#cross x yn

[qininqinin]

Ride

cw: NSFW under the cut, f!reader, Cross x Reader, Cross is oblivious and Reader is nasty, +18, thoughts about riding, sweat kink, dacryphilia, kinda sub Cross?, creampie… 

notes: my first post here and it was obvious that it would be about my favorite boy.

It was unavoidable; no matter how hard you tried to keep yourself distracted, your thoughts always drifted back to your desire to ride Cross — and as if that relentless yearning tormenting your daydreams wasn’t enough, Cross remained completely unaware of your advances.

“I’m not great with these things; perhaps Nightmare would be better suited for it,” he replied when you invited him to spend an afternoon at the library. Feeling embarrassed, you had to stick to your lie and asked Nightmare for a book recommendation (which, to be honest, you didn’t even bother to read).

It was already difficult to make small talk with anyone who wasn’t Killer, but Cross was even more clueless — not that you don’t find that endearing in a way, but it was frustrating that he couldn’t pick up on even the subtlest hint or flirtation.

That’s why you found yourself here, in the training room; at least you weren’t alone. A bit further away, Cross and Murder were sparring, working on some moves and combined attacks.

The original plan was for just the two of you, but when Cross started taking the ‘training’ part seriously, you had no choice but to abandon it — bruises from falls weren’t exactly what you had in mind today (you would have preferred clear fingerprints marks on your waist, to be truth).

However, it wasn’t all in vain. Now, more relaxed on one of the benches in the room, you let your gaze roam over Cross’s body, savoring every detail. His exposed ribs and sternum, along with his spine, were glistening with a faint violet sweat. Soon, you let yourself drift into darker thoughts.

He was definitely the type to sweat a lot during sex, especially if it was to restrict his own movements - how you liked to imagine his sharp phalanges trembling against your thighs, both trying not to tear your skin apart as you grind yourself against him.

Your own sweat dripped down your breasts and stomach, all the while reaching Cross's pelvis, whilst he drooled himself — saliva trailing down his chin and onto the floor as you bounced on top of him.

You could almost hear his whimpers, begging to let him cum inside you — as he began to cry from the overwhelming stimulation you were causing, his tears mixed almost seamlessly with his own drool.

The gasps, his whimper way of moaning and begging for more, all of this would make you finally let him cum. And not satisfied with that, Cross would certainly take the reins and force your body to withstand his strong thrusts — those big hands finally grabbing your waist and turning your pussy into a fleshlight for his own pleasure.

And as he neared his own climax, Cross would bite your shoulder, leaving a bloody mark on your skin and preventing you from pushing him away. Your own blood and sweat mixing with his fluids, tears dripping down and leaving a stinging sensation on your new wound.

Your eyes would roll back as he apologizes so softly for hurting you, for breaking your body with nothing but sniffles and quiet moans-

“Hey! Ready for another round, or do you want to take a break for today?” Cross’s real voice pulls you back to the present.

Quickly, your eyes sweep up and down his body before settling on the little fuzzy lights in his eye sockets.

Anything to stay glued to that body, but that’s not what you say.

“I think I can handle a little more.” A mischievous smile plays on your lips as you notice a slight blush on Cross’s bonecheeks (whether from the workout or not, he’d definitely be blushing this way when you’re holding his face between your thighs).

[zelphin124]

Cross x Y/N Short Story

In all honesty this was very spontaneous... And I just got home so I can get back to writing everything else!

(I do not claim the art as my own)

*cough* @tehrogueva @kuuuuro @pandimoostuff

Cross belongs to @jakei95

TW: Suggestive

Enjoy!

~o0o~

OuterTale. The place where the stars shined brighter than the lights in the city. The place where comets and galaxies shimmered with color. An empty space where people came to contemplate life and make big decisions.

OuterTale was an AU that could never be forgotten. OuterTale was where the darkest secrets unfolded.

You were told to meet one of your closest friends here, Cross. He seemed so nervous when asking you, which was unusual for his behavior. Sitting down on a cliff edge, you start to recall the conversation a week before.

You were at a Grillbys in some AU that you forgot. Cross was sitting across from you and you guys had a lovely conversation. There was lots of laughter and wheezing, to the point most of the people around you looked genuinely concerned for your guys' well being. You ended blaming it on whatever drink you had that night.

"Y/N," Cross calmed down before changing his tone. "Uhm... Would you be able to meet me at OuterTale this time next week?" He scratched his head nervously as he stared you down. His eyes were shaking, but he remained firm in his ask.

How strange, what caused the sudden change in his demeanour? You hope you didn't say anything wrong, though Cross didn't seem upset.

You asked him where specifically, as you didn't care for going into the villages of other AUs. It was hard enough to blend into other universes, let alone OuterTale.

"The cliffs near the floating islands," Cross answered, twirling the glass in his hand. "I uh... Wanted to try out that camera Paps got me. Would you wear something nice for them?"

You blushed, and quite noticably. The face Cross made when he mentioned you wearing something nice was so adorable, as if he stared in admiration. Come to think of it, he always did that. The last time you wore something nice, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

It was one of the reasons why you loved him. Oftentimes you were called a simp amongst your peers due to your crush toward him. You loved anything and everything Cross did for you. Whether or not that was bringing you flowers, getting you food after a hard day at work, or just hugging you until you stopped crying... Everything about him captivated you. His style, his personality, his smile, his laugh... Oh gosh his laugh. If only you could somehow keep it on repeat, you would. It was music to your ears and made all the butterflies in your stomach fluster.

Your friends often said you craved him. They weren't wrong. You longed to be in his presence, for his eyes to meet yours, to hear his voice speak to you, for him to touch you-

"Y/N?" Cross leaned over the table and snapped his fingers in front of both of your eyes. When you came back to reality, he smiled softly. "You able to come?"

You told him you wouldn't miss it for the world, after apologizing for zoning out.

"Tch," he snickered, giving that smile that made your heart pound. "Alright, I'll walk you home and see you then."

You sighed happily as you remember the walk home and how it was full of dancing and signing. Cross taught you a few more steps to a dance you were learning with him before he said goodbye. Dancing was the only excuse you could find to be close to him other than hugging. You wondered if it was obvious to Cross that you liked him.

However, you couldn't figure out if the feelings were reciprocated. Cross didn't seem to have the same responses to things that you did. Although you were told many times by others that he was into you, you couldn't wrap your head around it. There's no way he could like you that way... Why would someone as great as he love a human like you?

This very reason has kept a tight seal on your lips. There were many times where you wished you told him, but the fear of ruining your friendship got in the way. What if he didn't reciprocate those feelings? Would all be lost? Surely it would be awkward. Though, you wouldn't know, as you any memory of your past relationships had faded when arriving in the multiverse.

"You came," a sigh of relief came from behind you.

You stood up and turned to face your best friend. He was... To put it simply, stunning. He wore a long black suit with a white X across his chest. He adjusted his tie with one hand and held your favorite flowers in the other. Your blush didn't help hide how grateful you were for his thoughtful gift. He was always good at remembering your favorites, rather than giving you whatever he could find. His eyes glowed softly, and he smiled wildly at you. "Wow." He breathed.

You had worn your favorite color dress that changed shades all the way to the bottom of your ankles. You thought it would be better to leaves the sleeves on your arms rather than your shoulders. Perhaps it would be better for photo taking as Cross had planned.

You thanked him for the flowers with a squeak before asking him where he would like you to stand.

"Oh we can worry about that later," he set the camera down on the rock as it flashed red. "For now, I wanted to practice our dance."

Your face was tomato red. Dancing with your crush in nice clothing under the starry cover of OuterTale? This was a dream come true. You nodded and adjusted your dress so it would flow smoothly.

Cross wasted no time as he came toward you and swooped your arms into his. Immediately, his feet began to pace. You figured out the rhythm as you danced along, following his lead. The song slowly started to play in your head as you moved along the cliff edge with him.

Cross's eyes were sinking into you. The more he looked at you, the more purple his face became. His grip around your waist became more snug... As if he was holding the most precious jewel in the world. His thumb traced your hand with the grace of a feather, and his eyes were drooped so perfectly.

You found it difficult to focus on the steps as your heart pounded from excitement. He was so close, so peaceful... So absolutely perfect. You knew you would treasure this moment forever, and nothing would ever compare to this.

Cross's pacing slowed, pulling you closer to him. You gasp as his hand that was holding yours traveled to your cheek and jawline. His breath became shaky, and it was hard to see his eyes against his purple blush. "Y/N... I... I love you..." His voice was barely above a whisper while his eyes were locked on your face.

What? He... Did he just say that? You would've called him on his bluff if you didn't see the hearts in his eyessockets.

"Everything about you drives me crazy for you... I adore you..." His face got closer with every breath, and his words got slower and slower. "You're so beautiful, and kind, and I..."

You were dreaming. You had to be. This was too good to be true. Cross loved you back?! Not only that, but he adored you?! Nah, you would wake up any moment now.

But that kiss proved you otherwise. There wasn't another word that escaped his mouth before he caught you up in a loving kiss, your body pressing up against his. It was long, gentle, and made both of your faces turn into bright colors.

He broke away after a few seconds, his breath shaky and his smile wide. When he saw you were panting, blushing, and gripping his chest, he kissed you again... And again... And again... Until you lost count of how many times he came back to your lips, begging for more.

Your feet were lifted off the ground many times. His hands tightened around your head and waist to press you closer to him. Your body shook with pure bliss. Your heart had stopped from utter shock and surprise, though, you knew it was still alive because of how flustered it was.

It ended too soon, as he sat you back down on the ground and rested his forehead against yours. "Sorry, I..." He sighed. "I got carried away... I didnt mean to-"

You told him to shush, letting him know that you enjoyed every moment of it. After you explained to him that you had liked him all this time, he was relieved and satisfied.

"I... Stars, you're beautiful... Everything about you... is amazing, and... I always want to be with you... Protect you... Love you..."

Cross continued to whisper all that he felt and all that he had to say as you two swayed under the stars. It was pure bliss, and you couldn't believe it was real. Though, Cross reassured you it was real through many kisses. He explained he had held back such affection for so long, he wanted to get it all out. You were too much of a blushing mess to give any affection back, though, he didn't seem to mind. Cross seemed perfectly happy with growing the blush on your own face. Since he had known you for so long, it was easy for him to find out what physical things you liked very quickly.

To this day you can't wrap your head around how lucky you were. Cross since then had provided, protected, and loved you like you never had, or as much as you could remember. You must have been the main character in a story, as it was the only explanation you could find to explain such a wonderful, disney-princess moment.

However, you decided that chance or not, you were the luckiest person in the whole multiverse, because you were in your lovers arms, and he loved you more than anyone else could.

[qin-qin16]

cw.: Mean Reader x Cry baby Cross, fluff, dacryphilia (again with this man), but Cross is a bit mean too in the end…

note: sometimes I just want to be mean to him

The credits rolled up the screen, names and roles scrolling across the TV as your mind wandered back to the final scenes. The movie wasn't bad, but it wasn’t great either; a mix of disappointment with the bitter aftertaste of a happy ending.

"That was... okay, I guess." The bucket of popcorn sat between you, now filled only with unpopped kernels and little bits of salt — just the thought of Cross's contorted expression after tasting a few of them brought a sly smile to your lips. "I just think they should've explored the relationship between the protagonists mo-”

Hic.

You didn’t even try to be discreet. A loud crack echoed through the room as one of the muscles in your neck popped when you turned your head toward Cross — just as quickly as he buried his face in his scarf.

He was...

“Are you crying?” The amusement in your voice was clear, thick with teasing, just like the smile that spread across your face the moment Cross's white eyelights narrowed, both of them seemingly spinning around the room — as if looking for some hole to hide in.

"No!" He responded quickly, sinking further into the couch as a laugh burst from your lips.

Ah, it was so fun to tease the little soldier, watching the small patch of his nape that was visible glow with a violet hue.

"Stop being such a crybaby, the movie wasn't even that sad." And it really wasn’t. In fact, the most emotional moment in the whole film was a motivational speech from one of the characters — who then died for comic relief.

"Shut up!" Cross growls, not even lifting his face from its hiding spot — you could almost picture a pair of drooping ears at the top of his head, sadly and pitying.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as another sob slips out from beneath his fluffy scarf.

"Alright, alright, come here, you big baby." You didn’t even have time to open your arms before feeling his weight press against your chest; Cross’s whining now completely audible against your ear as he buries his face in your neck.

"There, there, you don’t need to cry anymore." Your arms wrap around him, your hands moving up and down his trembling back. "The movie’s over, it can’t hurt you anymore." Maybe the sarcasm was too clear in your voice — actually, you didn’t even try to hide it — because Cross nipped lightly at your bare neck in response, his growl vibrating against your skin.

“Ouch! Alright, alright, geez!” Not satisfied with your surrender, Cross pressed his teeth harder against your neck until you let out a sharp hiss, the sound sliding over your teeth and bitten lips.

After giving a final lick to the marks his canines left, Cross snuggled back into your body — his size too large to fit in your lap without crushing your other limbs. You quickly resumed your soothing touches, gently caressing the still-colored skin of his skull — finally offering him true comfort.

[youaintnothinbuta]

“Are we there yet?” - Dad!Austin Butler x Mom!reader

Summary: You and Austin, and your little girl are making the long drive to your lake house for a few days in summer, which is never the easiest drive with a little one.

Pairing: Dad!Austin x mom!reader

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: none- fluff!! Dad!Austin! Hopefully no typos but you know how I am <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was early afternoon when you, Austin, and Ella set off on the long drive to your lake house. The summer sun was high in the sky, casting a bright, warm light across the road. Austin was behind the wheel, dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt, and you sat in the passenger seat, wearing a light summer dress with your hair pulled back in a loose braid. Your five-year-old daughter was nestled in the backseat, her favorite stuffed giraffe clutched tightly in her arms.

Ella was full of energy, leaning forward against her seatbelt, pointing out everything they passed. “Look, Daddy! A red truck!” she shouted, her voice bubbling with excitement. “And there’s a blue car! And cows! Look, Mama, cows!”

You turned in your seat, smiling at her wide-eyed wonder. “I see them, Ella! What sound do cows make?” You asked, playfully encouraging your daughter.

“Mooo!” Ella giggled, making the sound loud and enthusiastic, causing Austin to chuckle.

You continued your journey, with Ella calling out every new sight���fields of wildflowers, clusters of trees, a barn in the distance. You and Austin exchanged amused glances, enjoying your daughter's unbridled excitement. But as the time passed and the scenery became more monotonous, Ella’s energy began to wane.

She started shifting in her seat, her brow furrowing in frustration. “Are we there yet?” she asked, her voice starting to edge with impatience.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Austin replied gently, his eyes still focused on the road. “We’ve got a little while to go, but we’re getting closer.”

Ella sighed dramatically, slumping back. “I’m bored,” she whined, kicking her legs against her car seat. “And my butt hurts!”

You glanced back at her with a sympathetic smile. “I know, honey, long drives can be tough,” you said soothingly. “How about we play a game? I spy with my little eye… something green!”

Her eyes lit up for a moment, and she looked out the window eagerly. “Is it… a tree?” she guessed.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Good job, sweetie!” But after a few rounds, Ella’s enthusiasm started to fade again. She shifted restlessly, her face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Mama, I’m tired,” she whined, her voice a bit tremulous now. “I don’t like this anymore. I want to get out!”

You and Austin exchanged a glance, knowing what was about to come. “I know, baby,” Austin said in his calm, soothing voice. “I know it’s hard to sit for so long, but we’re going to have so much fun when we get there, right?”

Ella didn’t seem convinced. She started to squirm around in her seat, her buckle tightened over her chest, only adding to the frustration, and a few moments later, the whining turned into soft crying, her little face scrunched up as tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I want out, Daddy!” she sobbed. “Please, I want to get out!”

You turned in your seat as much as she could, reaching your hand back to your daughter. “Oh, Ella, I know it’s hard, baby,” you murmured softly. “Here, let me help you feel more comfortable.” You gently draped a soft blanket over her legs and carefully removed her shoes. “There, sweetheart. Just rest a little bit, okay? We’re almost there.”

Ella continued to cry softly, but she clung to your hand, finding some comfort in her mother’s touch. You kept your hand there, softly stroking Ella’s tiny fingers while humming a calming tune. “Close your eyes, sweet girl,” you whispered. “Just rest for a bit.”

Gradually, Ella’s cries turned into soft sniffles, and then, as the steady rhythm of the car and the warmth of the blanket took over, her eyes fluttered closed. Her little chest rose and fell with steady breaths as she finally drifted off to sleep.

Austin glanced over at you, a gentle smile on his face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

You smiled back. “It’s a joint effort,” you replied softly, continuing to hold Ella’s hand until you were sure your daughter was deep asleep.

After a couple of hours, just as you were about twenty minutes away from the cabin, Ella began to stir.

She blinked her eyes open, her small face creasing with a yawn. She sat up slowly, looking around in confusion before realizing where she was. “Mama?” she mumbled sleepily.

You turned around, smiling warmly. “Hey, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?”

Ella nodded, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “I think so,” she murmured.

Austin looked at her in the rearview mirror, smiling. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Good,” she replied, still groggy. Then, her eyes widened, and she pointed out the window. “Look, Daddy! A deer!” she exclaimed, her earlier excitement returning.

Austin glanced in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, a deer stood just off the side of the road, watching them with curious eyes. “Good spotting, El!” he said, grinning. “We’re almost there, sweetheart. Just a little longer.”

Ella perked up at this news. “Really? How much longer?”

“About twenty minutes,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a reassuring smile. “And then we’ll be at the cabin, and you can stretch your legs and run around all you want.”

Ella’s face lit up with a smile. “Okay! I can wait twenty minutes,” she declared, sitting up straighter in her seat.

You continued down the winding forest roads, the scenery changing from thick clusters of trees to the sparkling surface of the lake as you drew nearer. When you finally pulled up to the cabin, nestled among the trees with a clear view of the water, Ella’s excitement returned in full force.

“We’re here! We’re here!” she squealed, bouncing in her seat.

Austin chuckled, pulling the car into the driveway and putting it in park. “Alright, we made it!” he announced, turning to look at you and Ella.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned around to Ella. “Okay, El, let’s get you out,” you said, opening your door and stepping out. You came around to the back, opening her door and carefully helping her out of her seat.

Ella jumped down, stretching her arms wide. “Yay! We’re here!” she cheered, looking up at the tall trees around them.

Austin smiled as he stepped out of the car, stretching his back before heading to the trunk to grab the bags. “I’ll get everything,” he called over his shoulder. “You two go inside.”

You took Ella’s hand, guiding her toward the front door. Ella nodded eagerly, squeezing your hand. “Mommy! Can we go down to the water?”

“Of course, sweetheart. We’ll do that as soon as we get settled in,” you replied, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Austin was making trips between the car and the house, his strong arms loaded with your things, dropping everything off in the doorway. Ella giggled, running up to him and wrapping her arms around his legs.

Austin smiled, handing Ella her swimsuit, “if you ask mama nicely, she might help you get changed so you can get into the water.”

Ella looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, “Please mama? Please?”

“Alright, monkey, come on, let’s go to your bedroom.” You said, gently guiding her out of Austin’s way so he could bring everything in and get the fridge all stocked up for the weekend without Ella running laps around him.

[ellesthots]

punished - kinktober 2024

ONESHOT!

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: after a disappointing night as Batman, Bruce wants you to make him suffer [not related to Fateful]

pairing: bruce wayne x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, orgasm denial, breath play

words: 2.3k

a/n: hi lovelies!! a little treat for the month of October 🎃 based on the 2023 kinktober prompt list (day 14 - orgasm denial), since they didn’t release an official one this year <3 comments, reblogs, etc SO appreciated 💭

It was your favorite position to have him in, and an opportunity that didn’t come often.

Sometimes, after an especially frustrating night crimefighting—say, the muggers got away, the clues led nowhere, or Batman came too late—he’d arrive back home with that look in his eye. A frustrated, ruminating expression that crowded even the massive rooms at Wayne Manor. A demeanor that screamed ‘I need to be punished’.

It floored you the first time he said as much, a few months ago. When he’d trudged upstairs with his eye makeup still on, the black mess smeared up into his browbone and blotchy in the hollow of his undereyes. The fire in his gaze nearly had you running to the bedroom, chasing fantasies of him fucking you into oblivion, blowing off steam. The promise of his bruising touch was the only thing keeping you satisfied on his long nights away.

But that night was different. The closer he came, the more the fire melted into something gentler, more vulnerable. Still, his jaw was tight, twitching in the way exclusive to angry curses and frustrated sighs. His voice was low and hoarse in your ear, the prick of his stubble grazing the crook of your neck. He exhaled a single, quivering breath before speaking. “Punish me.”

You felt faint. Bruce rarely relinquished control in the bedroom, save times he could tell how desperate you were to be on top. Before he walked toward his room, he caught your eye, a careful gauge of your comfort. As shocking as it was to hear it from his mouth, the big bad Batman, you would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your pulse race. You nodded, and he disappeared into the dark hallway behind you.

Alone in the hallway, a dozen lewd thoughts circled you. Your limbs tingled with anticipation, overwhelmed by the sheer mass of options. You’d asked him to punish you before, so this was far from unknown territory… you closed your eyes and imagined which sensations he’d allowed you that you wanted to return.

Choking him would be especially pleasing, and… your mouth curled into a grin and you suppressed a laugh. Of course. He wouldn’t think it was anything until he was already in too deep, a shock to his system, leaving him reeling… the anxiety melted away to a selfish excitement, waiting for the pinch in his eyes, how his face might look, his body tense and wanting, so close yet so impossibly far… fuck.

Your feet were light across the cool manor floor. Alfred was nowhere to be seen, and you were grateful for it. Too many times you’d been concerned he might overhear, but tonight that didn’t seem to be the case. Bruce wanted to be punished, wanted to suffer a bit. It wouldn’t be a feat silently won.

The dynamic had already been switched, entering to him sat on the edge of the bed, his spandex long sleeve he wore on every patrol in a pile by his nightstand. You could see in his eyes that he didn’t know what to expect, which was invigorating. He looked almost meek.

As you approached him, you nearly second-guessed it. It would be punishing for you too, not seeing, hearing, feeling his climax. But holy shit was it exhilarating to be the one standing over him, watching as his eyes deepened their focus on yours, fingers moving to undo his button. Was this the power and excitement he felt each time with you, as you tugged down your satin nightgown, unclasped your lace bra?

Your eyes caught on the slightest tremble in his hands while pulling down the zipper. You put your hand over his, and he halted on contact. You pulled yourself closer and dragged your lips from his jaw to his collarbone. His body was worn, muscles tired. It must’ve been a rough night. Your free hand caressed his back, tracing gentle, reassuring circles between his shoulderblades. “Remember your safe word?”

Bruce was putty in your hands, nothing more than a breathy, needy whisper. “Yes.”

Having said the magic words, you placed your hand around his neck, pushing him flush on his back against the mattress. You watched his eyes flash as you tightened your grip, swallowing like his mouth had gone dry. You placed a hand to his sternum as you climbed on top, where you felt his pulse thunder beneath your palm. You slowly dragged your fingertips along his sweat-soaked skin toward the waistband of his boxers.

His breathing hitched, feeling the movement in his throat as you slipped one, then two fingers underneath the elastic. A heady, potent feeling of intoxication swept you, having him completely at your mercy. His face bloomed pink under the pressure of your hand, his eyes a steady pulse of blue, singularly focused as a man starved.

“Were you bad tonight?” Your voice was sweet like honey. He nodded as much as he could within your vice grip, and his lashes fluttered, as if ashamed to admit it. The way the moonlight illuminated the curve of his biceps, caressed the snags of violence across his skin, you felt dizzy. His voice held its own echo, like he’d been hollowed out. “Very.”

Oh how you longed to kiss those lips… “Mmm, can’t have that.” You pulled your hand out from his boxers, as if you had changed your mind about touching him. Your fingers traipsed along the sides of his torso, causing him to shudder. The sensation brought sparks to your fingertips. His eyes searched your face, his desire increasingly evident, desperate to be taken care of. Your fingers caught on the subtle slopes and valleys of his abdomen, skimming the raised scars on his chest, moving agonizingly slower until they reached your mouth.

Bruce’s pupils dilated as he watched you throat your fingers, spit strings falling down your chin as you pulled them away. He moaned as your slick fingers found the base of his cock. He was already hard. Very hard. You squeezed your fingers firmer round his throat with each stroke, drawing strangled moans out of him that only made you press harder, move faster. His head dug into the pillow in glorious agony, the tension in his throat heightening each slip of your hand. You felt every reverberation of his moans within your palm. Every inhale, every exhale. God, it was so fucking hot… you pressed your knees together on the bed, feeling your pussy start to throb.

“Fuck, mmph,” his hands moved up to grip the edge of his pillow, his knuckles going white. He was becoming lost in it, obvious by the shivering moans gasping out of him, the way his hips drove up to match the rhythm of your hand. He was wound up, messy. His hair splayed in dark clumps across his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut, brows furrowing. Seeing him like this, so enraptured in your touch, it could’ve overwhelmed you if you weren’t so stubborn.

But he kept moaning, and his chest kept heaving, and the slip of his dick in your hand was mind-numbingly torturous… when you knew he could be inside you, and the only thing standing between you and his thick, long… you pumped harder, biting the inside of your cheek, hyperfocusing on his mouth like it wasn’t the precise thing making it worse. You noticed your hips subtly moving in concert with his, wanting to lean closer and fucking feel him. Your eyes trailed to his fingers curling around the linen pillowcase, pinching the folds, metabolizing what his moans failed to, and it broke the last thread.

You slowed down, his eyes snapping open at the shift, chest heaving. His pupils were blown, and goddammit, you felt like you could burst. You bunched up your shirt to get it out of the way and straddled him, shoving your thong to the side. If he wasn’t getting release tonight, you’d find it. Sinking onto him was otherworldly, his dick achingly hard, your cunt already puffy and soaked like you’d been at this for hours, welcoming him readily. Your grip slipped on his neck as you rode him, your vision blurring between the wet, slapping sounds of him driving into you, and the groans mingling in the space between your mouths.

He married his hands to your hips to pull you down harder, and it took every ounce of self-control to refuse him. Usually you savored the grip of his fingers, he knew it made you weak, but you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. In a movement that read to your body as blasphemy, as sin, you slammed forward, shoving your hand back around his throat. His arms slacked at his sides as you chastised him. “Manners, baby… only me.”

Your body flattened against him and you left sloppy kisses along his jugular, bathing in the sensation of him hitting your g-spot over, and over… your hands pawed at his jaw, shrieking as you felt tension coil in your stomach, your heart quickening to a fever pitch. Small trails of black fell down his cheeks, the warmth of your colliding bodies running his eye paint.

You knew him well, well enough to know he was lost in it, and that he knew you were there, too. He’d long abandoned the proposition of punishment, relishing in the feeling of your hot, cushioned walls enveloping him, drowning in the symphony of your moans. You could tell he needed this, the way his hips chased yours, slamming into you with increasing abandon. You were almost there, but he was too… if you finished, he would. God, now you really wanted to punish him.

In a swift motion, you slunk between his legs, his dick throbbing against your thigh as it slid completely out of you. A whine cracked the edge of his moan. He propped up on his elbows, panting, watching as you moved both hands to his shaft. By this point his cock was aching, possibly the hardest it’d ever felt. Every time your fingers glided over his tip you’d catch some of his arousal, mingling it with your own with each push, pull.

You had to get this over with now, or you were going to cave. You whispered your lips along his shaft, his hips jerking involuntarily with every gentle swirl of your tongue along the rim. Sweat and adrenaline closed your lips around his head, your hands working the base.

“Baby,” he whimpered, his head falling back. His shoulders relaxed into the feeling, his elbows slipping against his sheets. His lashes were fluttering, his abs tightening, his mouth parting a little, more, a lot… your body became tight with need, borrowing some of the anguish you were sure he’d be feeling soon.

You removed it from your mouth with a subtle pop, savoring the taste of him as you licked your lips. “Look how much of a mess you are.”

His brows knit together as your hands wrung the length of him, his breathing becoming increasingly labored. He was so pretty like this, writhing underneath you. So responsive…

The moans you were pulling out of him almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do. Almost.

A high-pitched groan paired with the twitch of his dick signified the building of his climax. He had no fucking idea, but he’d asked for it. Your brow cocked and he nodded, the edges of his breaths ragged and frayed. “I’m so,”

“Close?”

He nodded again, his inhales shallow and stilted as you increased your fervor, pumping him straight to the edge. His gasps could’ve split the windows, pitchy whines expelling from his chest. “Yes, yes,”

“So close, hmm?” You slowed down just so, barely, imperceptible to someone as thrown as he was. “So fucking close,”

“Just like that, oh, fuck, fuck,” His movements drew erratic, his hips fucking himself into your hand, sweat pouring down his face. You bit back a giggle, watching his body begin to surrender, wishing you could bottle this moment in time. The instant you felt his body prep a shudder, you shot back, ceasing all contact.

He choked on a strangled moan, his eyes flashing wide in shock, his mouth flying open. On your knees at the foot of his bed, you watched his body stretch toward release, unable to grasp it. He slowly attempted to get his bearings, his body heaving with unspent pleasure. You blushed as you witnessed his cock throb in vain—right there, but not quite.

You smirked at him as you ran your hands up his calves, his body vibrating. He blinked hard, whiplash ravaging his system. Your voice was a low, teasing purr. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

His exhausted eyes held the hint of a glare, his teeth gritting hard as he accepted the loss. His heart jammed against his ribs, screaming in protest. He fell back against the sweat-soaked pillow, bringing his hands up to rub his face, hiding the bitter heat flushing his cheeks. “Christ,”

You stood, the bed creaking softly beneath you. You twirled your shirt off and tossed it by the door of his bath, all but skipping over to it. “I’d help you clean yourself up, but…” When you looked back, his dick was softer, his breathing starting to regulate. His eyes flicked over to you, his breath deepening, as if overwhelmed by the sight of you.

He hauled a sigh from the depth of his lungs, agonizingly situating upright. He steadied his breathing for a few beats, stomach coiled tight, body heavy. Jesus fucking Christ. As wholly, entirely frustrated as he was, he was undeniably impressed; his tense, electrified body the ultimate testament, unable to block a boyish grin from revealing itself to you. “Stop celebrating.”

You hummed your way to his shower, choreographing the shape of your hands slammed against the fogged glass. “Careful what you wish for.”

[austinbsblog]

The Winner Takes It All

(Benny Cross x Fem!Vandal!Reader)

Warnings: Smoking, alcohol, language, mention of breasts, kissing

A/N: I loved this anon request! It was so fun to write and get to experiment with a confident character. If you wish to see the request scroll down on my page!

•

•

•

As you and Benny made your way to the bar, the rumble of his motorcycle reverberated through your body, filling you with a sense of exhilaration. You held onto him tightly, feeling the rush of wind as your hair flowed behind you, the streets blurring into streaks of light and color. You nestled your chin on his shoulder, the curve of his leather jacket providing a sense of security as you leaned into the ride. The heady scent of gasoline, cigarette smoke, and his cologne mingled in the air, creating an intoxicating aroma that filled your senses. With each breath, the familiar yet thrilling scent enveloped you, triggering a rush of anticipation and comfort. It was a scent that belonged solely to Benny. The warmth of his body pressed against yours provided a stark contrast to the cool night air.

•

•

•

As you approached the bar, the lively sounds of the Vandals' loud laughter, clinking bottles, and soft rock music from the jukebox filled the air. Benny turned off the engine and steadied the bike with a kick of his boot, allowing you to dismount safely. "Thanks, Benny, I really appreciate it," you said, slipping off your leather jacket to reveal a black off-the-shoulder top. Leaning against the bike, Benny watched as you retrieved your lipstick tube and mirror from your pocket and applied a deep red color. "Of course, Baby," he teased, knowing well that you weren't a fan of the nickname. Being the youngest among the Vandals, you had unwittingly acquired the name "Baby" and it has stuck ever since. Benny often wished he could call you his, but his attempts to express his feelings were always met with your captivating gaze that left him feeling bashful. "Come on," you teased, impatiently tugging at his hand, "You're taking forever," as you playfully dragged him into the bar.

•

•

•

The dimly lit space is filled with a fog of smoke and Vandals taking over every inch. Johnny is the first to see the both of you and his eyes light up at the sight of your hands clasped with one another, “Baby!” Johnny announces and everyone’s eyes snap to the door. Your smile grows wide as everyone exclaims about your presence, gives you hugs, or kisses your cheeks. The pull of the crowd causes Benny to lose you in the crowd and watch you interact from afar. “Today the day kid?” Johnny asks as Benny slides into the seat at the table, Benny just smiles and stares at you with a look of tenderness while you nurse a drink and tell some story to a group gathered around you exuding confidence and boldness that captivated everyone's attention. "Listen, kid, I'm telling you if you don't gather up the nerve to ask her out soon, someone else is going to sweep her off her feet, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life," Johnny muttered, the end of his cigarette glowing softly. "Remember how quickly I married Betty? That's because I saw in her what you see in Baby," he added taking a drag. “You getting soft on me?” Benny questioned, and Johnny just gave him a look. “Fine…yeah yeah okay, I’ll do it,” Benny said getting up from the table. Johnny lifted his eyebrow and tapped his watch signaling to Benny that time was ticking and you weren’t going to wait very long. 

•

•

•

Benny's eyes studied the pool table and lined up his cue, taking the shot. Come on’s, damns, and shits were shouted from the surrounding players as they put their money on the table. Benny chuckled at the cries knowing that they lost. “My my boys, is that how you speak in front of a lady?” you ask from behind Benny, your heels clicking louder as you approach the table. Your hands leaned against the table allowing the men to get a view of your defined collarbones and top of your breasts. “Hm, I see Benny beat all you fools, well, let’s see if you can beat me,” you challenge, as you glance up at Benny, take the cigarette from his lips, and place them between yours. The men put their new bets on the table and chalk up the ends of their cues. '`You playin’?” you whispered to Benny, “No I’ll watch Baby,' ' he responded, “Alright,” you sighed. All of a sudden a 50 dollar bill gleamed on top of the pile, and everyone went silent. Your eyes followed the hand and leather-clad arm up to a handsome man you had never seen staring right at you. Two other men in leather jackets with a devil on the back were on each side of him with their cues, “Well hi there, I’m Baby” your voice is sultry as you greet them, “Hello… Baby,” the man responded with furrowed eyebrows, “I’m Michael, this is James and Christopher” he says pointing to the others. A moment passes before Michael says “Why don’t we make this a little more interesting gentlemen?” “What do you have in mind?” Danny says, cocking his head to the side, taking the cigarette, and blowing out the smoke, “Whoever wins, takes the money and her on a date,” Michael suggests with a smirk on his face tracing your body with his eyes. “She’s not an item to be bought…or sold” Benny argued while staring at Michael with cold eyes, “Okay, then just a date,” Michael countered and leaned in. All eyes were shifting between Benny who had a cool gaze and Michael who had a smirk plastered on his face. “And, if I win,” you paused, “I get the money,” you raised your eyebrow at the men having a staring contest. “Deal,” they said at the same time. 

•

•

•

It had been 30 minutes since the beginning of the game and 3 players were out. Benny and Michael were so concentrated on their scores and beating each other that they never realized you were winning significantly. Throughout the entirety of the game, Michael kept flirting with you to not only win you over but piss off Benny, and well, it worked. Benny was fuming like a bull. He couldn’t stand Michael treating you like an item, like some girl he could just fuck around with, you deserved better. When it was your turn, the balls were lined up perfectly for you to win. You smirk at the two men who were too busy giving each other death glares that when your stick hit the cue ball, you had won. The crowd’s roars and cheers for you caused Benny and Michael to snap their heads over to you. Your hand reached towards Danny who held the money, “Well Michael, tough game, better luck next time,” you snarkily said fanning yourself with the money, “He lost too,” Michael laughed as the crowd dispersed, “Did he though?” you smiled. Michael’s smile faltered at your question and Benny’s eyes widened as you walked over to his side. “He might have lost the game but, he sure as hell didn’t lose me, so thank you so much for your generous donation to our date,” you continued. You smile sweetly but with mischievous eyes as the trio walks away. “Come on, you gotta drive me home,” you say, taking Benny’s hand and once again dragging him out the front door. “Hold on, hold on,” Benny called out, “our date?” he said tugging at your hand so you were mere inches apart. “You think I wasn’t gonna go out on a date with you?” you gasped, “I didn’t… I… you like me?” Benny mumbled with a look of disbelief on his sculpted face. You put your hands on his face feeling the slight stubble and closed the gap between you. The kiss was passionate and made your stomach fill with butterflies as his hands enveloped your waist and rubbed the soft skin showing between your top and denim jeans. You broke the kiss when you heard muffled whistles and laughter. You both turned your heads to the bar and saw the Vandals pressed against the windows and door. You pressed your foreheads together and sighed,  “Does that answer your question?” you giggled. Benny broke out into a smile before planting a small kiss on your red lips.

~V

[ughdontbeboring]

I’m so highly offended by Austin as Benny Cross BECAUSE Austin has low key big dick energy (even then I want it in my mouth and…) and I love it, it fits sweetie pie apple of my eye Austin BUT babbyyy BENNY!!

Benny is big dick energy in FULL SWING and sis it look like it SWINGS, baby it looks HEAVY (need me to hold if for you daddy? 🥹🫠). Benny BDE is def Austin if Austin wasn’t so shy. Benny BDE is what you get from Austin when it’s just you and Austin.

but this shit with Benny was an assault on my mental and my poor vagina 🫠

Austin I didn’t know I could be more shook 🥵

(credit to owner of gif I love this gif so much)

[ginnysgraffiti]

&. BENNY CROSS x yn.

you always wondered what it would be like to taste benny's mouth.

perhaps since you saw him leaning over the pool table, perhaps when he started his motorbike and accompanied you home, or perhaps when you discovered -with amazement and not expressed curiosity- that he had slept on his damn motorbike for the whole night, right in front if your house.

even though his reputation spoke for itself and his ways went far beyond simple violence, you couldn't deny that you were attracted to him, or at least physically.

later on, when you two got engaged, you happily discovered that benny showed affection through acts of service. he wanted to take care of you so he was always doing things to help you out. you could consider any on-going issue handled. he had your back in everything.

benny didn't even know he could love someone to the point of changing for them until he met you. his own family didn't even love him and you refused to believe that his "colours", his tattoos, leather jacket and loud motorcycle helped him to improve his situation.

at first, you feared it would have taken ages for him to make a move or just simply touch you, but you were quite wrong on that.

benny always had a hand on you. whether it's just a hand on your thigh if you're sitting beside him or an arm slung around your shoulders or his hands wrapped around your waist if you're standing in front of him, he's always touching you somehow, and you're glad.

he likes having you nearby in case some trouble starts and he can protect you. he wants to show everyone nearby that you are his and only his. but most importantly, he likes having you there to ground him. you're his anchor when he feels himself losing control of his anger and the only one who can deal with it better than johnny.

kisses with benny had always been very intense. he always kissed you like it was the last time he'll ever see you. and for all he knew, it could've been. he lived a dangerous life and anything could happen to him. so he always kissed you like he needed you to breathe. and he also loved to see your lips all swollen afterwards, you craving for more, your hands shyly searching for his waist or reach for his leather jacket.

his lips always taste like cigarettes, bar alcohol, but you managed to get used to it.

in any case, every time he's around you, he makes sure to use his mouthwash properly.

[cynic-spirit]

Benny gets hit on

Y/N stood at a distance, her eyes narrowing as she noticed a woman standing too close to Benny. The woman was strikingly beautiful, with long legs, a perfect hourglass figure, and dressed in a tight, revealing outfit that left little to the imagination. The way she leaned in, her hand casually brushing Benny's arm, sent a wave of discomfort through Y/N.

From where she stood, Y/N couldn't hear the conversation between them, but she could see the woman's flirtatious smile and the way her fingers lingered on Benny’s bicep, as if trying to stake a claim. The scene made Y/N's heart sink. A rush of insecurity washed over her, making her feel small and insignificant in comparison.

She knew Benny was handsome—too handsome, maybe. With his chiseled features, sharp cheekbones, and that irresistible, slightly rugged look, he was the kind of man who naturally drew attention, especially from women like this one. Y/N suddenly felt a pang of doubt. Did she really deserve him?

She watched, frozen in place, as Benny spoke to the woman. His expression was unreadable at first, but Y/N could see the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Then, he stepped back, clearly trying to put distance between them. The woman, undeterred, leaned in even closer, her hand now resting on his chest.

Y/N’s stomach twisted in knots. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. All the insecurities she had ever felt about herself seemed to bubble to the surface—her modesty, the way she dressed, the fact that she wasn’t as outgoing or flirtatious as this woman. Did Benny really want someone like her? Or was she just fooling herself?

But then, Y/N noticed something that made her heart stutter. Benny shook his head, his expression hardening. He reached up and gently but firmly removed the woman’s hand from his chest, stepping back even further. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his body language was clear: he was shutting her down.

The woman looked taken aback, clearly not used to being rejected. She huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder before sauntering off, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. Benny didn’t even watch her leave. Instead, he immediately looked around, his eyes searching until they found Y/N.

The moment their gazes met, Y/N felt a rush of warmth. The way Benny's face softened when he saw her, the small, reassuring smile that curved his lips—it melted away her doubts, if only a little. But the insecurities still lingered, making her question if she truly measured up to the kind of women who were constantly vying for his attention.

As Benny walked toward her, Y/N forced herself to smile, trying to push the negative thoughts aside. But deep down, she couldn’t help but wonder: Was she really enough for someone like Benny? Or was he simply with her out of some sense of loyalty or habit?

Before she could dwell on it further, Benny was by her side, reaching out to pull her into his arms. His embrace was warm and comforting, but Y/N couldn’t shake the lingering doubt that gnawed at her. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, trying to hide the insecurity that threatened to spill over.

"Hey," Benny murmured, his voice soft and reassuring as he kissed the top of her head. "You okay?"

As Benny pulled Y/N close, trying to comfort her, she tilted her head slightly, still nestled against his chest. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as she spoke. “That woman… she was so beautiful. I mean, way more beautiful than me. I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t even come close to comparing.”

Benny’s heart sank at her words, a mixture of confusion and hurt flashing across his face. He pulled back slightly, enough to look into her eyes. “What are you talking about? No, she’s not,” he said firmly, his tone carrying an edge of disbelief.

Y/N looked down, her fingers nervously twisting at the hem of her shirt. “It’s just—she had this amazing figure and confidence. And I’m not like that. I felt so out of place next to her.”

Benny’s expression hardened. He gently cupped her face, making her meet his gaze. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. More than any woman I’ve ever seen. The way you carry yourself, the way you are kind and genuine—there’s nothing like it.”

His voice was low but intense, each word measured and sincere. “You think you’re less than her? You’re not. I love everything about you. The way you care for others, the way you look at me. That woman was nothing compared to you.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, the vulnerability in her expression tugging at Benny’s heart. “But Benny, I just—”

“Stop it,” Benny interrupted, his voice softening but still firm. “You don’t need to compare yourself to anyone. Not her, not anyone. You’re perfect just the way you are, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “Please don’t ever think you’re not enough. Because you are, more than I could ever put into words. And I don’t want you to feel like you’re anything less than incredible.”

Y/N’s tears began to fall, but this time they were mingled with a flicker of relief. She reached up, her hands gently resting on his arms as she searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity. All she saw was love and conviction.

Benny’s grip tightened around her, his own heart aching to see her in pain. “Let me show you just how much you mean to me. Don’t let anyone or anything make you doubt that. I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The depth of his emotions was clear in his voice, and Y/N found solace in his words. She clung to him, letting the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity of his reassurances wash over her. As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of her insecurities began to lift, even if just a little. Benny’s unwavering belief in her was a beacon of hope that cut through the lingering shadows of doubt.

[just-another-personal-side-blog]

Okay but could someone please write about Y/N finding out Crocodile's deepest darkest secret. That Ivankov helped turn him into a man. And Croc emotionally struggling expecting Y/N to judge them. But instead she looks at him and says

"Just means you know exactly how to treat me right, and how to wreak me thoroughly."

And he is just so ficking pleased with that response, any anxiety is gone.

[qininqinin]

Cross is not the type to indulge himself on anything. Especially when it comes to his own desires. So he shares one with his lover and he doesn’t believe that they will act on it.

They’re slipping a muzzle onto Cross. His face is entirely covered in purple blush. Blown out heart shaped eyelights while he pants heavily as it is secured to his face. Letting out a pathetic whimper to show he’s thankful.

He is their good boy.

“Such a good boy~” they would coo as Cross let these pathetic whimpers out. His heart shaped eyelights fixed in their mouth, waiting for another praise. Anything for him to feel good.

He can't help but roll them as his lover strokes his cervical spine, sliding their hand down until they reach his last ribs with gentle scratches.

“What a good boy, you were so brave telling me about your desires, your secret depraved thoughts.” Cross whined when his muzzle was pulled with their free hand, tilting his head to the sides in a condensing motion. Their eyes never leave Cross' embarrassed purple face.

How Cross is absolutely mesmerized as they smile at him while his spine arch at the sudden grab motion their hand does in his cervical. Teasing him.

“You will be my good boy tonight, right?” And he can't help himself as he whimpers again, his hot breath coming out in gasps while his drool falls on the floor.

Cross is so thankful for having such an understanding lover.

[wandaspetal]

An Island Made From Love

𝐅���𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: Marvel/MCU

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬)/𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬): Wanda Maximoff x Reader, mentions of Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova (platonic), and Kate Bishop x Wanda Maximoff (platonic)

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞: Established Relationship

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4K+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of death (no one actually died though I’m not heartless) , Mental breakdowns, panic attacks, mention of anxiety, depression, suicidal ideations, crying, angst with a happy ending, VERY GAY AND FLUFFY AT THE END I PROMISE

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You make your island flag in animal crossing Wanda’s crown.

𝐀𝐍: Reader uses they/them pronouns! This is very much partially based on me restarting my anch island and wondering how Wanda would react after a hard day….I’m mentally ill shush.

Wanda had been having the worst day. The team’s mission went south very fast. Hydra began implanting bombs inside their base’s so that in the case if they are ever found they can destroy the evidence of them being there. Soldiers waited outside for them with military grade weapons. The Hulk went into a fit of rage, Clint almost lost an arm and Natasha was almost crushed by rubble. Wanda was able to push herself hard enough to use her magic to make sure Natasha and her got out of the building quick enough.

They were the only ones left inside as the rest of the team fought everyone outside. After everything was said and done the ride on the quinjet back to the compound was silent. Even a small cough had an apology following suit behind it. Wanda is surprised she didn’t cry the same way Kate did as Yelena held her on the way back. The brunette simply placed a comforting hand on Kate’s back on the way home.

Wanda Maximoff had lost so many people in her life and this was another reminder of why she had to keep them out the way. The team can protect themselves. Y/n, a barista at a family owned coffee shop–one they barely work at anymore because their rich girlfriend takes care of them and Tony and the team randomly throws money and gifts their way. But that’s besides the point. The team is strong with super powers or serums or martial arts and knows how to use weapons. Y/n makes the threat that anything can be a weapon yet they ironically apologize whenever they bump into a chair, table, etc.

The mere thought of losing them the same way she almost lost half the team today nearly sent Wanda into a spiral. She convinced herself to hold on and remain strong.

Once they landed everyone was sent off to med bay, visible injury or not. Wanda had a scar on her brow and a cut on her nose and a sprained wrist. Both her arms were sore but she didn’t think that was worth mentioning. After leaving medbay she informed Jarvis to tell the team she went to see Y/n if they asked where she went.

Wanda didn’t bother driving a car, she stepped outside and immediately teleported inside Y/n’s apartment. The Sokovian wasn’t allowed to do that anymore after she scared them but she couldn’t help herself as she was on the verge of shaking from overstimulation.

“Wanda is that you?!”

“Y-Yeah!” She already felt tears coming to her eyes at hearing your voice but quickly blinked them away.

“Oh! Come look and see!!” Y/n exclaimed happily.

Wanda smiled and quickly walked pass the small foyer and to the living room. Her shoulders relaxed at the sight of her partner gazing at the TV that displayed her animal crossing game on it. She walked over and sat down on the couch.

“I restarted my island and it took like five times but I finally got villagers that aren’t ugly!” They squealed with joy.

Wanda placed her hands in her lap and smiled authentically at the screen. Y/n had already begun decorating the island and including as much villager homes as possible. There was customized pathing on the beach and grass.

“I named it Westview because you know…we said we wanted to move there.” Y/n’s voice grew quieter as their shyness increased. They shrugged. “And yeah…”

Wanda turned her head and reached out her to tuck their hair behind their ear. “That’s nice, I like it.”

Y/n blushed then cleared their throat. “Oh! Also the flag!! Look, look, look!!” They still hadn’t looked at Wanda as they could not turn their attention off the screen. Not even a bowl of the best pasta in the world could take their focus off their hyper fixation right now.

Wanda turned her head back towards the screen, still twirling their strand of hair between her two fingers. She dropped her hand at the sight of the flag that blew in the wind at the airport. It was her head piece. The one that she didn’t like at first but Y/n adored because it suited her so well. And because Y/n adored it Wanda slowly began to, too. Tony designed it for her after he heard her ranting about wanting more accessories for her costume the same way Nat and Steve did.

“I made it just for you!” They exclaimed.

“You made me a flag…with my head piece on it?” Wanda asked, her eyes glazing over with the tears she had been holding back since the mission ended.

Y/n beamed at the tv screen missing the full effect of their words. “Yeah! Because you’re my favorite person in the world and–“ They faltered and their brow furrowed with concern as they finally turned to look at the brunette. “Wanda, are you okay?” Y/n reached out and caressed her cheek with their palm as the witch begun to cry.

“I just love you…so much.” A lone tear trailed down her cheek. “You make me so happy…I-…today was awful and some of the team almost didn’t make it and it was so traumatizing and I just–” A much needed sob broke free from her mouth as she curled into Y/n’s warm embrace.

Y/n began to rock them side to side and soothingly rub their hand up and down Wanda’s back. “You’re safe now, let it all out.” Wanda sobbed harder than before, gripping on Y/n’s shirt for dear life. “I’m so sorry all of you had to go through that.” Wanda continued to cry as Y/n continued to speak.

They sat in silence until her sobs died down to sniffles and her eyes had stopped producing as much tears.

Y/n moved to pull away then stopped as Wanda whimpered. “Put your head up for me please.” Wanda complied, sitting up straight with their arms still around each other. “I love you.” Wanda felt another sob building up in her throat. “And I’m so so proud of you.” Another sob broke free but Y/n continued to speak as they wiped away Wanda’s tears. “Today was really hard and you did such a phenomenal job–yes you did.” Y/n reassured as Wanda began shaking her head. “You did a good job because you did your best.”

Wanda pulled away from their embrace, her body immediately felt the rush of cool air surrounding her. “I didn’t even tell Pietro where I was going, I just left and came straight here to you because I just felt so overstimulated and…and broken and scared.” Y/n nodded, holding their palms together. “And I know I did a great job but fuck why did my life have to be this way, I’m still here, I’m still the scared little girl who hid under a bed with her twin brother for 3 days after realizing our parents are gone and dead and…” She felt herself begin to descend into a panic and placed one hand on her chest and the other on her head. “I’m tired. I’m so tired.” She choked out.

Y/n took both Wanda’s hands in their own. “Baby, look at me, hey-” Their eyes met. “I’m right here, okay? Everything is okay now, the team is okay, your brother is okay and you are okay..you’re safe now.” Wanda blinked. Y/n brought Wanda’s hands to their chest and took a deep breath in then a deep breath out and continued this until Wanda began to follow suit.

It took five minutes until the normal color returned to Wanda’s cheeks and blood no longer felt like it was rushing to her ears. Y/n placed their hand on Wanda’s cheek, smiling as the witch sighed out of content. Wanda turned her head and kissed their hand before she spoke.

“Can you show me more of…Westview?” She asked softly while making eye contact.

“Only as long as you promise to move there with me…and also order us a pizza.” Y/n bit their lip and grinned as Wanda giggled.

“I promise.” Wanda took her phone out of her pocket and snuggled into Y/n’s side as the number for their favorite pizza place began to ring. “Extra cheese?” She hummed as Y/n kissed the top of her head.

“Sounds great.” They replied and began to decorate Westview as Wanda ordered them enough food to have leftovers for the next day.

[qin-qin16]

Are they protective of you?

cw: Are they like a guard dog that won't leave your side? Or are they more carefree about the dangers around you?

Of course they are like a big guard dog! You have no idea how dangerous the world is out there; obviously, they have to protect you from everything and everyone! When it’s not their arm around your shoulders, pulling your body closer to theirs, then it’s definitely their jacket or hoodie over you, making it clear to anyone that you’re together. And how can you say they don’t need to fight the jerk who touched you? Of course they do! If it’s to protect you, they would do anything (within or outside the law).

Fell, DELTA, CROSS, Killer, Dust, FellSwap Gold

They’re a bit of both. Of course, they’ll defend you if someone tries to pick a fight with you, but they also give you space to handle your own problems. You’re both pretty comfortable with that, and usually, you prefer to stay in your corner peacefully—much better than having someone barking at everyone who tries to get close to you.

COLOR, Fresh, Ink, SWAP, Dream, Geno, Classic

They prefer that you defend them. Every time they get into a fight, they look at you like a wet cat, completely helpless and pleading for your help. You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all standing in front of them, protecting them from whatever is intimidating them (whether it’s an ignorant guy or a giant bug). It’s them who wear your jacket as a form of protection, while your arm is around their hips. Could they be pretending just to see you all brave defending them? You’ll never know~

LUST, Science, Farm, SwapFell

You'll never know how many people they've gotten rid of just because they look at you weird.

NIGHTMARE, Error

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 4: Shoe Shine (Boot Worship)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairing: Medic x Male!Reader

Summary: You and Medic have the base to yourselves tonight

Tags: Boot Worship, praise, boot kissing/licking/humping, sub/dom, edging, teasing

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist

“Medic,” you whispered, barely able to get a word out between frantic kisses.

It had been weeks since your team's last victory, weeks since the rest of the mercenaries had gone out to a bar to celebrate, weeks since you and Medic had the base to yourselves. Of course, the two of you could always sequester yourselves in his private quarters, but you had to keep quiet, cushion the bedframe to keep it from slamming against the wall, and even then there was a chance someone could interrupt, especially since Medic’s quarters were directly attached to the infirmary. Needless to say, both of you were pent up.

“Medic,” you repeated yourself, still trying to get his attention. You finally got a chance to speak when his lips moved to your jaw, gradually making his way to his true target, your neck. “Medic, I want to try something.”

Medic didn’t look up, but he made a soft noise of acknowledgement. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and he seemed reluctant to leave there.

“I want to try something new,” you went on, trying to get him interested enough to look you in the eye.

“Go on, schatz. I’m listening.” It certainly didn’t seem like he was listening, considering how he immediately began suckling at your neck. You stifled a moan, trying to continue.

“I want- oh god- your boots-”

That finally got him to stop. Medic pulled away to look at you. His grin sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “Oh?” he said, tilting his head curiously. “What about them?”

“Fuck, you know what I want!” You had hinted at this before. Some lingering glances as he strutted down the halls of the base here and there, not to mention the slight disappointment in your expression every time he took them off before fucking you. You never said anything explicitly, but it was an obvious message to an observant man like Medic. Still, it seemed he wanted you to admit it loud and clear.

“Nein, liebchen. I couldn’t possibly imagine what you are thinking,” he said. His tight grip on your waist kept you from squirming. You were seated on his lap, and he held you there firmly, so simply dropping to your knees and showing him what you wanted wasn’t an option. Your face burned as you looked Medic in the eyes and sighed.

“I want to kiss your boots.” There were many, many other things you wanted to do with those boots as well, but for now you just needed Medic to hear you admit something.

He grinned impossibly wider, baring his teeth in a wolf-like manner. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he crooned, letting you go and allowing you to slide off his lap. Medic moved forward until he was seated at the very edge of the bed. You braced yourself against the floor as you leaned down, now face to face with the black leather you craved. They were shined to perfection after every battle, and you took note of the way the polished footwear reflected even the dim light in Medic’s quarters. “Go on, hase,” Medic said, driving you on.

You had been working up the courage to ask Medic for this for so long, and now you just wanted everything to be perfect. You hadn’t expected him to fall into the strict, dominant role so soon, yet it seemed to fit him perfectly. Now you just had to persevere and let your inhibitions go. Building up your conviction, you leaned down to one boot and pressed your lips to the surprisingly cool leather. Your hands balled into fists as you made your way up to the ankles. You were trying not to shake too much.

The kisses remained chaste. Even though outright licking the boots didn’t seem too far from what you were already doing, you didn’t want to get too ambitious. You reached out to grip his leg, practically digging your nails into his calf as you made your way up the shin. Medic made a soft noise of approval as you finally reached the end of the boot and rested your head against his knee, breathing hard. When you looked down, you weren’t surprised to see your cock straining against your pants.

You felt Medic’s fingers brushing over your scalp, playing with your hair. It was not unlike how one would pet an attention hungry dog. You let your eyes fall shut, hugging yourself even closer to his leg with a happy hum. “Tired already?” he asked, the question sounding completely innocent. A sudden pressure between your legs proved otherwise. You jumped, eyes snapping open to see that Medic had placed his foot against your crotch, pressing down just enough to make you whine. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly wasn’t the most comfortable feeling. Your erection twitched against the sole of the boot despite the discomfort.

“No, I’m not tired!” you said, shaking your head frantically.

Medic chuckled, low and threatening. “Then get back to work,” he said, moving his foot away. You sighed in relief. “You’ve been neglecting the other boot, liebling. Finish your work.”

“Yes sir,” you said as Medic put the opposite boot forward for you. You repeated the same actions, kissing your way from toe to ankle. Your hands were clasped around that ankle for dear life, your grip tight and desperate. You had to keep your hands occupied, knowing that Medic wouldn’t want you to touch yourself. He enjoyed watching you squirm far too much to allow that.

For all his talk of ‘neglecting the other boot,’ he didn’t even let you finish. You were halfway up the shin when he stopped you. “Alright, I think that’s enough for now.” You moved to stand, a bit disappointed that you work had been interrupted, only for Medic to clasp a hand on your shoulder and push you back down. “I didn’t say you could get up, did I?”

You looked up at him, wide eyed and clearly perplexed. You seemed to have forgotten your words, simply staring longingly at the bed. Your gaze darted between him and the mattress, looking for an explanation. All you got was a mischievous smile. Clearly, Medic had something up his sleeve.

“You are so adorable when your confused,” he said, reaching forward to pinch one of your cheeks teasingly. “Don’t worry, I think you’ll like what I have planned. Just spread your legs a bit for me.”

You did so, still kneeling, albeit in a slightly more awkward position, with your knees spread out. It would have been easier if you had something beneath you to support your weight, like a step stool. Well, there was no step stool, but you were soon provided with one of Medic’s boots, his foot now positioned beneath you so that you were straddling it. Now you were starting to catch on, glancing up at the grinning man with eager eyes. “May I?” you asked, not even trying to keep the tremble out of your voice.

“Of course, liebchen.”

You didn’t hesitate after that, grasping onto Medic’s leg and beginning to grind against the instep of the boot. You moaned, shameless and desperate for any kind of sensation. It felt good, even through the thick fabric of your pants. Still, you knew the smooth glide of the leather would feel even better against your bare cock.

“Gott, you are quite the sight.” Medic took a fistful of your hair, craning your neck upwards so you could meet his gaze. That damn smirk hadn’t left his face since you began. He was lucky you found his smug and evil smile to be so hot. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes!” you answered quickly, as if Medic couldn’t already see the pleasure you were experiencing. “Fuck, yes! It feels so good, sir!”

“That’s it, keep going,” he said, ready to encourage you and degrade you within the same sentence. It made your head spin in the best possible way. “Rut against my leg like an animal, mein kleiner hund.”

If you could have seen your cock right now, you were sure precum would be leaking down the shaft. As it was, you were already certain that a tell tale wet patch was forming over your groin. You needed Medic so badly. Simply humping his leg wasn’t enough, and he seemed to agree. Almost as if he had sensed your thoughts, Medic pulled your hair again, forcing you up. You whined at the sudden lack of sensation, despite knowing the best was yet to come, especially when you caught a glimpse of the generous tent that Medic was sporting.

“On my lap, with your back to me.” His order was curt, but the barely restrained lust in his tone was still very obvious. You had barely sat down before you felt Medic’s fingers, already slick with lube that you hadn’t even noticed him retrieve. He must have had it out beforehand, most likely stashing the bottle under a pillow the moment he heard that the others were going to the bar. “As much as I love seeing the expressions you make, I think this position will be more convenient for tonight.”

You felt a finger slip into you, gasping as it pumped in and out at a steady pace. Already you craved more, but you knew you had to prepare yourself. You took deep breaths, staying calm and relaxed until Medic could slip in a second finger, and then a third. Your whines turned to moans. You could barely restrain yourself from rocking back against Medic’s hand.

“You take my fingers so well, taube, as always.” You practically glowed beneath Medic’s praise, your face somehow managing to turn an even brighter shade of red. “Such an eager little thing.”

“Please, please more!” you begged, practically shaking with need.

Medic kept you steady with his free hand on your waist. He didn’t respond, but you felt him withdraw his fingers. You squirmed, instinctively begging him not to stop. “Hush now,” Medic said. “You will get what you want.”

That promise, along with the sound of him unzipping his fly, immediately shut you up. You were just barely aware of his tip at your entrance before he was pushing in. Medic went slowly, letting you adjust and allowing you to feel him inch by delightful inch. It was awkward at first, but you always managed to adapt fast.

Once you were comfortable, Medic wasted no time. You yelped, feeling his hands grasp your waist. With a quick motion, he lifted you and slammed you back down onto his cock. “Ride me, liebchen. Be a good boy for me.”

That was an order you were more than eager to follow. It was slow going at first as you struggled to find purchase on the edge of the mattress. Once you had some decent leverage though, you were frantically bouncing on Medic’s cock. He caressed your body in return, running those large hands up your chest and down your sides, paying special attention to areas that made your breath hitch, sometimes causing you to fall off rhythm for a moment.

The way that Medic worked you up to this moment was calculated. You knew he had long since noticed how you looked at his boots, but now you wondered if he had been planning for the moment when you would finally confess your little kink. You could imagine him fantasizing about the day that you would finally worship at his feet before riding him until completion. That mental image only spurred you on, and you began to feel the familiar buildup of pleasure deep within you.

You bit your lip, trying to keep it together. You knew that Medic liked to have complete control. That included control over when you were allowed to come. You didn’t even need to be told to hold back anymore. The struggle never got easier though, especially when Medic made a point to whisper sultry things in your ear while you writhed beneath him, or in this case, on top of him. You were grinding your hips against his, no longer properly riding him as you were before, and of course, he took notice.

“You’re squirming so much, hase,” he said, feeling the way your hips flexed beneath his hands, hands that would tighten and leave finger shaped marks on your skin. “Are you close?” All you could manage in response was a nod and an utterly pathetic noise, drawn out and high pitched. “What was that? I can’t see you nodding from back here. You’ll have to use your words.”

“Fuck! God damn it, I’m close!” you said through clenched teeth. Medic chuckled, amused by the string of curses that flowed from you, as well as the tirade of desperate pleas that followed soon after. You were working off of pure streams of consciousness at this point, unable to think of anything besides your imminent orgasm.

“Well, I suppose that counts,” he said, reaching over to wrap his fist around your cock. You were arching back against him before he even began moving his hand. Once he did, your mind went blank. You desperately called his name as he stroked you in time with how you rode him, keeping a steady pace even as you began to come. You could feel his breath against your ear as he whispered soft praises to you, easing you through your orgasm. That was up until he changed his tune completely, suddenly grasping your hips and thrusting up into you hard and fast.

“Fuck! Medic!” you cried. It wasn’t a sound Medic was unfamiliar with, but usually you were only this emphatic on the battlefield. He much preferred hearing you scream his name in this context. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Medic thrust into you, barely taking notice of how overstimulated you were. His arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you close until he finally went still. You felt him shudder against you, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

What followed were several moments of stillness and silence. Medic rested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. You felt the rise and fall of his chest behind you, slowly evening out to a resting pace. His hands squeezed at your body, mainly focusing on your thighs, massaging the flesh there much like how a cat would knead a pillow.

“You’re so good, liebling,” Medic said, breaking the silence. He kissed your neck, making you sigh and relax, practically going limp in his embrace. “So gut für mich.”

That relaxation wouldn’t last long though. Medic lifted his head, and it was impossible to miss that familiar, devious laugh. You tried to turn your head, craning your neck in vain to try to look at him. “What’s so funny?”

“It only seems fair that since I made you come so hard, you should do a little favor for me.” He took your chin, tilting your head forward and down so that you were looking at his boots once again. You let out a shaky exhale at the sight, your release having landed on the once spotless leather. “You wouldn’t mind helping me clean up, would you, hase?”

Oh, this really was your lucky day. You were being offered an opportunity to lick Medic’s boots, a whole new level of reverence that you were eager to breach. Medic withdrew from you and you practically fell to your knees, legs still too shaky to support your own weight. Your tongue passed over your lips momentarily, anticipation gnawing at you. You held Medic’s gaze for as long as you could before leaning down and tasting his boot from toe to instep. You really had made a mess of it. As you worked your way further up, you were certain you could see Medic’s cock already hardening again. Given that you were also beginning to throb with renewed lust, you had a feeling that this night was far from over. For now, though, you would focus on the task at hand, the taste of yourself and polished leather mingling upon the boots that you had waited so long to worship.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XL. “priorities”

parts: previous / next

plot: Bruce’s priorities shift, unwittingly meeting you right where you are.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, sexual content/yearning, mention of deaths in the family, mention of illness, mention of unstable sense of reality, subtle mention of past suicide attempt

words: 5.7k

a/n: all i’m saying is you all are gonna like this one 😇 !! the subtle mention is very subtle, basically Bruce mentions NOT wanting to die, and a single line of discomfort about not remembering it.

“Oh, Y/N. I would’ve made more if I knew you were coming.”

Though everything looked the same, it felt different. The constant thrum of your clamoring heart made the shadows brighter and the rooms suffocatingly small. Whatever dish boiled in a gleaming silver pot on Alfred’s stovetop smelled stunning, but you didn’t have time to catch up with him before Bruce motioned for you to follow. As embarrassing as it was to your pride, the image of his head gesturing up a grand staircase, loosely toward his bedroom, was the wind the butterflies in your stomach sailed upon. Gripping the railing far too tightly, your unsteady legs followed. 

Your energy channeled between his shoulderblades, praising each step climbed, celebrating the ripples in his back with each shift of his weight. His feet pulled you enough out of the stupor to be lucid when they surprised you with a right turn. The blood rushed from the tips of your fingers. Between this and the backseat, these insinuations seemed a blatant mockery.  “Gonna change. If you go up two more levels, it’s the first door on the left.” 

You knew it was unseemly to think like this, with the guilt pulsing in the background of every breath, but you were powerless to the whims of your mind. Rather than follow his instruction, you paused to stare at his shut bedroom door. Thoughts of him pulling off his shirt and slipping off his pants made your mouth pool with saliva. Though you’d never, standing here in this sinful haze left you wondering what might transpire if you walked in and laid across his sheets. 

Forgetting he had an alter ego that prized himself on being an unofficial emergency responder, you startled when he stepped out not thirty seconds later. You pretended to retie your shoe, and let him lead again. He never strayed from that same outfit: a tattered black tee and loose black pants. You found yourself fixated on his lack of footwear, drinking up any and all of his visible skin, holding the railing with increasing fervor. The skin on his neck looked especially inviting, as it was arguably the most well-protected space on him. It was so hard to smell him with the fragrance of Alfred’s dinner cutting through the air, and the desire to had you eating your words when he stopped and you bumped into his back. He was so dense, and his detergent, body wash, shampoo, sweat… whatever it was stole your oxygen. Wordlessly, you sped past him through the open door and planted on the far end of the couch like a new pet trying to make itself invisible. 

Bruce walked to the counter, and at such an angle that he could see if you stared at him. You forced your gaze to travel the room and admire the enormous flatscreen across the way—its vast, blank screen reflected the image of you and him totally and completely alone in the empty room. A plush rug gave a good bounce to your impatient, nervous feet. You hoped he had more sense than you tonight; if he gave a single cue of reciprocation, you’d fold. As impossible as the thought was. 

“Want anything?”

A few bags of candies sat on the counter above a softly whirring mini fridge. You grinned at his thoughtfulness, and more at the image of him perusing a candy aisle. He stared at you like he’d hear you speak a single decibel. It was so cute. And you were down a dire amount to be thinking that way. “Do you have any caffeine?” 

His ensuing laugh was buried under his breath, but it jostled around in your gut with a sharp, bright merriness. Of course he had caffeine. “Yeah. I’ll grab some.” 

It was awfully fun to watch him leave. The ability to stare at him without risking him seeing you was thrilling. The realization had hit and left you like a live-wire; attuned to every syllable of his words, every step that he took, even the smell of him and the scent of the new couch you were sitting on. The room looked sterile, like an Ikea showroom. He hadn’t put it together just for you, had he? Why would he do that? 

You already heard footsteps in the hallway. So swift. The sound rushed adrenaline to your already frenzied brain as if it were an emergency. How close would he sit? Could you look at him without blushing? He’s gonna hand me the drink… yes! You considered lingering, but how long would be too long? Could you pull off putting your hand over his and pretending you misjudged hand placement? Would you have the guts to do that? How would he react? 

He appeared in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the right side of the frame. His already tall body looked even larger against it. He crossed his legs with the pose, which straightened his hips toward you. You could’ve fainted, and your body grew warmer.

“Think of a movie?” He tossed you a Red Bull, and you pulled together a grin to even out the frown that threatened to dominate. Dammit. He grabbed a remote from the top of the TV and wandered over to the couch, where you floundered a response through held breath. 

“I thought you could pick it.” 

He sat closer than before, but not a distance that soothed your mounting desire. Enough to be thrown and calculating how loud your breathing was, but not enough to feel the warmth off his skin, or truly bathe in the smell of him. Why were you so obsessed with memorizing his scent? You wanted to lean in and indulge in the selfish enjoyment of getting to see him so close, but he wasn’t saying anything, which left you scrambling, and your anxiety took the wheel. 

Bruce struggled not to make it obvious that he was fiddling with the remote to buy time. It felt ridiculous telling you he couldn’t think of any movies; that he’d essentially stopped watching them entirely once his parents died, because it was the one activity they did together, regularly, as a family. Without words to fill the space, he tried to make it look like he was deciding which service to log onto. 

He pulled up an on-demand video site, and before you gave the obligatory hey, those cost money for a single view, let’s choose something on streaming, you remembered he was a billionaire. With such low stakes you wanted to joke around, be silly, tell him to close his eyes and randomly stop on something, but your throat was tight.

“Anything stand out?”

Something did: the remote had a circular scroll tool, his thumb moving in tight circles as he flipped through movies. Slowing down, speeding up, switching directions… your thighs pressed together instinctively. 

“What about this one?”

Left in a trance from the subtle movement in his wrist, and the nearly imperceptible movement up the inside of his forearm as he massaged it, meant you didn’t internalize his question enough to give an answer. His hands were so warm fresh out of gloves, but you imagined they might be cooler now, a salve to the burning heat that gathered in your core. Would he talk to you while he touched you? Would he be silent, forcing your moans to be the only sound between you? 

Hearing him say your name made you clamp down on your tongue, wanting to sprint out of the room before you screamed. You muttered something about ‘yeah, sounds good’, desperate for him to stop scrolling so you could reign it in before you did something reckless.

And so it was for the next half hour. Trying not to squirm, trying to control your breathing, and desperately fighting lewd thoughts that wanted to break the fourth wall. It was exactly the childlike feeling of avoiding-but-not-avoiding a crush. The sneaking glances, overanalyzing their body language or if they looked at you, if they didn’t, how close their hands were, if you were coming off ‘weird’. So peculiarly placing you back to feeling like an awkward, shy kid.

Bruce broke the bubble of the latest headline in your thoughts—how woody and delicious he smelled, and if the scent would linger after a particularly intense uh, session—and turned toward you. He paused the movie, your thundering heartbeat surely filling the room with its bass-boosted echoes. “You’re not interested.”

You couldn’t look up at him. You’d melt more than you already were. His voice was too concerned, with that constant edge of being matter-of-fact that made your gut twirl. “It’s fine. I’m just. Distracted.” By the thought of your hands on me. 

Goddammit, you felt his eyes studying you. It didn’t help your fragile, racing heart, and the timing couldn’t have been worse with the activation of the caffeine throttling it anyway. You chose to instead focus on the accomplishment of your words coming out stronger than a squeak. You felt caged by the goosebumps that painted your skin at the mere sight of his hands.

 “Let’s talk.”

Jesus, fuck. A piece of hair fell in your face and you wanted to move it away, but lifting your hands from their forceful clamp atop your legs revealed their tremble. Against all better judgment, you jumped off the cliff. “Sure.” 

You twisted toward him and your mouth went dry. So pathetic, I’m so fucking pathetic… your eyes trailed from his jaw to his mouth, from his cheeks to his eyes. Your shoulders pulled inward when you wondered how disheveled you must look from the flight, and the stuffy city hall foyer lacing sweat to your skin. Your eyes dropped to his lap as soon as they’d landed on his unwavering eye contact. Suddenly the brazen behavior of the women at city hall seemed a lot more admirable. They’re so much braver than I am. 

“How’s your head? Your leg?” 

Were you ovulating? Was he testing some new pheromone to use on the people he fought? You felt impossibly agreeable right now, a cloud drifting closer to the light of the moon. You blushed. “Better.” You were too nervous being under his attention to say any more. Sitting with a broken pencil but too nervous to stand in line behind your crush at the sharpener. 

In the corner of your vision, his eyes narrowed; only slightly, but enough. Enough to imagine what moves you could pull on him to recreate it. You would’ve never, ever thought you’d feel this way. He’d never reciprocate, no, and you didn’t really want him to. Then you’d have to answer the guilt, and interrogate how fleeting this enchantment was before falling into his bed. For all you knew your brain was keeling over itself from sleep deprivation. 

Yeah… you felt your hands steady and moved your eyes down to take another sip. Endless nightmares cruelly stealing your rest had left you unstable and reeling. 

“Still having nightmares?” It wasn’t uncommon for him to ask about injuries before he left a scene; it felt routine and distant, no matter how gruesome their response might be. But with you he was invested—he needed to know you were alright, and how he could help if not. You jumped when he asked, and he didn’t know why.

You scraped at your cuticles. Open up. I’ve wanted him to. “Yeah. Freaked out my parents over the weekend.” Your mouth shook by the last word, cementing that your responses needed to be shorter than ten words until you could get your bearings. The room was starting to spin. You wanted Bruce to catch you.

“What helps?” He was asking too many questions. Unsettling you. You seemed uncomfortable, and he didn’t want this to feel interrogative… did he know how to talk to someone in a way that wasn’t interrogative? He endured another white-hot moment of feeling subhuman before you spoke.

“It was nice having someone there.” You rubbed your arm, pulling it close to your chest. 

“I’m usually up if you need someone.” He watched your blush deepen, your fingers moving from rubbing your arm to clenching. He felt terrible. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to resist the urge to rescue you, and felt like a broken record. “You’re not forcing me.”

“There’s no way to untie them. Me knowing, all this. I mean, c’mon.”

“C’mon what?” Another question. Stop that.

You sighed, oblivious to Bruce’s harassment toward himself, too busy directing it inward. “Every time I’ve been here you’ve hated it. And I don't blame you. But you keep doing it.”

“I don't hate it.” But what more could he say when you’d overheard him with Alfred? Could his words be a bandage when his actions were so cutting? God, it felt strange to have personal history with someone.

“Don't like it.” You hated when he tried to play nice. Acting like your presence wasn’t menacing and disruptive. You knew he’d rather be out as Batman right now, but he was compelled to humor you in a room he hadn’t done more than pass by in years.

Your face had the slightest pout to it. It… hurt. He forced his shoulders to relax, sensing you might feed off his tension. “I'm coming around.”

You sighed, and his ears perked to its timbre. “What about you? How have you been?” 

“Fine.” His shoulders tensed again. 

“I’m starting to think that means ‘bad’.”

He side-eyed you, a flicker of something sweeping his eyes. “What's my favorite color?” 

“… Black?”

“Orange. Was starting to think you could read minds.”

He leaned back into the couch and put his hands in his lap. When you managed the courage to look back at him, he grinned. It didn’t reach his eyes, and it ached to see him force it. You swallowed a grimace, with no concept of how effectively you’d masked it. “Trying to make me comfortable?”

He paused. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I don't see you making anyone else comfortable. Alfred seemed shocked to see me.”

If only you knew you were the only guest he’d ever had over. You’d probably think he was a freak, if you weren’t already thinking it. “He’d be shocked to see anyone. More shocked if it wasn’t you.”

“Not a lot of people come over?” Your eyes glinted with amusement, the first genuine sass he’d heard from you in days. 

“Constantly.”

“Mmm.”

Silence hung thickly between you. Seconds passing like minutes, minutes passing like hours. “… I don't do this. Like I said.”

“Keep to your own, I get it.”

Bruce’s face twitched like he was about to speak, and his lashes fluttered when he didn’t. It relieved you to know he still got a rise out of you, and you clung to that rope of indignance for dear life. “Say it.”

“What do you think I’m gonna say?” His brows were set to a loose glare, more confused than angry. 

“Something about how I shouldn't feel bad.”

His glare tightened, though his tone was gentle. “Why won’t you believe it?” 

“Guess it’s my own guilt.”

“What if I forgive you?”

You drew a sharp breath that stung the lining of your lungs. Forgiveness for the least of your crimes was the opposite of relieving. “Still there.”

“What if we kept talking anyway?”

“Is that what you want? Not what you feel like you have to do?” As far as tearfulness was concerned, it was easier to speak than let his sentence linger. Where did the grumpy, rude stranger go? 

“Could say the same to you.”

You folded your trembly hands together in your lap, still avoiding looking at him directly. “I asked first.”

His eyes followed your hands that were clenched far too tightly. He ached to reach out and touch them. To feel you soften. “I like knowing you’re safe.”

He watched your shoulders shrug. “I like knowing you’re safe.”

Silence visited again. He knew he’d have to be the one to break it, given your jittery leg and white-knuckled grip. Good exposure. “How do we move past that?” 

This wasn’t fleeting. This wasn’t your mind creating stories off of sleep deprivation. Your ears clung to every millimeter of insinuation, spinning his words in the naughtiest ways possible. Hearing him refer to you like you were a team was thrilling. And it was impossible to ignore the empathy and care that bubbled somewhere underneath it all. This clarity, however, didn’t fix the issue: both of you were caught in a standstill of chasing the other’s tail around Gotham. 

When you tried to think of ways to shift the conversation away from hypervigilance, you came up empty-handed—and you hit a bullseye. “Maybe the problem is we only know each other’s problems.” 

He shifted where he sat, and it was close enough to rustle the cushion beneath you. You ignored the whirl in your chest and the tingling of your fingers, and the tingling elsewhere when he blessed the room with his voice, and a question, that made your thoughts roam wild. “What do you want to know about me?”

Many things, but the most persistent of them: what was that already spoken for about at graduation? But you couldn’t say that. The only other non-explicit thoughts were the most bland and benign questions you’d been asked relentlessly over the summer by recruiters. “God, I keep thinking of interview questions.”

“Didn’t know you wanted me for another column.”

“Job interview.”

“Hit me.”

Where do you see yourself in five years? What are your weaknesses? “‘What are three words you’d use to describe yourself’?”

He started to count on his fingers. “Social,”

“Oh my god.” Without thought, you shoved his knee as you both chuckled. The contact left a singe on your palm.

“What do you think?”

You stilled. “About you?” 

He nodded, and you chanced a look at his face to see if there was anything hidden there. His face was neutral, but engaged. Surprisingly, the first words to crop up weren’t lustful whatsoever. At least, not until you said them aloud and overthought how he might receive them. “Discerning. Analytical. Intimidating.”

“What about me intimidates you?” He said, as he inched closer in a thoroughly non-intimidating fashion that definitely didn’t make your pupils dilate.

You shoved out a quick explanation while your heart skipped beats. If he ever did make a move, you were suspicious that you wouldn’t realize what was happening before you blacked out. “The first two.” 

Your pulse hammered in your throat as you pitched it back at him. “What about me?” You crossed imaginary fingers that he would say something obviously suggestive and break the dam. Maybe he’d say: My. Bedroom. Now. Oh, you needed to STOP!

“Perceptive. Investigative. Daunting.”

You hid your disappointment with a tease. “Those are just synonyms.” Does he not care to actually think about me? To tell me what he really sees? 

“I answered.” 

His tone was light, but the letdown consumed you. It was enough fuel to get you to clarify, always with an overlay of sarcastic, fun teasing, though you wanted to sink into the floor. “What about me is daunting?” You couldn’t be the first one to make a move, not with the lie, not with the meddling; yet another way of imposing yourself. 

“First two.” 

You couldn’t interpret his actions the way you wished; his tone was playful, but he was just parroting you. Giving you nothing outside of what you’d already given. Low-effort, low-interest. No longer shaking, you rested your hands flat to your thighs and met his eyes. Your heart glittered and twirled into the clear blue ice of his irises, but you swallowed the fireworks. His eyes made quick flight across the plane of your face, and you swallowed harder. You weren’t that girl. 

“Your turn, since you wanna be so creative.”

There was sadness in your eyes. You leaned back into the couch and he wanted to follow. He did his best to gulp it back, not wanting to get into the weeds of following an unplaceable shift. He knew the general answer to this, but with how miserable you were, and officially graduated, and interviewed, and finally, hopefully, at least slightly more comfortable with him, he wanted to dive deeper. “Why’d you come to Gotham?”

He nearly gasped when you broke the mutual gaze, like he’d been physically dropped. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about our problems.”

Back to picking your nails. “I’m curious. If it’s not too much.”

“My mom’s cancer. Got sick soon after I graduated. They had to use everything for the medical bills.”

His chest pinched at the slump that took over your body. His shimmered with anxiety; a prickly tension that shallowed his breathing and manipulated gravity to push him closer. “You wanted the scholarship here?”

“Yeah. But my family didn’t want me to come here. It started a huge fight, I… I’ve never seen my family like that.” He followed your absent eyes to where they drifted in the corner. An image of you crying while they screamed at you made his thoughts go white. “Happened at Thanksgiving, actually. Argued all night, all the way home, all weekend. Decided to take another gap year. Hoping maybe things would relax.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

You came back to your body with the tightening of your shoulders. “I don’t know, this stuff doesn’t even matter.”

“Please.” He leaned halfway through the space between you, withholding the extent of his plea. He cared a lot. An inordinate amount. After some hesitation, you talked about how your grandfather died at the end of that year, and you didn’t want to leave your grandmother. He envisioned you sat in some house in Washington while an old lady knit as you described spending the next two years with her. How gutted you were when she died. How grateful you were to be able to say goodbye, something you hadn’t experienced with your grandfather. How excruciating it was to sit in a grieving, sick household, and how you found refuge in community college classrooms soon after. 

Though most of his energy was spent feeling like a throbbing, aching heart bleeding in your lap, parts of him were refreshed to have someone talk with him about death that wasn’t his own. Since that day, everyone avoided talking about it like he’d split in two if someone reminded him that people die. But he remembered it alone, every single day. 

He ensured he didn’t look at you with pity, an effort that was initially intentional becoming second nature as he settled into your story. A soft rage lurked in the pit of his stomach at how easy it was not to isolate someone who was grieving. How simple it was not to squint your eyes and pout your lips like they were a sick puppy. How instinctive it was to sit and listen, instead of giving a gruff pat on the back or a dismissive shoulder tap before rushing away. It would’ve been so easy not to have that countenance engraved behind his eyes. It was easy for him not to do that to you. 

“I’m sorry about your grandparents. And the fighting.” He was sorry for the fighting he’d done with you, too. It was hard to say the apologies he so hated to hear, praying it was different coming from him. He hoped you knew he understood. That he could take it. You thanked him and after a tender silence, he nodded for you to continue. He didn’t know if you’d oblige for a few seconds, and a lump rose to the back of his throat. 

You carried him through another few minutes of delicate conversation; speaking of the flooding two years prior, and how people were leaving Gotham in droves. Talking about how you couldn’t believe the extra stuff they threw in; in addition to the free tuition, they began to offer free housing to eligible transfer students, desperate for any boost to the local economy. By that time you said your conflict avoidance was less painful than sitting in the tension, so you left. Wanted to see something outside of your town, and he mirrored your grin when you spoke of your grandfather as the only one who supported you going to Gotham. Your smile faltered when you said he’d always known you were ‘itching’ to get out of your small town. 

“You don’t agree?”

Your sigh could’ve moved mountains, instead it moved him. “Makes me sad to think so. I didn’t want them thinking I wanted to be rid of them. Just wanted to see something else too.”

He was certain your grandparents knew that, but didn’t know how to articulate it. “Now you’re here.”

The tension in your body deflated with the force of your scoff. “And how welcoming everyone’s been.”

“I’m sorry for my part in that.” He yearned to be someone you felt seen by. Someone you knew understood.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even, yeah.” You shifted away and sniffled. 

He didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to hear everything. That it was courageous how candidly you spoke of your pain, and there was nothing wrong with it. So he kept it cloaked and subtle, instead asking another question to let you know it was okay. “How’s your mom now?”

Your sniffles became tears that fell in straight lines down your flushed cheeks; yet another reminder of how uncomplicated it was to let someone cry. He couldn’t imagine telling you to ‘buck up’. Telling you to ‘get over it’, or ask ‘hasn’t it been years?’ It was so fucking easy. If anything, he was considering asking to hold you again, guiding your hands around his back to take it out on his shirt. He moved to say as much when your watery eyes met his. 

“You’re the only person who’s asked me about these things.” 

He’d never felt so tender. No one else? He didn’t know what else to do but apologize on the world’s behalf, and it fell out of him like getting kicked in the stomach. “I’m sorry.” It was hard to think as he felt his body shift into new territory, feeling the door lock behind him. 

You shook away his apology and continued, blinking incessantly from what he imagined to be stinging, tired eyes. They were red and bleary. “Still sick. Don’t know how bad. In a wheelchair now, but it helps her. Good to have. I don’t know.”

“You can keep talking.”

You choked out a scoff that was cradled in tears.

“I want to listen.”

He felt like he had levitated from his body when you quite literally spilled out before him. He heard the drop of your defenses with the cracked edges of your voice. “You know what helps?” You were breathing fast, and he’d unconsciously matched it. He wondered if you would say he did. He edged closer. 

“Your interview. The writing.” Him. He set his hand flat on the couch, right in the empty space between your hips and his. “Talking about how anxious you get in crowds. Feeling like you died with your parents. You’re actually naming the things everyone wants to hide.” His hands began to quiver. “Those thoughts swirl and circle inside me,” you were lost in your words. He was getting a portal to closely kept thoughts. Wow. “And I’ve felt insane my whole life… it makes me feel like you can hold it.” His breath caught. Yes, yes, you were seeing him. He could. He could hold it. He could hold you. “My dad can’t even say the word ‘cancer’. No one wants to talk about how sad they are. When I cry in front of others, they just…”

“Leave.”

You blinked at him. “Exactly. It feels horrible.”

“It does.” All those days with his face down in the pillow where he could hide his tears. All the nights where he wanted the world to swallow him up so he didn’t have to wake up with the pain, with no one to listen but Alfred, who always turned it into a lesson or a look to the bright side. Sometimes there wasn’t one.

“But you just let me be sad.” 

His lashes fluttered. He was overcome with weakness in mind, body, and spirit, like a snapped tourniquet. “I’m glad it helps. Glad I can…” he trailed off as he stared at your tear-studded lips, feeling a shiver at the base of his spine. His pulse pounded in his wrists and throat. You’d lit him on fire. 

“Tell me.” 

Your forgiving, sweet voice could unravel him, but right now it was pulling his grief to the surface. He stammered through damp eyes. “I’m not fine. It’s terrifying not to trust my senses.” 

Your hand cupped his elbow and the first tear fell. You followed it the same way he did yours. “It’s a big adjustment.” You squeezed his arm and his chin fell to his chest. “You rely on them so much with Batman, too.” 

“Completely. To make sense of cases and clues…” You shifted toward him, shoving your knee up to look at him more fully. He felt like he should shy away, but he didn’t want to. “How do I do that now? How do I trust myself ever again? When I see things that aren’t there, and misremember such crucial, dangerous…” you didn’t frighten when he ranted, his tone almost murderous. “I couldn’t remember the shooter that night. I still try, all the time, decades… that can’t happen again. It can’t.” 

Your smooth hands grabbed his, and he jumped. Your thumb ran over his knuckles, separating his mind from his body. The heat of vulnerability had him meet your eyes in a panic. He sprung forward and threw his arms around you, shoving his shaking body into the crook of your neck. His hands pressed hard into your back until he heard the tiniest whimper emanate from your chest. His eyes snapped open and he yanked back, flustered, panting, and painted with sweat. “Sorry, I didn’t ask–”

In a blink, he was in your arms again. Your body wrapped around his this time, squeezing his back harder than he had yours. He folded into you and let his body relax, his arms finding their place against your back once more. As you held him, he mourned how he’d ever find this again when you left. He spoke into your shoulder, muffling him. “I can’t believe I actually tried to. I don’t remember it. At all.” 

He felt you press firmer. He felt like your ribs might fuse. Your voice was right in his ear, closer than it had ever been. “Do you worry you’ll do it again and not know?”

His body all but went limp, and you fell together the few inches between your shoulders and the back of the sofa. “Which is strange.” With the snapping of the tourniquet, he no longer felt a weight tugging back attempts at honesty. The words formed on his lips, just as they did in his journals. 

“Why is it strange?” Your fingers rubbed his back with reassuring scrapes. His eyes drifted shut, and when he pulled you closer, he felt your heartbeat against his. 

“I’m not afraid to die. But I don’t want to do it to myself.” He felt tears rise again, and he gulped. For a few seconds, he felt the beats sync. It was surreal. Floating in a bubble of nirvana. “I want to know what’s happening to me. I don’t want to lose myself.” 

A sympathetic sound rumbled from your chest. “You haven’t seen any owls since starting treatment. Now you know what to look out for, you know? You can call me, or Alfred, or your doctor.”

His body tensed like he was on the edge of a cliff, but he’d never been more at ease. Your next speech was honeyed, tying a velvet ribbon around his heart. 

“You’re still discerning, and intuitive; that didn’t go away. You won’t ever stop being you. They can coexist.” You leaned your head against him, and he felt your mellow grin against his ear. “And I don’t pity you.” 

He took a deep breath. Your chest caved in to make space. He could kiss you. 

… He could kiss you.

“Bruce,”

Oh my god. 

“Your heart’s racing.” 

He loosened his grip on your back and pulled back his head to be side-to-side with yours. Electricity pulsed in the single inch between his lips and your neck. He gripped the fabric of your shirt into a loose fist, his blood rushing between his ears. All of his nerves and all of his courage gathered at the very back of his throat, narrowing it. Make a move. He needed to know you wanted this too.

He couldn’t bear to impose. You were just being kind… 

Kiss me. All earlier hesitation fell away. Please, please, please. 

He pulled back a little more, the tip of his nose brushing your ear. The world narrowed to his mouth and yours, but he couldn’t close the distance, or face you. Not when he was so lightheaded—but fuck, that was only getting worse. You were so sweet, so attentive, headstrong. How you looked when you argued with him, how that heat rushed to your ears, how indomitable you were, how sharp and soft you could be… your fingers curled into his back, and he accidentally sighed into your ear. Ask. 

“Master Bruce?”

He spun his head toward the door but you looked toward him, the opposing angles skimming your lips. Before either of you had time to react, Alfred appeared in the doorway. “Lieutenant needs you.”

His cheeks scorched as he hesitantly looked toward the old man, keeping his eyes low. Batman could wait a few minutes… maybe he’d don the armor on the drive. If he got up from this couch, he knew he’d never have the guts again. He’d rationalize away the breathless longing of sinking into your kiss, selfishly keep his touches to himself… “Can it wait?” 

“He’s here.”

[saitamastamaticsoup]

Hey so if y’all gon write like crossdressing or pretending to be a guy Fics PLEASE dear god talk to a SINGLE trans person?? bc it comes off as weird every time😭“your feminine figure” please chill out there’s other ways to write that y’all sound cringe. “I could tell by your feminine face” or “your scent”🤮🤢 Chigiri IS RIGHT THERE! You CANNOT be all “you’re so feminine” when he’s right there and has the slim waist cute face I’m which you keep describing for YN like it’s getting wild @ this point😐 here’s some things to confident! Chest bandages are NOT good and restrict breathing using a compression shirt under the already body forming body suit would work or a binder under that. Like if she’s going through ALL the trouble of hiding in a men’s league why would she half ass it?? Wear men’s cologne, copy their mannerism, take birth control to stop her period, vocal training in secret to lower her voice. If she’s risking her entire career and identity for it why is she just cutting her hair and wearing a jacket?? Ik you want a romantic subplot but like blue lock gay asf and bisexual people exist stop being scared