#how its a bad habit of his to toy with things

[deathfavor]

@yeonban said: "are you in trouble?" shalnark half-shouts with the most obnoxious grin he can manage, relaxing on top of a boulder and idly kicking his feet. it's a tease of a question rather than one asked in earnest, as he's been watching kalluto fight their newest foes with no help from him - or any of the others - for quite some time now.

Fighting might be a bit of an overstatement. Kalluto knew how to kill quickly and efficiently. That was a key part of being an assassin of their types. They left slow poisonings to the unhappy spouses and vengeful friends. But a quick and clean kill was their art. Poison, blades, strangulation, anything and everything was forced to become an expertise from a young age. Certainly each Zoldyck had their preferences, their stylistic flairs, but there was nothing short of perfection allowed for any type of their training.

Kalluto had always held a bad habit towards torturing, like a cat playing with a bug whose wings it had ripped off. ( Except, in these cases, it was often limbs instead of wings - although there HAD been wings back with the Chimera ants. ) On the job he always was a professional. But off the job? Off the job, he liked to play.

Like now.

Kalluto turns to where Shalnark is perched with an irritating grin, annoyance concealed under a impassive expression, before he turns back towards the enemies. He supposes he HAS been playing long enough. Kalluto sighs once, letting a few more scraps of paper float into the air to surround the victims of his morbid entertainment. The pieces flutter until their pointed just under their jaw towards the carotid arteries, and then plunge into the skin in unison, sending a symphony of wails and blood spewing as the enemies all collapse at once. Kalluto knows well the death time it will take - only a matter of seconds with the severity of the wounds. Eight for the smallest, fifteen for the largest.

" Sorry. I got carried away. " Kalluto apologizes as he turns towards the others. His fan disappears back beneath the silk kimono. He does not linger on the thought of his enjoyment of his cat and bug game nor how that side has started to show up more. He also does not even think of how disappointed his family would be.

[hearts401]

shoutout to cassel and lila for SUCKING!!!!! I HATE THEM!!!!!!!!!

[fluffylino]

minho is felix's bestfriend and also happens to be your sworn enemy. he comes over one evening.

whats the worst that could happen...

-contains mature themes

frustration.

pure frustration was what you were feeling. was it really this difficult to operate a toy?!

a damn vibrator that too. a simple little vibrator. internally embarassed by your lack of 'skills' in using it.

maybe you were pressing down on the wrong setting. cause everytime it reached the highest vibrations, it would go back to the lowest setting, a few seconds after.

you didn't even feel like continuing because of how pissed of you were. what a bad way to ruin your fun.

it had been month since you last felt like you should treat yourself. get yourself off to be very specific.

and when you decide to finally try out your very first vibrator, the universe decides its not your day.

stepping out of the bathroom, still uncomfortable with the sensitivity between your legs. unintentionally edging yourself and eventually giving up entirely on trying to make yourself cum.

you blamed it on the vibrator. that darned cursed object.

flinging it on the bed in annoyance.

a small little sticky note is placed on the lamp on your bedside table. its from felix.

he had yelled goodbye while you were still showering (more like struggling). and you had yelled back, acknowledging him.

i'll be going out with chris for an hour or so. minho-hyung will be coming to our room in 20 minutes. im sowwy but he really needed a place to chill at...seungmin is studying and needs no disturbances....so i told minho he could stay in our room for a couple hours.

don't worry, bubssss i'll be back soon so things don't get awkward between yall!!!

MAYBE TRY AND GET ALONG?!

- lixie ☆

now this pisses you off even more. why the hell was everything going exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

lee minho was the last person you'd want in your shared dorm room. minho was literally gonna be coming here.

it had been almost 15 minutes since felix left. that means he'd be here anytime soon. before you even get the chance to hang your towel on the back of your chair, someone knocks on the door.

"fuckin minho of all people"

its real frustration at this point. nevertheless you open the door for him. taken aback by the attire he's in.

it was the very first time you'd ever seen him so...put together? dressed up?

what you meant was he was in semi formal attire ; a mixture of badboy or rather biker boy vibes.

"whats up with the outfit" you say, gesturing to him entirely. pointing out the leather jacket he had thrown on. it fitted him well. a bit too well.

the ripped jeans hugged his thighs. thick and muscular. a reminder that he works out and is a dancer.

"do i need a reason to wear what i feel like wearing?"

his cockiness has your fists itching to punch him straight in the nose. he huffs out a deep breath, walking right into the room. as if he owned the place. he had been here a number of times with felix. but it still pissed you off.

"fuck off" you mutter under your breath. closing the door and walking back to your bed.

that is until you see him plopping himself down on your bed. YOUR BED.

"what'd you say?" minho repeats. he has a few raspberries in his hand.

did he carry them all across campus..to eat them here ? you sometimes question his questionable habits and ways of thinking.

"don't feel like telling you" you cock back. placing your hands on your face and sighing.

were you that needy that for some reason his cologne made your breath fasten-

"what's gotten you so..." his voice trails off, beginning to question why you were so irritable. "...hot and bothered."

"i am not hot and bothered so kindly shut up"

you blurt out, blinking at him and thats when you realise.

where had you thrown the vibrator? did you put it back in your hiding spot or was it still in the bathroom...

"this says otherwise." and to your worst nightmare, minho is holding up the toy.

its like your blood runs cold. theres nothing you can say. or do. except go speechless and motionless.

"pretty cheap, don't you think?" observing it so casually. you feel yourself get wetter. his fingers catching it mindlessly.

"s-stop playing around with it" you stutter, suddenly feeling shyer than ever.

minho smirks and you unconciously press your thighs together.

"it doesn't work properly, does it."

switching it on. it buzzes loudly in the silence of the room. its vibrations are hardly anything.

you've had enough and you grab his wrist. pausing in shock when the buzzing becomes louder. you can feel it vibrating.

he presses down on it harder and it nearly vibrates out of his grip.

how had he managed to get it to its highest setting-

"did you cum? or are you just staining your panties right now as we speak." he snorts out, manspreading.

"cause this wasn't even switched on properly"

☆

you find yourself laying on your back. his hand slithered past the waistband of your pants. pressing it right over your cunt. teasingly moving the rounded tip up and down.

"needy pussy"

he's on top of you. smirking and observing every single change in your expressions.

"min-hho-" squirming under him. your hands flying down to weakly tug on his wrist. eyes struggling to stay focused.

"i must admit. hearing you say my name like that makes me want to see how you'll be if I fuck you"

sadistically keeping his pressure firm. nudging it under your panties.

"you're so much better like this, baby"

minho smirks. chuckling at the way you push yourself deeper into the bed. hips bucking upwards to escape his teasing. its cold when it comes in contact with your clit. the tips of his fingers rubbing into your folds everytime he played around with the toy.

"lee.minho a-ah" you writhe out, voice turning whiny. the familiar sensation builds up. except its more intense than ever.

he purposely turns the setting lower and you whimper in disappointment.

"maybe if i rub this..." pushing the vibrator all over your folds. a breathy gasp escaping his lips at how slicked up your cunt was.

"...or maybe if i touch this soaked cunt" dropping the vibrator and slipping his index finger through your slippery swollen lips.

"shit baby, did i get you this wet." and you know he's going to tease you for days if not months.

"you hate me, d-don't you" you whisper,shooting him a glare when he traces a digit over your clit.

eyes widening and breath quickening with how he maintains eye contact with you. bringing his head down to grunt in your ear. his fingers slapping your pussy meanly.

you whine, gripping his biceps. the leather jacket thrown on the edge of your bed.

"i hate you alright." he whispers, rubbing into your wetness slowly. minho chuckles. "filthy girl. you're throbbing on my fingers"

"i hate you so much that i jerk off to your pictures or that tone you use when you're pissed at me...i hate you to the point I cum so hard just picturing you taking my dick"

you can't control the fluttering feeling. coating his fingers even more so.

"i h-hate you more"

theres no heat in your words. gasping and legs quivering against his thicker thighs. keeping you open, unable to close your legs around his hand.

"hm, you do? tell me how much you hate me, kitten"

"i d-do...f-fuck" eyes rolling back in pleasure. desperately trying to chase your orgasm but he doesn't let you.

"yeah? you hate me so much that you're letting me touch you." minho says, voice going deeper. his ears are a shade of red and his lips parted.

"you're wet and begging for more under me. is that cause you hate me, sweetheart. or is that just you being you"

he quickens his pace. circling hard over your swollen and aching clit.

till you're throwing your hands around his neck. pulling him onto you entirely while you cum. its the hardest you've ever orgasmed.

maybe it was cause it had been so long...or you were sure it was because of him.

"there we go, good kitty" riding your high.

taking you by surprise when he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. so you push a few strands of hair out of his face. not letting go of him just yet.

"don't call me that" you whisper, struggling to hold in your smile. his lips curve upwards into a subtle smirk. kissing your neck slowly..

"but now that I know you're so pliant, i claim you as one of my cats"

your legs giving in when he gets up. wiping his coated fingers on his jeans. it leaves a wet stain.

"again as I said." you lift your head up, confused.

"this thing is useless!" grabbing the vibrator like he had personal beef with it. flinging it casually somewhere behind you.

"choose me. customize, personal talk, boyfriend material, protection...all in one package, baby"

pointing to himself.

he reaches over to the abandoned raspberries on the counter. walking back to stuff one small red berry in your mouth. smiling when you savour it.

"good kitty"

.

.

"is that minho hyung's jacket you're wearing?" felix' eyes widen. wondering why you were wearing the leather jacket.

"yeah and he told me i could wear it when i meet him for dinner tonight" you reply, lacing your boots up.

"YOU'RE HAVING DINNER WITH HIM?!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

I wanna be his dinner- GOD HE'S SO ARGHSBSJAKJW HAHAHAHIWHEHSHS

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Charles leclerc x reader, your his assistant that He has been pinning over forever and drops hints and like a lovesick puppy to you but your oblivious and innocent to it? Know you can do this rlly good lovely — F1driverszona 🤍

i love f1driverszona so much!! hi bae this is for you :)

comments and replies are always appreciated!!

When you accepted the job, you knew the challenges you'd face wouldn't be easy. However, you never anticipated your boss being one of those challenges. Charles was never a difficult person; he was always easygoing and well-spoken. He only became difficult when he had his eyes set on a specific target—or in this case, a specific person. His last assistant had left for another job, leaving Charles with a significant position to fill. Interviewing hundreds of people day in and day out was exhausting, and he was honestly on the verge of promoting any random intern. But then, you walked in—hair flying, papers everywhere; in short, you looked like a hot mess. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Your looks weren’t the only thing that impressed Charles. Your CV was more than impressive, showcasing all the hard work you'd done. The sudden decision to hire you had tilted your world upside down. You went from living in a small apartment in a rather miserable neighborhood to residing in the country’s best penthouse. From day one, it was clear that your boss had a soft spot for you. You often got away with things others didn’t, like showing up to work late, leaving early, and skipping those horrible meetings. You were given all the liberties in the world, yet you never took advantage of them. This habit of yours often left Charles scratching his head, wondering why you never took advantage of his kindness and leniency.

Charles knew he'd had his eye on you since day one. Each day you walked into his office made him smile wider. Everyone around you both knew how captivated Charles was by you, yet you remained oblivious. It was hard to ignore the feelings you had for Charles, but for the sake of professionalism, you often suppressed them. It was challenging, especially considering how kind and handsome he was. His smile had you weak, and the veins in his arms, especially when he flexed, had you wondering how his hand would look wrapped around your neck—anyway. Charles always kept you on your toes with how he handled you. His hand would always find its way comfortably to the small of your back, or he'd always be hands-on, even for the smallest tasks.

One specific incident genuinely made you wonder if your boss had feelings for you. Charles never bothered you after work hours, as he was a gentleman. So when you picked up his call one evening and heard the blaring music from a club, you knew something was up. Before he spoke, you heard a very drunk Lando yelling, “Look at you, Charlie! Can’t even stay away from her for more than a couple of hours!” His reply would have made you swoon if only you understood French: “Mon bébé, je jure que je ferai de toi ma femme un jour, mon amour. J'aimerais pouvoir dire ça sobrement.” When you asked him the next day what he'd said, he simply brushed it off, saying he’d tell you when the time was right.

You had made the mistake of talking about Charles to your overly enthusiastic best friend, Eli. You'd always felt something odd when you were around Eli but brushed it off since he'd been in your life since you were five, and you weren't one to think poorly of people. Eli, who was oddly against your feelings for Charles, proposed a plan to get you two together by showing up at the Italian Grand Prix as your boyfriend to make Charles jealous. Though you had a bad feeling, you reluctantly agreed.

Monza was always magical, especially since you worked for Ferrari. You loved seeing how fans adored Charles and Carlos. You even joined the locals in praying for a Ferrari win, secretly hoping it would be Charles. When Charles qualified P4, everyone assumed it was because the car lacked pace. However, Charles was distracted by seeing you with Eli. It wasn’t the fact that you were with another guy—it was how uncomfortable you looked. Eli insisted that pretending to be your boyfriend meant he could touch and hold you as he pleased, making you so uncomfortable you wished you could disappear. He justified it as "part of the plan."

Race day was the first time you spoke to Charles again. His responses were curt and had an edge to them, which was unusual. All he wanted to do was pull you into his arms and kiss you before the race. Instead, you exchanged a meek, “Good luck, Charlie.” He simply nodded, determined to win for both of you.

When Charles miraculously won the race, his first thought was of you. He couldn’t wait to see you and planned to pull you into his arms and whisper the same words he’d said while drunk. This time, though, he was sure you would understand, as you now knew some French. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. The strange feeling you had around Eli turned out to be justified—he was trying to drug you, hoping to manipulate the situation to drive Charles away and take advantage of you himself.

Eli had been slipping drugs into the water you drank. He knew you didn’t drink alcohol and had to be creative. Midway through the race, you began to feel dizzy, struggling to focus. Around lap 45, you sensed something was seriously wrong, and luckily, Rebecca noticed too. When Eli left momentarily to fetch more "water," you encountered Rebecca, who saw how pale and clammy you were. She informed Andrea and took you to the medical center, where you eventually collapsed.

When Charles crossed the finish line, he was on an emotional high—until he heard what happened to you. Charles never saw himself as a violent man, but when he heard about Eli’s plan, he couldn’t hold back his fury. He confronted Eli, who confessed to his scheme. It was a stupid plan, one intended to tear apart two people who clearly belonged together. Charles’s only concern, however, was you. Seeing you quiet and still made him realize how much he depended on your presence.

You had been unconscious for eight hours and were taken to a nearby hospital for safety. When you finally woke, you felt a rough hand over yours. Charles had stayed by your side the entire time, his eyes tired yet softening as you stirred. Slowly, your memory returned, and so did the panic of recent events. It took Charles an hour to calm you down. A week later, Eli was arrested for his crimes, and Charles barely left your side. Later that week, he finally asked you out.

He wasn’t the smoothest, but he composed a song on the piano for you and played it as he invited you to a high-end restaurant you’d always dreamed of. Toward the end, he finally said the words in French that he’d kept close to his heart: “La dernière fois que j'ai eu le courage de te dire ces mots, j'étais ivre. Cette fois, je suis sobre, et je suis complètement amoureux de toi. S'il te plaît, sois mon amant?”

You simply replied, “J'ai toujours été à toi, Charlie. Tu m'as juste fait attendre." And that’s how, against all odds, you two finally found each other.

French to English :

"My baby, I swear that I’ll make you my wife one day, my love. I wish I could say this sober."

"The last time I had the courage to say these words to you, I was drunk. This time, I'm sober, and I'm completely in love with you. Please, be mine?"

"I've always been yours, Charlie. You just made me wait."

[struwberrii]

suna headcanons 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

here are my silly sunarin headcanons!! hope you guys likey

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ (also is mostly relationship stuff but not all)

has the craziest sleep schedule like he stays up all night, falls asleep at 5am, wakes up at 8 am and just goes to school fine

buys you snacks from the vending machines daily

teases you a lot but is really flirty about it

probably most active at night and invites you out when it’s dark, he just likes how much emptier everywhere is

has the best music taste and always puts you onto his music

nonchalant dread head of japan

would probably sneak into your house through your window just to see you

says the funniest things with the most deadpan expression which makes it 10x

if you dont reply to his messages fast enough he hits you with the "why do you hate me"

he’s too honest sometimes and has a bad habit of saying things that are rude when he really didn’t have to

randomly tackles you and play fights

bros the type to pick you up and jump into the pool with you

does the bare minimum with all his school work

starts talking like you and using your slang when you guys hang out long enough

he’s the guy people talk shit around bc they think he’s quiet and a loner but he’s lowkey a shit starter and shares what he hears

slacks/lazy in most things but he carries you guys in fortnite

his bed is covered in stuffed animals from you, even all the cute sanrio ones

ur his profile pic online

i feel like he’d use discord and get paid as a mod on some server 😭😭

calls you stupid as a term of endearment

he can always tell when something’s wrong, like he can sense if something’s off with you

probably wears a lot of sweat pants

always smells really woody and fresh (yk like generic men’s cologne idk 😭)

very touchy, loves having an arm around you waist :3

allergic to drinking water, ik his piss is acid (honestly same here….)

his sister loves you so much

lowkey the worst at soothing you/cheering you up so he just hugs you

let’s you do skincare on him, he thinks it’s relaxing

i feel like he’d own at least one of those stupid tiktok fidget toys that he swears works but everytime he uses it he can’t stop laughing thinking about how stupid he looks

has a bad diet only because he’s too lazy to actually cook

burps SO LOUD and SO OFTEN like hold it man

has a tiktok account that he rage baits people on and reads the comments to you pretending it wasn’t him who wrote them (smh)

tries to teach you volleyball so you guys can kinda play together

i feel like he’d know a lot about the stars and like the constellations

i also feel like he’d really like coke floats (ice cream + coke in a glass) a lot for some reason

acts like he doesn’t really care but he cares so much

he’s only vulnerable and emotional with you

randomly attacks you with kisses

i feel like he'd know some really good unknown dessert spots all around town

i feel like hes an adidas guy

says out of pocket stuff on purpose with no reaction just to see you panic (he thinks its funny)

[lacunazai]

Do you have any fluffy Dazai in love headcanons you'd like to share?

ABSOLUTELY I DO !!! ( some of these are obviously x reader others are just. general hcs )

dazai obviously absolutely adores cuddling. it can't be a headcanon post without mentioning how he clings to you whenever he can get his grubby hands on you. he's a little like a big dog if you squint - you can sit anywhere and even if he's not supposed to fit in your lap , damn we'll hes crawling into it and nestling himself into your chest regardless.

he likes sharing meals with you too. he's always had problems with eating, everyone knows that. but with you? something about the joint effort gives him that extra push. maybe it's the excitement behind preparing the meal, maybe its how he enjoys reading your expression on what restaurants you want when you're ordering takeout. or maybe it's the quiet praise you give him when he's eaten more then usual. whatever it is, it's a good motivator to get him to eat anything.

he figets with anything. any necklaces or jewellery you're wearing are basically toys to him. dazai adores listening to you ramble while he plays with the loose threads of your shirt, fiddling with your hand while you talk about whatever hell you'd been dealing with lately. he adores your voice, and something about the closeness and how he can keep his hands busy makes it all so much better. it helps him focus on anything other then his mind.

he likes going on walks, this might seem pretty basic. but sometimes hearing the birdsong and feeling the breeze on his cheeks sways him away from finding any new suicide methods to attempt while out there. the scent in the air as he passes a bakery, when he decides to give himself a little treat. seeing things in the window he knows his coworkers would like. things like that .

on the subject of coworkers, dazai likes to leave little gifts around for you and members of the agency. he doesn't credit himself for them at all - but sometimes there's a new pen on kunikidas desk that dazai doesn't annoy him into snapping as fast. sometimes there's a lint roller on atsushis desk , because he knows how bad white cat hair is on black trousers. sometimes there's stacks of candy on ranpos desk, ones he'd been rambling about wanting to try for months. little things like that.

whenever its cold outside he has a habit to share pockets with you. gently taking your hand in his and pulling it into the pocket of his trenchcoat, chuckling when you ask him what he's doing and simply kissing the top of your head as an answer. proximity is everything to him - if you couldn't tell already.

dazai gets really sleepy around you easily. he feels a LOT safer around you , and as a result he doesn't mind it as much when he finds himself drifting to sleep when he's laying in your lap after a long day. he knows you won't hurt him, he knows nothing bad will happen to him when hes unconcious. so he allows himself to close his eyes and snuggle that little bit closer.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - stalking, unhealthy relationships, mentions of masturbation, obsessive behavior, and medical malpractice galore.

Harper is the kind of man who can't help but study what he loves.

It's a bad habit - an unfortunate combination of natural curiosity and burning academic passion that always seems to end with a mess and a few broken toys. A childhood fascination with insects might lead to shoeboxes full of tattered wings and twitching bodies. A passing interest in hemogobular coagulation would be poured into a university internship that gave him access to more pints of blood than he knew what to do with, despite his best attempts to put it all to good use. A lasting fondness for hypnosis could, theoretically, earn him a small collection of pocket watches, a soothing timbre that often played underneath his passive speaking voice, and a few asylum patients too far gone to ever truly recover.

His research wasn't always destructive, but it could be. His love tended to veer towards obsession; the kind of burning infatuations that could leave more than a little devastation in its wake, if he wasn't careful. A measured amount of collateral damage was acceptable, compared to the alternative.

He studies you, too. Idly, at first - nothing more than an intrusive thought allowed to fester during your all-too-infrequent appointments, a quick jolt of excitement when he noticed your name on his schedule - then more consciously, in the form of an extra question asked at the very end of his time with you, a note tacked onto your file that doesn't strictly have to do with your health. His chances for observation are limited. You rarely make it to your therapy sessions, no matter how often he insists you should see him, and you're sturdier than he'd like, too used to being thrown around and mistreated to come running to him every time you scrape your knees. That's something he decides he doesn't like about you fairly early on. Part of a case study is deciding which parts of your subject will need to be adapted, and even you aren't beyond correction.

He records your reactions to his mis-prescribed medication with a religious sort of zealousness, reviews your symptoms and lab results while fucking his fist in-time with your pulse. He makes sure to visit your bedside personally whenever you find your way into his emergency room, and you're rewarded for your newfound attentiveness with a healthy supply of shots that leave you too removed from reality to remember your time on his examination table. Harper's always preferred the written word, but he find himself with a budding appreciation for film during his nightly evaluation of your records. His memory is keen enough, but there's nothing quite like being able to study your body detail by detail whenever he isn't fortunate enough to have access to the real thing.

He thinks, as he watches a pair of his nurses drag you through the asylum doors, that it might be time to start the next leg of his study. Studying is useful, but you've always benefited from more proactive measures, more personal attention. It'd be a discredit to his occupation if he was too preoccupied with his own little pleasures to see to the needs of his favorite patient.

It's far past time he moved on to more hands-on research methods, when it comes to you.

[bobluvbot]

birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader  summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic. 

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together. 

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous. 

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius. 

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson. 

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly. 

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself. 

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through. 

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth. 

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment. 

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss. 

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea. 

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between. 

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy. 

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically. 

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support. 

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies. 

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair.  An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back. 

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that  laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly. 

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room. 

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back. 

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs. 

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest. 

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.” 

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day. 

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head. 

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland. 

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids.  “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?” 

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard. 

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.” 

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.” 

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see. 

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming. 

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal? 

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges. 

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay. 

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart. 

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only. 

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear. 

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily. 

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.” 

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

[christianbalesblueadidas]

routine surveillance

batman x f!reader

a certain vigilante likes late night tv. but instead of the tonight show on his big television set at home, he watches you through your window.

warnings: NSFW, minors DNI (18+), masturbation (f), voyeurism, stalking, sex toys

word count: 1.1k

a/n: can be any batman you want but i'm a bale bat stan and i've noticed how stalker-y he is towards his love interests in his trilogy so... (too bad he didn't stalk miranda tate. could've saved him a stab wound.)

For his sanity and his morals, Batman rationalizes that stopping by your apartment window every night is just a routine background check. He only snoops on you for five minutes every night in the middle of patrol to see if you're a serious threat to him. Sometimes, on quiet nights, he watches you through your bedroom window for more than five minutes — of course, only to see if you're planning anything nefarious.

It has become part of his nightly routine when he goes on patrol. And it's becoming a bad habit. It's become so predictable by now.

Night after night, he finds himself standing outside your apartment's window, peeking through the curtains to see if you are doing anything suspicious.

Every time he thinks to himself that these midnight checkups are just part of his nightly routine and necessary to make sure you aren't a threat. Every other time, he can't help but admit the fact that he's becoming obsessed with keeping tabs on you.

Throughout the entire two weeks he has been surveilling you, you have done nothing of note. Nothing at all. But that doesn't stop Batman. He reasons that it's for Gotham's safety, not his personal stalker tendencies when a woman interests him.

Tonight is another one of those quiet nigts. He crouches on the rooftop of the building next to yours, looking through your bedroom window. You never close the curtains because you never thought anybody would be able to look in due to its height.

He watches as you read a novel under the dim, warm light of your bedside lamp. It's one of those cheap romance books that are filled with cliches and dirty scenes — something light to read before bed. You sigh, closing the book and slamming it onto my nightstand. You've clearly grown tired of it.

But you don't want to sleep yet. However, you're still very bored. With another sigh, you throw your blanket off your legs. You slide your underwear from under your oversized shirt, much to his shock.

All those other nights, he would keep his composure. But this time, he felt as if his mind was getting clouded. He is frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from you as he continues to watch with bated breath.

Is this the kind of man Batman is? It is, apparently, as he continues to be a peeping tom. He is many things: Gotham's dark knight, a caped crusader, a vigilante. And now, he can add one more thing to his resume: pervert.

He stares as you pull a pale skin-colored dildo out from your nightstand drawer. It's a decent size but still big. You're not unrealistic, he takes note. He never thought you'd be the kind of woman to own one, but he's finding out many things about himself and you tonight.

Your back is turned to the window, and in consequence, to him. You have no way of knowing that he is watching you. He can't see your expressions either.

You bite your lip as your position the toy on your hands and knees. You rub it along your slit to spread your juices on it, lubing it up. He can clearly hear the soft noises coming out of your mouth because of the tech in his cowl.

When you finally think you're ready, you begin to push the toy inside you, a long, drawn out moan escaping your lips. A hand on its base to keep it still on your mattress, you bounce on it, airy whimpers and moans spilling from your mouth.

He can't see much from the angle and because of my oversized shirt. But he can hear everything as you ride your toy, all thanks to his cowl. Despite his iron will and morality, he can't bring himself to even turn off the audio feed.

He should leave.

His conscience keeps telling him to just jump off the roof and take off with his grapple gun. He should. He really, really should.

He knows he should go now, but something is keeping him in place. His body won't move, his eyes unable to look away from you as the heat inside him keeps building up.

Why isn't he leaving?

He knows he needs to go, but the sight of you moving above your toy, your soft moans filling his ears like sweet poison. He can't bring himself to leave, his body slowly filling with want and desire.

His gloved hand slowly moves to grip onto the roof, his knuckles turning white from the grip as he fights the urge to move closer to the window. He knows he can't. That he shouldn't. But he wants to.

You slowly fall on your front, your face hitting the pillows. Your ass is now up in the air, giving him an explicit show. Your hand that used to hold the toy in place is now moving it, pumping it in and out of you in a languid pace. In consequence, the change in position has Batman seeing the toy stretching you out, wetness dripping down your thigh.

He is gripping onto the roof so hard, he's breaking the tiles. It's taking all of his will power not to just jump down through your window and give you what you need.

But he won't, he can't.

He is the symbol of justice. The one who fights for righteousness and order.

But god, hearing those desperate moans and your sloppy pussy is just driving him to the brink of madness. He is close to the point where he can't take it anymore. His cock is getting so hard that it's uncomfortable in his suit, confined by the rough armor.

The noises coming from your room are sloppy and wet, the sound of the toy slipping in and out of you mingling with your needy little moans and whimpers and gasps. You press your face onto the pillows a bit harder as your hand quickens the pace it thrusts the toy. He can see all of it, glistening flesh stretching around the pale skin-colored silicone.

Suddenly, your whole body quivers and pauses, thick fluid dripping down onto the mattress. He hears you let out a deep moan, a sound akin to relief. You let go of the toy and it quickly falls onto the small puddle on the sheets. He watches your flesh twitch and glisten around nothing and he wishes it's around his cock instead.

Then, his nightmare comes true.

You look back from your position and your eyes meet. You've been fully aware that he's been spying on you. And you've been wishing that dildo was his cock too.

What a pervert, you think about Batman — as you bite your lip and beckon him to join you inside with a come hither motion.

[cordycepsfem]

Play With It

So I'm reading this book, Crap: A History of Cheap Stuff in America, by Wendy A. Woloson, mostly because I'm fascinated by collectors and how things like Beanie Babies and Precious Moments figurines became huge in the market. I just started the chapter on novelties, gag gifts, joke things like exploding cigars - you know the stuff.

And I was not expecting genuine exploration of "gendered stuff" in this book, but there it was, and damn, was it a punch in the chest. It made me realize exactly why I'd always hated pranks.

In the 1883 book Peck's Bad Boy and His Pa, George Peck argued that the "best" boys are "full of tricks." He explained, "Those who are the readiest to play innocent jokes... are most apt to turn out to be first-class businessmen." Pranking showed a high-spiritedness, a willingness to take risks, and most important, the drive to show oneself as top dog. Perpetuating practical jokes on each other was a way for the best and the brightest to establish hierarchies within bonded groups in the guise of good-natured fun.

The pranks themselves were violations; the "conspiracy" that brought about public embarrassment made them doubly so. The point of performances with theaters of aggression was to distinguish the people who were in on the joke - witnesses and collaborators - from the humiliated, who were not... Likewise, boys could have fun "scaring your mother, uncle and aunts and the neighbors" with the Tarantula (a.k.a. Mexican Spider). Just when the "victim" was starting to smile, a button on the Royal Novelty Company's Squirting Camera could be pushed, releasing "a good squirt of water." "Boys, this is the very best joke and causes no end of fun and laughter," the company promised... The "fun commenced" with the Girl Catcher only after a girl inserted her finger into one end: "No matter how hard she pulls she cannot get away! The harder she pulls the tighter it holds. When you are ready to release her she can get her finger out easily, but not before." Jokes and gags of this sort created "disruptive" and "provocative" situations that ultimately reinforced the status quo... many jokes and gags involved a distinct gender component. Jokes like Girl Catchers and Squirting Cameras gave boys license to dominate girls as they would later dominate women. What was more, these jokes made girls complicit in their own humiliation, since perpetrators needed ready victims who, because of habits of politeness and deference, would have to be good sports. Although there was nothing preventing girls from buying and deploying novelty goods, they were told in so many ways that this was not their world. Humor and play belonged to boys more than them. Despite the promise of "fun for all," joke and gag articles were in truth a boy's (and man's) game, and pranking reinforced gender hierarchies. Boys (and men) did things while girls (and women) looked on. Further, boys (and men) had the power - physically, culturally - to do things to girls (and women)... pranking reinforced the widely held assumption that the fairer sex did not possess an innate sense of humor; women didn't even have a legitimate reason for engaging in humorous activities in the first place.

These small consumables opened boys to expansive worlds of limitless possibilities far beyond the confines of the home and its stifling domesticity. Merchandise evoking wonderment, curiosity, and acquisitiveness put within boys' reach, often quite literally, fun, exciting, new, and unapologetically frivolous experiences. In contrast, the toys available to girls prepared them for the domestic work they would be performing for the rest of their lives. Advertisements in girls' magazines dutifully promoted toys offering only inward-looking experiences... meanwhile, boys' literature... promoted toys and games that looked outward, toward adventure, the frontier, and anything else that might seize the imagination.

More sophisticated jokes and gags were predicated on the prescribed roles of girls and women as domestic and domesticated caretakers. Doubly cruel, they not only reinforced women's inferiority but also exploited their submission for a laugh. Women's caretaking sympathies made them susceptible to gags like the false ear bandage and the false chipped tooth. Likewise, their charge to maintain a clean household provided the fodder for many fake ink spills on fine linens... Because an imitation cigarette pretended to obliterate a woman's careful work and ruin her furnishings, it was, apparently, hilarious. The humor of novelties was not just "transgressive" and "subversive." It was also mean-spirited and corrosive, used to demean and embarrass, "at the expense" of someone else. ... perpetrators of jokes needed not just gag and pranks but also victims to serve as the "butt" of the joke.

How many of these things are still with us today? The notion that "women aren't funny." Or "she just can't take a joke."

The toy stores with their gendered aisles, providing dolls and toy houses and pretend kitchens with very obvious marketing to girls, while the aisles geared towards boys have cars and sports equipment and robots and spaceships and building blocks. Girls' toys are still made for them to "look inward," and boys' toys are still giving them the chance to "look outward." Even "girls" versions of Lego are pink and purple, because apparently we wouldn't want those girls to build anything too serious like a car or a rocket; their sporting equipment is covered in flowers or made by Mattel and rarely holds up to adequate sporting interaction.

I worked at a toy store for a period of time and only once did I have a parent specifically ask for, then purchase, a toy version of a pretend home good for a boy. It was a woman who wanted to buy a toy vacuum cleaner for her son, who was obsessed with the family's vacuum cleaner and wouldn't accept that he couldn't run it all the time. The general idea I got from her was that instead of being a normal adult who owns a vacuum and enjoys keeping their home tidy, she was hoping that her son might grow into a vacuum cleaner retailer, maker, or repairer. Even the "girls' toy" was "looking outward," simply because it was for a boy.

I had a lot of parents ask me for toys for girls that were "less" or "more" in many ways. Where are your dolls with more clothes on? With less makeup on? Do you have a doll that's not wearing a dress? Do you have it in a color that's not pink?

We haven't grown out of this since the 1880s. And I'm tired of the periodic regression that happens with toys. The Lego I used in the 1990's and early 2000's didn't have a purple or pink version. Every kid who bought Lego in the 1990s bought a bucket full of mixed colors. The ads looked like normal kids in their play-clothes - I'm sure you've seen them, because there's been a lot of talk about how the girl in them is dressed "like a boy." No, she's just dressed like a kid.

I looked today for that image and found something actually really amazing. My jaded heart thought that I would see ads from 2023 that had girls playing with the "girl" Lego only when I looked for recent content. Wow, was I wrong.

Lego took the original 1980's ad (bottom center) and used it to create the new ads for International Women's Day this year.

It's not as hard as it looks. We can have gender neutral toys that are still fun for all kids. Toys can just be toys. And if that appeals to you, there's a fantastic group in the UK begging toymakers and book publishers to do just that: Let toys be toys.

This was a whole mess of a ride, and I'm grateful if you got all the way through. It's important for me to know that in some way we've grown beyond gendered novelty, and that we'll continue to grow beyond gendered toys.

[barbiesmuse]

FINE LINE. ₊˚⊹♡

;ֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + reader

summary: you knew it was over, in fact, it never really began. but in your heart, it was oh-so-real.

tags: introduction to a new series! there is cliffhanger smut and talk of religion but that's mostly all!

head barbie's announcements: i'm back! after a long break that was totally needed because my brain was fried!! my masterlist will be updated, this will be a series so just think of this as the backstory, anddddd that's all! kisses and hugs for u always. if this is offensive or makes anyone uncomfortable i apologize and i will take it down without a problem!! this is just an idea for a fic! if you like it maybe i'll continue! “Am I making you feel sick?”

The hate you had for Simon Riley ran deep. Before you met him you were a good girl. You went to church every Sunday, volunteered to help in youth groups, and were the Priest's daughter. It was a life filled with love, community, and toxicity. Your father had been waiting to auction you off to his favorite usher's son. Your father judged a book by its cover; unfortunately for you, that meant almost no friends.

So when a young man and his mother come to church for the first time, your father is less than thrilled. His mother was known around town, she was a sleaze. She was outgoing, boisterous, and sometimes flirty. Your father called her a jezebel, although you tried to ignore his rude comments and welcome them into the church. Simon's mother thought you were the cutest thing since Polly Pocket, although you didn't quite resemble Polly your tiny stature was often compared to her. Her son, Simon was the complete opposite. He was quiet, shy, and often never spoke. That was comforting to you, everyone in the church always had something to say, except for him. You had tried countless times to invite him to youth groups and asked him for dinner! Your father scolded you, although you didn't care what he thought of the new followers, to you they deserve all the love. Once Simon had gotten to know you more, he had liked you. You were small, and kind, and your big eyes made him groan internally. You were the perfect kind of toy for him to play with. Gullible and bashful. The more you hung around Simon the more worldly you became. Your father took notice and made sure you knew how disappointed he was. Not only did he ground and ban you from seeing your new friend, but he also forced a purity ring onto your hand. Your father was a sick man. There have been many scandals surrounding him. He simply shushed them away with money. His only way out of any bad situation. In a way, Simon reminded you of your father before the church. Loving, caring, and gentle.

You had often snuck out late at night to visit Simon. The two of you would meet up at a park called “Condamnée.” The park was a safe place for both of you. After your father had put the purity ring on you, you needed to speak to Simon. Only he could make your sweet little heart feel better. To say you felt like a sinner would be an understatement. But you couldn't help it. Simon was like a bad habit, something you kept running back to. You didn't know if it was possible to let him go, you felt like there was a strong connection between the two of you. When Simon sees the ring on your pretty finger he can't help but smirk. You looked up at him with teary eyes and he caressed your cheek gently. “You've let a silly little ring get you all worked up like this, peaches?” He would say in a condescending tone. You simply nodded with a pout. What he did next surprised you, but you couldn't ignore the wet feeling in your pink panties as he did it. He slid the ring off of your finger and took off the silver chain he wore. He slid the ring onto the chain and then clasped it around his neck. You looked at him with wide eyes and he simply chuckled. “Oh my gosh, I'm going to hell!” You said with a quiver of your lips. He chuckled and pushed you onto the bench. He bent down in front of you and kissed your ankles.

“Y'r here for a good time, not a long one peaches.” He said as he kissed up your legs. It felt wrong, it was wrong. Yet the feeling of his tongue gracing the inside of your thighs made you squirm. He looked up at you with a sinister smirk. He had his hood on so all you could see were his honey brown eyes and the skull imprint of his mask. Sick. This was sick. You tried to tell yourself to push him away, but you couldn't. He felt too good. As his tongue reached your panties he looked up at you, asking for permission. “Can I touch you, sweet girl?” He asked, you could tell he was practically praying for a yes. So of course, you gave him a soft nod. He looked up at you, the pretty little sinner in front of him. Oh, what a fucking sight.

[nanis4thewin]

quackity being a dad headcanons because there has been too many baby tiktoks that give me baby fever

i think if you were both hispanic or both speak spanish fluently, he would want his kid to speak it too as their first langauge. If not and you dont speak spanish or arent hispanic and speak a different langauge , he would teach them english because its a common ground between the both of you, but he’d teach his kid spanish later when they are more like 5 or 6, teaching them common things to say.

loves your kid to death. like so so so so much. If he’s working or doing school (im not sure if he finished yet), he would carrying the kid in his lap. Or he loves hearing his baby giggle when he does something funny. and seeing the babys smile melts his heart

when the baby cries, it would break his heart. I think like if the baby cries over the night, he really tries his best to take care of it- but he gets so wind up in his work- so you usually take care of that. but he feels guilty when he sees you so tired but then he sees your smile when you finally make the baby fall back asleep. and his worries go away

i dont think he would mind changing the baby 😭 he thinks its gross but its not like he’s never gonna do it. he knows its normal so he gets it done and then goes on with his day.

if the kid got an attitude with him, he would be the type to leave them with a warning. like taking away their toys or a spanking. and if the baby stops having an attitdude, then nothing happens. but if they do it again, then something will happen. I dont think he woukd have too much of a problem with punishng your kid???i mean he knows when is too much but he also knows when a child needs discipline.

although everyone wants to be the most perfect loving parent, we all habe our flaws. I think quackity tries to be ther all the time for the kid but gets so winded up in work that he often doesnt habe enough time for the baby. But he tries to make sure he’s there for good and bad times. he hates the fact he cant be there the whole way but he also wants the best life for his child,so he works as hard to make sure his kid gets everything they need and want. I also think he puts some presure on his kids. like for grades and school. I remember him talking about how he tried and how he would try to get the best grades so i think by habit he woukd put the same pressure on his kids. but if you talked to him about, he would cool it down a bit.

takes pictures of EVERYTHING. your kids first time going to mexico? picture. your kids first time going to school? picture. your kids first time going to the beach? PICTURE. he tries to take as much oictures because its just little reminders of the progress of his child he is so proud of.

his first impression of the baby, he felt like crying. he heard the baby cry, his heart was racing out of joy and nervous. but when he saw the baby kaying down after it calmed down. he realized that was HIS. he was gonna raise this baby, and he couldn’t feel prouder.

defiedntly a nickname dad. like calling the baby ‘my precious’ ‘my little guy/girl’ ‘bubs’ ‘mija/mijo’ or a nickname of their name

an extra headcanons: he loves your baby fat and stretch marks !!! he thinks they look so sexy and beautiful and he’s head over heels when he sees you wear fitted shirts and your baby fat is more shown and he just stares in awh 🥺 !! he thinks its beautiful because thats where his children came from. AND ALSO HE PLAYS ‘never grow up’ BY TAYLOR SWIFT FOR YOUR BABY ❤️❤️❤️

[azenpal]

The answer to my maybe

– aaron hotchner x neighbor!female reader

summary | being in a new place is weird, but you make it harder for yourself by crushing on your neighbor

warnings | nothing really, just me trying to envision a pervert hotch, cliffhanger

word count | 2055

a/n | hi, i’m just going to drop this one here because i can’t find the inspiration for the smut part of this story<3

Living in a house alone isn’t as fun as the movies made you dream of. Although you enjoy your alone time and doing the things you promised yourself you’d do for years. Somehow, there was still that nudging feeling that something wasn’t in its right place, telling you there’s a factor missing in your life now. The cycle of waking up, going to your job, doing an activity, and picking up a hobby felt mundane when you end the night staring at your ceiling. And it turns out, there were only a few DIY projects in your home you could do until you feel fed up with it. So here you were, laying on your sofa on a Saturday, staring at your window, hoping inspiration hits you to do anything. 

But if you could be honest, the only reason the view looked good was that there’s a chance you’ll see a glimpse of your neighbor– Aaron Hotchner, no— Agent Aaron Hotchner. The neighbor who introduced himself as you were moving the boxes in your home. The guy that told you places to see and restaurants to try as soon as the second time you met him. The father of Jack Hotchner, an adorable bundle of joy dressed as a cute little boy. The man your friends refer to as the hot neighbor when you confess to them how you feel “hot” every time you see him, among the many other confessions you would do and are willing to do for that man.  

But over the weeks, you grew to have a soft spot for the Hotchners each time you saw them playing outside or walking back to their homes with their ice cream. So, of course, bringing them snacks and buying Jack toys that remind you of him became a habit of yours and is certainly not just an excuse to see his dad, although that is a bonus. Yet every time you see Mr. Hotchner, you start to feel that your liking of him is growing too strong. It became so bad that you actually tried not to initiate any conversation with the Hotchner, but Jack is just too damn cute to ignore, and your resolution easily crumbled after two days. Failing to control your feelings and thoughts for Aaron, your mundane days were over but filled with nights imagining how it would feel to be in his arms. 

So, aside from your normal routine, nothing has changed, and you still have a lot of free time. But instead of finding a new hobby or trying to be productive, most of your days are now spent thinking about what you could do to stop your never-ending fantasies with Aaron. Maybe you just have to get out and spend money. Or maybe a shopping haul? Or maybe your period is just nearing, and you’re just horny at a different kind of level. Or maybe you just really need to get laid. Or maybe you need some romance in your life?  

Or maybe, just maybe, you were starting to want the feeling of a thrill? The idea of being careless, having the ability to just do without thinking of the consequences of your actions, or simply, your coworkers’ idea of having fun every time they have a drink. But a one-night stand is just a no-no; you know that you don’t trust people that way and the paranoia that you’ll get murdered if you’re alone with a stranger is just too strong for you to sleep with a stranger. 

But now that you’re thinking about it and you’re hearing your thoughts, maybe you’re just being dramatic about your life.

Then again, your friends have told you to go out more and “explore.” Meet new people and enjoy the different possibilities life has to offer aside from your usual safe and plain routine. So, heeding your friend’s advice, who may either start an adventure or a murder, the temporary answer to your maybes is meeting their friend, whom they all talk kindly of. The truth is, you will never do this on your own. The reason being a mix of anxiety, fear, insecurity, and your strong imagination of how your date would and could dump you on the spot in a hundred ways made you stop your finger every time you want to try a dating application. But knowing that the people you trust know the guy eases your negative emotions. However, while you’re thankful to them for being supportive, a part of you still regrets using the words “bored to death” and “looking for a thrill” when you opened up to them; after all, a delusional part of you wants to be on a date with your neighbor. 

And after weeks of talking with Jake and a side of asking your friends about what to do and if what you’re doing is correct, you actually had the courage to meet him. But behold, now that the meeting place is set and the time is also scheduled, you did not think of the possibility that you will rack your brains configuring countless combinations of your clothes. You want to appear like you put in the effort to look presentable but not overwhelming because maybe he could be someone special and think that your clothes were too much. But all you know is whether he likes you or rejects you, you want to look and feel good tonight and not think of Aaron Hothcner.  

With your bed filled with pants, shirts, skirts, your favorite underwear, and the dress you felt confident in, you step back, trying to think which combination will make you feel good tonight. There’s only a small chance that this date will solve your problems, but you want to try your best; after all, it’s better not to have regrets. So, holding onto your two favorite underwear while still in your towel, you try to imagine which would be better to boost yourself up. 

But then again, the point of this date was for you to feel something new, so maybe wearing the usual wouldn’t be the right way to start- and also in hopes of getting some, as your friends have said. So, looking at the further edge of the bed, you grabbed the caramel nude and periwinkle underwear you have and contemplated between the two. Periwinkle would look good on you, but maybe it’s too much for a first date? Not that you want to impress him with your underwear. But caramel nude feels the safest right now, not too far off your comfort zone, but still different. 

Choosing the caramel nude underwear made you feel as if you’ve taken a big step in getting ready, even if you haven’t chosen what to wear. Although realistically thinking, it would take you hours to decide what to wear, so opting to do your usual make-up, you sent a picture of all the clothes in your bed to your friends for their choice. 

While waiting for your friend’s reply and starting on your make-up, you glimpse the dress you’ve only worn once for a specific purpose-- to deliver cookies to Aaron Hocthner’s door. Stupid? Yes. But do you regret buying it? No. You couldn’t say you regretted buying that dress because he complimented you for wearing it. And it’s not just that he said you looked pretty in it, but the fact that he noticed it was the first time you wore it made you feel hot. You could just combust on the spot. But of course, you didn’t admit it was new when he asked if it was, making a lie that you didn’t realize you still have that dress. 

That day also made you think that, just maybe, you had a chance with him. See, you remember what he wore the first day you saw him. He was wearing a Rangoon green polo; well, it was a well-fitted polo. You’re still unsure about the color, given that you just obsessed about it and searched for hours in the hues and shades of green that day. He also had sunglasses on, but you didn’t get a good look at them because the moment he saw you walking on your pavement, he quickly got rid of it and approached you while smiling. 

And as you see yourself smiling like a fool while remembering that day, you realize maybe that day sealed your fate already. But the buzzing of your phone cut your thoughts as your friends all voted for you to wear a dress. Making you remember the goal of tonight’s plan, stop thinking about Aaron Hotchner. 

Your date is a hot man. If you were in the mood for sex, you might jump his bones to end your dry spell. This is not a denial of the fact that you were in the mood for sex because, technically, you are, just not with the man in front of you. And maybe one more reply of saying what and I’m sorry I didn’t hear that, and your hot date would also know that your mind is floating to someone. Floating to someone serious-looking, big, hot, FBI, and most definitely your neighbor.

At this point, you have given up trying not to think about Aaron. Maybe when the date ends, you could say sorry to your friends and then thank them for doing this for you. You could also ask them to help you make a move on Aaron because, apparently, he’s in your head no matter what distraction you put yourself with. When you entered the place, you tried to imagine what restaurant Aaron would choose. Does he prefer a casual dinner? Would you be riding in his car while talking about your day to each other? Does he like the food you love? Would he wear a suit? Does he talk about his friends or work when on a date? Would he tell Jack about your date? Does he end a date by dropping you home and kissing you goodnight? Or maybe he would invite himself in and stay with you for the night?  

As the minute passes, you answer all your questions by imagining different scenarios of how your date would go. So, with a smile, kiss on the cheek, and goodbye, you entered your home to do the same repetitive way you end your night. But as you take your clothes off, you realize that somehow, what was first to be an evening you looked forward to turned out to be a night you just wanted to end. Wearing only your underwear, you flopped your body in your bed and exhaled loudly. You could not stop thinking of him at all. And no denial method of yours could get you to stop imagining a date with him. So maybe it would be better to just be honest with your feelings? Maybe you could ask your friends for advice. 

Picking up the phone, ready to tell them everything, you got a message from the man you were trying to avoid by all means.

Aaron Hotchner.

Prepare? What does he mean by that? Does he-

About to reply to Aaron that he sent you the wrong message, you look to your right and realize that the window is wide open. The window where you first saw how hot your neighbor is is freaking open. Rushing to close it, you checked if he was still there. How long has he seen you walking around in your room in a towel? 

Did he see you twirling and posing earlier while holding your underwear? 

Did he see everything? 

Mouth opening and mind flooding with questions, you realize what the hell just happened. 

The hot neighbor you’ve been crushing on has seen you posing in front of the mirror while holding your underwear and checking yourself out.

He saw you.

In your underwear.

And if this isn’t the most embarrassing night of your life, maybe finding a new place is the right answer to all your maybe’s. 

Endnote | now that i have dropped this, i will now contemplate how the hell i’m going to continue this but anywhore tysm for reading this!

Masterlist link

[dairy-farmer]

What if like, pre-puberty, omegas get assigned an assistant dog? Bruce gets Ace to care for Timmy, he's so good at his job! It's considered normal in the world to see a tiny omega being licked out in public, hanging off a knot on a walk, etc. And the best way to tell when they reach puberty and are ready for an Alpha cock? They get puppy pregnant (maybe Titus is Timmy's). And after that, it's open season on Timmy. 👀 (also I love your stuff, sorry I send you horny ideas when stoned, lol)

cw//tw bestiality, underage

brutim, jaytim, dicktim

!!! prepuberty omegas getting dogs to aid them before their presentation. people can always tell regular dogs from omega dogs based on the 'service animal' little vests they wear and the fact that an omega will be fussing over them, brushing their fur or weaving lace and ribbons into their collars. omegas have a tendency to like pretty things and so of course they pretty up their animals. when bruce had introduced ace to tim he'd spent hours fixing a ruffled doily collar to his neck and applying stickers to ace's hand leash.

not that bruce thought it was necessary, ace was specially trained and bred to help baby omegas. bruce had personally gone to the farm and picked ace out, according to the breeder ace had a well disciplined temperament, he'd never even nipped at any of the visiting omegas who tugged on his tail and ears. but he was also sturdy and strong, able to withstand physical activity for hours so if bruce had a particularly spirited omega then ace was perfect. and that had been the selling point because tim was going through a...phase. where he rode and bounced his baby omega cunt on anything that stopped moving for too long. more than once bruce would have tim on his knee and tim would start bouncing and grinding on bruce's dress pants, leaving behind a clear stain. and its not that it upset bruce just that tim couldn't behave like that in front of company. tim didn't like any of the stuffies or omega dolls they bought him to help. bruce had even specially purchased one that was made by the same company that made the knot milking toys he'd bought jason and dick. but that hadn't worked either.

so a dog had been the only other option. plus a well trained one would be able to help curb tim's bad habits and train him to take a knot. the first time ace mounts tim bruce makes sure to supervise and watches as tim writhes and squirms, little omega body rocked from the force of the thrusts plowing into him. ace is a good dog and bruce makes sure to praise and pat his head as tim whines from underneath pounds of fur. omegas and their beloved dogs are a common sight to see. plush omega dresses and skirts lifted up as their sevice animal sticks its head underneath, omegas on their backs and making soft cooing noises as they're mounted by pets that they hold onto with their hand leash. if one of the dogs ever gets too rough or their knot doesn't catch and they keep fucking into a tight, hypersensitive omega hole then the supervising alpha can pull the hand leash to briefly choke the animal to pull it off. its the same method thats been used for over hundred of years.

but bruce never has to get close. ace is a good dog, he knows when tim starts getting tired and licks at his cheeks to keep him alert and awake. he notices when tim starts squirming and shifting side to side and dutifully presses his head under tim's puffy dress.

dick is the one who notices when tim starts rounding out and growing a little pudgier. thats probably because out of all of them he's been the most eager to finally be able to mate with tim.

titus is a sweet puppy. shy and always curling up close to his mama which tim coos over, petting and kissing the puppy. titus is an excellent practice pup and bruce can't wait to see how tim will care for their puppies when he finally gets knocked up with their pups.

ace is a good father as well, often carrying titus away so that bruce and the others can fuck tim. its nice, probably because tim has had plenty of practice for getting into mounting position and taking a nice fat knot.

truly, getting a dog was the best idea bruce has had in a long time.

[daintylovers]

hi love! maybe a Spencer Reid request where reader is obsessed with collecting trinkets, calico critters, and/or sonny angels. He doesn’t understand it until he opens one himself and then gets obsessed too. Maybe it becomes their thing after a bad case/tiring day?

don’t know if you’ll see this but ty if you do <3

aaahhhhh i love sonny angels!!! i used to have a cherry one on my phone case named soda pop- but he got decapitated when i dropped him too many times :(

so, because i am self-indulgent- sonny angels win!

****

he notices one day, the little baby figurine on your desk. it's new, with bunny ears on its head. his first instinct is that it's a toy for jack. but jack comes and goes that day, and the trinket is still in the same spot.

he wants to ask, maybe it slipped your mind, but holds himself back. it's none of his business. except- a few days later- he spots that penelope has one of the things in her lair. and luckily for him, penelope is always eager to share her findings. so he asks.

apparently, they were called "sonny angels"?? she tells him how they are adorable little collectibles that come in hundreds of different variations. and it's a mystery each time.

a few more days pass after that, filled with the angst of a case gone awry. spence had been tense the whole time, the case hitting too close to home. but with you by his side- he felt like he could manage just a little better.

the next day he comes into the office, two coffees in hand. one for him, and one for you. it was his little way of saying thank you for being there for him. he wasn't too great at voicing his feelings, especially the sappy ones. so he liked to stick to acts of service and gift-giving. he placed the coffee on your desk, then made his way over to his corner.

except, this time he had a little gift wrapped package square in the center of his desk. it was shoddily wrapped, and he wondered who it was from. for a brief second, his overactive imagination tried to convince him it was going to be something gruesome. some crazed lunatic dropping off a finger or a miniature bomb. maybe he should lay off the caffeine after all?

but when he saw you trying to subtly watch him from your desk- he knew he was safe. written on the wrapping was a little note saying, "this is for you, stalker. thanks for being an angel."

he unwrapped it as delicately as possible, wanting to save the note for his box of sentiments at home. just because he couldn't voice the feeling well, didn't mean it wasn't there for him. once he finished, one of the little angel babies was looking back at him.

his heart did a stupid little flutter. he had been asking around, partly because he was looking for himself, but also because he was looking for you. he had wanted to get matching ones or something, not really sure how the whole concept worked.

he opened up the box and saw a head of hydrangeas peeking out.

you watched as he pulled the exact one you were hoping he would pull, and couldn't contain yourself any longer.

bounding over to his desk, bouncing on the tips of your toes you said, "hey- where did you get that?"

he matched your cheeky smile, "not sure, maybe pen? she has one of these on her desk too."

"oh, whatever. she told me you were asking around about my little white rabbit over there. so i decided to save you the hassle."

he just laughed with you, "thank you. but seriously, where do you get these?"

"no way, i can't reveal my secrets."

morgan and emily, interested in the commotion from the other side of the room wandered over to the pair of you.

"wait, how come i don't have one of these little guys?"

safe to say, that in the coming weeks, everyone was sporting little sonny angels on their desks.

but spencer and you continued the little tradition. after a tough case, or even just a bad day, whoever was hurting more would receive a little gift.

you- being a tad dramatic, had more bad days than spencer. so he stuck to his coffee-giving habit for you.

while spence tended to rarely show his bad days. but when he did, he knew that the next day, a new angel would appear on his desk.

[leakyweep]

Doflamingo x gn!Reader - Patience

@kyuuin9in ; Morning, hope you’re doing better! It’s 💜 anon, decided to come off anon for the request. :D I’ve had this on my mind for a while; how would Doffy feel if he met someone who actually read him like an open book to the point where his s/o actively (but not verbally) tries to teach him healthier habits, such as handing him a glass of water instead of letting him reach for the bottle of wine after a nightmare, proving him with emotional support without outright asking him about it and not expecting him to tell her about it. But also being basically attached to the hip to him and just doing things for him without him asking her to. He’s thinking about getting some salt? Well, would you look at that his s/o already passed it to him. (I also think his s/o wouldn’t like Trebol too much cause he’s an active enabler of Doffy’s bad habits 💀💀)

A/N ; Thank you for this lovely request! Writing Doffy being soft is so fun and challenging, so I hope you enjoy <3

Words ; 0.8k

Warnings ; None, just pure fluff. Although this fic is sfw, my blog is not. Minors, you are not welcome on my blog. Thank you.

Being with Doflamingo was a full time job. It didn’t matter that you lived under his income, under the roof of his stone palace, in his pink satin sheets. You helped out the servants in your free time, making up for the harsh side Doffy always showed the helpful staff. You stood in the kitchen, cutting vegetables, preparing lettuce, learning how long to cook meat to the exact temperature the master enjoyed. You found the servants to be quite pleasant; and while your husband was off in some meeting, you got to know his underlings, smiling and listening to their interesting stories and anecdotes. 

At the end of the day, when changing into your silk pajamas in front of your beloved, he asked you why in the hell you spent your days folding laundry with his servants, thanking them at the dinner table, tucking them in and telling them about the days you spent on the sea when you would join him on his expeditions – and your answer was simple. 

“They’re people too.” 

This made him… think. In his office, in bed, with the other members of the royal family. Of course, your least favorite cohort, Trebol, had many negative things to say about your kindness. He found it pathetic, trying his best to convince Doffy you were his weakest link, that your emotions were too strong. Of course, this made your love see red, grabbing his closest commander by the collar to tell him never to speak about you that way. Although your heart swelled, it discouraged you from being around Trebol for long bouts of time.

One particular night, you had joined him in bed later than usual, too caught up in your screaming thoughts as loud as a freight train in your ears. Sitting in the plush armchair Doffy had gifted you for a birthday in the past, you watched the moon slowly ascend into its place in the dark sky, trying your best to focus on all the good things in your life, the most prominent being the large, snoring figure just feet behind you, sleeping wistfully beneath his heavy comforter. This was short lived, though, when he was snapped awake by a harsh nightmare, his breaths ragged and uneven. 

You turned from your seat to ask him what was wrong, but before you could, his large hand reached for the bottle of red wine on his bedside table. You frowned at him and when his golden eyes met yours, you shook your head. 

“Darling, let me put that away for you. I’ll grab you some water.” Your footsteps were soft against the carpet as you took the bottle before he could argue. You disappeared to the kitchen to grab a glass of cold water for him as he pouted like a little boy who got his toy taken away. His expression upon rearrival made you chuckle gently while handing him the glass. With a roll of his eyes a mumble of gratitude, he took the glass and sipped. He fell back asleep in your arms that night, your manicured nails gliding through his blonde locks to calm him back to his dreamland.

Over time, you began to learn small habits to change for his well being – wine was forever replaced with water on his bedside table, you found yourself passing him things before he could ask at the dinner table, learning his triggers to help him calm himself when he was tested, being his kind ambassador when going to the town to enjoy the nightlife. You wouldn’t change it for the world, you thought. You loved this man – and you realized that while he was ruthless, powerful, and malicious, he also had feelings, and he just needed a little help dealing with them in a self-sustaining way.

Doffy’s heart had grown a few sizes since meeting you, or so he was convinced. The way you were kind to every living creature, how you spoke to children and laughed at their terrible jokes in the streets of Dressrosa, your calming tone as he felt those tendrils of anger threaten to choke him and devour him whole and completely dissipate at the sound of your voice – it all drew him closer to you, wanting to smother himself in the absolutely pure and selfless aura that radiated from your smooth skin. Hearing your laugh after a long day of work and dealing with absolute imbeciles was like medicine. Making love to you was like nothing he had felt before. All these things combined into one, and Doffy was marrying you within the next year. 

You were thankful for him, just as he was for you. And you knew as you grew old together, he would change, and he would grow, and that he just needed time. 

You were willing to be patient with him until the end of time.