#face reader

[annoyingruinsqueen]

family problems in Australia

Ultimately, while family problems in Australia may be complex and multifaceted, they also present opportunities for growth, resilience, and deeper connections. With patience, understanding, and a willingness to confront issues head-on, families can emerge stronger and more united, ready to face whatever challenges come their way.

[icepip]

ughh imagine having a heavy make out session with yuta and sitting on his lap and he just can't seem to get enough of you, constantly squeezing and gripping at your hips, pulling you closer and closer because he's so desperate for you. moaning and licking into your mouth, only pulling away a hair's breadth to fill his lungs with air.

there's this need that flows through both your veins and you just want each other. it's dumb and irresponsible — but fuck, you really don't want to leave yuta's lap.

you're pawing at his bulge beneath you, shaky hands trying to get it out, and he doesn't stop you. raising his hips to help you, yuta gasps when your hands wraps around his shaft. his head falls back and for the first time, you can breathe.

he's hot and heavy in your hand, velvety smooth and already beginning to leak, and you want so bad.

"please, yuta," you mumble against his jaw, rubbing your covered cunt against his cock. "i need you."

"c-condom." it's choked out, like it pains him to say. like you could've forgotten about it.

"just the tip. you can, you can just pull out."

yuta whines, a sound high in his throat, his dick jumping in your hand. he shouldn't. he couldn't possibly stop himself from losing control. you know this more than anyone else, but you want.

you push your shorts and panties to the side, pressing his tip to your mound. it's dangerous and far too tempting for both of you and it's no surprise when his cockhead pushes into your pussy.

[skyrigel]

You are Simon's bit of magic. Whatever happens Simon knows who to call.

His angel. His heart. His stress buster.

When you got the call in afternoon, waking slowly from the afternoon nap to see Simon face timing — you figured lil' interns stressed the hell out of your man.

"Bloody daft- oh, hi love." Simon turns back to look at you rubbing your eyes, his face lighting up with a grin.

"Hey... what's up?" You mumble quietly.

"Just -" he exhales, hard glare to whoever was there and soft eyes back to you. "I wanted to see m' pretty baby."

"Your pretty baby looks like shit." you chuckled at him, blinking to see clear the red spot on your cheek because you slept sideways, hair a bloody nest.

"Don't be a meanie to my angel." Simon says tenderly, his lips tug slightly at one side and he hums a small, 'huh' to get you giddy in stomach.

You could see his face relaxing finally.

"Idiots pissing off my soldier?"

Simon gave a small pout, just the barest, and nodded to you. Then he brings the phone closer to his face and doesn't even turn around to check who is looking or not before placing a kiss which you could assume might be your nose tip on his phone.

"I love ya, lovie." he whispers closely. It tingles all your insides at once.

"I love you too." you told him, then with a smirk that always drove him crazy - "You are so stressed Si baby, gotta release when ya come home tonight."

Simon flustered.

"Riley, c'mon they got better now." someone said around him.

Simon brought the phone closer like he was grabbing your chin and growling in your ear, making every word vibrate through you.

"Sleep some more missus, ya might not get any tonight."

Noted. Positive.

Masterlist

[delulukaisen]

Beach Vibes

They see you at the beach and promptly lose their minds.

CW: fem!reader (she/her pronouns), some nsfw, mostly fluff

[rat6ix]

I like guys that are pretty like girls …

[crabfungi]

ok i never finished this LOL might as well post :p

get dragged idoit

[theorphicangel]

thinking about doing that tiktok trend with satoru where you pretend to be another woman that goes up to him in public but he fails every time…

not because he’s unfaithful but because he keeps forgetting that you’re pretending to be someone else and he can’t stand being mean to you.

“wait no I can’t do this— so you’re someone else?”

“yes you can just use that vivid imagination of yours to pretend I’m someone else”

“oh okay.” satoru tries to focus, getting back into his ‘acting’ mode. “let’s try again”

you go back to your starting position and walk towards him with the purpose of toppling into him.

“oh sorry!! wow you’re soooooo handsome, I didn’t mean to bump into you, can I get your number?” you run your hands over his biceps, keeping up your flirtatious gaze

“No. Stay away. I have a beautiful girlfriend waiting for me at home actually.”

“Oh do you?” You cross your arms, meeting his eyes. There’s a playful smirk on your face as you tease him.

and because it’s you Satoru can’t help but smile at your face.

“Satoru!!” you slap him lightly, “you failed. again.”

“But you’re really pretty right now baby, I can’t help but get distracted, I’m sorry!”

[caramelcove]

Cat distribution system had a bit of a malfunction 😬

Stay tuned for the continuation 🥰💕💞

Part 1.5

[harsh186]

voodoo doll expert solution in Oman

"Harnessing Ancient Wisdom: Voodoo Doll Expert Solutions for Modern Challenges voodoo doll expert solution in Oman The Power Within: How Voodoo Doll Experts in Oman Can Transform Your Life Beyond Superstition: Practical Applications of Voodoo Doll Expertise in Oman. Customized Solutions: How Voodoo Doll Experts Tailor Practices to Oman's Cultural Context.Healing and Protection: The Role of Voodoo Doll Experts in Safeguarding Oman's Communities.Empowering Omanis: How Voodoo Doll Expertise Provides Solutions for Personal Growth and Development"

[supine-ly]

In the spirit of upcoming ap exams

[annoyingruinsqueen]

Witchcraft Expert Solutions in Australia

At Witchcraft Expert Solutions in Australia, we understand the intrigue and the mystique surrounding the craft. Whether you're a novice or a seasoned practitioner, our team is dedicated to providing comprehensive guidance and support on your spiritual journey.

[mushgloomz]

joel miller with glasses

joel miller, who gives you a crooked half-smirk whenever you speak to him, looking over the rim of his glasses and muttering “ain’t i old enough to be your daddy, darlin’?”

joel miller, who absolutely pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a single index finger when they slip down - real old man style

joel miller, who chuckles to himself as you try his glasses on for the first time, squinting at you to get a better look before declaring “lookin’ real nice, sweetheart”

joel miller, who is constantly misplacing his glasses when he needs them most - you can tell when it happens even if you aren’t in the same room; the sound of him patting his jeans and the subsequent goddamnit giving you all the information you need as the sound echoes from his workshop

joel miller, who goes to remove his glasses when he kisses you for the first time before you ask him to keep them on

joel miller, who gets the faintest flush to his cheeks when he realises said kiss has caused his glasses to fog up around the bottom of the lenses. the same flush that deepens as you tenderly pluck them from his face and clean the glass with the hem of your tshirt

joel miller, who near goes into cardiac arrest when his glasses give him a crystal clear rendition of you settling between his legs under his work bench as your hands trail up his denim-clad thighs

joel miller, who is eternally grateful to the patrol group that found the abandoned opticians lab as he drinks in the sight of your soft lips wrapped around his cock - so grateful, that he keeps one hand on the back of your head to guide you, and the other on the hinge of his frames for fear of losing them (and the glorious sight before him)

joel miller, who insists on you riding him that very evening. who, for the first time, is a lot less ashamed of the maroon plastic framing his eyes as he keeps his glasses on during the act - “Christ, you’re a fuckin’ vision, baby” is all he can muster between groans, barely blinking behind the glass as he palms at the soft swell of your tits

joel miller, who’s glasses creak a little as he buries his face in the crook of your neck when he cums deep inside you; shuddered breaths making the lenses steam up yet again

joel miller, who wakes up in the morning, swats at his bedside table and soon realises that instead of being on the nightstand, his glasses are in your grasps, being meticulously cleaned with a scrap of material - the same man who falls a little more in love with you when you admit that you’ve been doing it every morning for him before he wakes up

that’s all

[skyrigel]

Simon only ever brought back any bird home to fuck nasty, but this ? it wasn't his thing to do.

And you did nothing particularly charming except puke over his boot and sob and hiccup under the influence.

Generally things ended at the backalley or his truck and a few rare times back at his place. But tonight it was tad bit different after nearly getting his cheek eaten up all the way up the stairs, and here now as he anxiously spoke over his phone.

“I, er, put a blanket and made her drink water…anything else ?”

“Check her pulse.” So Simon put away the phone one moment to check your limp wrist for pulse.

“Yeah, a bit slow but yeah.”

“Have you put a ring on her finger yet ?”

Simon checked your finger, no ring there to report back. “No, I didn't, should I put a ring…oh.”

Johnny laughed, his blunt cackling coming out of the phone. “Calm your tits now, she'll live, man, just passed out.”

Simon rolled his eyes and hung up mumbling indecent words, casting a glance at your sleep warm body splayed over his bed, drooling over his pillow. He pushed the blanket a bit up your frame and checked up for painkillers which you might need tomorrow morning.

“Night,” He whispered, not taking the other pillow which was cuddled under your leg and going over to sleep over the couch.

Simon did think your hand looked a bit empty and a ring might just be a perfectly good solution, before falling asleep to your babbling.

Masterlist

[lanae111]

When he’s a red flag but you need him

[egotisticaleverything]

The beard is doing things to me that I’m not ready to admit.

[iydiamartinx]

PAN-DEMONIUM

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 1.5k synopsis: When your boyfriend forgets to mention his dad is the Batman, things can escalate quickly.  a/n: Instead of working, I found another idea that I dug up from the depths of my crack fic drafts, hope y'all had a laugh.

The apartment was quiet—eerily so, save for the low, comforting sizzle of eggs on the stovetop. It was a familiar sound in the late hours, part of a routine that had etched itself into your life since you found out about your boyfriend’s double identity. Midnight cravings were a constant in this place. Jason would drag himself in from patrol, bruised, half-dead, and starving, usually too tired to eat anything but dry cereal or a protein bar. Somewhere along the way, you’d started preempting his return, slipping out of bed before he could crash onto the couch and coaxing something warm onto a plate.

Tonight was no different. You stood at the stove, barefoot and comfortably wrapped in one of his worn shirts—black, soft, smelling faintly of gunpowder and his cologne. You hummed absently, the tune unrecognizable and slightly off-key, as you nudged the eggs with a spatula. The warmth from the burner was a pleasant contrast to the cool of the tiled floor beneath your feet.

And then you heard it.

A sound—barely audible, but wrong. Not the front door. Not the creak of a windowpane. But something. A shift of weight. The subtle scrape of a boot across hardwood.

You froze.

The spatula paused mid-motion. Your head tilted slightly, listening—straining. Jason always made noise when he came in. A thud of boots. A sarcastic remark. A muttered curse. Sometimes he’d whistle. Always something. And he never forgot to let you know it was him.

“Jason?” you called, your voice a notch quieter than you’d intended. “Is that you?”

No answer.

Your stomach dropped. A cold ripple of dread slid down your spine.

You moved quickly but quietly, turning the burner off. The comforting sizzle of eggs faded into silence. The spatula was abandoned in favour of the frying pan—heavier, more solid in your grip. You adjusted your hold on it, stepping away from the stove and edging slowly toward the hallway.

The shadow at the end of the hall was thicker than it should’ve been—wrong somehow, dense and unnatural. You squinted into the dark, heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes struggled to adjust. The hallway had always been dim at night, but this… this was different. It almost looked like the darkness itself was shifting. You took a cautious step forward—and then froze.

He was just suddenly there.

A towering figure. The black cape flowed down his frame like oil, and his cowl obscured his face, two glowing white slits where his eyes should’ve been. He looked like something out of your nightmares. 

You didn’t think. There was no time for logic or reason, only instinct.

With a half-scream, you swung the pan with everything you had.

CLANG.

The sound rang out like a bell, followed by a low, guttural grunt. The man staggered, head jerking to the side as one gloved hand came up to clutch where you’d struck him.

You stared, breathless, pan still raised like a weapon, frozen with adrenaline. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your mind spiralling—

And then the front door crashed open.

“What the fuck?!” Jason’s voice rang out, sharp and alarmed.

You spun around, the frying pan still trembling in your grip. “Jason!” you gasped, relief breaking through in a sudden tidal wave. “There’s a man—he—he broke in—I thought—I didn’t know what else to do—oh my god.”

Jason’s eyes flew past you, quickly scanning the scene—the eggs now dripping in gloppy streaks down the wall, the now-empty skillet in your hands, the looming figure still bent slightly forward, one hand pressed to his temple.

Jason blinked. His mouth opened. Then dropped.

“You hit Batman?!”

You blinked. Slowly turned back.

The man—Batman, the actual Batman—was slowly straightening up, gloved fingers rubbing his cowl covered temple where your frying pan had made contact. The cowl hadn’t even cracked. Not a single tear or dent. He just gave you the smallest, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, as if he were trying to process the sheer absurdity of what had just happened.

He looked less furious and more…inconvenienced. A little surprised, maybe. You hoped to God he wasn’t concussed.

You dropped the pan like it had burned you, it fell to the floor with such a loud sound both Jason and the Bat flinched. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, stepping back as panic began to claw its way up your throat. “Oh my god.” You whirled on your boyfriend, wide-eyed and flushed with horror. “I just assaulted Batman. I attacked Batman. I’m going to jail. He’s going to disappear me. Jason, they’re going to find me in Arkham.”

“Jason!” you hissed, slapping his arm with a mixture of panic and outrage. “This is serious! I just committed a felony—with your damn midnight snack!”

Still snorting, Jason tried to compose himself but failed spectacularly. His shoulders were shaking, breath hitching with every suppressed laugh as he leaned against the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

He still hadn’t told you. Not the part about who Batman really was. That his adopted father was the Dark Knight himself. That the rest of his so-called siblings also ran around Gotham in capes and masks, playing vigilante just like he did. As far as you knew, Jason was the only one with a flair for crime-fighting and danger. He’d conveniently left out the bat-shaped elephant in the room.

“He’s not gonna press charges, babe,” Jason wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. “Jesus. You hit the Bat over the head with a pan. With a pan!” He bent double again, laughing so hard he nearly choked. “Oh man—this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You glared at him like you might hurl the pan at him next, and your mortification only deepened when you turned back to Batman—your face pale as chalk.

“I am so sorry,” you blurted, hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t know it was you. You were in the dark and you didn’t say anything and you’re—well—you’re literally terrifying.”

Batman’s silence stretched long enough that you were genuinely debating whether you should throw yourself out the window when he finally spoke.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gravelly and deep. “You hit me.” He almost sounded surprised, perhaps even confused.

You flinched. “I—I didn’t know it was you! You were just standing there in the dark! You didn’t even say anything! I thought you were a burglar! What was I supposed to do—offer you eggs?”

Behind you, Jason was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to smother his laughter. He wasn’t succeeding.

The Bat didn’t move.

You swallowed thickly, muttering now more to yourself than anyone else. “I can’t believe I assaulted Batman. I’m going to prison. Or Arkham. Or wherever he takes people when they attack him with a frying pan.”

Finally, Batman exhaled, the sound sharp and slow through his nose. “You should’ve been more aware of your surroundings.”

You gaped at him. “Excuse me? You brokeinto our apartment!”

Jason, ever helpful, mumbled under his breath, “Technically true.”

You shot him a glare but turned your frustration back to the source of your near heart attack. “You crept in like some B-rated horror movie villain!” you snapped, the lingering fear in your chest giving way to indignation. “And you have the audacity to lecture me about being aware of my surroundings? At least I listened to my instincts when I heard you move!”

“And your first instinct,” he said flatly, “was to attack me with cookware?”

You met his gaze without flinching this time. “It was cast iron.”

There was a beat of silence—and then Jason lost it all over again. He doubled over, wheezing, his laughter echoing off the hallway walls.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face as if you could physically wipe away the humiliation. Your other arm remained wrapped around your ribs, like you were trying to hold together the shattered remains of your dignity. “Shut up, Jason,” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palm. “This is so humiliating. I literally assaulted Batman.”

“I know!” Jason wheezed, nearly breathless with laughter. “It’s great. Literally the best day of my life.”

From behind you, the Dark Knight’s voice came again—low, grave, entirely too casual. “She’s got a strong swing.”

Jason turned toward him, still grinning like a lunatic. “You should see her when we play baseball.”

A long beat passed, silence settling again.

Then Batman looked directly at you, the white slits of his cowl narrowing slightly. “Next time,” he said evenly, “aim for the jaw. The cowl’s reinforced.”

You blinked. “Wait… what?”

But he was already gone, shadows swallowing the space where he’d stood.

You stared at the space he’d occupied, jaw slack. “I think I just made his criminal list.”

Jason came up behind you, arms wrapping snugly around your waist, still chuckling against the side of your neck. “Nah,” he murmured, amusement thick in his voice. “If anything, I think you impressed him.”

You threw your arms out in exasperation—nearly clocking him in the face with your flailing limbs.

He ducked with a laugh.

“Why else would he tell me to aim for the jaw?” you demanded. “He thinks we’re gonna fight again. He’s preparing me for our next encounter!”

Jason didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Want me to get a new pan?”

“Jason!”