on his face was great when he saw how your skin began to burn and how you screamed in pain

He quickly closed the windows and approached you to see your condition

Luckily your regenerative abilities were very helpful, but Tim still didn't escape Bruce's scolding and you think Damian almost killed Tim that day

You could say that the days in the mansion were good, of course sometimes you would like to go out and see other places but you knew it would be impossible

The batfam preferred to die rather than let you wander alone through the streets of Gotham again, in their eyes you were still that weak little girl even knowing that you could easily kill them all

For now you should get used to this life until they find a cure

But you shouldn't worry, when you are cured they will never let you go again

Never

I finished this quicker than I thought

I hope you like it because I probably won't upload anything for 3 or 4 days

byeee