#spicest

[merwynpersonalhub]

he has a high spice tolerance yall

[the-evil-pizza]

When it's too hot to cook you can always go for the old reliables:

[sunbratz]

and if ive cried for 16 hours straight over silly pixel characters 🙃 well then who is really to say. what i will say. is that i hate it here

[out-of-heaven-and-hell]

I fucking love Chaggie man

[anytimebitchess]

Idk if my spice tolerance is abnormally high, or the falafel/kebab shop has inaccurate spice rating.

[yourauthorjen]

LOVE ME IN THE QUIET - joaquin torres

(requests open)

masterlist

| synopsis: | it was supposed to be forbidden, yet everytime you and joaquin passed each other in the avengers base and met eyes, it ended with the sweet taste of his lips on yours

| includes: | joaquin x reader, forbidden love, sneaking around, fluff, steamy, sam being a big old grump, angst, sexual tension + themes, 14+, use of y/n

| word count: | 2.9k

| a/n: | i truly love a good old steamy forbidden romance but this is probably gonna be the spicest thing i’ve written. i've been dying to write a domestic joaquin and i wanna know your thoughts on this.

KEEPING IT PROFESSIONAL was hard to do when doe eyed Joaquin Torres wandered into the kitchen, curls sticking up in different directions, sweatpants hanging off his hips, and a white t-shirt clinging onto his broad shoulders.

You almost choked on your Rainbow Pebbles, which had suddenly become very unappetizing compared to the mouthwatering sight of Joaquin’s biceps.

Your eyes lingered on his frame as he threw the refrigerator door open and pulled out a carton of milk, his arms flexing with each movement— which was highly unfair seeing that your hair was tossed into a messy braid and your oversized shirt swallowed half of your body.

However, Sam had made it crystal clear that your feelings towards Joaquin would be stomped on with a pile of dusty old folders sitting in his office cabinet waiting to be sorted. So, with no other choice you were left to slamming your feelings into a box, wrapping it in duct tape, and pretending that your heart didn’t skip several beats every time Joaquin so much as breathed in your direction.

You crunched on a mouthful of Rainbow Pebbles, trying to focus on literally anything else other than the hot oblivious heathen leaning against the counter nursing his cup of coffee.

Somehow, Joaquin still caught your eye mid-sip, his lips quirking into that devastatingly soft, boyish smile that had no business being aimed directly at you.

“Morning,” he said, voice low and raspy from sleep.

You blinked twice. Once to clear your head, and the other to find your voice. "Good morning."

He ruffled his messy curls with one hand, before setting his coffee cup down and lazily stretching his arms over his head, shirt riding up just enough to flash a sliver of golden skin. "You’re up early," he said, his lips twitching.

You averted your eyes, staring down at your colourful bowl of milk. "Couldn't sleep," you mumbled, absentmindedly stirring your spoon around.

"Oh."

You cleared your throat, swallowing the last dregs of cereal in your bowl before standing up and walking to the dishwasher and dumping your silverware into the sink. "I'll be in the training room," you drawled turning to face him, "And Sam shouldn't be awake until 11."

Joaquin straightened up and sauntered over to where you were standing, the air shifting with a desperate need for his lips to be against yours, and the scent of pine and spice radiating off his body.

You backed up slightly, bumping into the edge of the counter behind you, heart hammering against your ribs. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle—he never was—and that mischievous glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

He leaned in, one hand braced against the counter near your hip, sandwiching you in between his chest and the marble tile with that lazy, easy confidence that made your knees feel like jelly. Your chest pounded painfully as you fought the urge to reach out, to curl your fingers into the soft fabric of his t-shirt and just pull.

"Training room?" he asked his voice rough.

You nodded, lifting your chin defiantly. "Unless you want to join me?"

He trailed a hand down your arm before settling tightly on your waist, "Is that your way of asking for us to hang out?"

Your cheeks burned and you slipped away from his grasp. "Don’t flatter yourself, Torres. I'm gonna change, if you need me come to the training room to find me."

You spun on your heel and marched towards your room not daring to turn back around.

And like you had promised, you had changed into a two piece, now pacing anxiously trying to get your heart rate back to something remotely normal. You busied yourself with a punching bag, repeatedly hitting the battered bag over and over again until you gave up because a specific someone had infiltrated your concentration to the point you were punching air.

It was still early, meaning most of the team was still in bed trying to get as much rest as they could before Sam began handing out orders at the team briefing like party favours.

You were so caught up with the flood of thoughts rushing through your head you didn't even hear the door open until you saw Joaquin, hair mussed, still wearing the same loose sweatpants and tight fitting shirt in the reflection of the mirror.

You dropped your fists, chest rising and falling.

"I'm surprised you came."

Joaquin raised an eyebrow, stepping forward, meeting you halfway. "Why wouldn't I?"

You shrugged, tossing your training gloves to the ground. "One day you and I are gonna get caught and Sam's gonna send us both to the North Pole."

His lips fell into an amused smile as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

“But it'll be worth it." he whispered, leaning in close enough that you could count the freckles on his face.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful or gentle like it usually was—it was messy and fast, all teeth and tongues and weeks of bottled-up tension spilling over. His hands tightened around your hips, and you gasped into his mouth, fingers threading into the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

You stumbled backward until your shoulders hit the padded wall, Joaquin chasing after you like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

A whimper escaped your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip, fingers digging into his hair as he pinned you against the wall, both of you kissing each other until you were gasping for breath. Giddy and dazed, he buried his nose into the crook of your neck where he trailed sloppy kisses across you collarbone, then across your jawline, to the point the stubborn ache in your stomach intensified ten fold.

You squeezed your eyes shut as your hands trailed to the hem of his shirt, and before you knew it his lips were on yours again, your own lips parting greedily against his. Any scattered thought that had been rushing through your head before bounced right out as you felt his muscles contract under your fingertips, and as you kissed him harder you lost sense of time, place and everything except for the sweet taste of his mouth.

Though the sound of lumbering footsteps snapped you out of your drunken haze as you pulled away from Joaquin, hearing a small grumble outside the door.

“—too damn early to be— what the heck?”

Your eyes widened as you pulled away from Joaquin, face burning when you realized how far up his shirt your hands had gotten, and the intentional way you’d twisted the fabric to the point you were seconds away from yanking it off his head.

Joaquin looks as alarmed as you were before you dragged him into the washroom tucked into the corner of the training room. The two of you ducked inside, shutting the door gently behind you just as the gym door creaked open.

“I swear to god,” a voice— Sam’s voice muttered, “If Clint doesn’t start picking his shit up I’m banning him from the training room forever.”

You pressed yourself tigher against the bathroom wall, Joaquin practically on top of you, both of you holding your breath as Sam’s voice floated through.

You felt Joaquin’s chest shaking lightly against yours—he was laughing silently, the absolute menace—and you had to bite your lip to keep from making any sound.

When Sam finally gave up and left, the door slamming shut behind him, you both sagged in relief.

“Well that was a close call,” he said grinning his face just a few feet away from yours, mischief burning in his eyes.

“Too close,” you hissed back, smacking his chest lightly.

He smirked as he caught your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “So…”

You rolled your eyes but you stood on your tiptoes pressing your lips against his. He groaned as you wrapped your arms around his, pulling tighter.

"You're gonna kill me," he murmured into your mouth as you swallowed him with kisses.

"Well don't drop dead on me Sergeant, or how am I supposed to explain it to Sam?” you said hands finding the edge of his T-shirt again.

He just made a noise, and before you could process he picked you up in one swift motion putting you onto the counter of the sink. With no place for your legs to go you wrapped them around his waist, a small groan escaping his mouth when you wound your arms around his neck pulling him closer.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you stumbled out of the training room, lips swollen and eyes heavy. You didn’t need a mirror to know you looked like an absolute mess. Which was why a you immediately made a beeline for your room, hoping to change before anyone spotted you.

Joaquin however, didn’t seem to much in a rush, instead he blew you a kiss and squeezed your hand before he walked away with ease.

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness. He was for sure gonna get the two of you caught soon.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cursing softly underneath your breath you dug through your closet trying to find a suitable hoodie that covered the faint pink marks blooming along your neck—souvenirs from Joaquin’s thoroughly distracting mouth.

Begrudgingly you tugged on a grey hoodie, double— then triple checking, to ensure that the fabric covered everything. And when you walked into the briefing room where Joaquin and Peter were already waiting, Joaquin smirking as he eyed you up and down.

You shot him a warning look taking a seat beside him— no games this time. You didn’t need Sam’s god forsaken rule to be brought up and taped to your forehead again. Still, it didn’t stop Joaquin from reaching out and brushing the tips of his fingers against your pinky under the table.

You stiffened, glaring at him, but he just smiled innocently, not even a little sorry.

When you turned slightly to nudge him with your elbow, Joaquin caught your hand properly, giving it a teasing squeeze. You had to bite back a giggle, yanking your hand away, but not before he traced a slow, featherlight line across your wrist with his thumb.

As the door creaked open and the other members of the team began slowly filing in, all cradling a cup of coffee in their hands, you and Joaquin both snapped into a somewhat professional manner— back straight and eyes away from each other.

When Sam passed by you couldn’t help but tense, as he paused beside the two of you eyes narrowing slightly. You forced your lips into a polite smile, trying not to fidget with your fingers as he opened his mouth.

But before he could say anything, Yelena stormed into the room, the blonde throwing the door open so hard it bounced against the wall.

“Phew,” she announced loudly, fanning herself dramatically. “Who leaked all the testosterone in here?”

You and Joaquin stiffened as every pair of eyes turned toward Yelena.

A warmth began to bloom up your neck as you tried not to look at Joaquin, panic building in your stomach as you chewed nervously on your lower lip.

Sam furrowed his brow. “What testosterone?”

Yelena looked between you and Joaquin—lingering a little too long on your flushed cheeks and Joaquin’s guilty smile—then shook her head.

“Never mind,” she said sweetly, sliding into a chair, “Sorry I’m late.”

Sam scowled before pointing to the screen behind him. “Okay then, I guess we’ll start. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

The briefing started, Sam talking through mission objectives, logistics, intel. You tried your hardest to focus, scribbling notes furiously, avoiding even looking at Joaquin.

Everything was going to be fine. You tried to assure yourself, but it wasn’t until Sam looked up from his tablet and began reading out partners for the next mission that things started to go bad.

“Alright. I’m assigning partners for the missions next week. Joaquin, you’re with Yelena. Y/N, you’re with Peter.”

Joaquin scowled, visibly dissapointed at the partnering.

“You’ve got a problem with that Torres?” Sam asked casually, though the suspicious look on his face said otherwise.

You elbowed Joaquin, as he opened his mouth. “No he doesn’t have a problem with that, right Joaquin,” you cut in loudly, sending him a dirty look.

He looked between you and then Sam and nodded meekly. “Nope, no problem with that, I can work with Yelena.”

Sam didn’t look convinced and slammed both his palms down onto the table as he looked between the two of you. “Does someone wanna tell me what the hell is going on between these two?”

You flinched slightly, the room going so silent you could hear Peter awkwardly fidgeting two seats down.

You opened your mouth to say something— anything— but the words caught in your throat. Your head went blank and the air in your lungs seemed to have rushed out of the room as you sunk into your seat.

Joaquin shifted nervously beside you, his knee bumping yours.

And that tiny movement— the little nervous tic was all it took.

From the other side of the room, Yelena huffed loudly and muttered under her breath,“Please, it’s obvious. They’re sleeping together.”

You choked on your own spit eyes wide as saucers, as Joaquin visibly flinched beside you.

You were gonna kill Yelena.

Sam on the other hand, his face went utterly, frighteningly blank.

“Excuse me?” Sam said slowly, voice low and dangerous, like a storm about to hit.

Yelena shrugged unapologetically. “What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. Please, look at them. He’s basically vibrating out of his seat.”

Scott coughed to hide a laugh. Peter turned bright red. Clint and Kate didn’t even bother hiding his huge, shit-eating grin.

Sam turned back to you and Joaquin, crossing his arms, tapping his foot.

“Well?” he demanded.

Joaquin swallowed hard, and before you could stop him, blurted, “We’re… together.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead onto the table with a loud thunk.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose like he was physically in pain. “I knew it. I knew you two were sneaking around like a couple of damn teenagers! I just didn’t have enough fucking evidence AND I haven’t had maintenance fix the cameras yet.”

“We’re not teenagers,” you mumbled into the table, mortified beyond belief.

Sam slammed a hand down again. “OUT! Everybody OUT except Dumb and Dumber over here!”

They didn’t need telling twice, because as soon as the words left Sam’s mouth, chairs scraped back, papers flew everywhere, and the entire team bolted out the door.

Once it was just the three of you, Sam rounded on you and Joaquin, his face red and his veins bulging. “I specifically said none of this,” he thundered. “I made one rule and now what? You’re sneaking around making googly eyes and banging each other in the training room?”

You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a strangled sound.

Sam turned even redder as he reeled on you, “So you have been fucking in the training room! It was the two of you this morning!”

“It’s not— it’s not affecting the team,” you sputtered, “We’re being professional about it. It’s not my fault that I was a horny virgin locked in a H.Y.D.R.A base for half my life.”

“We’re being careful,” Joaquin said rubbing the back of his neck.

Sam threw his hands in the air. “Oh yeah? Real careful,” he snapped, gesturing wildly. “She’s sitting there wearing a freaking hoodie in July trying to hide a whole damn crime scene!”

You sank lower in your seat, mortified.

“It’s not a crime scene,” you muttered weakly.

Sam pointed at you pacing back and fourth. “You! Stop enabling him!” He then pointed at Joaquin. “You! Keep it in your pants!”

Just as you were about to protest the door to the briefing room crashed open, and the rest of the team spilled in. Yelena, Kate, Scott, Peter, and Clint, all piled on top of each other in a heap, having clearly been eavesdropping.

Peter groaned from the bottom of the pile. “Ow—Scott, your elbow—”

Clint shoved Kate off him. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Scott grinned up at Sam sheepishly. “We were just… uh… making sure no one needed backup.”

Sam looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“You’re ALL on trash duty,” he barked, jabbing a finger toward the door. “I don’t care if you’re Avengers, I don’t care if you’ve saved the world—this is janitorial punishment now! You’re cleaning every quinjet, every training room, every bathroom, until further notice.”

The collective groan from the heap of eavesdroppers was almost enough to make you feel bad. Almost.

Sam spun back to you and Joaquin. “And if see you two as much as kissing, I will send each of you to a different continent. So keep it together.”

Sam let out the longest, most exhausted sigh of his life and stomped out of the room, muttering something about retirement and running a circus instead of a team of Avengers.

You groaned as the door swung shut and Clint and Kate both burst into loud cackles as Peter patted you on the shoulder.

You collapsed next to Joaquin burying your face into his chest as he let out a relieved sigh. “If I were you,” Scott said sympathetically, “I would’ve had Ant-Thony eat me.”

“Gee. thanks Scott,” you grumbled, “That really makes me feel a lot better.”

You then turned to look at Joaquin. “I told you we’d get caught and yet you’re still sitting here looking optimistic as fuck.”

Joaquin shrugged, giving you that same devastatingly crooked grin that got you into this mess in the first place. “Well maybe ‘cause it was always worth it.”

[meiplays]

🧨 “Whipped & Wrecked”

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader

Rating: 💥 SFW (but spicy, lap grinding, thigh riding, hickeys, hair pulling, worship, possessive & feral Ben energy)

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: Intense lap grinding, thigh riding, hair pulling, whimpering, kissing, marking/neck kisses/hickeys, teasing, possessive behavior, begging Ben (softly), whipped energy, reader in Ben’s shirt, praise, mutual obsession, canon Ben attitude

Summary:

All Ben wanted was to hold you in his lap. Just cuddle you for a while. But you knew exactly what you were doing the second you started grinding your hips over his thigh. Turns out, Soldier Boy isn’t as in control as he likes to act—especially not when you’ve got your fingers in his hair and your lips on his throat.

A/N: this is probably the spicest thing I've written (as what I'm comfortable with) first time writing soldier boy! Hope you enjoy xo

“C’mere, baby. Just wanna hold you for a while.”

That’s how it started.

You were curled up in bed, wearing nothing but one of Ben’s old shirts—soft, worn-in, and way too big. He was leaning against the headboard, dog tags still hanging against his chest, arms open, eyes soft in a way no one else ever got to see.

And you melted for it. Always did.

You crawled into his lap without hesitation, straddling his thick thighs, resting your body against his like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arms came around you instantly, solid and warm and possessive. He let out a quiet breath, one of those rare, content ones, like just having you there grounded him.

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing his face into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about this all week.”

His voice was lower than usual, warm against your skin, and it made you shiver in his arms. You could feel his hands rubbing slow, lazy circles on your lower back, fingertips brushing just beneath the hem of the shirt. Nothing urgent—just comfort.

But you weren’t exactly behaving.

You shifted in his lap. Just a little. Enough to feel the way his muscles tightened beneath you. Enough to make him pause mid-breath.

“Careful,” he warned, but his grip on your hips got firmer. “You’re in dangerous territory, sweetheart.”

You smiled against his throat. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

Another shift. This time, you let your thighs tighten around his. The hem of the shirt slid higher as your body naturally moved over his lap, creating friction that neither of you could ignore.

Ben groaned, deep and low. His hands flew from gentle to gripping, fingers digging into your hips as his jaw clenched hard.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his voice rough now, “you tryin’ to kill me?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, playful. “What if I am?”

His eyes darkened.

“Don’t play with me, doll,” he rasped, rocking his hips just barely upward. “You know exactly what you’re doin’. You sit here, all sweet in my shirt, like you’re just here for cuddles—and then you start ridin’ my thigh like it’s an accident.”

“Maybe it is,” you whispered, grinding slow against the thick muscle beneath you. You could feel how hard he was breathing, how tense his hands had gotten. “Maybe I just like being close to you.”

“Bullshit,” Ben growled, dragging you closer. “You know how goddamn sensitive I am to you. You start movin’ like that, and I forget how to breathe.”

You rolled your hips again, this time firmer—grinding right against the curve of his thigh, where his muscles flexed under your heat. Ben’s head fell back against the headboard with a guttural sound.

“F**k, baby…”

His hands gripped your waist, guiding your movement before he even realized what he was doing.

“Keep goin’,” he muttered. “You’re gonna ruin me. Might as well finish the job.”

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his jaw, whispering sweet and sinful things in his ear as you rolled your hips over and over again, using the thick, strong muscle of his thigh like a toy built for you. His dog tags jangled softly between your chests as he tried to hold himself back.

“Takin’ my f***in’ breath away,” he groaned. “Look at you—makin’ a mess on my leg, actin’ all innocent. You know you’re the only one I’d ever let do this, right?”

You nodded, panting now, clutching his shoulders for leverage. “I know.”

His hands slipped under your shirt, up your spine, pulling you flush against him. His thigh tensed again—harder—and your body shivered in his lap.

Ben kissed you rough, possessive, like he was trying to remind you exactly who had you. When he pulled back, his eyes were blown wide with heat.

“You ride me like that again,” he muttered, “and I swear to God, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

You grinned, grinding once more. “That the plan.”

Ben let out a strangled noise—something between a growl and a prayer—and pulled you tighter against him, burying his face in your neck.

“Whipped,” he mumbled. “I’m f***in’ whipped for you.”

You stroked the back of his neck softly, kissing his cheek as you moved with him. “I know, baby. And I love it.”

You didn’t even realize how far you were pushing him.

Not until you tugged on his hair—and he whimpered.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic.

Just a soft, helpless sound that slipped from his lips the second your fingers tangled into that thick mess of his hair and gave it a firm pull.

Ben froze. His breath caught. Then his eyes rolled back just a little like he’d just been sucker-punched straight in the nerves.

You stilled in his lap, straddling his thigh in nothing but his shirt, lips parted in surprise. “Wait… you like that?”

Ben groaned—deep and rough like he hated how much he loved it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, voice barely holding together. “You’re gonna break me.”

You tugged again, slower this time, watching his reaction.

Ben shivered. You felt it under your hands. He dropped his head back, his lips parted, a low sound catching in his throat.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, “you really do like your hair pulled.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Instead, his hands snapped up to your hips and dragged you harder against his thigh—his grip bruising, jaw clenched, eyes wild with hunger.

“Baby…” His voice was gravel. “You keep doin’ that, I’m not gonna be able to stop.”

You rolled your hips slow, dragging the heat of your core over the thick muscle of his thigh again and again, your thighs clenching as he flexed beneath you.

“Then don’t,” you breathed. “Let go.”

That was it. That was the match to gasoline.

Ben’s mouth crashed against yours, hot and heavy, hands gripping like he needed you to stay there—like you’d disappear if he wasn’t touching every inch of you. His kisses were everywhere: your lips, your jaw, your neck—worshipping.

“You drive me f***in’ insane,” he growled between kisses. “You—this—this sweet little thing sittin’ in my lap like you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.”

“I do,” you whispered, fingers in his hair again, pulling hard.

Ben gasped against your skin—and then whimpered again. Raw. Real. The kind of sound he’d never make for anyone else.

“You like that?” you asked, teasing against his ear. “You like being pulled around like a good boy?”

“F***,” he choked out, rutting his thigh upward under you so hard it nearly made you moan. “I’ll be whatever the hell you want me to be, baby. Just don’t stop.”

He started kissing down your neck again, slower now. Not rough—needy. His tongue flicked over your pulse, his lips suckling a spot just under your jaw until you gasped. Then he did it again. And again.

“Gonna mark you up,” he mumbled, dazed. “All over. So you never forget who you belong to.”

“You’re the one who’s whipped,” you panted, grinding shamelessly against his thigh. “You’re the one who begs when I pull your hair—”

“I do not beg—”

You yanked again. Harder.

Ben whimpered. Louder this time. His eyes squeezed shut. His hips jerked upward under you like he couldn’t stop.

“Okay,” he gasped. “Maybe I do.”

You laughed breathlessly, but he wasn’t done with you.

He flipped you gently—fast but controlled—until you were on your back and he was hovering over you, his thigh still wedged perfectly between yours. You tried to protest, but his lips were already on your neck again, his hands sliding under your shirt, skin on skin.

“You make me weak,” he whispered. “You hear me? You ruin me every time you climb into my lap like that, grind on me like you own me.”

“I do own you,” you teased, breathless.

Ben grinned against your collarbone, and you felt his teeth graze your skin right before he sucked another mark into you, just beneath the line of your throat.

“Damn right, you do,” he muttered. “So let me show you what being yours means.”

He trailed kisses down your chest, slow and heavy, tongue flicking, lips sucking, worshiping every inch of skin he could reach without going too far. You tugged his hair again just to feel him twitch. Just to hear that sound again—the little gasp he couldn’t hide.

“You’re evil,” he muttered against your ribs.

“You love it.”

“Damn right, I do.”

He came back up, kissing you breathless, tasting every inch of your lips like he needed them to live. His hands never stopped roaming—your waist, your thighs, your hips—everywhere he could hold you down and pull you close.

When he finally slowed, both of you were panting, chests heaving, still tangled together on the bed. Your shirt had ridden up high. His sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips. But neither of you had crossed the line—yet.

“Ben?” you murmured, brushing his hair from his forehead.

His eyes cracked open, and for once, he looked… soft.

“Yeah, baby?”

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You know I’ve never seen you like this with anyone else. You’re not just mine. I’m yours, too.”

His throat worked like he was trying to swallow the lump in it. One of his hands slid up, curling around your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

“I don’t deserve you,” he rasped.

You kissed him again, slow and lingering. “Too late. You’ve got me.”

He pulled you into his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapping protectively around your waist as he held you like he was afraid the world would take you away.

And you laid there like that—on top of him, tangled, flushed, and ruined—while his fingers idly stroked your back, his lips pressing lazy kisses into your temple.

Every few seconds, you tugged his hair just to hear that helpless little whimper again.

And Ben?

He let you.

Because he was yours. Whipped, marked, and happy about it.

[sunhighriptide]

My Headcanons for the Spice Tolerance of various members and associates of the batfamily.

DICK: He isn't a wimp, but also not a spicy fan. Give him sweet any day. He'll eat the hot sauce from your local mexican restaurant but will avoid spicy challenges at all costs. Has been burned by Jason's food more than once. Does have a liking for sour candy.

BARBARA: Not terrible, but very much not her thing. She likes sour and occasionally bitter. She will not eat your hot sauce. Handles it much better than some, but would rather not purposefully eat pain, thank you very much.

JASON: Spice King. There is almost no food he will not try. Had a high spicy tolerance before he died, after the pit and his world travels, nothing phases him. He loves Alfred's cooking, and it will always be his comfort food, but his palette is way more adventurous. He will only tone his cooking down for Alfred and Barabara. If anyone else wants to eat his food, they can shut up and deal. He doesn't have to feed them.

I don't really have an opinion on Helena. Probably similar to Dick's.

TIM: The biggest wimp to ever wimp. His taste buds are mostly destroyed, so if you feed him spicy food, he won't notice for the first five minutes. Until he realizes his mouth is on fire and is finally distracted from whatever he is working on. The burning will linger for the rest of the day, and he won't talk to the person responsible for a week. He used to gulp water until Steph told him that makes it worse, and he should use milk instead. He figured coffee has enough milk content. Both Damian and Jason have used this against him.

STEPHANIE: Suprisingly impressive. She can nearly match Damian, and no one but Cass can tell she's dying inside towards the end of the hot sauce challenge. She once attempted to eat Jason's spiciest dish while looking him dead on before bailing to the bathroom about six seconds in. Jason never told her it wasn't quite the spicest dish he makes.

CASSANDRA: She doesn't like spicy food and is fully okay with that. Sure, she can tolerate it, but as Barbara said, why would she willingly eat pain? Jason doesn't mind because it is Cass, and she's really chill about it. He'll give her the mild version he makes for Alfred and Babs.

DAMIAN: Obviously, he can handle spicy food, how dare you insult his constitution, plebian. Nothing in the U.S. is going to trip him up, especially nothing in New Jersey, but there are spices he would rather not suffer through, though he will never admit to such a weakness.

KATE: Enjoys spicy food, but European level spicy. She can handle anything found in Italy, no problem, but Indian becomes a problem.

ALFRED: He is English. No, he doesn't like spicy food. He will never like spicy food. This is okay, we still love him.

BRUCE: It is a very good thing he has a nearly perfect poker face because Talia would never have married such a wimp. Feed the white boys (Tim and Bruce), a pepper, and watch Ra's al ghul loose all interest. That's my solution. Cannot handle the slightest spice. The grocery store mild salsa is a danger to him. Will lie to your face about it. Lives in fear of his family discovering this weakness.

[sinful-lanterns]

Rather than Cabernet sending vids or pics it's reader that sends them. Cabernet can't do that because she's too busy eating out so reader have to help her in this regard or else everyone would think she doesn't have game. Just spicest material of Cabernet just devouring pussy while her monster of a cock is heavily hanging between her legs. Let it be said that she has spoiled cunnilingus that reader can only cum on her tounge, the other sinners just don't do it right. Cock, fingers or thigh is alright but tounge? Only she can do it.

Not Reader recording videos on Cabernet’s behalf 😭

I can just imagine you moaning in pure pleasure while the camera is shaky in your hands. Cabernet’s feral, slurping sounds not subtle for the viewers to hear as she’s too busy devouring your pussy to look at the camera rn…

The camera-work is not the best, but damn can all the PTN women get a closeup of Cabernet’s face being covered in your juices. Her tongue, her lips, her hands are just holding you down against the bed, her monster of a cock just hanging from between her legs unattended, yet somehow cumming from just eating you out alone?? She wasn’t even jerking herself off and yet— she was orgasming to the taste of you…

Erotic eating sounds aside, you bet the PTN women in the group chat are mesmerized. Cabernet’s pussy game is on another level 🥵

[aphroditeinthestars]

Life is boring. RCT fans, levar me your hottest takes anonymously in my asks. I'm not talking, "Oh, I don't like Nisha!"

Blah blah blah

Give me the spicest shit ever that would get your cyclone ticket fukcing revoked

[t34-mt]

What spices do kyhuines and maanuls like, and which one would be the most profitable one to trade (Aka the most popular/Most expensive one)? Can i exploit kyhuines and maanuls financially, pleaaaaaasee

Apart from salt because they need it on a biological level just like we do. They like the ones that make their tongues tingle, the spicest shit ever you'll ever experience because it's the thing they can feel the most, and they like adding it to their meals for an extra kick. Their taste buds are numbed down because they just have less than we do, part of their tongues hosts keratin spikes.

And no, you can't exploits them financially because they don't work with money, the world will work through bartering, giving an object in exchange or a service. When primitive money systems are present in some communities its just trinket objects they can exchange for small goods. They're stubborn, you can do whatever you want they won't see the utility in money system because they're not getting anything valuable to their eyes in exchange.

I guess you can do that in places like kaar'kchir (and it's sister cities) who do work under a very messy money system, which I rather tear my hair off than bother trying to commerce and exploit them. I dont even think it would be worth the hassle since youd only be able to use your hoarded money there.

Plus the money system there changes via ring districts, the furthest from the center of the ring the more chances people don't even use money system anymore. because they'll probably work like the average colony where they're self sufficient. It's just that they're in what's considered as "kaar'kchir territories" and are considered as kaar'kchir citizen. even if they may work vastly differently than someone from the center, and even if they don't want to be categorized as such to begin with.

[sp1cybuns]

how spicy are your buns?

The absolute spicest ����

[scionreads]

I always laugh when they’re like these are the spicest books I’ve ever read and it’s books where the sex is mid at best it’s just a lot of it. it’s quality over quantity folks

[thebladesmithmuses]

((Is no one interested in nsfw wishlist roleplay things for my adult muses?

Not even Jane?!

She's my spicest muse y'all!!))

[bearlydruid]

When did you first start writing?

What was the first muse that you’ve written?

Is there any fandom you regret exploring?

You *always* pick the most interesting questions and I love it. thanks for prowling in my memes and inbox!!

When did you first start writing?

I was in middle school, I wanna say 7th grade? so around 11-12ish. It was pen and paper in class passing them back and forth. We'd take a pen and scribble over any 'naughty words' and the spicest we ever got was like 'they snuck off for 30 minutes, coming back looking disheveled and sweaty.' We were rebels.

What was the first muse that you’ve written?

Basically a bunch of Sailor Moon characters including an OC that I sort of adopted into my persona? I named her Sonia, and I have used that as my online pseudonym ever since. It's been so long I'm actually going to use it as my legal name whenever I get off my lazy bum and file for a name change!

Is there any fandom you regret exploring?

Not really! I'm fairly lucky that my experiences in the Marvel Fandom and then here have been positive ones. I also am like. oblivious so unless someone was in my DM's / Inbox being a loser I tend to avoid drama. I am aware of the toxicity that exists in *all* fandoms I feel but my personal experience has been pretty good overall!

[ask-cinnavanillamelody]

Stella: Happy Hearth’s Warming! I, uh… I have no ideas for gifts. That’s always hard for me. Cinna, got any ideas for anybody? This includes yourself.

Cinna: Gift Ideas huh? Well, I have some for my partners and family, but you gotta promise not to tell!

I get corvyn a new scarf every year, so I plan to go with that.

For Chilli, I'm getting him a recipe for the spicest dish in Equestria so he can make it for himself! He's always wanted it

Kaz is hard to really shop for, but I plan on getting him a new gold fang, his other one has started to dull, and this one is gonna ne enchanted to never dull!

For Lucious, I wanna get him something really special, so I'm making him something!

Dad used to have an apron he liked to wear. But we had to leave it behind on the run, so I got him a new one.

Mom's getting one of her favorite flowers that used to grow around her old hive.

I'm giving Sadie a box of buttons I've collected all year.

Beth is getting a new ribbon.

And I haven't gotten anything for Mr. Kodi's Family yet, still planning. 🧋