#if you catch it it's fine and if you don't catch it that's also fine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reallyhatethiswebsite · 3 days ago

Note

for raphtav: long and indulgent makeout session with bonus dry humping

“You know,” said Tav, soft and sweet, lingering like what she hoped was an alluring shade in his peripheral, “today's something of a special day, in the mortal realm.” “Really.” Raphael's tone was completely disinterested. He didn't even glance up from the book he was reading, blind to the suggestive way she was dressed: a shirt loosely buttoned up (one of his) and small-clothes. Her long legs bare. She still had that messy, fresh-out-of-bed look she knew he liked. She also knew he was aware of the date, but was feigning ignorance to tease her. To annoy her. Simply because he could. Any of those reasons were valid for Raphael.

“I never cared about it much before, but…” She took his visage in, relaxed in his handsome human skin, manspreading on his fancy couch in only a pair of trousers but still immaculate. The concept of morning, noon and night didn't exist in Avernus, but in the House of Hope Raphael made the rules, and the rules said it was a lazy and quiet morning. “This time is different.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes.” Tav approached, reached for the book; it was a testament to how indulgent and amused he felt that he allowed her to slide the book from his hands and close it, putting it to the side. At last he looked at her, deep and soulful honey-brown eyes like inescapable sinkholes glimmering with interest, consuming her slowly from her toes to her crown, boiling her blood and raising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. “I feel like celebrating today.”

“And why is that?”

“It's a holiday for lovers, you see.”

Raphael's mouth quirked. “Do you have a lover, pet?”

“I don't know,” crooned Tav, stood between his legs, smoothed her thumb across his thin but plush bottom lip. “Do I?”

She gasped when he took it between his teeth and sucked. “Any lover of yours would be quite the catch indeed, I imagine,” he rumbled, “greedy as you are, you wouldn't settle for anything less.”

“Greedy,” she repeated, sighing when Raphael's big, warm hands slid up her calves and the tender backs of her thighs to cup her ass. He squeezed those cheeks until she grunted. “I'm greedy, huh?”

“Very much so.”

He was right. Seeing him there, powerful and gorgeous and within her grasp, Tav wanted. And so she took. He was her catch, after all. She slid one hand into his silky soft hair and rested the other on his broad shoulder so that she could lean down and hungrily press her mouth against his. She felt him smile, a smug and satisfied thing, but then he was kissing back, just as hungry as she.

Hot and hard presses of lips that grew slick with spit, again and again and again, the tip of his fine nose pressed against her cheek with the tilt of his head, each puffing breath dusting across her face. It was she who opened her mouth first, she who invited his tongue, silver and slippery and sometimes forked, in behind her teeth so she could bite and suckle desperately on it. He liked that; groaned huskily, a sound that she swallowed and answered with one of her own, unable to help herself. He was an excellent kisser, of course. He was good at anything he decided to put effort in. Rotten bastard, Tav thought with a violent rush of affection that he absolutely didn't deserve.

She wanted to be closer to him, so she straddled his lap, knees either side of his waist. The hand on his shoulder drifted to his chest, fingers tangling in the wiry patch of hair across his pecs. When Tav lowered herself, pressed their crotches together with her full weight, she was delighted to discover Raphael's cock was already beginning to fatten. She rolled her hips, the thin barrier of her underwear and the thicker barrier of his trousers creating delicious friction for her clit that was peeking from its hood, enticed – as always – by the devil. Raphael grabbed a fistful of her hair at the back of her head and yanked, breaking their kiss with a wet smack. A thin ribbon of saliva kept them connected despite the way Tav squealed.

“Filthy little harlot, aren't we,” he muttered, forcing her head to tilt. He licked the length of her neck from collarbone to chin, focused on her pulse point where her heart thundered, blood flow so close to the surface. He nuzzled, took a sharp breath, kissed and nipped at the tender skin like he was thinking about biting her throat open and gorging on arterial spray. Or creating another hole to fuck. Or both. It shouldn't have excited Tav, but she'd long come to terms with the fact that she was peculiar. Her whole body shuddered. Raphael chuckled huskily, his hold on her hip iron and bruising. Bruises she would press on and reminisce in the coming days. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils completely blown. He smelled musky, like cherries and burning candle wicks and wine and sweat. He was utterly intoxicating.

“You make me this way,” Tav breathed. Beneath her palm, his own heart thudded, strong and steady. She, like a wanton whore, ground herself against the full, stiff erection now tantalising between them. How easy it would be to open his trousers and free his pretty, leaking cock, to take it to hilt deep inside her cunt and ride until she came all over him, but there was something enticing about rubbing like this. She knew Raphael's penis – both human and devil – intimately; had touched it, tasted it, felt it, watched it, as it throbbed and spurted ropes of hot cum. The idea that he might do it in his trousers like a randy schoolboy, this prim and proper devil creaming himself as she shamelessly humped him, was a truly thrilling one. An idea that soaked Tav's underwear embarrassingly easily. This beautiful and monstrous creature obliterated all her inhibitions without even trying.

“Do I,” he hummed. She felt his dick twitch. Possessive and egotistical, nothing got him going quite like flattery.

You make me crazy, Tav wanted to say, but even as far gone as she was, she knew that would be giving him far too much power over her. Over her heart. So instead she leaned in to reignite their kiss, sloppy and heated, this time slipping her tongue into the moist cavern of his mouth before it could get her into any more trouble.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #baldurs gate 3 #fanfic #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #cringe #happy valentines day raphael my beloved terror

120 notes · View notes

crsssie · 2 days ago

Text

physics and racing... (of the heart) - Spencer Reid

word count: 1028 // (shoujo event || prompt 3 - shared secret)

summary: you soar, late to your physical, and Spencer stands dumbfounded. was that a tattoo?

The first time Spencer ever met you, he's passing the FBI academy at Quantico, and you're jumping the fence to be able to make it to the fitness test on time because... something. Spencer remembers only the sight of you jumping the fence, and it's honestly not much if you are late, but you don't seem to know that. They never tell the new recruits that— and, well, Spencer failed his physical in his earlier years so it's not like he has much of a say in it.

But, he does spot a lower back tattoo that flashes him while you're in the air.

You had locked eyes with him and held your finger over your lips before promptly flying off on the field, and Spencer wondered if you had wings from how easily you seemed to have soared over the fence when he had spotted you.

He kept to himself over that, not mentioning it to anyone. If no one asks, then it'd be normal to cover for others. Besides, he's sure someone's got a tattoo somewhere out of all the feds. Also, he had to get strings pulled so they could keep his talent.

He knows that's how he ended up on the team, after all.

Three weeks later, you're showing up at the door of the BAU after Elle's got you in tow.

You blink at him, tilting your head and offering a shy smile, and he's nodding back.

"Doctor Spencer Reid. Our specialist on... well, everything." Hotch mumbles, and since then, you're thrown into the whirlwind of things.

You get along with everyone, and you're careful to not change around them when you can avoid it, tilt of a head and a quiet brushing off of your hand when people ask if you're hot, but it's almost impossible to avoid when you're being flushed down for Anthrax with Spencer, shirt soaked through as you blink quietly, locking eyes with him as he stares back.

"You mind exercising authority?" You mumble quietly, eyes blinking up at him as he swallows slowly.

"You both mind looking away while they flush them off?" Spencer nods at you when you strip, shirt tugged over your head as the man flushes you down. There's no explicit rule about not letting people have tattoos in the FBI, contrary to most other Federal Agencies, but it's still frowned upon. You know as a matter of fact that lying on your application about having completely clear skin with no ink was a crime in itself, so you hoped to keep it that way.

You're fine, but Spencer's rushed to the hospital and near loses his damn life because of his cut.

Morgan stands to the side as you start at a cup of jello, raising a brow when he asks for a bite.

"Thought you were a germaphobe."

"Mm... jello." He mumbles, grabbing for your spoon as you hold it away.

"Hey!"

"Can I get one?"

"I'll ask the nurse."

But Spencer Reid isn't a romantic. He knows how to read about love, just not express it. And you're not quite someone who really expresses love outwardly. Everything you do could be written off as a simple flick of the wrist friendship action. Something that you do out of care because you like gifting things to people and helping others out. You send Penelope different flowers each week. You fold paper roses for Emily and bring Derek coffee in the morning. Spencer's not special, he supposes. You seem to have everyone's coffee order memorized. Though, not that it's too hard. He does too.

But maybe it isn't fair for him to dwell on everything himself. His intellect can only get so far. His emotions can't do much to fix him if he's not needing all that fixing. He just needs to understand better, perhaps. Understand his brain. He knows how his brain is working — releasing chemicals of love and he wonders if he should lower his chocolate intake or give up on peas entirely but it's completely and utterly unfair that he's the only one with a racing heart with you around. He isn't even sure how he fell for you.

He catches you tilting your head at one of the local officers as he rambles to you — cute guy. Looks innocent enough, and isn't super sleazy. The only issue is that your puffer jacket keeps riding up with how much you're pulling at it to keep your chest warm, and your undershirt is getting dangerously close to your waistline where your pants are, and the last thing he wants is you being found out for lying. He's not too sure why he feels that way. He isn't obligated to keep the secret, but it just feels like he should for some reason.

Maybe he was starstruck the first time he met you. It would've been a stretch, but he was certain he was stuck in place blinking while gaping like a fish out of water because of you. You were just. It was. It was just. You flew, and perhaps it was the strange phenomenon of a breaking of physics that you were in the process of doing when he met you but it startles him and his chest is going rampant in his chest and he does not(!) like the way that someone else is—

He meets eyes with you from across the room, holding up a file and tapping it, pursing his lips.

So he presents you with a way out, and you take it, nodding at the officer as you make your way back to the board.

"Need help?"

"Thought you might've needed a way out."

"I did."

"Then I'm glad I read you right."

You beam at him.

"Thank you."

He glances at the way your jacket rides up along your back, and he tugs on you gently for you — secondhand habit. Like a habit. Too domestic. He doesn't know why he just did that.

Spencer hears your breath hitch, and he's sure his ears are beyond red right now.

"The ink." He mumbles, pulling his fingers away as you blink at him.

"Thank you."

"Always."

But maybe he doesn't need to overthink it. Maybe, this was perfectly okay as is.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #reader insert #☾.events #☾.fics #happy valentine's bet u didn't think i'd post this series at all HUH. or for him actually. anyways

51 notes · View notes

christopherisfoive · 3 days ago

Text

Underneath It All

Han x reader (College AU)

Note: I miss writing dearly however I can not get myself to do so. I have been reading stuff by others and missing those authors who are away. I hope to be able to read their work again soon xx

word count: 5.4k

I let my eyes wander to the bench where he sat with his friends, talking and eating his lunch. From the curl of his hair to the color of his lips, I was always enamored with his presence. I understood his appeal—the way girls around the school followed him, talking to his friends just to steal a moment of his attention.

I sighed and lowered my gaze to the grapes on my tray.

"I don't understand why you don't just go up to him and talk like everyone else does," my friend Kat said. She always insisted I had the confidence to do whatever I wanted—just like she did.

"It's because I can't do that. I'm not you. Also I don't really get the hype."

She huffed and stuffed one of my grapes into her mouth. I shot her an unserious look, but luckily, she turned the conversation around, and we started talking about finals next week. I tried to lure my brain back to its senses, forcing myself to forget about the puffy-cheeked boy sitting mere feet away.

I hear the screeching of a chair and glance up just as Han stands with his tray. Our eyes meet for a split second. His gaze sharpens, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his expression hardens—dismissive, like we were kids at the playground and I had just stolen his favorite toy.

“Something interesting?” he says, cocking a brow.

I clear my throat and look away, pretending to focus on the grapes on my tray. “Not at all.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, low enough that only I catch it. When I glance up again, he’s already walking away.

Kat smirks. “Oooooh, tension.”

I roll my eyes and swipe a fry from her plate, ignoring the smug look on her face. I just wanted the next class to come already.

Hours pass, and somehow, I make it to the end of the day. My last class—Art Concepts—is with the least engaging professor in the entire university.

Most days, I can focus just fine, but on select afternoons like this, I find myself sketching assignments for my drawing courses instead.

I usually kept to myself in this class anyway. It just so happened that Han and his two friends, Hyunjin and Felix, were also enrolled.

Today, though, I only saw his friends—no Han in sight.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the professor still hadn't shown up. The room buzzed with quiet conversations, but most students were just waiting. I let my mind wander, zoning out as my gaze settled on the only empty desk beside me.

I didn’t even realize how long I had been staring until a familiar, taunting voice broke through my thoughts.

"Are you, like, alive? Or…?"

I blinked and looked up—straight into Han’s gaze.

I hadn’t even noticed him walk in. But now, standing there with that ever-present smirk, he seemed way too amused. And worse? While I had been lost in my thoughts, I completely missed the fact that this was the only open seat left.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just waiting," I respond nonchalantly, forcing my voice to stay even.

I look away before he can catch the shift in my mood, but I swear he senses it anyway.

Han hums, dragging out the sound like he doesn’t quite believe me. "Right. Just waiting. Definitely not zoned out, looking completely lost in thought or anything."

I scoff, finally glancing back at him. "Do you always narrate people’s lives, or am I just lucky?"

His smirk widens as he slides into the empty seat next to me. "Oh, you’re definitely lucky."

I can feel the warmth of his presence, the slight brush of his arm against mine, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I turn my focus back to my sketchbook, determined not to let him get under my skin.

But he’s relentless. "You’re awfully quiet now," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "You were doing so well with that attitude a second ago."

I glance at him again, my eyes narrowing. "Maybe I just don’t have the energy for you today."

His lips twitch, and he leans in slightly, too close for comfort. "Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention to my sketchbook instead of whatever this was turning into.

I put the rest of my energy into finishing my sketch, hoping the professor would show up—though I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a last-minute cancellation email. My eyelids felt heavy, and my head bobbed every so often, fighting sleep.

Suddenly, I sat up straight, forcing myself to stay awake.

I could feel Han’s gaze shift toward me. His eyes flicked up and down, like he was assessing me. "You good?"

I didn’t even look at him, keeping my focus on my sketchbook. "Yeah. Just… tired."

He tilted his head slightly, clearly intrigued. "Tired? Or just bored?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my cool. "A little bit of both. How about you? Enjoying the show?"

Han chuckled, leaning back in his seat, clearly enjoying the game. "Oh, I’m enjoying it alright. Watching you struggle to stay awake? Priceless."

I bit back a sarcastic reply, but I couldn’t help the heat rising in my cheeks. He was right, and the worst part? He knew it.

"Why did you show up late? Didn’t want to sit with your buddies today?" I ask with a small, teasing smile, barely keeping the smugness out of my voice.

Han quirks an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. For a moment, his usual cocky expression falters. "What, you think I’m avoiding them?"

I shrug casually, keeping my gaze fixed on my sketchbook, though I can’t help but notice how he leans in slightly, probably trying to figure me out. "Could be," I say with a slight smirk, though the truth is, I was just trying to throw him off.

He chuckles, but there’s a certain glint in his eyes now. "You don’t know me as well as you think, do you?"

I smile meekly, a bit of satisfaction tugging at the corners of my lips. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He leans in a little, voice dropping. "Or maybe I just don’t need them to have a good time."

My heart skips a beat at the implication, but I don’t let it show. "Really? So you're fine with sitting next to me then?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the challenge alive.

He smirks, leaning back again. "Oh, I don’t mind. You make this class way more interesting."

I roll my eyes, not sure whether I should be annoyed or… flattered? Either way, I keep my cool. "Sure, because I’m the life of the party."

Han chuckles softly, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me now. "You’d be surprised."

I sit back in my chair, glancing down towards the front of the class, trying to ignore the slight unease swirling in my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Hyunjin and Felix staring at us—eyes flicking between me and Han. The second they realize I’ve caught their gaze, they quickly look away, though I swear I see the corners of their lips twitching.

I try not to let it get to me, focusing on the front of the room instead, but it’s impossible not to feel like I’ve become the topic of their conversation.

Han, of course, notices their quick reaction too, and I can almost hear the smug satisfaction in his voice when he speaks. "They can’t keep their eyes off us, huh?"

I sigh inwardly, not giving him the satisfaction of looking his way again. "Maybe they’re just bored."

Han leans closer, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s sharing a secret. "I think they know something’s going on. Maybe they’re waiting for us to make a move."

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, leaning back slightly in my chair. "And what kind of move would that be?"

Han tilts his head, a glimmer of curiosity behind his smirk. "I don’t know… something a little less, uh, distant." His gaze flicks briefly to my face, studying me.

I give him a pointed look. "Distant? I’m not the one leaning in every two seconds."

He chuckles, clearly amused by my response, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. "True. You’re different from the others."

I scoff, leaning forward a little. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs casually, but I can see a slight shift in his posture, as if he’s trying to gauge me a little more. "Just that… most girls are pretty eager to talk to me. But you? You don’t exactly jump at the chance."

I keep my expression neutral, but a little voice in the back of my mind tells me he’s digging for something more. "Guess I’m just not like them."

Han raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Guess not." He leans back in his chair, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than I’m comfortable with. "But it’s interesting, don’t you think? The way you’re not all over me like everyone else."

I don't respond to him. Not because I have nothing to say but because I have this horribly feeling that if I do I'll confess to him about all the times I have thought about talking to him.

I don’t respond to him—not because I have nothing to say, but because I have this horrible feeling that if I do, I’ll accidentally confess to him all the times I’ve thought about talking to him.

The thought hits me like a wave, and my throat tightens. I can’t bring myself to say anything more. If I open my mouth, I might just blurt out all the things I’ve been trying to avoid. All the days I’ve watched him from across the room, imagining what it would be like to just walk up to him and say something.

Instead, I stay silent, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my heart’s picking up speed. I keep my gaze locked on my sketchbook, willing myself to focus on the lines in front of me, even as his presence next to me feels too loud.

Han doesn’t push me for an answer, but I can feel his eyes on me—probing, like he’s waiting for me to crack.

I can feel my heart beat in my ears, each thud louder than the last. My breath catches in my throat, and before I can stop it, I let out a small, awkward cough, hoping it’ll cover up the fact that I’m suddenly drowning in this unwelcome feeling.

I try to look down at my sketchbook, but it’s like the weight of his gaze is heavy on me now. I know he’s still watching, and it makes my skin burn with embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Han’s voice breaks through the silence, and it’s so much softer than I expect.

I swallow hard, willing my face to stay neutral. "Yeah, fine," I say quickly, trying to sound casual, but I can feel the heat in my cheeks betraying me.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

Han doesn’t laugh or tease this time. Instead, there’s a moment of silence, and then his voice comes, softer than before. "You sure you’re fine?"

I look up at him, trying to keep the nervous flutter out of my chest, but his gaze is a little too intense. I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come out immediately. Why is he being like this?

He leans a little closer, his tone casual but with an undertone of something more. "You don’t usually act like this. You, uh, okay?" His eyes flicker to my face, like he’s trying to read me.

For a second, I consider just brushing it off. But the way he’s looking at me—so quietly observant, like he’s seeing through my walls—makes me hesitate. I can’t just say something random and pretend everything’s fine.

I clear my throat, finally forcing words out. "Yeah. I’m just tired."

Han doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push further. He leans back, though his gaze still lingers for a moment longer than I expect. "Alright. Just making sure."

By this time, it's been almost thirty minutes, and the professor still hasn’t shown up. I glance at the clock, my patience running thin. I decide that saving myself by leaving is the best option. The thought of heading back to my dorm and possibly taking a nap on my desk sounds like pure bliss right now.

I start packing my things back into my bag, my mind already half-out the door. I’m just about to zip it up when I rub the exhaustion out of my eyes, feeling the weight of the day settle in.

Before I can grab my bag and head out, I hear Han’s voice again, this time sounding a bit more serious than I expect. "You leaving?"

I pause, the motion of stuffing my sketchbook into my bag halting as I glance up at him. Han’s eyes are no longer playful, and his posture is slightly more upright, like he's actually paying attention to me for the first time today.

I hesitate for a second, debating whether to just walk away or give him some kind of answer. Finally, I shrug, trying to sound casual even though I can feel the heat rising in my chest. "Yeah, don’t think this class is happening."

Han studies me for a moment, and then his lips curl into a small, almost knowing smirk. "You sure about that? I think you just might be missing something."

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine, but it’s enough to make me stop mid-motion. I stare at him, my hand frozen on the zipper of my bag. Is he serious? Does he want me to stay?

I stare at him for a moment, unsure if I heard him right. His expression has shifted again, no longer playful, but still too hard to read. My heart skips a beat, and I feel a strange pull—like maybe I’m missing something, like maybe he wants me to stay.

I glance at the door, my mind already made up. I should just leave. This class is practically canceled anyway.

But something in the way Han is looking at me makes me pause. Why do I feel like I’m being baited?

He raises an eyebrow, as if he’s waiting for me to say something, but all I can do is stare back, unsure of how to respond. I can’t decide whether it’s his confidence or the curiosity building between us that’s keeping me rooted to the spot.

Finally, I let out a small, almost nervous laugh. "You really think the professor is going to show up?" I try to keep my tone light, but it’s clear I’m still trying to deflect.

Han just shrugs, leaning back slightly in his chair, his smirk returning. "Could be. Or maybe, you're just avoiding something."

I frown, unsure of what he means, but the way he says it catches my attention. He’s not even teasing anymore. There’s something in his eyes—something that makes me feel like he’s trying to figure me out, in the way that only someone who’s actually paying attention would.

I bite my lip, looking back at my bag again, but somehow, I don’t feel the urge to rush out the door anymore. I feel... caught.

Han’s eyes flicker to my bag and then back to me. "You know, I’ve never actually seen you stick around after class." His voice is low, and even though he sounds nonchalant, there’s a subtle weight behind it. "What’s the rush?"

I feel my stomach flip. He’s definitely noticed something, and I’m not sure if I like that.

I bite my lip, my fingers tracing the edge of my bag, the words swirling in my head. It’s you. You’re the reason I feel like I’m in a rush.

But I can’t say that. I can’t tell him that.

Instead, I clear my throat, trying to shake the weight of my own thoughts off. "I don’t know, maybe I just... have stuff to do." The words feel hollow, like they’re coming from someone else, but I push them out anyway, hoping it will stop him from seeing right through me.

Han doesn’t seem convinced, though. His gaze never wavers, like he’s watching for any little sign I might give away. And somehow, I feel like I’m standing completely exposed, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking but is waiting for me to say it.

I shift in my seat, trying to keep my cool. "I don’t like staying after class. Just feels... pointless."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel like he’s trying to coax me into admitting something—anything.

I let out a breath, my heart beating just a little faster. There’s this feeling creeping up my chest, like maybe, just maybe, if I told him—if I said the words—something would change. But I can’t.

"Anyway," I say, my voice steady but shaking on the inside, "I should probably go."

I stand up quickly, trying to escape the suffocating tension. I can feel his eyes on me as I move, and it makes my pulse quicken even more. It’s him. He’s the rush. He’s the one who keeps me from leaving. But I can’t say it. Not now. Not ever.

I push through the door of the building, the cool air hitting my face as I step outside. I take a deep breath, hoping the open space will calm my nerves. The campus is quieter now, the usual hustle and bustle having quieted down as students filter out of the building, heading in different directions.

Finally. I’m free.

But as I take a step forward, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. A little too close to be a coincidence.

I don’t turn around. I can’t turn around.

I keep walking, my steps faster now, almost instinctively, trying to escape this strange feeling gnawing at me. I feel the weight of his gaze even without looking back.

But then, out of nowhere, I hear his voice.

"Not running away again, are you?"

I freeze. My heart stumbles in my chest. Han’s standing just behind me now, a few steps away but enough to make it impossible to ignore him. The teasing tone is still there, but it’s quieter, more deliberate. His presence is almost… unsettling now.

I slowly turn to face him, trying to keep my expression neutral, but I’m sure he can see the flicker of confusion in my eyes. He looks completely unbothered, like following me out here was the most normal thing in the world.

"I’m not running away," I say quickly, my voice a little sharper than I intended. I don’t even know why I feel defensive; it’s not like I owe him an explanation.

Han doesn’t seem to mind my tone. He just looks at me with that same unreadable expression. His eyes flicker toward the building we just came from, then back to me.

"So, what is it then?" His voice is low, casual, but the question hangs in the air like a challenge. "You avoiding me?"

I laugh, but it’s tight, forced. "No, I’m not avoiding you." My stomach twists, but I refuse to let him see how much his words are affecting me.

Han steps closer, the space between us shrinking, and I feel my pulse quicken. "Funny," he says with a half-smile, his gaze intense. "Because it sure seems like it."

I try to step around him, my thoughts a jumbled mess, but Han steps into my path again, blocking my way. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes are serious now. He’s not playing games anymore.

"Are you really just going to walk away?"

My breath catches, but I stay silent, my heart pounding like it’s about to escape my chest. I glance up at him, and he’s looking at me with that same piercing gaze. I feel pinned in place, like I’m stuck between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

I take another step, trying to brush past him, but Han mirrors me, moving just slightly to the side to stay in my path.

"What are you so afraid of?" he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s teasing, but there’s a seriousness in the way he looks at me. "You can’t just walk away from this."

I turn my back to him, taking a deep breath to steady myself. He’s not going to let it go.

"What’s your deal, huh?" I snap, spinning around to face him, my voice shaky but loud. I can feel my emotions starting to spiral out of control. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep following me?"

His eyes widen for a split second, but then he’s right back to that confident, collected expression. He steps even closer, barely any space between us now. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m just curious."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and before I can stop it, the floodgates open. "Curious?" I laugh, the sound coming out bitter. "You want to know why I’m avoiding you, right?"

I don’t wait for him to answer. The words are spilling out before I can think, like they’ve been locked inside me for far too long.

"It’s you, okay? You… you intrigue me." I wince as I say it, my own voice feeling too loud, too vulnerable. "I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about talking to you all the time, and I just… I just can’t."

I can’t believe I’m saying this. My heart is racing so fast, I’m sure he can hear it. I’m terrified of how exposed I feel, how raw my emotions are right now.

Han’s eyes soften, just slightly, and for a second, I think maybe he’s going to say something comforting, but then his lips curl into a small smile.

"So, you do want to talk to me, huh?" He leans in a little closer, his voice almost a whisper. "Then why don’t you?"

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I want to run away. I want to disappear into the ground and never come back. But I can’t. Not now. Not with him standing there, waiting for me to finish what I started.

I stand there, frozen, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it. His eyes are still on me, waiting for my next move, the silence stretching between us like an invisible thread pulling me in.

"So, you think about talking to me all the time?" Han’s voice is a little lower now, almost teasing, but there’s something behind his words I can’t quite place. He steps just a little bit closer, his proximity making everything feel heavier.

I try to pull back, but something in me is rooted to the spot. "I…" My voice falters, and I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to crumble.

He watches me for a moment, his eyes glinting with something that I can’t quite name. Then, finally, he steps back just a bit, his shoulders softening, as if he’s deciding to give me space. But instead of turning away, he looks at me with a soft, genuine smile.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he says quietly. The teasing edge is gone, replaced by something warmer. More real. "I just… didn’t expect you to say that."

The words settle around me like a weight, and for the first time since this entire conversation started, I feel like I can breathe. His presence isn’t overwhelming now—it’s almost comforting. Like he’s not trying to get anything out of me, but just… understanding.

I don’t know why, but the sudden shift in his demeanor makes me feel like I’ve been holding my breath all this time.

"You intrigue me, too," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. It feels almost like a confession, but it’s true.

I can’t look at him directly, not after everything I’ve said, so I focus on my hands, suddenly feeling all too aware of how much I’ve just exposed. My cheeks heat up, and I pray he won’t notice.

But then, Han reaches out, just lightly touching my arm, and my heart skips a beat. It’s so gentle, almost like he’s trying to steady me without saying a word.

"It’s okay," he murmurs, his voice soft, the teasing gone completely now. "You don’t have to explain yourself."

And just like that, everything that had felt so heavy—so intense—begins to soften. The walls I had built up around myself start to crumble in the most unexpected way. I feel my shoulders relax for the first time since I’ve known him, and I can’t help but smile softly.

For a moment, we just stand there, the silence stretching between us like a quiet thread connecting us in ways I never imagined. My heart is still racing, but it’s not in a panic anymore. It’s the kind of racing that feels real, like something is about to change.

Han’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine, and I can feel the weight of everything I’ve just said hanging in the air. His eyes soften just a little, and I wonder if he can feel the shift too. Maybe he’s as caught up in this as I am.

The tension feels like it’s building again, but this time it’s different. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable—it’s something else. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me, or if it’s because I finally said the truth out loud, but I can’t look away. I don’t want to.

But before I can say anything else, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. My heart gives a little lurch, and I look away just as Hyunjin and Felix come around the corner of the building. Han doesn’t break eye contact with me until they catch up, and then he turns his head slightly, breaking the spell we were caught in.

"Hey, guys," Han says, his tone shifting as his friends approach. They give him a knowing look, and then they glance at me, but they don’t say anything right away. It’s like they’re waiting for him to explain.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a little out of place. "Hey," I mumble, trying to act casual even though my heart is still pounding.

Han looks over at me, his eyes glinting with a teasing edge again, but there’s something different in his expression this time.

"These are my friends, Hyunjin and Felix." He gestures toward the two of them. "You’ve met Felix before, right?"

Felix gives me a warm smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. "Yeah, I think we had a class together last semester!"

Hyunjin just gives me a small nod, his eyes sharp, but he doesn’t say much. I’m sure he’s observing everything, like he always does.

I try to smile back at them, but the conversation feels a little distant now. I’m still reeling from the earlier exchange with Han, and now, with the three of them standing there, I’m not sure what to say.

"Nice to meet you both," I say, my voice a little quieter than usual.

Han catches my eye again, and I can feel the unspoken words between us. The way he looks at me now is different—like he knows something I don’t.

As soon as Hyunjin and Felix join us, the atmosphere shifts again. I notice Felix giving me another friendly smile, but Hyunjin, on the other hand, seems to be observing us a little too closely.

Han looks at him for a moment, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. "What?" Han asks, his voice tinged with a quiet warning.

Hyunjin leans in a little, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Han, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I didn’t know you were so... chatty these days."

Han’s cheeks flush slightly, and I catch the briefest moment where he looks like he’s about to say something, but he just gives a short, almost dismissive laugh instead. He turns to me, trying to play it cool again. "Don’t mind him, he likes to tease."

But Hyunjin’s eyes never leave Han, and he raises an eyebrow, his tone light but with an edge. "Oh, we can tell."

Felix seems to catch on to the vibe pretty quickly and shoots a look at Hyunjin, trying to diffuse the moment with a casual comment. "It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out, right?"

Hyunjin shrugs, his gaze still lingering on Han for just a moment longer before he finally turns to me with a bright, friendly grin. "Sorry if we’re making things awkward. We’ve just been waiting for Han to make a move for, like, forever."

My heart skips, but I force a smile, pretending I didn’t catch the hint. I look at Han, who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "A move?" I ask, genuinely confused.

Felix jumps in quickly, laughing a little too loudly. "He means just, you know… being less of a weirdo around people."

Han shoots him a glare, and I can see his usual easygoing confidence slipping just slightly. "I don’t know what they’re talking about," he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

But it doesn’t seem like Hyunjin is done just yet. He leans in a bit, looking at Han with a playful, knowing grin. "Sure, sure. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you show us how you really feel."

I’m still not entirely sure what they mean, but it’s enough to make my heart race again, a mix of confusion and something I can’t quite place bubbling up inside me.

I glance between them, trying to piece together what they’re saying. Felix and Hyunjin are clearly enjoying themselves, but Han seems... almost caught off guard by their teasing. It’s subtle, but there’s something in the way he won’t meet my eyes, something that makes my stomach twist.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I find myself asking before I can stop it, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin grins, shooting me a playful wink, his tone light but knowing. "Oh, don’t worry about it," he says, before nudging Felix. "You’ll figure it out soon enough."

I blink, still unsure, but I feel my cheeks start to burn again. My eyes flicker to Han, who's now standing just a little too close for comfort. He’s still quiet, but I can feel the weight of his presence beside me, almost like he’s waiting for me to say something.

My heart is pounding, and I try to brush off the tension, but it’s getting harder to ignore.

As if sensing my confusion, Han finally speaks, his voice softer than usual. "It’s not like that." He glances at me, his gaze lingering just long enough for me to catch the subtle vulnerability in his eyes before he looks away.

The moment feels heavy, and I’m not sure if it’s my racing heartbeat or the silence between us that makes it so hard to breathe. I feel like I should say something, but I’m not sure what to make of any of this yet.

Felix and Hyunjin continue their walk ahead, but I’m left standing there, caught between confusion and something else—something that feels a lot like... curiosity.

I glance at Han again, but this time, he doesn’t look back. Instead, he gives a small, almost imperceptible sigh, like he’s resigned to something. "You should get going," he says, his voice almost gentle.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Yeah… I should." But even as I turn to walk away, I feel his presence linger behind me, and I know that whatever this is between us... it’s not over yet.

#stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz college au #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han x reader #stray kids x reader #author jules ღ #stray kids enemies to lovers #stray kids imagines #collegeau! stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids one shots

51 notes · View notes

thebigbadbatswife · 1 day ago

Text

I Don't Know How It Gets Better Than This

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader Stay Like This Forever Masterlist

Warnings - 18+ ONLY, Explicit sexual content, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Multiple orgasms, Porn with feelings, Elements of Soft Dom!Bruce Wayne and praise kink, Established relationship, Older man/Younger woman, Age Gap, Tooth-rotting fluff, Humour, Valentine's Day

Summary - Bruce surprises you the best Valentine’s Day you’ve ever had.

A/N - A day late, but it's here! As promised! Also, as with all fics within this 'verse, this is a complete stand alone and doesn't require any thing else to be read to be enjoyed <3

Word Count - 4.7k

You frown as you get into the back of the car that’s waiting for you, just outside of the airport. Your eyes are glued to the bright screen of your phone as you fumble with the seatbelt.

It’s been ten hours since your last text to Bruce and he hasn’t even read it yet.

Is he upset with you? It’s your first Valentines as a couple and you haven’t been able to spend the day together because work has kept you away. It’s a couple hours from midnight now and you have only just got back to Gotham.

Should you call him? Not replying to your text is very out of character of Bruce. Even when he’s been upset in the past, he’s always been upfront about it with you about it. For him to suddenly change…

Something else is going on, so you decide that you are going to give him a call. The line doesn’t even ring. Instead you’re sent directly to his voicemail.

Now you are starting to get worried about him.

“Everything alright, Miss…?” your driver, Tom, asks you. He’s been your driver for the longest time and he’s one of the few people that you know you can trust.

“Bruce hasn’t replied to my text and his phone went straight to voicemail,” you reply.

“Shall I drive you to Wayne Manor instead?”

You shake your head as you scroll through your contact list. “No, my apartment is fine. I’m going to call Alfred. He might know what’s going on.”

“Of course.”

You bring your phone back up to your ear as the line rings. Unconsciously, your leg starts to bounce as you wait for an answer. After the third ring, someone picks up the phone.

“Hello?” Alfred’s voice comes over the phone.

“Alfred! Thank goodness, I’m so sorry. I know it’s really late. I just. Bruce, he isn’t answering my texts and his phone went straight to voicemail.”

“Master Bruce left the Manor a few hours ago. Oh my, it would seem that he’s left his phone here.”

You laugh softly, relief rushing through you. “Of course he has. Okay, that’s good to know. Get him to call me when you see him next?”

“I will see that he does. Have a good night Miss…”

“Goodnight Alfred.”

You set your phone into your lap and sigh. He’s not upset with you, like you had been panicking about. He just forgot about his phone. Though it isn’t like him to be so absentminded. You remember him mentioning being concerned about a killer by the name of Calendar Man, but Alfred hadn’t mentioned Bruce going out tonight in his cape and cowl. And you’re sure that he would have.

What was he doing tonight?

As the car drives through the streets of Gotham, you find your gaze focusing on the rooftops. Ever since you figured out what it is that your boyfriend does at night, you find your focus often drawn above you. Wondering if you’ll catch a glimpse of him.

The drive from the airport to your apartment isn’t super long, thankfully. Before you know it, you’re climbing out of the car, accepting your bag from Tom and thanking him and making your way up to your apartment.

When you open the door to your apartment the first thing that you notice is the rose petals on the floor. The next thing you notice is all of the candles, casting a golden glow over your home.

The biggest smile that you’ve ever had makes its way onto your face as you take in the sight of what Bruce has done. It’s no wonder to you now why he forgot about his phone. He was busy setting all of this up for you.

You shut the door behind you, making sure to lock and chain it, and set your bag down onto the floor, alongside your suitcase.

Following the rose petals, they lead you to the dining room. The table is set. There’s a single flower vase with a red rose sitting inside of it and two empty wine glasses, waiting to be filled. The bottle of wine that sits next to them looks like it might have some dust on it, but it’s hard to tell in the candlelight.

In the centre of it all, standing there and waiting for you, is Bruce. Looking like the picture of perfection.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says as he approaches you. His hand comes to rest on your hip as he pulls you toward him, which you protest against.

“Don’t! I need a shower; I’m all gross from the plane,” you complain as you push against him.

He chuckles softly. “I don’t care. I want to kiss my girl.”

You give in and let him pull you flush against his body. He kisses you in that soft and sweet way that always sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach as your heart skips. You grip his suit jacket as you kiss him back. Your tongue gently prods at his bottom lip, seeking more from him, which Bruce gladly gives you.

You pull away first, your smile immediately returning. “You didn’t have to do all this, baby,” you say softly.

“Of course I did. You deserve to have a nice Valentines,” he replies.

His words shouldn’t hit like they do, but you can feel yourself getting choked up. You haven’t had a great track record when it comes to past relationships. Something that Bruce keeps doing his best to make up for. Hiding your face away from him, you halfheartedly shove against his chest again.

“Stop, you’re going to make me cry.”

Bruce’s arms wrap around you, hugging you tightly. “So long as they’re happy tears. That’s all I’m going to accept tonight.”

You laugh and you look up at him. Now he’s looking at you in that way that sends your heart haywire, warmth blooming in your chest. His thumb swipes away a tear that’s slowly making its way down your cheek.

“Dinner still needs a little bit longer, so why don’t you go and take that shower?”

“Okay.”

He gives you one more kiss, drawing a soft noise from you before he finally lets you go. You pause when you reach the doorway and look back at him. There is one thing that has been nagging at you ever since you walked through the door and saw the petals.

“How’d you know that I would be back in time?”

He shrugs. “Because I’m Batman.”

You shake your head and laugh. “That’s the answer you’re really going for?”

“It hasn’t failed me yet. Now, go, shower! Or dinner will be ready and cold before you get out.”

“Alright, alright! I’m going!”

The hot water feels great as it cascades over your body. After the long day that you’ve had, it’s very much needed. A part of you almost expects Bruce to join you, but you’re not disappointed when he doesn’t. You’d prefer that he keeps his eyes on dinner and not burn your apartment down because he’s busy having sex with you.

Besides, you’re sure that there will be plenty of that after dinner.

You switch the water off and wrap a towel around your body. When you enter your bedroom, you find a dress laid out on your bed, waiting for you. It’s in your favourite colour and there’s a matching set of heels, sitting in an opened shoe box. As well as that there’s a couple of velvet jewellery cases.

He didn’t.

You pick up the smaller case and open it. Inside are a pair of diamond and sapphire earrings. You’re already sure that, in the bigger case, is a matching necklace.

Even though you’ve told him he doesn’t have to, Bruce does love to buy you gifts. Though, if this is what he’s buying you for Valentine’s Day, you can’t imagine what he might do for your birthday.

Once you’re dry and dressed, you look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup doesn’t do your outfit justice. It’s simpler than what you would have normally done, but you don’t have the time right now.

A delicious scent is wafting into your bedroom, from the kitchen, and it’s making your stomach growl.

If Bruce notices your toned down makeup, he doesn’t say a thing as you re-enter the dining room. His eyes take in the sight of you as he swallows thickly. Honestly, you’re convinced you could walk in wearing a burlap sack and he would still look at you the exact same way.

He gets up from his seat and walks over to you again.

“Look at you. Absolutely beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to buy me all of this.”

“I know, but you deserve to be spoiled. And I will take every chance I get to do exactly that.”

The moment is completely ruined by your stomach as it growls. Bruce chuckles and starts to lead you toward the table.

“Come on, I made your favourite.”

Once you’ve taken a seat, he pushes your chair in before taking his own seat. Your table isn’t huge like the one back at Wayne Manor. So you’re not miles from each other as he sits opposite of you. In fact, his knee presses against your own.

The food looks amazing. The smell alone making your mouth watering as your stomach growls again. You tuck in immediately. Just as the first bite passes your lips, a moan leaves you.

It tastes incredible. Of course, you expect nothing less from Bruce. He’s an excellent cook, when he has the time to dedicate to it. That being one of the things you learned early on, after the first night you had spent together.

The conversation between you two consists of Bruce asking about your day. Which you enthusiastically tell him about your new castmates and the script and how, for the first time in a long time, you’re actually excited about acting again. While you ask him about his biggest worry that he had mention, to which he tells you that Julian Day was caught earlier by the police. And both Arkham and Blackgate are quiet so there’s no worry about the Bat Signal pulling him away.

He’s all yours.

When dinner’s finished, and you’ve got a couple of glasses of wine in your system, you decide to skip desert. Right now, all you want is Bruce.

From the dining room, you and Bruce move to the living room. Where he’s settled on the sofa with you straddling his lap as you make out. His tongue slides across your own, exploring every inch of your mouth. Meanwhile his hands remain high up on your waist, making no move to feel you up like you want him to.

It makes no sense to you considering that you can feel how hard he is. Even the smallest shift from you has him twitching in his pants. You decide to take things into your own hands.

From where your arms are wrapped around his neck, you slide a hand down his front, headed straight for his pants. Just before your finger tips come into contact with his belt, his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Am I not moving fast enough for you, princess?” he asks. The nickname sends a shiver down your spine, your body remembering all the things he’s done with you, and to you, after using it.

You shake your head. “Not even close, babe.”

“I don’t want to rush things. Besides, I love kissing you and I haven’t been able to do it enough these last few weeks.”

His words are sweet, making your cheeks heat up and warmth bloom throughout your body that isn’t due to the alcohol in your veins or your growing arousal. You kiss his jawline, following it toward his ear.

“There are other parts of me you can kiss, you know,” you whisper.

“All in good time, sweet girl.”

Bruce directs your face back toward him so that he can resume kissing you. The hand that had hold of your wrist is now on the back of your back, keeping you right where he wants you. Meanwhile, the hand that’s on your waist starts to move away.

His hand slides down your side, coming down to rest on your thigh. Which he squeezes gently. As his tongue reenters your mouth, Bruce’s fingers slide beneath your dress, trailing up the inside of your thigh. All of your focus is now on his hand. The feeling of his calloused finger tips against your soft, smooth skin sends goosebumps erupting across your skin.

The closer he gets to where you want him most, the more you start to ache with need. Just before he reaches your panties, he starts to move away again, trailing his fingers back toward your knee.

You whine against his lips, frustration starting to build up inside of you. He was so close! So close to finally giving you what you wanted! Why’d he stop? Bruce simply smirks as he continues to run his fingers up and down your leg.

“You’re very needy tonight, princess,” he coos. “I’d better fix that, huh?”

“Please,” you whine.

Bruce shushes you softly. His fingers trail back up your legs, dragging them slowly along the inside of your leg.

His touch remains featherlight, but your body still jolts when he finally pushes his fingers against your panties. Right where your clitoris is. Gently, he starts to rub you through the soaked fabric.

Even the lightest touch feels amazing, pleasure already thrumming through you. Your lips part as a breathy moan of his name leaves you.

“No wonder you’re so needy. You’re absolutely soaked, sweetheart.”

“It’s your fault,” you tell him. “You make me like this.”

He hums and nods in agreement. “I had better look after you then, hmmm?”

“Please.”

You expect him to either slide your panties to the side or rip them off of you completely, but he does neither. Instead he keeps touching you through them. The only thing he changes is that he starts to use his thumb instead of his fingers.

He kisses you again as he rubs circles against your clit, swallowing your moans. His free hand comes up from your waist and upwards to cup and grope your breasts through your dress.

You roll your hips, chasing after your pleasure that’s building up way faster than you thought that it would. But it’s really no wonder with how well Bruce knows your body. Knowing exactly how to touch you, both the pressure and speed needed to get you to your climax.

“Fuck,” you gasp. There’s no doubt in your mind that, with how quickly you’re approaching your end, that it’s feeding his ego.

“You going to be a good girl and come for me?” he asks. He applies some more pressure, his rubbing becoming more insistent.

Your breath is now coming out in short puffs as you can feel the tension coiling inside of you more and more. You’re so close. So fucking close, if he just keeps touching you like that…

Your fingers grip his suit jacket like it’s your lifeline as your body shakes. Bruce talks you through it. His words filled with encouragement and praise as your orgasm rocks through you.

Just as it starts to become way too much for you, he pulls his hand away. Your forehead comes to rest against his shoulder, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. He rubs your leg. Pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck and cheek, as you come down.

“Always such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You make a soft noise of agreement as your eyes close for a moment. Enjoying the feeling of the random patterns being traced and his lips on your skin.

As your breathing calms down, you turn your head and capture his lips with your own again. At the same time, your hand trails back down his body. Following the exact same path as earlier.

He doesn’t stop you this time. You press your hand against the tent in his pants. A low groan leaves Bruce as you touch him. The sound making your pussy clench around nothing, sending another wave of arousal through you.

Fuck, you need him inside of you.

“I think we should move this to the bedroom,” you suggest, pulling away.

His eyes are dark, that steely blue of his iris a thin line against his pupil. While there is a light blush across his cheeks, which stands out a fair bit against his pale skin.

“Definitely.”

Once he’s made sure your grip on him is secure, he stands up, bringing you with him. As he carries you toward the bedroom, you press kisses to his jaw and neck. Even going as far as to gently bite and suck on his neck, leaving behind a few lovebites in your wake.

They’re in a rather visible spot, unless he wears a turtleneck. He, honestly, might just end up covering it up with the same makeup he uses to cover up the worst of the bruises he earns each night as Batman. Deep down, you hope that he doesn’t. You want him to show them off. Remind everyone that he’s all yours.

Though, with how the media continues talking about you both, they likely don’t need it.

When you get to the bedroom, he sets you down. His hand quickly locates the zipper for your dress and, very slowly, he starts to pull it down. The action surprises you. You had expected him to rip it from you like he’s done to every other dress that he’s previously bought you. Bruce chuckles.

“I love the way this dress looks on you far too much to ruin it just yet,” he says.

“Oh, I see. So I only get to keep dresses based on how you feel about them?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Do you want me to ruin it?”

“No! I’m just in mourning over the other ones.”

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as they shine with amusement. He kisses the tip of your nose. “I will buy a replacement for each one I’ve ruined, okay? Now, come on.”

With your dress fully unzipped, he eases it off of your shoulders and lets it fall into a pile on the floor, around your feet. He helps you step out of it and pushes you back toward the bed.

“Lay down,” he instructs you.

You dutifully follow his order, settling down onto the bed. As you get comfortable, Bruce strips himself of his suit jacket and shirt. You drag your eyes down his body. Appreciating how well toned his body is. The scars that litter his body add to his sexiness.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases you.

“Only fair considering you keep ogling my boobs,” you reply. The entire time he’s been undressing his top half, his eyes have kept glancing over, landing on your chest more often than not. Not that you mind. You like it when he’s ogling your body. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t have some fun.

“Well, I know your name now.”

His reply makes you shake your head as it prompts the memory of the night you first met him. Your dress had been completely scandalous that night, yet he had not looked at your chest once; claiming that doing so would be rude since he didn’t even know your name.

You cross your arms over your boobs, hiding them from his view, pretending to be annoyed with him.

“That’s it. No more boobs for you.”

Bruce chuckles as he shakes his head. He comes over to the bed and climbs onto the bed, draping his body over yours as he settles between your legs. He nuzzles his face against your neck. His kisses turn into light bites as he trails them down your skin.

He nibbles at your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine and making it really hard to keep your act up. When he reaches where your arms are still crossed against your chest, he kisses along the length of one of your forearms before pulling away.

Supporting himself with one hand, he uses the other to gently pry your arms apart. You don’t do anything to fight him on it, letting him open your arms and reveal your breasts to him again.

“There you are.”

He litters your chest with kisses and lovebites. Starting at the top of one and trailing his way to the underside. His bites turn into licks as he gets closer to your nipple. Bruce swirls his tongue around the hardened bud before finally taking it into his mouth and starts to suck.

You arch your back into his touch, a short gasp, bordering on a moan, leaving you. Like the tentative boyfriend that he is, he doesn’t neglect your other breast, using his free hand to squeeze and play with it. He lavishes your chest in affection. Kissing, biting and licking his way to the other. Where he repeats his actions.

“Bruce,” you moan softly as you run your fingers through his hair, messing it up. You shift your hips beneath him, grinding against his cock. Your actions draw a deep groan from him and he rocks his hips into yours. Letting you know that two can play at that game.

He only stops so that he can trail his kisses down your body, past your naval and toward your truly soaked panties. He presses a firm kiss to your clit through the fabric, making you sharply inhale. Bruce doesn’t stop there. Instead he kisses and bites the inside of both of your thighs.

You love the sight of him between your legs. Whether it’s him eating you out or kissing where your thighs are most sensitive. His hair messy and pupils blown wide. Even better if his chin and mouth is shiny with your slick. It’s one of the best sights in the world to you. You wouldn’t mind keeping him there forever.

Deft fingers undo the buckles of your heels before sliding them off of your feet and letting them fall to the floor with a thud. As soon as they’re gone, your panties quickly follow as Bruce rips the fabric, as if it’s paper, and gets rid of them. You don’t care. Anything is good as long as it gets him inside of you faster. The longer that he draws this out, the more desperate that you are starting to become.

The ache between your legs is becoming unbearable as your clitoris throbs, begging for more attention from him. You want, no, you need him inside of you. You need to feel him stretching you open as he fills you up, making you feel impossible full.

“Brucie?” you call softly. He looks up at you from where he’s been drinking in the sight of the mess that your arousal and earlier orgasm have made of you.

“Yes, princess?”

“I need to feel you inside of me. Please? Please, fuck me?”

You don’t even need to beg him for it. The way that he’s looking at you and how hard his cock feels against you. He was likely about to make a move to finally start fucking you to begin with. You just begged before he could make that move.

With a speed that would be impressive if he wasn’t Batman, Bruce removes the rest of his clothing. He drapes his body back over yours, lining himself up with your entrance.

There was a time when you used to be nervous about his size; he’s the biggest you’ve ever had after all. Now though? Now you wrap a leg around his waist and pull him down for another kiss as he starts to slowly slide into you.

You’re so wet that he easily enters you, bottoming out immediately. He feels absolutely amazing. Stretching your pussy and filling you up exactly the way that you want him to. Your head falls backwards, onto the pillow, as you moan.

“That feels better, doesn’t it, princess?” he coos softly. He’s stilled, letting you adjust to his size, like he always does.

“Yes,” you reply, along with a nod. It really does. It’s insane how good he makes you feel.

As soon as you give him the go ahead to move, he does. Slowly he pulls out of you, leaving only the tip inside, before pushing back in. Each time he makes sure he’s hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you, drawing more moans from you.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let me hear you,” he murmurs. He’s back to nuzzling and kissing your neck and jaw.

You could stay here, in this moment, forever. Your bodies tangled up together, joined as one. Bruce slowly fucking you as his fingers played with your clit.

Tonight has been something like you might read in some romance novel or see in some movie. At the same time they all paled in comparison. The real thing always being better.

Bringing your hands to his shoulders and push lightly. If Bruce didn’t want to move, he wouldn’t, but he follows your lead. Flipping your positions so that you are now on top.

A deep groan leaves him as you start to bounce on his cock, your hands flat against his chest to support yourself. His hands are on your thighs, stroking them with his thumbs as he watches you ride him.

“Look at you. You look absolutely amazing sweetheart.” His voice sounds strained as he speaks. Much like earlier, his eyes are trained on your boobs, which bounce with each roll of your hips, along with the jewels around your neck. “You always look so good riding my cock.”

You laugh softly, which quickly turns into a moan. You can feel yourself getting close again. Your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his cock while the coil inside of you grows tighter and tighter. Bruce is getting close as well. While before he was holding back his moans, wanting to hear you instead, he’s growing more vocal as he starts to thrust up into you.

His thumb returns to your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge. You cry his name as your pussy clamps down onto him. Bruce falls over that edge with you, the way your squeezing him making it impossible for him not to, and he comes deep inside of you.

Boneless and spent, it’s easy for him to get you to lay on his chest. Both of you panting hard and becoming the only sound that can now be heard in the bedroom.

The feeling of him running random patterns against your back and the steady beating of his heart in your ear, soothes you. Almost sending you straight to sleep. It is rather late at night and you were previously on a long flight. You’re tired.

Before you can, you pull away from Bruce, muttering that you need the bathroom when he goes to stop you.

While you're in there, you make sure to remove your makeup and the expensive jewels he bought you, settling them back into their cases.

When you’ve finished up and re-enter the bedroom you come back to Bruce waiting for you with a glass of water and a slice of the cheesecake that had originally been for desert.

Grateful, you accept the glass and take a sip, before settling onto his lap like he wants you to. Bruce offers you a bite of the cheesecake which, again, you accept, groaning at the rich taste of it.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks you, as if the answer isn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

“Tonight was perfect, Bruce. Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl,” he tells you. The kiss is soft and sweet; you smile into it. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

There really aren’t enough words in the world for you to describe or tell him how much you love him. Something tells you that it’s the same for him as well.

The cheesecake slice is shared between the two of you. He continues to feed you each bite. Once the plate is empty, he sets it down the nightstand. Bruce moves you both down the bed, getting you settled against his chest and pulls the covers up over you both.

You snuggle against him, your focus returning to his heartbeat as you let your eyes close this time and fall fast asleep, in the arms of your lover.

You don’t know how life can get much better than this.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #age gap verse #bruce wayne x y/n #batman x y/n #dc x reader #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine

103 notes · View notes

brainfuzz · 1 day ago

Text

Beekeeper here.

Yes, I do crush queen cells sometimes. There's no egg/larva/queen in them and crushing the cell helps prevent swarming. When I open the hive and see queen cells - assuming everything else is fine with the bees - it can indicate they're running out of room and want to split. The solution to that is to give them more space. If they're not out of space, I won't crush the cell because they may know something I don't; the queen is getting old, she's a bad layer (you can check for this) or they just don't like her.

You can also squish a queen if the bees are aggressive, she's not laying well or other reasons. I haven't done this because you have to make sure there's a way for the bees to raise a replacement, and none of my hives have had issues that would be solved by re-queening.

Spare queens are often killed by the hive itself. They'll raise a couple of queens and the first one that comes back mated wins. You can only have one queen in a hive. Professional beekeepers will sometimes raise the spares and sell them to other beekeepers to requeen a queenless hive.

Drones always die during mating. That is literally their only purpose in life, is to find a fuck a queen. Much like when a drone stings you, their penis and associated organs come out when they ejaculate, killing them.

"Bee pheromones" are used when trying to catch a swarm. You can put lemon grass oil in a swarm box, and the bees will tend to go there instead of other places. Free bees!

Commercial beekeepers who raise bees and queens for sale, will try to control the type of bee their queen mates with. I live in the northeast and have cold harsh winters. I do not want bees that were bred for Florida. The bee supplier I use is very careful to breed their bees with bees from my area so I have winter hardy bees.

And no beekeeper, commercial or otherwise, will ever cull a healthy hive. The only time to kill an entire hive is if the hive is infect with American Foulbrood, which is very contagious and has no cure. If you get AFB in your hive, you not only cull the hive, you dig a pit, put the entire hive boxes in it, and light that shit on fire. You lose a lot of equipment and as a result, beekeepers are very much on top of any outbreaks.

The "culling during the winter" thing may simply be a misunderstanding because beekeeping has an extremely high attrition rate. Something like 60% of your hive will not make it through the winter. This means you have to buy new bees in the spring, and generally a hive's first year is spent getting established, and you don't get a lot, if any, honey from that hive. I've ordered new bees for the spring assuming that not all of my hives will survive the winter. If they do, then great, I get to expand. If they don't, well I have new bees to try again. Each starter hive, or nucleus hive, costs me $235. If you intentionally kill your bees and you're trying to make money off them, you'll be operating in the red. Even if you take the honey that was supposed to feed the bees over winter, it won't be enough to cover that cost year after year.

So yeah, that's all bullshit. Go take an intro to beekeeping class if you want to know the facts. Or just read a current book maybe.

Wild that folks keep saying beekeepers abuse bees as if bees are not both venomous flying animals and fully unionized

137K notes · View notes

lsunstreakerl · 1 day ago

Text

more scrapbook paper max. be gentle with him please, he doesn't get enough hugs.

"Max. Maaaaaaax."

Someone is nudging their toe into Max's thigh.

He cracks an eye open, disoriented. There's something thudding against the warm wall behind his back, and he's sitting on cool tile. The room has a greenish hue.

"You better not be dead, I need to interview you for my assignment."

He's in the laundry room. Why is he in the laundry room?

"-We're supposed to interview an upperclassman and ask about their school life balance, and the internship work, and the battleworks stuff-"

Max is in the laundry room because his suit was stained. His suit was stained because he bled all over it. He bled all over it...?

"-So I was like, yeah, I'll just ask Max, that'll be fine. And then I spent half my morning trying to track you down, and everyone said you skipped class, which like- fair, but then you weren't upstairs in our dorm- we should really get a better lock on that door dude-"

Right. Big lizard thing. Mean big lizard thing. Casual evening assignment for him and Daniel that very rapidly turned not casual. Max is forgetting something.

"-And I have been looking everywhere. And now we're here, and I'm pretty sure you might be dead? Also I don't think your right side was purple last time I saw you. Unless it was, in which case I'm very sorry if I've offended you. But it doesn't look natural, cause like- it's just your arm and also your chest a little bit- what is your workout routine- so I'm thinking it's maybe bad."

Oh right. Poisonous big lizard thing.

Max blinks, staring up at Liam.

"Oh! You're not dead!"

Surely Max was not this stupid as a freshman.

"Obviously."

Liam looks from Max's face to his arm.

"...do you need the nurse?"

Max also looks down at his arm. It's definitely not supposed to be that color. He's not sure he could move it if he wanted to.

"Yup."

------

"Are we lost?"

Max feels his teeth grinding, squinting as he looks across the landscape in front of him. They're supposed to have a senior with them, but Kyvat had disappeared almost half an hour ago when he heard a noise- which breaks basically the first rule any of them are taught for Fog trips, to never go alone- and now Max is stuck with a freshman clinging to him.

"No."

He's lying. Sort of.

Max has made a few solo Fog trips, but that's because he's perfectly content to go apeshit and destroy everything around him to find a way out- it's how Daniel had met him the first time, before Max got enrolled.

He can't exactly do that with Bearman at his back though- the kid would die. Max can feel him stepping closer, practically pasted alongside Max's back, even though he's nearly as tall as Max is by now.

It's embarrassing, honestly. Max has two years on him- the least Bearman can do is let Max catch up to Daniel before he outgrows them both.

He might be able to try-

"Ollie."

The kid perks up behind him.

"Yeah?"

Max chews at his bottom lip for a moment. He's never tried this before- a tuned down version of what he's done in the past. He's not sure if it might still hurt Bearman, depending on how long they do it. He's not sure if they're going to get Kyvat back.

But they don't all need to die out here.

"Keep holding onto me. I'm going to try and feel a way out- I need you to tell me if you think there's a threat."

"Okay."

Credit where it's due, Ollie is brave. They weren't even supposed to go into the Fog today, not with a freshman- but things had gotten messy up top, and it had been safer to drop into the complete unknown without supplies rather than stay.

Which kind of sums up the year Max has been having.

That it's only January is irrelevant.

He closes his eyes, tries to carefully build up the charge in the area around him, feeling out for where it stops.

It's much easier to just have a full spark and follow that path, but again- tiny freshman. Max does not want to have to explain to the board why he's brought back a barbecued Bearman.

And Ollie's dorm mates would be sad.

Also, begrudgingly, Max kind of likes Bearman.

He sets off tiny little sparks, soft snaps of electricity, and then he's walking.

The Fog is difficult because it's not real. It causes hallucinations, makes you question what you see, what you hear. It obscures your sight, leads you wandering in circles until you die. Or until one of its natural predators comes to eat you.

Max is not interested in either of those things happening today, so he keeps walking, pulling Bearman behind him as he keeps setting off small snaps, carving out his own path.

He's not trying to get to a specific outlet- there's no way, not with the tiny amount of charge he's generating- just needs to get to one.

"Max-"

Oliver sounds nervous, and Max opens his eyes. There's nothing around them.

"You're hallucinating."

"Okay."

The benefit to traveling in groups through Fog is that it can't show the same thing to two people at once- which is why traveling alone is borderline suicide.

Max isn't going to feel bad for Kyvat- it's his own fault.

He closes his eyes again, feels Bearman jolt softly next to him when he accidentally sets a charge too hard, shocking him.

He's not going to feel bad about that either- he's got empathy in limited amounts.

Otherwise Bearman is good about sticking close, doesn't complain about the numerous static shocks he must be experiencing.

Max can feel a headache building at the base of his skull- he's not used to using this much precision for this long. He's been working on it with Lambiase, but it's still difficult.

His fingertips have a slight tingle- they're not numb or charred the way they get when he's really pushing it, just an uncomfortable pinprick sensation.

One of his sparks flares at the edge of his senses- it's snapping in regular oxygen, not Fog.

He doesn't open his eyes, because they're not out yet, but he must be smirking, because Bearman sighs in relief.

"Please tell me you found it."

Max hums, keeps guiding them.

"Maybe."

He can feel it when they hit the cool air- Fog is dry and stale, constantly. He blinks his eyes open, and sure enough- they've just stepped out of a dilapidated doorway, into the middle of nowhere.

"How the fuck-"

Bearman is looking at him, and Max shrugs. He's not going to explain it- he'll sound like a maniac anyways, and he has enough of a reputation as is.

He leans forward and hits the emergency button on Bearman's suit, sending off signals back to the academy and their supervisors.

"Stay here."

Oliver's eyes widen, darting between Max and the doorway.

"You're not actually going to- mate."

Max frowns at him. He's not taking judgment from a freshman- Liam is bad enough, and they have to bunk together.

"Stay. Put."

Bearman swallows and nods, and Max turns back around and steps into the Fog.

Stupid senior.

#and they were extremely reluctant roommates #max is tired of liams sleep schedule #liam is tired of never being able to find his roommate #ollie is used to following seniors that are slightly more mentally stable than max is #scrapbook paper max

48 notes · View notes