#how does something so cute even exist

[toytulini]

I think making sweeping generalizations of specific traits being considered "ugly" is not great the same way i think its rude and unnecessary to call others ugly, i also think its worthwhile to acknowledge that certain traits ARE considered "Ugly" due to societal beauty standards, that doesn't make them ACTUALLY ugly, bc beauty is subjective anyway, and can be found Anywhere, and even someone who seems to tick every single box of societal beauty Ideals will almost certainly have at least one trait or feature about their appearance that they are insecure about or feel is "ugly", bc even within the constraints of conventional attractiveness theres subjectivity

also this fish was so fucking Ugly and i adored it so much. i miss him.

he was also gorgeous.

[lieutenantselnia]

I randomly decided to dig out my old dream diary and I'm literally howling with laughter right now about some of the stuff I wrote down there😂😂 So much mildly cursed but in hindsight also extremely hilarious stuff😭😂

For context, I've been wanting to learn lucid dreaming for a long time (still can't do it unfortunately), and for a while during my teenage years I actually tried writing a dream diary to learn remembering my dreams more clearly (according to my notes I actually managed to even get a few semi-lucid dreams!). Most of these are from the first half of 2018, when I actually managed to write down my dreams consistently for a couple months, plus a few from 2019 and early 2020, in total about 20 dreams. I thought it might be funny to share some of the most hilarious, cursed or just really random moments from them:

I met with people that I either went to school with at the time or used to go to school with before, and we had to participate in various competitions or challenges, usually it was either something absurdly dangerous and cruel or something extremely embarrassing. That sort of stuff occurred in multiple dreams, like one time we were in the sports hall of my old primary school and had to kill each other with spears, another time me and some classmates were participating in a challenge of some random YouTuber and had to jump from a really high tower into a bath tub (which had no water in it but a trampoline).

We had to present our short film projects in English class (this is something we actually did in real life), and one group did a retelling of "The Lion King" where Timon died at the finale and that was just how the film ended. Also General Burkhalter from Hogan's Heroes was there as a film critic. He liked that ending even though most other people were just really confused about it.

I met Heinrich Himmler and Reinhard Heydrich on a Christmas market and they were a gay couple and I took stupid selfies with them (what the fuck). In another dream Himmler was together with Joseph Goebbels instead, but before I woke up they told me it was actually just a prank and when I looked at the date it was suddenly April Fool's Day.

On my 15th birthday (in real life) I dreamed that it was summer and Christmas at the same time. (I live in the northern hemisphere so that doesn't happen here. Also my birthday is obviously not at Christmas.)

So. Many. Dreams. About. Thrawn. I swear about half of all the dreams I wrote down were just about me being in love with Thrawn and trying to get together with him, the nonsense level of the surrounding scenarios usually varying. There are too many to explain them all, but one of my favourite quote from one of the diary entries is probably "Thrawn and I had an ugly child", it's just so blunt and random😭 In another dream Thrawn randomly had a beard and I lowkey hated it, and in another he turned out to just be a human guy with make-up and I was super disappointed when I woke up.

A bunch of doctors and scientists were investigating our garden pond and randomly found the corpse of a blue-haired girl, but they weren't interested in her at all and just threw her onto our compost heap💀

I was Tony Stark's adoptive daughter (no idea why, I'm not even in the Marvel fandom) and when someone broke into our house to steal his inventions, I tried fighting the guy off and we had a duel with using a pot and a frying pan as weapons. He was arrested and we went eating tacos to celebrate.

Not gonna lie reading through all this madness actually makes me want to start writing a dream diary again😂 Like, even if I still don't learn lucid dreaming, at least I'll have something to laugh about again in a few years xD

[hecksupremechips]

Rebecca gales has bpd she told me herself

[letoasai]

The Youngest Ancient

An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth. 

We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i don’t actually know if that’s within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too. 

Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and he’s not having it. 

~~

They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasn’t like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger. 

Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldn’t even know it had happened. 

“There’s always begging an Ancient for help.” Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far. 

Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. “You think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?” 

“Could be the only course of action.” Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it. 

“Nah, it’s a much crazier idea than that.” Constantine said flatly. “We’re not talking about any of those old hats we’re used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.” 

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to bring in a complete unknown.” 

“I want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.” Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. “Heard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.” 

“Baby Ancient.” Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. “How does that work?”

“Well they gotta come from somewhere, don’t they?” Constantine shrugged. He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask. 

“I’ve heard the same rumors.” Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantine’s claims. “Even if they can’t do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.” 

Flash clucked his tongue. “We literally have everything to lose if we don’t do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.” 

“How long do you need to prepare?” Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didn’t have a hand in.

Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. “Gimme an hour.” 

“I’ll help.” Zatanna said, already standing. 

“Forty minutes then.” 

~

The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it. 

When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes. 

He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed. 

“Um…” He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.

“Welcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.” Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. “We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.” 

“Oh. Okay.” He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. “You can call me Phantom. What do you want?” 

“You’re the new Ancient?” Constantine asked without as much tacked.

Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. “So they tell me. I didn’t know there was going to be a superhero test.” 

“We summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.” Batman said, taking over. “A threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we don’t have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?” 

“Besides souls.” Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot. 

“Destroy…Earth?” Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. “Why?”

Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. “I’m likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.” 

Phantom’s eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. “Previous planet destroyed? Where?” He paused, “And when? I have been feeling a little off.” 

No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. “A planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.” 

“Is it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?” Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted. 

He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didn’t seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up. 

He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didn’t show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly. 

The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored. 

When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. “It’s gone!” 

“Phantom…?” 

Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found. 

“T̢̜̞̮ͭ̓ͫͦh̨̻̼͓͓̜ͭ̈͆ȃ̴̩ͅtͯ̚͏͇̮̖̙ ̡̭͎̝̟͇͙̏ͣ̑͛m̵̭͉͈̳̟͎͈̲̋̋o͈̮̫͓̪͔͐͠t͉̬̉͒̈́ͪ͠h͉̠̭͓̞͎̺͓ͥͥ͘e̅͗̔̿҉̞̪̺̮̗̜r͙̪̼͈̐̉͞ ̫̥̳̿̾͒͑͞f͔̟͈͍ͯ̊̏́ù̶̯̬̫͈͕c̲ͣ̓̿͠ͅk̦̘̖̭͕͉̹̥̈̍̈́ͤ͘e͚̬͗͡ͅr̛̤̩̺͂̃̇̉ͅ.”

To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement. 

“Yeah, i’ll stop your threat.” Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care. 

Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what they’d done by summoning a baby Ancient. “So that happened.” Flash commented. “Are we still planning for doomsday?” 

“We’ll see…” Constantine muttered. “Though if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.” 

“Not what we wanted to hear, John.” Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her. 

~

In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as he’d been when he’d left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors. 

Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face. 

Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. “Phantom.” He greeted cautiously. “You’re back.”

“Uh huh.” Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. “I got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.” 

“Got…rid of.” Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice. 

“So we’re good?” Flash asked. “Good work, kid.” 

“Yeah, he deserved it.” Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm. 

Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. “Do i wanna know what you’re doin’?”

Phantom beamed. “I got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.” 

“Your planet?” Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. “The destroyed planet!?” 

“Yep.” Phantom looked pleased with himself. “Now i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.” 

“Put it…back.” Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.” 

It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. “May i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i don’t know much about them.” 

Phantom perked up. “I’m the Ancient of Space!” He ignored Constantine’s groan from across the room. “I’m really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.” 

“And you have time abilities?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination. 

“Nope! But Clockwork does.” Phantom said. “He’ll do it for me.” 

“Will he?” The Flash stared. 

Phantom didn’t seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. “Clockwork!” he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes. 

He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasn’t going to give one. 

This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower. 

Phantom didn’t seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. “Fix!” he asked cheerfully. 

Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. “You know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim." 

Phantom’s smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. “I’ll cry. Swear to the Ancients, i’ll start crying.” 

The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. “Do you think tears will alter the timeline?” 

Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp. 

“An asshole destroyed a piece of me.” Phantom said, lips wobbling. “I felt it. I didn’t feel good.” 

Clockwork’s form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, “If you start weeping you’ll summon the others.” 

Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath. 

Clockwork crossed his arms. “How far back do you want it?” 

“Yay!” Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. “Eight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. I’m sure the…Green Lantern…people… can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. That’ll be fine, right?” 

Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient. 

Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staff’s clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet weren’t on the floor. 

“Thank you, Clockwork!” Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly. 

“Hurry along home before the yeti’s start to look for you.” Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone. 

“Yes, yes.” Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted. 

No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. “Good! It’s back where it’s supposed to be!” 

“It’s back?” Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions. 

“Yep.” Phantom said. “It’s really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.” 

“Is that a map of the galaxy on your skin?” Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears. 

“No.” Phantom said. “It’s a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.” 

“Every…” Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him. 

“Come, Your Majesty.” Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. “You’ve had your fun.” 

“Okay, okay.” Phantom mumbled. 

“Majesty?” Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone. 

Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Ah, yeah. I’m the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.” 

The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing. 

“I take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?” Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower. 

~~

I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back. 

I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it. 

Feel free to take this idea, though i’m sure something like it exists already. ^__^

Master List

[gghostwriter]

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

[sanatomis]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ──── 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄.

it's been on your mind for a while now. and, even though he's a little confused at first, it takes satoru very little time to warm up to your enticing offer.

დ content. fr3e use kink, cursing, female!reader, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, consensual somnophilia, deepthroating, cum-swallowing, mentions of satoru eating it from the back <3

დ notes. second attempt at posting this on tumblr, don't mind me. it's crossposted on ao3 bc my previous attempts at posting all failed miserably (it never showed in the tags ://)

Satoru is confused. It doesn’t take you much time to notice that your softly spoken words have him quite rattled, as the results of them can so clearly be observed on his face. There’s his nose that scrunches up cutely, and a little tilt of his head to the left which comes accompanied by a few snowy strands of hair shifting across his forehead. A small furrow of his brows, the soft gnawing on his bottom lip. He’s thinking about it; mulling over your offer. 

Three times, he tries to say something. His mouth opens once, twice, and it’s futile. Not a word escapes, and he takes a sharp intake of breath. You almost believe that, if you weren’t currently seated opposite him, he’d smack the side of his head a few times to make sure it’s still screwed on right. 

“So, I just. . .” The third time really is the charm, it seems. Though, he never quite manages to finish what he was going to say. 

“Just put it in, yeah.” 

You finish it for him, you’re sweet like that. It does really seem as if he could use the help.

“Wh—whenever I. . .” 

There’s a little voice in your head, chiming and chattering about how all of this is weird. It makes you nervous, and your fingers itch to play with your necklace to fight it. 

“Whenever you want,” you confirm. It’s as if your heart has suddenly moved to your throat. 

“Wha—what if you’re asleep?”

“I said whenever you want, didn’t I?” 

He almost lets out a little squeak at the words you so casually give him. They surprise him, as they do you. Your last sentence wasn’t one spoken by your mind, and you shift in your seat as if it’d shush the part of you that did. 

It’s as if you’re telling him what you’d eaten for breakfast this morning, not giving him permission to slip, bully and sheat his cock into your needy cunt at any given time of the day. Without needing to ask, too. Satoru can fill you up, stuff you full, and dump so much of his cum into you until you’re overflowing, and he can do it whenever he feels the need to—because he’s Satoru, and you love your Satoru.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a hint of apprehension laces his voice. Your heart almost swells at his concern, at his hesitancy and need to confirm your wishes; even if you’ve vocalised them so bluntly. “Maybe, think about it for a little long—” 

“I have,” you interrupt him. As gentlemanly as he’s being, there’s no mistaking the darkening of his eyes. The pretty, baby-blues making way for something sinister. You suddenly don’t feel so nervous anymore. “I have thought about it. Way too much, and for way too long.” 

A string of curse words tumble past his lips. They’re hushed, and quick, and from the way he, too, shifts in his seat you gather that he’s hard. Painfully so, if the bulge forming in his pants is anything to go by. Your relationship has existed long enough for you to know that drops of his pre-cum are staining the fabric of his boxers already—always so messy, your Satoru. The mere thought has you wanting to take him out, to put him in your mouth and lap at the sticky, white beads falling down his length. 

“Please,” you plead softly, and watch how he stifles a groan at the needy, saccharine sound of it. You want more, more of that sound. Right next to your ear, preferably. “Use me, Satoru.” 

There’s little you want more than that, little that arouses you more than that. The thought of Satoru taking you whenever he wishes, abiding by his whims and allowing him free-reign over your body—it instils a heat into your stomach, into your core. It makes you feel filthy, like a cheap whore picked up from the street; but you’d be his whore, and suddenly it all starts to feel like a dream. It’s Satoru. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. He’ll be gentle, and he’ll be kind, and he’ll stop as soon as you utter your safeword, and he’ll love you so much, even if he fucks you as if he doesn’t. 

You have half a mind to ask him again, to plead, to beg for it again, as it almost feels as if he didn’t quite hear you. But, as soon as you open your mouth to do so, he immediately latches his lips onto yours. It’s messy, and sloppy, and entirely fueled by the frantic state his mind is currently in—but you don’t complain, and never will. 

His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, and you feel him almost buzzing with excitement. Your teeth clash against one another at the force of the kiss, your tongues greedily seek the other out, and saliva gets swapped from your mouth to his, and vice versa. It’s dirty, and sticky, and almost brings you back to your high-school years, when he’d been all clumsy hands and feigned confidence on the night you’d lost your virginity to each other. 

Satoru pulls back from your kiss first, and a small smile falls over his lips when he notices you chasing him. “Wait a minute, sweets,” he murmurs, forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy, as is yours, and you don’t want to wait a minute—you want him, now, tomorrow, and each day after that. “Are you. . .” He chuckles when you kiss him again, and again, and again. You only stop when he holds your head in place. “Are you completely sure about this?” 

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Mhm,” you hum, and caress his cheekbone with one of your thumbs. Satoru melts in your hold, as he always seems to do. “‘S you, ‘Toru. I’m completely sure when it’s you.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. There’s a storm of emotion behind his eyes, but all of them point to the same conclusion—he loves you. So much, you might even get sick of it one day; he’d told you as a joke, one born out of fear. But you won’t. You never will. And you think he’s starting to realise it, finally. 

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your forehead. 

It’s delicate, and loving, and so opposite from the way he buries himself into you over, and over, and over again a mere five minutes after that. Satoru’s needy, and impatient, and so pent-up from your previous conversation that foreplay gets thrown out of the window. 

He bends you over the couch first, that cute little ass of yours jiggling right in front of his face as he mounts you from behind. He slips in easily, with a pussy as wet as yours, and a cock as leaky and hard as his—the lack of foreplay almost goes unnoticed. Almost, of course, as the sheer size of him never fails to elicit a hint of a burn as he stretches you out. Nevermind that you take his cock daily, or that your walls are bound to carry his shape after the many years you spend with him. 

The sounds that decorate your apartment are filthy, lewd, and borderline obscene, but you’re thoroughly obsessed with them. The slapping of his balls against your ass, the squelching with each passing thrust, the deep groans and choked whimpers Satoru releases next to your ear just like you wanted. Even your own moans, your own babbles, and your own whines add to the experience; the combination of sounds. And you love it, because it’s you, and it’s Satoru—and it’s the two of you together. 

It doesn’t end after Satoru cums, nor does it after you do. The agreement between the two of you that was made tonight seems to have done a number on him, and he takes you a second time. On the balcony, where he puts you on display for the world to see as he fills you over and over again. And a third time, in your shared bed that’s never been safe from his affection and blatant desire towards you. And a fourth time, in the shower that was initially meant to clean you up, he decides to dirty you even further. 

If this is the reaction he gives to the mere idea of using you whenever he pleases, you long for the time that he actually does.

It’s well past midnight when Satoru finally decides he’s done with you. You’re curled into his side, a shirt that’s way too large for you (but one that you swore you didn’t steal from him) covers your figure. You’re asleep. Tired, exhausted, and completely knocked out. He smiles. You’re so cute. A love-sick expression is stuck to his face, and it may very well become permanent if he stays looking at you. 

One of his fingers reaches in-between your thighs, gently scooping up the remnants of his release. Satoru almost coos at the way your nose scrunches up cutely when he starts to finger it back into your pussy. It allows his digits to slip easily through your folds, and she sucks them in as soon as he reaches your hole. His cum doesn’t leak out this time. Not yet, anyway, but even if it does, he’s more than willing to repeat the process. 

He sighs. Mind full of thoughts, but at least his balls are empty now. There’s a little huff escaping his lips, and he’s amused at his own comment. Satoru shakes his head, but the small smile remains nonetheless. Strong, yet gentle arms pull your body tighter against him. 

You’re delicate, and sweet, and so precious to him; and he will do his best to take care of you. Use me, use me, use me. He kisses your forehead, his own eyes falling shut. 

He will most certainly try to. 

The very first time Satoru entertains the idea of indulging in your offer, is on a day where you’ve decided to wear his favourite lipgloss. It’s so shiny, such a cute shade, and makes you look so beautiful, but above all—it’s sticky. It’s sticky, and easily smudged, and he knows from experience that everything feels so much filthier when he steals a kiss from you with it on. 

Without meaning to, thoughts of you wrapping those glossed lips around his dick, creating a mess made-up of spit, cum, tears, and thus that delightful stickiness from your lipgloss, enters his mind. The coloured shade will leave a perfect ring around his length, there’s no doubt in his mind. Your pretty face will be all dirty, smudged stains near the corners of your mouth courtesy of his fat cock. You will be a sight for sore eyes. 

You’re talking to him, but Satoru can’t seem to listen. He’s enamoured by your lips, your soft-looking, plumb, and very glossed lips. He briefly feels pathetic, knowing that a mere make-up item has the ability to make his head spin to such a degree—but he doesn’t, as he quickly realises it only does so because it’s you that’s wearing it. 

Fuck, he really wants to stuff his cock into your mouth. 

Five, six, almost seven seconds pass before the realisation kicks in. If he wants to put his cock in your mouth, then he can. Satoru’s body moves on its own before he gets a chance to think about his actions, as is often the case with him, and it's not long before his large hand finds its new home on the back of your head. He falters briefly, watching how you quiet down, how your eyes widen slightly, but continues as he’s doing when you make absolutely no move to stop him when he gently guides your head down, and down, and down—until you’re right where he wants you. 

A small gasp leaves your lips when he puts you on eye-level with his crotch. It’s quiet, and he almost didn’t hear it, but it makes him pause nonetheless. The hand on your head loosens its grip, and he hesitates as he looks down at you. 

“Is this oka—” 

The sentence never gets finished, forever interrupted by a sharp hiss as you take his cock out of his pants with such unabashed eagerness. It slaps against his abdomen, leaky tip staining the fabric of his shirt. Your previous conversation is all but forgotten, it seems, as you don’t waste a second in taking his hard, aching length almost entirely into your mouth. It all happens so quickly, and Satoru’s mind almost can’t keep up. All he did was think about filling your mouth, and now he’s actually doing it; the fat tip prodding near the back of your throat. 

His hands are shaky, he notices, and so is his breathing as a small whine escapes when one of your hands goes downwards to play with his balls. “Fuck!” he curses, caught by surprise at the boldness with which you reached for that part of him. In his startle, his hands return to the back of your head, and your words make their impromptu return to the very front of his mind. 

Use me. 

He will, then. 

Satoru isn’t at all gentle when he does. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he pushes you down onto his cock until your nose brushes against the soft, white hairs near his pelvis. Your poor little mouth is struggling, he can see, but he can’t seem to pay much mind to it; the sounds of you gagging around his thick length are too much of a pleasure to hear. The way he pushes you up-and-down nears the realm of brute force, and still you eagerly suck, and suck, and suck. 

A particularly loud groan echoes through the room when he steals a glance at your small form kneeling between his legs. It seems he knows you well; you are a sight for sore eyes like this. There are tears in your eyes, and some of them have already fallen down your hollowed cheeks; hollowed, to make space for him. Your mouth is filled to the brim with his cock, and even though he can see you fighting for breath, you never make an attempt at catching it—as if you wouldn’t dare to deprive him of the please your throat gives him. 

Satoru catches himself falling in love all over again. 

He fucks your face harder, and harder, and harder the closer he gets to the edge. Deep groans, and slurred curse words join your symphony of muffled moans, and his hold on your head slowly starts to falter. 

“‘M close, princess,” he mumbles, but that’s about all the warning he gives you. A few seconds later, he cums down your throat. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to. Not because you’d given him permission to use you as he sees fit, but simply because he knows you’re utterly obsessed with him doing so. “Fuck, f—fuck, look a’you, hm? Gonna take all of it like a good girl? Don’t waste it, m’kay? S’all for, fuck, for you.” 

It’s something he’s done countless times before, but Satoru swears that each time he spills his cum down your throat feels better than the last. Thick, sticky ropes fill your mouth, and you hum around him when it keeps going, and going, and going. You’re struggling to take it all, and he huffs in amusement when bits of it start to drip down your chin. His thumb catches it, and he quickly places it back in your mouth, forcing you to open it wider to accommodate both the digit and his slowly softening cock. You happily do so. 

He pulls out of you shortly after, with his chest heaving as he recuperates. His entire focus is on you, you, and you as he watches you wipe your mouth and swallow the last of his seed. There’s a smile on your face. It’s kind, and gentle, and innocent; almost as if he hadn’t just fucked your mouth and dumped his release down your throat. Satoru is utterly bewitched as he watches you, captivated by all and every little thing you do, and he cooperates as you tuck him back into his pants. 

And then, as if nothing at all happened, you sit down next to him again—and you speak, you continue talking, finishing the story he’d interrupted with his need to be sucked off. Your voice is hoarse, and your cheeks are still stained with dried tears, but you pay neither of those facts any mind. It makes all of this look so. . . mundane. You were speaking, and then you were between his legs, and now you’re speaking again. 

Satoru’s heart starts to beat even faster for you. Fuck, that’s so hot. This time, he decides to try his very best to listen to your tale about some co-worker of yours that pissed you off this week. He pitches in every-now-and-then, adding a low ‘huh,’ or ‘mhm’ to keep you occupied, and he almost feels guilty—guilty, because all his adrenaline-filled mind can think about are the future possibilities of using you.

“And, wanna know what’s the worst thing about the situation? It was my idea to get donuts for everybody! That harlot didn’t even want them initially.” 

Satoru’s downward spiral is inevitable, and he finds himself falling victim to it more times than one would consider healthy in a mere seven days. He very quickly learns that he’s thoroughly obsessed with the notion that allows him to fill you up anywhere, and at any time. To him, it’s one of the highest honours. 

There’s such confidence, such unwavering faith encompassed in your view of him. There has to be, if you’re willing to allow him such a thing. Thinking about it almost causes a cute pink hue to colour his cheek. . .you really do trust him a lot, huh?

He’s never been able to tell you ‘no’ before, and he certainly isn’t about to start. So, he dutifully listens to you and abides by your delectable request. To satisfy you, of course. There’s absolutely no other reason for his actions, and the way he breaches your dripping cunt with his leaky tip, all while soft breaths leave your lips, and your pretty eyes are peacefully shut, is simply to indulge you. 

Use me. Use me. Use me. 

Satoru curses, the crude words that tumble past his lips being plenty colourful. One of his hands settles on your hip whilst the other hikes your (or rather his) shirt up to provide him with better access. It’s your fault, really, that he’s currently sporting one of the hardest boners of the century. You were waiting for him, weren’t you? Waiting for him to return and bury himself to the hilt in that sweet, sobbing pussy of yours. 

There’s no other reason for you to fall asleep with nothing but his shirt on. Not even panties covered your cute little cunt, your sticky folds fully on display and welcoming him home. Satoru wants to bury himself in it—in a multitude of ways if he’s being truly honest with himself. For now, though, he’ll stick to simply one. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, delicately rubbing soft circles into your upper thigh with his thumb. You whine faintly, feeling his cock fight its way past your walls. He splits you open, stretching you just wide enough to slip inside. Your nose scrunches up cutely, and he almost rouses you from your slumber.  “‘S me, really need you, baby.” 

And that’s all he has to say. It’s me. It’s your Satoru. A gentle whisper of those words, and he gets to use you as he pleases. All of his previous worries, all of the near-boiling anger he felt at his previous meeting with the higher-ups washes away as soon as he sinks himself balls-deep into your pussy. Satoru groans deeply at the feeling, and gentle, stuttered declarations of love are babbled into your ear with each slow drag of his cock along your walls. 

The garbled mesh of words that he deems too important not to say, even despite their poor enunciation, only ceases to exist a few minutes later—when he spills his heavy load into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. No, into that sweet cunt of his. Because, that’s who it truly belongs to, no? It’s his, to use, to spoil, to worship. You’d offered it to him so kindly, after all. And, well, Satoru has never been the type of person to turn down a gift. 

. . . You unknowingly create a monster. It seems that even the mere idea of being allowed to use you as he pleases has him tip-toeing around the line of borderline insanity. As each time he sees you, he wants you. . .and each time he wants you, you let him. 

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing at that moment. Even if you’re speaking, and he suddenly feels the need, no, the simple want for a blowjob. And even if you’re asleep, resting after what must have been a long day, you still allow him to slip his aching cock into you to satisfy the craving he’s had for hours. 

Even if you’re busy setting the table, you don’t push him away, and you still allow him to bend you over the wooden surface, to sink to his knees and lick, suck, and kiss around his pretty pussy with his tongue. Simply because he wants to do it, and you really do so, too. 

. . .And even now, when you’re cooking dinner. 

There’s a certain cuteness about the way your brows scrunch in concentration, about the way you gently bite on your bottom lip as you prepare the food for the two of you; it nearly makes him feel guilty for feeling the secret desire to ruin such a lovely, innocent view. The word nearly is important, however, as he’s acutely aware of your need for him to do exactly that—and so, any sense of wrongdoing melts away, similar to snow underneath the sun.

He’s not quite sure what it is that you’re cooking, but it smells delectable. There’s an array of spices, herbs, and vegetables strewn around the counter, and Satoru knows he’ll be eating like a King in a few minutes. As for right now, though, there’s a different craving, a different type of hunger slowly making its way forward. He fears it won’t be one that’ll be sated by your lovely culinary skills. 

“Smells good, baby,” he mumbles. It doesn’t take him long to settle himself behind you, large hands gently coming to rest on your hips. He sighs in the crook of your neck, and nudges the skin with his nose. “What’cha making?” 

You answer. He knows you do, as he feels the vibrations of your voice underneath his lips, the soft hum feeling quite soothing as he kisses along the column of your throat, but Satoru can’t find it in himself to focus on the words you give him. His ever-loose hands roam eagerly down your body, and the previous loving, and delicate kisses along your neck turn sloppy, wet, almost, as Satoru dips one of his hands underneath the waistband of your panties. There’s a grin forming on his lips, one entirely too big and full of confidence. 

“‘M startin’ to think you’re just always wet for me, pretty girl,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers entirely coated in your slick the second he’d sunk them into your dripping cunt. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you try to stifle a moan when he, so very, very slowly starts to move his fingers in-and-out of you. “I—I am,” you admit, and clench around his digits just as he’s about to take them out; as if it’s a last resort to keep them inside. “F’you, Satoru. Just for you.” 

“Hm?” He hums, and almost huffs in amusement as he sees you trying to continue what you were doing so desperately, as if you weren’t being fucked on your husband’s fingers. Just for that—he rapidly thrusts his fingers back into you, harsher, deeper, and so much quicker. “Just for me, yeah, princess?” 

“Y—Ah! Yes, yes,” you squeak, one of your hands seeking out some semblance of support from the kitchen counter.  “Only for you.” 

There’s an embarrassing sound hitting your ears, as each thrust of his absurdly long fingers is accompanied by your wetness squelching around them. You struggle to speak, to breathe almost, as he fucks you on his fingers. Satoru stretches you out, curling his fingers to find the spot he knows will leave you with those pretty tears falling down your cheeks, and to hit it over, and over, and over again. 

There’s such a heat gathered between your legs, such a pleasurable source of warmth, and Satoru suppresses a groan as he’s once again made very aware of that fact when your walls clench around his digits. His cock twitches, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he grinds it against your ass. “You are, aren’t you? Hm? C’mon, baby, don’t be shy. . .be a little louder.”

You aren’t shy. You haven’t been for a while now. There’s a certain hotness in the way you moan so unabashedly, so utterly shamelessly whenever Satoru gets his hands on you in such a way—it’s as if you can’t ever get enough of him. It never fails to harden his cock even more, to make his balls feel achingly heavy until he ultimately empties them inside your tight little cunt. And you know so, which is exactly why you do it. 

“‘M not,” you rasp out, one of your hands coming to rest on his wrist. The back of your head falls against his shoulder as you choke on a moan, seeking some very necessary aid to stay upright. “Please, I. . .’Toru, please.”

In all honesty, Satoru isn’t quite sure what you’re begging for. He knows it’s one of two options: either to cum on his fingers, or for him to push his thick cock inside your pussy already. There’s no desire to ask, however—he’d much rather make that decision himself. The hand that wasn’t currently burying three of its digits knuckle-deep into your pussy busies itself with his belt-buckle. 

There’s a pitiful whine falling from your lips, one that’s released immediately upon the removal of his fingers from your cunt. “Shh,” he coos in your ear, instantly soothing your upcoming tantrum. You stifle the complaint you’d prepared for him, the feeling of his fat tip prodding near your too-eager hole quickly puts an end to it. “S’okay, pretty girl, just wanna feel you cum around my cock, s’all. . .Think you can do that for me?” 

You nod, and rapidly so. “Mhm,” you hum, and open your mouth when he presents it with his soiled fingers. You clean them, suckling around them until each bit of your sweetness is gone. “Want to—really wanna cum around your cock, ‘Toru.”

“Of course, you do,” he breathes, and captures a quick kiss. And another. And another. And one more. It makes you smile, and that, in turn, makes him smile. When he does pull back, there’s as much love as there is lust dancing in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less of you, princess.”

Satoru is often greedy. There’s no such thing as savouring something with him—if he’s enjoying himself, he’ll be as gluttonous as he wishes. The exception is you, of course, as you always are to him. There’s no greater feeling than savouring you. It’s why he, more often than not, decides to fill you up slowly. To let his cock drag along your walls, to let your soothing warmth engulf him inch, by inch, by inch, until his firm balls press up against your ass. He does so this time, too. 

Your long, drawn-out moan as he fills you up slowly sounds as if it were gifted to him by the Heavens, and Satoru’s cock twitches inside when he hears you mutter a soft fuck as you struggle to adjust to him. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve taken his cock, but the sheer girth of him still stretches you out—as it always does. Your husband loves you dearly, however, and waits. . .one second, two seconds, three seconds, and he doesn’t get any further before his self-restraint falters. 

Satoru nearly pulls himself out of your cunt completely, only for him to fuck himself back inside so deeply—it has you place both palms of your hands on the counter to steady yourself. It startles you, as he hears you choke on a moan, but he continues. His movements are quick and rough, animalistic even, as he pounds into your cunt. 

“Sa—ngh, Satoru, wait, I. . .” You interrupt yourself with a moan, the feeling of his tip near your cervix too sharp for you to properly finish a sentence. He’s so deep. It feels as if he’s in your womb, in your stomach—it feels as if he’s everywhere. “Fuck, I. . .f—fuck, ‘Toru. . .”

 “Hm?” He breathes out, a groan slipping past his lips. “Want me to, fuck, you. . .” His rapid movements dial down. The self-control needed for it is enormous, but you’d asked him to wait—so he will. Some beads of pre-cum drip into your cunt, as if his cock was upset that he’d suddenly slowed down. “Wan’me to go slower, baby?”

“No,” There’s a small whine near the end of your sentence. It’s the absolute last thing you wanted him to do, even if you originally asked him to wait. “No, don’t, please, keep going. Need—need more.” You feel Satoru wrap both hands around your hips, as if he’s preparing for something. “Harder, please. . .”

“Harder?” He asks, and you don’t need to see him to know there’s currently a sense of smugness ruining his pretty face.  “How hard do you want it, huh, sweets?” 

Little more than the tip remains inside you, and there’s not a moment for you to mourn the loss of his entire girth—as all air leaves your lungs when he immediately thrusts back into you with a newfound vigour, with such force that it has you bend over the kitchen counter. 

“Like, ah, like this, huh? That how you want it, angel?”

You don’t answer—you’re not able to, as Satoru uses the entirety of his thick length to steal your ability to speak coherently. Once again, you’re acutely aware of the sheer size of your husband. Satoru is tall, and big, and he likely isn’t even aware of it. It certainly doesn’t seem so, as he heads no mind to the way your feet are starting to lift off the floor. Each deep thrust has you inching further up the counter; his hands on your hips nearly holding you up and off the floor as he rocks into you from behind. 

There’s little you can do, except take it. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds that definitely do not belong there. Your wetness is prominent, the sound of it borderline embarrassing, and Satoru’s balls slap against your skin with each thrust. He’s relentless, and you want to cry. The good kind of crying; the kind that often comes accompanied with mind-numbing pleasure. You hiccup, and sniff, and try your best to stabilise yourself against the counter. 

Though, your efforts prove futile once Satoru brings one of his hands to your front. You choke on a whimper as he cruelly pinches your clit, toying with it, flicking and rubbing it in the way he knows will get you off. 

“T—Toru,” you warn him. “I—I’m. . .”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement, not letting up even for a second. There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Me too, princess. S’okay, let, shit, let go for me, yeah?”

And because he’s Satoru—your Satoru, you comply. It hits you all at once, and you’re suddenly very grateful for both your husband holding you upright, and your expensive kitchen counter for adding some extra support. You’re still breathing heavily, coming down from your high, when Satoru hits his own. It’s a familiar feeling, but one you’ll never grow tired of nonetheless. 

You sigh in content. His cum fills you up rapidly, and to the brim. It’s hot, and thick, and trickles out of you even with him still inside—simply because there’s so much of it. The both of you are out of breath, and because of it, choose to stay within each other’s hold for just a little while longer. 

Satoru could—and would—stay in this position for the rest of his life. . .but he’s quite sure that you’ve put a lot of effort in today’s dinner and he doesn’t want it to be for naught. With a deep sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek, he goes against every fibre of his being, and pulls out of you. 

A shiver trails down your spine when he does so, and you let out a soft sigh in content. You’re still recovering, he notices. There’s a trail of his cum dripping out of you, though he wastes little time to push it back inside. Satoru takes matters into his own hands, and decides to place your panties back into place for you, too. It gets soiled by his seed rather quickly, but that’s a problem for later. 

After smoothing down your skirt, he tucks himself back into his pants, as well. He’s by your side as quick as he can, and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. 

It’s only then that he properly takes notice of all the stuff that’s been thrown around the kitchen. Pots, pans, vegetables, spices. It seems you really were busy.

And, as if he hadn’t just finished fucking you silly, he smiles. 

“So, what are you making?”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hiii I really love the one with the harbingers where reader calls them words of endearment from their homeland, can you do one where reader cooks for them food from their homeland? pantalone's part was so cute <33

✦ You cook them their favorite home meal, based on their homeland

(Or trying to guess what food the not-yet-playable characters might like based on their region, culture, or language. ) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ It is to no one’s surprise that Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, would easily drop everything to grant your needs. Just blink and the world’s spoils are at your feet, bestowed by your beloved. Expensive clothing, jewelry, art pieces, weaponry, or lavish dishes. With his money and status, plus being a connoisseur of the ancient lores of Teyvat, The Jester can easily acquire anything you require on a silver platter. 

But this time, it was you who tried to gift him something on a silver platter.

On an unsuspecting day, Pierro returned home only to be greeted with a strong scent of baked goods. The smell wafted all around the living quarters, warm and sugary. Glancing curiously, the Jester marched to the kitchen, where he found you grumbling to yourself. You stood with your oven mittens, a tray of voluptuous Kanelbullar presented in front of him; some were cut as you tried to take an analytical bite of the cinnamon rolls.

“Trying your hands at familiar recipes, my cherished?” - The man asked with a welcoming glance while you mulled and judged the taste of your cooked goods.

“Ah, Pierro, you’re right on time. Here, try this one for me. Does it resemble traditional cinnamon rolls?”

When the Jester took a bite, even his icy eye widened for a moment. A wave of nostalgia and warmth lanced his memories, ones he thought were long forgotten. The cinnamon rolls you baked were not the average confectionaries one could easily purchase, as the taste resembled traditional Khaenri’ahn Kanelbullar. A simple treat that all children and adults used to enjoy in their free time.  

“Well…? Oh no, don’t tell me it’s that bad?” - you awaited his response, but Pierro quickly shook his head.

“It’s rich and potent in taste, but not too sugary. Just like the ones in our Homeland… I didn’t think replicating such intricacies was possible. What did you add this time?”

Your eyes light up. Finally, some progress. “Really? I’ve been mulling over it for hours, I thought my taste pallet was going numb. I tried to find any local ingredients that might add the flavor of saffron and cardamon.”

“Like the golden Saffron…? They were a local specialty back in Khaenri’ah. Although some variants exist in Teyvat’s soil, they are not used as cooking ingredients here.” - Pierro pondered, amazed at your ability to combine other local spices to imitate the taste of the past.

As both of you mulled over how to achieve the most accurate results for these traditional Cinnamon Rolls, half of the tray was already gone.

“Although now that I think about it, my divine, I don’t think it would be an issue to send an expedition to obtain that rare spice for you. Especially if the result is such exquisite home pastry.”

✧ In this house, Il Capitano is the master chef. The man is proficient in the art of survival, thus, his skills in outdoor cooking are especially shown. From simple meat and vegetables, the Captain can come up with the best meat skewers you ever ate. Not to mention the topic of sustenance and growth is intertwined with a good diet. A man his size and capabilities puts immense care into outdoor survival and health.

But even a strong Captain deserves some spoiling for his hard work. 

After a wearying day spent honing the skills of his Fatui troops, a group of soldiers that will prepare for an upcoming expedition, Il Capitano was greeted with a surprise visit from you. You arrived right on time for their break, and as always, the Fatui soldiers couldn't help but eavesdrop on the Harbinger’s exchange with his beloved…

“I brought you your meal for today, Bife de chorizo. You need lots of protein.”

“Thank you.” - The Captain stood obediently, holding the lunchbox you brought.

“With Pico de Gallo and avocados. I also put some almonds and walnuts as a snack.”

“I understand.” 

“You are preparing for another important expedition. You must take care of your body after such intensive training, Cappy.”

“You are right, you are right.”

“And I don’t want to see anything left from the lunch boxes. Make sure to eat all of it, okay?”

“Understood!”

It sure was a sight. One would think the Harbinger was the student as he stood nodding vehemently while you scolded him. With one hand on your hip, you gave him an earful as you checked up on him, generously providing him a full-course meal neatly packed in a mealbox.

The Fatui soldiers were slightly jealous. Even they could easily tell that behind that pitch-black helmet, Il Capitano was absolutely joyous to have his beloved visit him and provide such mouthwatering nourishment. 

✧ Today, you were ready to tackle and kill Il Dottore. Why? Because that man barged into your kitchen and confidently announced himself as the culinarian for today’s dinner. A simple and kind gesture, right? You would rather starve than have The Doctor implode your kitchen again.

“Stop exaggerating as if I let your Serenitea Pot house crumble. It was just a little fire.” - Dottore defended himself, watching closely as you made him stand back from the stove. 

“I had to replace the whole walls, Zandik!”

The two of you stood in the kitchen, with the Harbinger peeking from behind your shoulders as you claimed dominion over the frying pan. The whole day, he was made watching you prepare Sumeru Kibbeh meatballs, since the last time he decided to dabble in the art of cooking, your house was put at stake.

He was a scholar, not a chef, unfortunately. But The Doctor is not ashamed to admit his impatience and lack of skill in the kitchen. Hence, he helped you as much as he could while you diligently taught him how Kibbeh is properly made. He remained silent but pleasantly subservient. The sight of your sleeves raised, hands tactfully molding the Kibbeh was oddly amiable. Especially when your face was so focused on the task, he couldn’t help but stare. 

Yet every time you fried the meatballs and set them aside on a pan lined with paper towels to drain, a sneaky hand would try to steal some. You’d slap his hand away.

“Nope. Hands off! Wait till dinner”

“They’ll end up being consumed anyway. I’ll just have a small tas-”

Slap!

And it continued for a long while, all the way to the end once you finished cooking. When the two of you finally sat down and began eating, Dottore would often remain silent. You were too busy relishing the dish, unaware of the Harbinger’s appreciation for your home-cooked meal. Sustenance is just a waste of time that the human body must go through to gain its energy. But it’s not the same when he is sitting with you casually, the warm afternoon sunlight wrapping the dining table, and the warm food steaming with an appetizing aroma.

For him, eating with you was different. It was simple, but it was home. 

✧ Scaramouche may huff and scoff all he wants, but when it comes to appraising your Unagi Chazuke, no master can compete with you. Perhaps because he is a puppet, but Scaramouche has a delicate pallet. He despises strong flavors and always preferred simpler dishes, to appreciate the unique flavor of a singular ingredient. He would never admit it vocally, but he would often crave your chazukes, and it was easily written on his grumbling face.

“Come on, just say it.”

The Balladeer lamented.

“Say it. My home cooking is the best, and you just want me to cook for you today.”

“...I won’t. I don’t have use in consuming any human meals.” - he mumbled in response, arms crossed. You sighed and with a wide smile, you turned away.

“Oh well. Guess you don’t want any, huh…? And here I thought I could prepare your favorite Unagi Chazuke today. But I guess it’s foolish-”

“No, Wait-!” - The Harbinger wished to bite his tongue but it was too late. He already called out to you in a moment of weakness, and your goofy grin only widened with his desperation. 

He gave up. With reluctant embarrassment, the Balladeer admitted your victory - “If you may… Can you prepare another one of your signature Chazuke? Please.”

And that’s how you two ended up by the dinner table. You couldn’t just deny him after such a heartfelt request. You prepared the unagi meat and rice diligently, showing him how to prepare green tea to add mild bitterness to the salted rice. Topping off with some dried Nori leaves, and sesame - two bows of Unagi Chazuke were ready and looking artistically grandiose.

Light and sublime, that’s what Scaramouche thought. A true definition of soul food, as he held his bowl and chopsticks close. A rare but sincere smile would always grace his features whenever he ate your cooking, but he of course would conceal it by clearing his throat.

“Hm, okay fine. Maybe your cooking is adequate after all. Especially when you don’t make it too sweet.”

You’d laugh at his reaction. At the end of the day, it was you who taught him how to cook what later would become his signature dish, even if his identity as a Harbinger was wiped away. 

✧ Being the richest man in Teyvat like Pantalone means dealing with lots of bureaucracies and business. Sometimes, after a prolonged day in the office, the sight of stacked papers becomes dreadful and negotiations with the Snezhnayan elites may go fruitless. Thus, The Regrator would often slum by his desk, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and sigh in exhaustion.

Now what would the richest man in Teyvat do to relax after a bad day at work? Go to the most expensive five-star restaurant? Perhaps purchase a fancy drink that costs more than his subordinates' monthly salary? No. He would head straight back home, where he knows you are awaiting him with open arms.

A single look at him and you would know he is fatigued. Leaning up to embrace him, you plant a tender kiss on his cheek - “How about I make us a quick snack, hm? You can go and take a shower in the meantime.”

Pantalone would try to conjure up a faint smile and nod. As he winds down for the day, subconsciously he knows your home cooking is like a balm to his soul. No matter how many exquisite restaurants he tried, he’d easily sacrifice all of them for a bite-full of your culinary.

And here you are, merrily handing him his childhood favorite - Mora Meat Roujiamo. A simple meat sandwich, but a staple street food in Liyue’s culture. That’s all the Harbinger desires after a tough day at work, as he gobbles the sandwich wrapped with a paper towel.

“Made your favorites. I added some extra meat since I know you like it juicy.” - you gave Pantalone soothing pats on the back as he ate up.

“You’re a lifesaver, honey. You would not believe how frustrating work has been today,”

Pantalone would rant and confide in you about his work. He would rather do that than delve into the nostalgic feeling that Mora Meat sandwiches gave him. It was indeed his childhood favorite. Yet it also reminded him how in the distant past, when food or money was scarce, starvation and desperation were his only companions as a lowly child. Thus, on better days when he acquired some change just to purchase simple Mora Meat - these sandwiches felt like a king’s feast.

Such an unadorned dish, but one that brought warmth and sustenance to a starved child, telling him that everything would be okay. Today, this starved child is the richest man in Snezhnayan. Nevertheless, he still relished these sandwiches from your hands like divine wealth, telling himself once more that everything would be okay. 

✧ Tartaglia was bedbound for some while, bandaged heavily after a massive battle he faced during one of his missions. The young Harbinger would never tell his family where his scars hail from, except for you and his father maybe. But after an earful of scolding, you took care of your reckless boyfriend and sighed.

“You made me worried, you know. I don’t want to see you move a muscle around the house these days, are we clear? You must recover first.”

“Y-yes, captain.” - Childe chuckled humorously, suppressing the soreness his cuts provided around his body. “It’s just… there is only one remedy that could save a fallen soldier like me.”

“Hm? What is it? Do you need something, Ajax?” 

“Please, dear… come closer.” - he said with a pained expression. 

You did so he could whisper to you what he wanted. Your concern was only heightened, oblivious that his dramatic words were playing you - “The secret to my healing… is…”

“Yes?” - you leaned even closer.

“... Some yummy food.”

You blinked at him, and Tartaglia immediately gained a comically “passed out” expression on his face, as if your cooking were his last death wish. You let him plop to the pillow and gritted your teeth - “Why you little-...! Ugh, you’re lucky I am worried about you. You just want me to pamper you.”

“Oh, come on, is that such an unrealistic request? You told me not to move a muscle and I would receive your scolding no matter what. Please, sweetheart, just anything you would like - cook it and I would happily gobble it up!”

You crossed your arms. You hate to admit it, but his puppy eyes were working effectively and if his appetite was returning, that means he is on a good path of recovery anyway.

“Fine… I’ll make something nutritious and easy for your stomach.”

Tartaglia's eyes lightened up in an instant. He was a simple man - if you cooked him something, he would drop on his knees for you instantly. That day, you pondered whether you’d make him some Piroshki or Borscht, but he needed something light. His health was your priority, after all. Even though Childe fancied himself a master at concealing his painful whinces, you are no fool. You always notice them.

Thus, your beloved was presented with Ukha fish soup. A warm bowl with fresh herbs, imported calla lily, and nutritious fish.

“Easy now, I know you like Calla Lily Seafood Soup, since you often had it in Liyue… So I decided to go with the local version of it. Now make sure to eat all of it, or you won’t feel better.”

Like an obedient child, Ajax felt pampered and delighted. Lunch by the bed? His sweetheart feeding him? The injuries were worth it as he happily ate the Ukha fish soup.

“If getting injured makes me taste food more worthy than the gods themselves, maybe I should get wounded more often, haha- Ow!”

Your response was another fistful nudge to his shoulder.  

Kanelbullar - in Swedish, Cinnamon Rolls Bife de chorizo - in Spanish, Argentinian beef cut Pico de Gallo - in Spanish, Mexican salsa/dip Kibbeh - in Arabic, bulgur parcel stuffed with minced meat filling (in Genshin, they just called it meatballs lol) Chazuke - in Japanese, green tea poured over a rice meal (Scara's signature dish)  Mora Meat - had to look this one up, apparently Genshin is referencing RouJiaMo (肉夹馍) meaning “meat in a bun". Ukha fish soup - in Russian, also known as fisherman’s soup. Childe’s signature Calla Lily Seafood Soup is probably a variation made with Gēng found in Chinese cuisine. But there is a Slavic variation that reminded me of his signature dish. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! Can i request for reader x batboys where they’re dating but reader doesn’t know they’re vigilantes. One day they ( as vigilantes) flirt with her then reader tells them that she’s happily taken. Thank you!

I’m only doing dick and Jason cuz my brain doesn’t know what to put for Tim or Damian. And this is probably a boat load of words that make no fucking sense when reading it, so I apologise.

Jason

‘You look lost sweetheart.’ You heard from above you only to see the silhouette of the vigilante red hood.

‘I can assure you I’m not.’ You replied straightforward, wanting nothing more to get home and cuddle up to Jason in your shared bed, after all it had been a long day and you weren’t in the mood to be chatted up by anyone, you were loyal to Jason no matter what.

‘I’m only trying to help.’ Red Hood tells you as he dropped down from the roof and landed safely in front of you before standing up to his full height.

‘I understand that but when you added sweetheart I’m naturally going to assume you’re attempting to hit on me.’ You said with your arms crossed over your chest. ‘I’m more than happily taken by the sweetheart man I’ve ever known.’ You added as a boast because it was more than the truth, and you could spend the entire week talking about how much better Jason was then any other man in existence.

Jason could feel his heart melt when you said that and was half tempted to rip his helmet off to kiss you senselessly, but he decided to be cheeky and milk this for all it’s worth if it meant hearing you speak about him in high praise. ‘Oh yeah? Does he treat you right?’ He asked as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, reading himself to hear whatever you had to say.

‘He treats me as though I made the stars in the sky and looks at me like I did too,’ you began smiling as you remembered the fondness in Jason’s eyes whenever you did something mundane, ‘I could just be standing there in a plain shirt and a pair of his boxers, looking like absolute shit but he would still tell me I looked stunning.’ You added as you felt the smile stretch further across your lips.

God you loved that teddy bear of a man so much you didn’t know where to put it most of the time.

You noticed that Red Hood didn’t say anything but that was because beneath the helmet Jason was fighting through urge to hold you in arms and never let you go, smother your face in kisses because of how fucking cute you were being without trying, however he knew that he better get back home before you did if he ever wants to do any of that and so he clears his throat and says. ‘It’s good that he does treat you like that, you deserve it more than you know, I bet he’d be devastated if something were to happen to you, go to war even.’

You furrowed your brows as Red Hoods words before shrugging. ‘I mean…yeah I guess, he’d do anything to get me back. I hear him whispering it when he thinks I’m asleep.’ You add as you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante but decided to brush it off when you checked the time on your phone and winced. ‘I should get going and I’m sure you-‘ you went to look over to where you saw the vigilante last, only to be greeted with the sight of nothing. ‘-do too…’ you trailed off before shrugging your shoulders and continuing on your way home.

Unaware of the fact that Jason was still watching you from the rooftops above, knowing damn well that he would indeed go to war for you, his beloved little chipmunk.

Dick

‘What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this? It’s dangerous you know.’ Nightwing practically purred.

‘I’ve walked through here multiple times before and I can tell you it’s safer than most in Gotham.’ You told him, crossing your arms, unamused.

Nightwing raised his hands in defence. ‘Just trying to look out for a cutie like you is all, no need to bite my head off.’ Dick had a feeling that something might happen on your walk home tonight and decided to keep constant tabs on you the entire night as Nightwing. He could tell you were tired and just outright done with everything but he’d rather you be safe on your journey home than not, regardless of how safe your route home was.

‘I’m pretty sure there’s other people you could be saving instead of flirting with me. I’m taken for your information, and happily so by the most prettiest and albeit goofiest man alive.’ You told him with a smile as your mind drifted to imagining Dick sitting in your shared bed with Hayley in his sleepwear, snoring loudly despite trying to stay up for your return.

‘Pretty? How so?’ Nightwing asked as he eagerly leant in forward to hear you. Dick just wanted an excuse to hear you gush about him without knowing that he was right in front of you.

You sighed at the aspect of having to spend even more time with a vigilante that seemingly didn’t take the hint. ‘He’s got a smile that could light up an entire city for future generations, a laugh so pretty and addicting that you’d be more then willing to make yourself look like an idiot just to hear it again, and he’s got a beautiful set of eyes that you could get lost in no matter what because they’re just so…enriched in colour.’ You finished, the image of Dick’s gorgeous eyes embedded into your mind that left you feeling seen and loved.

Dick couldn’t help but smile at your words, not knowing what to expect when he asked you about how pretty he was, now that he had he could feel a burst of warmth within his chest that now encased his entire body. You were too sweet and kind for your own good and Dick just wanted to keep you safe from everything that Gotham represented, whether it was out of his innate selfishness to keep you for himself, to keep a bright light of his own in a twin as dark and depressing as Gotham he wasn’t sure but all he knew was that he wanted to keep you in his life as long as he possibly could.

‘Sounds like you love him very much.’ He says after a brief period of silence.

‘I’m more than anything.’ You replied without hesitation. Your hand reaching into your coat pocket, thumb caressing the cute charm Dick had bought you to add onto your keys, it helped you calm down in certain situations because it meant that no matter how far apart you may seem you still had a piece of Dick close by. ‘Which is why I really want to get home, so I can see him and our darling dog Hayley.’ You add with a smile when the blue staffy came to mind.

Dick remember where Hayley was before he left to watch over you, fast asleep on your side of the bed, which meant that when you came home you’d have to cuddle up to him as it was proven difficult to wake Hayley up when she had made herself comfortable. However if this meant that Dick got the chance to hold you close to his chest, he’d gladly let Hayley sleep on your side of the bed more often, and he did on multiple occasions.

‘Then I best let you go, don’t wanna keep either of them waiting.’ Nightwing said and you couldn’t help but feel ecstatic at the thought of finally getting to go home to your little makeshift family. You didn’t know how much longer you were willing to stand there when you knew Hayley was waiting for you impatiently with a boat load of face licks with your name on it.

‘That’s probably for the best because both of them can tend to get a little whiny when I’m even a second late.’ You laughed to yourself as dick couldn’t help but internally pout at this, he didn’t get whiny when you were late did he? He pushed this thought aside and smiled as he watched you walk away, keeping his eyes on your for a couple seconds longer to make sure you were okay, before realising that he should better beat you home before you find him not there in bed and quickly rushed up to the rooftops and ran like his life depended on it.

He wanted to keep his secret safe for a little while longer before admitting everything to you just yet.

[kawareo]

Sceleritas Fel. Your loyal, and ever-adoring, butler.

I love this guy but to me he is one of the scariest part of the Dark Urge story

When I first met him, I thought he was hilarious and silly and that it was cute how much he genuinely loved Durge, and then it hit me just how fucked up the fact that I thought so was.

I find Sceleritas as a concept so interesting! He is there to provide someone for Durge to talk to, someone he can think he can trust - but can he, really? Sceleritas is, in the end, an extension of Bhaal. Everything he does he does in a way that pushes Durge towards Bhaal. The way he babies Durge is funny at first but then it scares me; Durge is not allowed to grow up and mature emotionally so that he has to always stay daddy's special boy. Durge's concerns are brushed off and he's scolded like a child. Slayer form gets called 'jimjams' and even that is babied. Scel compliments him all the time and at the same time never takes his actual words as something serious. Durge isn't even allowed to make up his own mind about anything - i'm thinking back to Sceleritas telling him that his Urges are his true nature, his own thoughts that are trying to claw their way outside, when I'm pretty sure it's canon that the Urge is Bhaal's will that is implanted in Durge's mind.

Another thing is what Scel says when you kill him as a Slayer - every death brings out a smarter, better Sceleritas. No wonder he enjoys you killing him, it literally makes him better!

He's also a pretty shitty butler, as you can tell from the flashback scene where he fucks up and accidentally slices a vein of a victim Durge was dissecting alive. Why? Because he was 'drunk on the job, again'. That kind of goes against everything Scel leads you to believe about himself and is so interesting to me.

Scel exists to make sure Durge doesn't have a need to talk to or trust or be with anyone else, his social and more mortal needs are satisfied in a way that is no risk to bhaal or his dogma. Everything around Scel screams gaslighting and something extremely icky and the worst part is that it is really easy to see how Durge would fall for what Scel appears to be at first glance.

But then again, this is just my interpretation, and I do tend to prefer to look at darker side of things especially when it comes to the Temple of Bhaal, I do want to explore this take on Sceleritas and Durge's relationship more in my fics, just how smothering and toxic it actually is. Again, just my interpretation, but Scel is also part of why Strike is the way he is when it comes to sex, the butler played a big role in normalizing sexual abuse in the temple to the point where Strike isn't even aware of it being abuse in the first place.

[fairyofshampgyu]

Super shy !

genre: smut, baker au, college au, crack

Pairing: shy loser virgin bakery worker ! soobin x college customer ! reader

Warnings: sub soobin, dom reader, clubbing, loss of virginity, riding, hand job, titty groping (can’t be a Soobin smut without him being obsessed with boobies be fr), premature ejaculation,

word count: 2.9k

As soon as you stepped into the newly established campus bakery, walking up to the counter and observing all the pastries, contemplating for a rather long time before you end up deciding on what you’d usually order anyway, Soobin couldn’t help feeling like his world got totally turned upside down. The sight of you rendering him completely speechless and unable to even think.

Time seemingly going by so slow like in the kdramas as your shiny hair majestically blows in the non existent wind inside, smile brightening up the entire bakery. He could practically see the roses blooming around your face like in the mangas. Was this love at first sight?!

Realistically, no.

But were you incredibly attractive to him and a breath of fresh air to the moody, stressed out college students that purchase a single coffee and stay for hours completing assignments with their backs concerningly hunched over? Hell yes.

And unfortunately for Soobin, he does not do well with pretty people. At all. Not realising you had even ordered, too in awe and preoccupied with taking in all your features until he’s snapped back to reality with the clearing of your throat and he can already feel his cheeks burning up horribly fast. Oh god. He really, really hopes it’s not evident right now.

“S-sorry…What did you say?” He begins apologising profusely to you, too embarrassed to even look you in the eyes, staring off more to the side. This was definitely not his best customer service.

With a chuckle, you brush it off and state your order again, “I said could I have the strawberry swirl cheesecake please?” If Soobin could look at himself in third person, he would so be face palming right now. Or better yet, maybe he could just go up and like, punch himself straight up or something for acting like such a loser.

“Ah right... That’s ₩7500. Cash or card?”

You pay with cash and Soobin, very nervously, fumbles around to garner the right amount of change to hand you, though doing it in the most awkward way possible and his palm makes direct contact with yours as he hands the money, making him blush even more and let out a small obvious gasp at the feeling of your soft hand. Oh my god. Why did he do that?! He really hopes you didn’t find that weird.

You only let out another chuckle, thanking him before you’re leaving the bakery in an elegant manner and Soobin is left to sigh and watch your back disappear. Damn it. He’ll probably never see you again. You were so pretty and so cute, too cute even-

“You’re such a virgin.”

His thoughts about you are abruptly dissipated by his coworker and unfortunately best friend, Choi Beomgyu who gives him the stupidest, most annoying grin he would definitely like to slap off his face right now.

“Just shut up.” Soobin grimaces and rolls his eyes at beomgyu, bringing a batch of freshly baked cookies out of the oven behind him and placing them into the display glass one by one.

"You’re pinker than the strawberry macarons we sell. That's saying something." Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at him with sass.

So does that mean you could see how flustered he was getting then? Oh no! Soobin clears his throat and narrows his eyes at beomgyu anyway. “Am not.”

“Are too! Anyway, all I’m saying is that interaction was painful to watch. You’re really giving pathetic, loser, virgin right now. I cant lie.” Beomgyu attempts to stifle in one of his obnoxious laughs.

Soobin is quick to snap back, "You've only ever slept with one person!"

"S-so!! At least im not a virgin!" Beomgyu’s cheeks also become the equivalent to the strawberry macarons as he scrambles to try and defend himself, brows furrowed and cheeks puffed.

“Well, the concept of a virgin is purely societal anyway. It doesn’t actually matter. It doesn’t mean anything really.” Soobin bitterly replies, continuing to work whilst his counterpart does completely nothing like most of the time. It's usually soobin that does work, remind him not to agree to beomyu's silly ideas of getting a job together ever again.

Beomgyu scoffs and snickers at this, "Whatever. You’re just saying all that to make yourself feel better because you’re a loser. LMAO"

"I’ll punch you right now."

"Then we'll both be fired~”

A poor customer still awaits at the counter to be served, standing in bewilderment and tiredness. Waiting for the two bakers to finish bickering and sighing as they don’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon.

Soobin doesn’t expect to see you again, in complete honesty, he’s almost forgotten you even exist after you never come again. But he’s in luck and more than pleasantly surprised when he hears the bell to the door go ding!, indicating a customer had walked in. He looks up from the cake he was decorating and in comes you looking cuter than the first time he saw you. He tries not to mess up the cake and he stands up straight almost instantly when he sees you, waiting for you to order and trying to remain calm.

You laugh and point at his cute nose when you come up to the counter. “You have like, icing all on your nose.”

“O-oh. I do?” He points at himself and you nod in reply. He feels himself going redder by the minute. He must look so stupid right now! And he urgently brings his sleeve up and tries to wipe the icing off his nose to not make himself look an even more of a complete fool in front of you .

“Ah wait no. Let me do it!” You lean over the counter as you see him struggling and wipe it off the top of his cute bunny like nose instead for him.

And that was the end of soobin. The end.

-

You become a regular at the bakery and soobin becomes a regular of embarrassing the absolute shit out of himself each time he sees you. He really doesn’t think he can top the previous comedic disaster that occurs when you enter, yet he always proves himself wrong, the awkwardness reaching new heights each time. From dropping trays of pastries, spilling drinks, nearly slipping in front of you, giving you a ₩50000 note when it was only ₩5000 change, the list goes on and on. He’s actually surprised he hasn’t lost his job yet.

And there’s also always a disappointed beomgyu shaking his head afterwards ready to make fun of him when Soobin promises to make a move but freezes every time you’re in sight, too much of a pussy.

“I’m calling an intervention.” Beomgyu declares and sighs after the nth time of soobin making absolutely no moves on you whatsoever, “Soobin, my man, my bro, you desperately need to get banged. It’s painful seeing the way you act. Your little crush is not gonna like you with the way you act. That’s it. We’re going clubbing tonight after this shift. No buts.”

“But-”

“I said no buts!”

“You know I hate clubbing.”

“You’ve never even been with me despite my constant pleads.” Beomgyu shakes his head and makes a dramatic pained face at his way.

“So? I know I’ll hate it.”

“You’re such a hater bro.”

“Yes I am. And I take pride in it. I’m a hater of everything.”

Beomgyu just sighs. He was utterly hopeless.

Unfortunately, there was no way Soobin could get out of this because beomgyu was having absolutely none of his protests and excuses and that’s how he ends up finding himself at the club anyway after his shift, sitting off to the side as he watches beomgyu disappear somewhere into the crowd. Soobin sighs as he downs his jack and coke. This was going to be a long fucking night.

-

In the dimly lit club, soobin’s discomfort was palpable, like a fish out of water and you noticed instantly upon arrival. It’s that cute tall baker boy who always serves you! You excitedly make your way and sit next to him, he looked a little lonely. “Hey! You work at that bakery on campus. I go there!”

Soobin’s eyes nearly fall out of his sockets at the sight of you sitting next to him and he nearly chokes on his drink as he splutters on his straw and nods. Act calm, act calm, act calm, act calm. Act cool and mysterious.

It’s you! You’re speaking to him?!

“So…these things not really your scene, huh?”

“Gee. How did you ever notice?” Soobin attempts to smile and joke with dry humour but it executes a little more awkward and nervous than how he would have liked.

You also try to carry on the conversation since this is the first time you’ve got to ever actually talk to the cute boy before. “I’m very intuitive. I can just sense things like that.”

He laughs at that too, feeling a bit more comfortable around you now. “No but yeah, I’d much rather be at home right now sleeping. Can’t say I’m much of an advocate for getting stupidly drunk with sweaty people you don’t even know with terrible rave music and flashing lights that should have an epilepsy warning”

“I get it.” You chuckle at how passionate he gets talking about how much he hates clubbing, frown on his cute face. “So why are you here then?”

“Friend wanted me to. Said I needed to finally get laid or whatever.” Soobin rolls his eyes and sips on his drink again, motioning his head to the direction of beomgyu on the dance floor, clearly drunk off his ass now.

“Oh, you’re a Virgin?”

Soobin’s ears go red when he realises what he said to you. “O-oh um y-yeah I guess…”

“Are you waiting for like marriage or the right person or something?” You question, genuinely surprised. He was tall and very attractive and it was rare for college boys to not hook up every single night these days.

“God no. Just never happened. I don’t really care for things like that. It’s probably overhyped anyway and doesn’t even feel that good. Like porn is highly unrealistic anyway.”

“You think so?” You chuckle at him and he nods, continuing to cutely sip on his drink with his straw. “Well maybe you should to try it out first and see for yourself.” Your words start to become a little flirty as you grow more confident talking with him and also because of the alcohol making you slightly tipsy now. “Sorry, but do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes please.” Soobin’s eyes widen even more at your suggestion and he’s more than happy to get out of here with you especially.

“Umm your friend is a bit….out of it right now.” You watch beomgyu drunk from afar, whipping his long hair back and forth claiming to everyone around he’ll be able to do it fast enough to lift off his feet and fly like a helicopter.

“He’ll be…he’ll be fine I’m sure”

Soobin has no idea what good stuff he must have done in his past life to get to this moment right now, in your room, making out with you, in your bed. Did he mention making out? With you?! The customer he’s been crushing on for months?! Holy, he might hyperventilate right now. It all feels like a dream. Is this real right now?

You cup his cheek and move into his lap, continuing to move your lips against his and soobin’s ears and face are all flushed, breathing loud of enough for you to hear and he looks all nervous and a little shaky.

You stop kissing him but he chases after your lips still and you stroke his cheek, “Are you okay Soobin?”

He’s only able to nod, lips parted and eyes all glazed over. He’s so out of it just from making out with you it’s crazy. But so cute too.

“C-can you…can we…just want…”

“What do you want, baby?” You chuckle and stroke his cheek as he manages to utter some words. The petname only makes his head go even more haywire.

“W-want you…”

“What do you want me to do?” You giggle and coo at him.

He shyly shows you the boner he’s had this entire time. You can’t believe he got a boner just from some kissing. “Can you-will you touch me…please? Need it…” He pleads at you nervously, so red in the face.

“Are you sure?”

He nods his head exceptionally fast and you begin to unbuckle his jeans as he watches you take his flushed and hard dick out, breathing only becoming heavier. Damn, you didn’t think he’d be that big.

You take him into your hands and his mouth his already agape, gasping when you slowly start to stroke him.

You pump his big cock at a steady pace so as not to overwhelm him too much, though twisting and thumbing at the tip occasionally that has him drooling at the corner of his mouth and beads of precum dribbling out heavily from his cock. It’s endearing how far gone he is just at you stroking his dick slow, shy whimpers and other noises eliciting from his mouth.

You unbutton you shirt with your other hand as you continue to pump him and his eyes go crazed at the sight of your tits, you guiding his own big inexperienced hands to grope at them and he does, slumping his head into your neck and shoulder moaning into it and still groping and squeezing at your tits.

With a sudden yelp you feel Soobin’s cum spurt up and leak into your hands, his eyes rolling back as he whimpers continuously from his premature orgasm.

He doesn’t lift his head from your shoulder yet, too embarrassed to face you but he eventually does, eyes still half lidded, trying to catch his breath and he’s hard again. “W-will you fuck me? Please please please. Wanna feel it, wanna feel you, please?” He practically begs, still panting out.

“Are you really sure, Soobin? With me?”

“Yes please! Only want you.”

You study his face for any hesitancy but it’s clear he’s so set on wanting you to fuck him. So you wrap your hands around both his wrists and bring him to lay down on your pillows instead, you still straddling his lap.

When you’ve undressed your lower half, you bring his dick and slide it over your entrance a few times, he moans out loud, hands coming up shyly to cover his face and then you sink down incredibly slowly on his massive length . Soobin’s jaw drops and breath hitches at the feeling of his dick finally in your warm pussy, a strangled moan ripping out of him. He could seriously cum just from being in you right now, but he tries so hard not to or you’ll be disappointed and he doesn’t want to see you disappointed or embarrass himself even more.

“You good, baby?”

“M’ f-fine. Just-Just need a minute.” Soobin shakes out.

You take his hands away from his face and lean down to softly kiss him instead, trying to calm him down and he effuses into your mouth, kissing back passionately with his eyes closed.

“I’m ready now…” He pulls away after a while and looks you in the eyes.

So you start to slowly move, riding him, going up and down on his virgin dick. Soobin’s mouth hangs open in endless moans and gasps and whimpers, face buried into your pillow to the side and his hair all messy now. Whole body flushed and shaking underneath you.

“Better than you thought, baby?” You grunt out, bouncing on top of his cock.

“So much better. O-oh my god, f-fuck…ah!” So maybe sex wasn’t overhyped after all. Because goddamn, you feel so fucking good. Maybe it was just you. But Soobin truly feels like he’s gliding on fluffy clouds right now. All the times he’s touched himself not even coming close to how he feels right now stuffed in your pussy as you fuck him, watching mesmerised as your tits bounce with each movement. He could die here right now in full contentment. Oh how he was so wrong.

It’s not long at all before Soobin can’t hold it anymore. His hips bucking up and breath hitching as a loud strangled mewl tumbles out of his mouth and you feel hot cum fill you up suddenly that makes you still your movements on him. He lets out a long slurred groan and then goes limp beneath you, eyes closing shut and open as he fades from conscious to not every now and then. Is he really that fucked out?

After a while, he finally somewhat recovers and comes back to you from his high, still panting out and chest rising up and down. He looks up at you with a small shy smile on his lips, arm thrown over his forehead.

“You know I literally only go to the bakery because of how cute and silly you are and how you always make a mess of yourself whenever I walk in” You chuckle and admit, drawing shapes into his chest.

“W-wait you knew I liked you?” Soobin asks, shocked and feeling embarrassed again.

You laugh, “Come on, you made it rather obvious.”

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and irriating when fics have such little reblogs ☹️. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it make writers want to actually write :)

A/n: having serious writers block rn but forced myself to write this in practically one sitting (it was so painful) and has not been proof read at all so if it makes no sense I apologise 😭

[tacticalprincess]

ok ok but imagine being simon’s gf and könig just being so infatuated with u :( he likes you so so much, believes you deserve better than simon and just pines after you ^_^

very im on fire of him

könig’s never been one to be discreet about his feelings, especially toward you. he doesn’t owe simon anything, much less loyalty. his crush has become an inside joke amongst the crew, has gotten dirty looks thrown at him by simon too many times to count for being just slightly too touchy to be friendly, too intense in his yearning. tuning in intently whenever you talk, doing small favors for you whenever he gets the chance, asks after you when you’re gone. too close for comfort, oughta get himself in trouble, simon says.

its hard to ignore a stare that burns a hole in the side of your head, weighted like a caress on all the exposed parts of your body. könig gets some sort of satisfaction out of watching you squirm under his intense gaze, eyes trained on you most of the time he’s around, because at least he makes you feel something. he wishes to sliver underneath your skin and infiltrate your thoughts just as you’ve done to him, sending his emotions into haywire just by way of existing. smiling at him so brightly, extending a fraction of the warmth and kindness that comes naturally to you, craves it when he’s alone at night. your boyfriend can’t blame him.

simon’s weird, quiet teammate, helplessly infatuated with you, his too cute, too sweet, too soft girlfriend. could only dream of experiencing the parts of you that are exclusively for simon — wonders how someone like you even ended up with a man like him. looking far too out of place under his tattooed arm, bottom lip tucked between pearly teeth bashfully while he chats to the group of guys in typical boyish manner. the occasional ducks of his head to kiss your forehead when he remembers you’re there is not enough attention showed to such a pretty, doting thing like you, in könig’s humble opinion. it’s not even that he believes he’s better than him, but a selfish part of him would rather you end up in his calloused hands than anyone elses. his mind strays the longer he observes you, imagines all the ways he’d treat you better, take care of you like you deserve. would’ve probably already proposed to you by now given the chance. you might seem happy enough, but that doesn’t stop him from searching for cracks in the polished porcelain. always waiting for a spot to slip in.

he finally gets you alone one night, finds you where you wandered off into price’s basement to fetch more beer. coming behind you to grab the case from your delicate hands like lifting a feather off the ground.

“boyfriend not here to do this for you?”

after you regain your composure from the startle, you scoff, peering up at könig through your lashes. “just thought i’d do something nice for him.”

“sweet. does he always allow you to do a man’s job?” sarcasm bites at his words.

“allow me—?”

“do you think he even noticed your absence, maus?” he presses a bit harder, his face holding the same indifference it always does under his mask, tone flat around his accent. “as i did?”

his eyes search yours for a second, looking for any sign of reciprocation for his feelings, and somehow you can tell he knows you don’t know how to respond. as a show of mercy, he steps to the side to let you squeeze past his frame and up the stairs leading back inside the house, heavy footsteps following slowly behind. he watches as you so easily slip back into simon’s side, how his arm finds its home around your shoulders without effort. concern knits your boyfriend’s eyebrows together as he leans down to peck your lips, never breaking eye contact with könig over your shoulder, a petty display of ownership. he watches.

[pinkhoodi]

bat dads or girl dads ? girl dads !

✎ᝰ — bat boys as girl dads !

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff + children ??

♡⃕ — a/n: dick as a father would make me- nvm that !

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ “no” rarely exists and he realized that a while ago. when his beautiful daughter was first born, he would be stern (still loving) and make sure to deny any of his daughter’s requests. as years go and his daughter gets older, it becomes harder to say no to his precious child

Ꮺ he won’t admit it but it’s something about her adorable features that make it harder and harder to say no. even if it’s the most wildest request, he’ll try to accomplish it or tell her “I’ll think about it”. the cute pout, the ways her eyes widen, and her adorable going please please please dad. how can he say no :(

Ꮺ BUT if he can’t obtain that request, his favorite excuse is “I’ll think about it”. even when his daughter catches onto his games, he’ll continue use it and just throw on an extra lie to help out

Ꮺ bruce is the dilf that everyone flirts with and it’s exhausting for him. he tries to avoid pta meetings at all costs but can’t cause his daughter loves those meetings. while the women flirt, the daughter gets free cookies ;p

Ꮺ this man bruce is studying long and gruesome hours on how to raise a girl. raising his eldest son at ten years old is the closest thing he had and it wasn’t helping. prepare yourself for the “am I doing this right?” “is this good for her?” “are you sure this is what we should give her?”

Ꮺ surprisingly, he became quickly accustomed to his bat cave and his office being glittered and glammed. the buttons on the monitor have stickers and his batmobile having a bow on it

Ꮺ learning from his mistakes from his other children, he will try to leave little to no detail about his night activities to his daughter. she knows about the bat cave (due to exploring and being bored in the mansion) but he refuses to take her on missions and don’t allow her to be in the bat cave if the mission is extremely dangerous

Ꮺ daddy-daughter days is something bruce prioritizes! he doesn’t care what is planned before or after that, he’ll make one day every month to spend time with his daughter. whether it be going to the mall, the movies, spending the day at a kids play center, or even napping. that day in his calendar is meant for his daughter and his daughter only

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ the most laidback father you could ever meet BUT he knows when it’s time to be concerning and when it’s time to be the fun dad

Ꮺ the man almost passed out when his gorgeous daughter was born. he couldn’t take how adorable his lil girl was in the room, he had to step out and started crying. he couldn’t believe he’s a father now :(

Ꮺ it does take jason time to adjust being a father. his patience isn’t the best but he is learning ! he tries as much as he can to unpack all his bad qualities and become better for his daughter before she was born

Ꮺ as much as he is laidback, he is also very cautious and makes sure to have all his weapons away and locked up from his daughter. he refuses to let ANY incident happen just cause he was being careless

Ꮺ he is one to always allow his daughter to decorate his face, no matter how ridiculous he looks. he’ll gladly pose with stickers on his eyelids, three bows on his head and one tied on his wrist, and heart glasses on if it makes his daughter happy

Ꮺ his daughter is lowkey his mood maker. he won’t admit but however his daughter feels is how HE feels. but he won’t take it out on her, absolutely not ! if she’s grumpy, he’s grumpy with her. she’s hungry ? he’s hungry as well. even if he’s feeling fine, he’ll play along with her so she can get what she want from YOU (mischievous mfs mmcht)

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ the most girliest dads of all girl dads <333. he’s there for any and everything and is NEVER one to say no to his daughter. though sometimes he doesn’t realize when to be a disciplined dad and a fun dad

Ꮺ he’ll make sure to never, and I mean never, have his daughter follow into the life that he is in. as much he enjoys saving gotham and bludhaven, he refuses to let his daughter lead into a life of danger and being unsure of whether or not he’ll be home soon

Ꮺ he has an endless amount of pics of him and his daughter. his lockscreen is you and him holding her at six months old, his homescreen being his daughter at one years old, and even his voicemail is him and his daughter saying hi and sorry to miss your call

Ꮺ being a dad is something dick cherishes so much and he’ll gift everything his child wants and more. he’ll do any and everything to have his daughter be happy, even if he can’t get it

Ꮺ between him and his daughter, the exchanges of “I love you dad” and “I love you more” happen more on his side. many “I love yous” as the two of them giggle and he kisses her forehead. they’re so cute :(

Ꮺ unlike bruce, he loves going to pta meetings. he does get uncomfortable with the flirting from other moms but he’s really only there for the free treats and how to better improve his daughter’s education

Ꮺ the biggest gift giving dad as well ! he likes coming home with a surprise in his hand and hearing his daughter gasp and smile at the gift in his hand. it warms his heart when she says thank you and hugs his leg tightly, nearly squeezing it with the gift in her hand

Ꮺ the two nap a lot together. it’s one of dick’s favorite pastime when he’s relaxing with crime fighting

♡⃕ the bat boys as girl dads ☹️🫶🏽. it would be uber cute seeing jason walk into his helmet decorated in barbie stickers

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: 2 thessalonians 3:3

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[crheativity]

Hello! Mind if I send in a request? How about some headcanons for the reader making cute little plushies for the overblot squad?

SUMMARY: You decide to make plushies for the overblot squad. How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: ANON I want you to know that this prompt randomly smacked me over the head at like 10 pm a couple nights ago and I have not been able to get it out since even though I haven’t been able to write until now. I hope you enjoy it!!

Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

Riddle absolutely loves it, please don’t mistake his silence for displeasure. He thinks it is skilfully made and quite adorable, really! He’s just… a little concerned. Does making a plush toy of the Queen herself count as sacrilege…? He’s racking his brains for any rule or law that would prohibit this adorable little toy’s existence, yet none come to mind. Does that mean he gets to keep it…? He really hopes so.

After a few days of diligent research into the matter, he determines that keeping such a cute thing is not against the law, and is overjoyed to find that he gets to keep it. After some deliberation, he decides to leave it on his desk - out of view from Cater, who would almost certainly want to take some “cammable pics” for Magicam. This way, the toy can sit on his desk and remind him of his studies… and also of you. Almost every time he sits down, he finds his eyes wandering to it and can’t help but smile.

Heh, this is kinda cute. He doesn’t mind the plushy at first - it’s cute, but he finds the expression on your face as you give it to him much cuter. Of course he’ll keep it - it’s soft and squishy enough to be a pillow, so he’s eager to try it. Especially if it means skipping class.

As he attempts to fall asleep next to said plushy, however, he realises something - the plushy smells like you. He’s a beastman, with a heightened sense of smell. Even if the plushy doesn’t smell at all, it still smells of you. As a result of this realisation, the plushy now lives on his bed. He begins to find it frustrating to sleep without it, although he’d never be caught dead sleeping in the grounds with it. You’ll just have to replace it then instead.

(Ruggie has so many blackmail photos of Leona sleeping with the toy prepared just in case)

Prefect, this is magnificent! Imagine the money you could make off of these! Hm? What do you mean they aren’t for sale-? It’s just for him…? Oh. Give him a moment, his brain just crashed. He doesn’t quite know how to respond. He loves it, and he loves you even more, but that doesn’t mean his brain is capable of forming a response, especially when you give him a big smile. Give the poor guy a minute.

He leaves it on his bed. This man definitely cuddles it while he sleeps. He gets easily distressed when it isn’t there. After a rough day at work or school, he’ll talk quietly to the plush until he feels better. If worse comes to worst, he’ll hug the toy and cry as he needs to. He loves it so much. It’s almost a new friend to him - something he finds great comfort in.

(The Tweels are no longer allowed in his room. When they inevitably come in anyway, he swears them to secrecy.)

Is that the Sorcerer of the Sands… as a plushy? For him? Thank you, Prefect. Jamil doesn’t have a whole lot of plushies - he never particularly saw the point. But he’s absolutely charmed by this one — and by you. And the fact that it’s the Sorcerer of the Sands? You definitely knew him well. He’s smiling and shaking his head as he takes the plushy. You’re so cute, it’s so endearing.

At first, Jamil isn’t quite sure what to do with it. He can’t quite sleep if it’s on his bed - it reminds him of you too strongly - so he settles with leaving it on his desk. Occasionally, in his rare free time, he’ll sit at his desk and play with it, like a grown adult finding a lost but treasured toy again. It always reminds him of you. When life calls him back, he’ll set the plushy aside for now and get to work. It will be waiting for him.

Just like you, he hopes.

Prefect! He didn’t know you could sew. It looks amazing! It’s for him? You’re very sweet, he’s very in love. He loves the plush toy so much, no matter if it has any imperfections. It was made by you, of someone he looks up to, for him. He hates to sound like Rook, but to him, that makes it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s so proud of you. Vil is taking that plush EVERYWHERE. It’s always in his bag no matter where he’s going. Anytime someone questions it, he shuts them down immediately. No one will dare slander something that his beloved made for him. In fact, he uses every opportunity to sneak the plush into photos for Magicam. Whether he’s holding it, it’s nearby or in the background, it’s always there. People start looking for it in all of his pictures.

If you’re okay with the plush being online, that is.

If you’d rather it stay private, he’d kiss your forehead or hand and tell you he understands. The plush toy then stays in his room, on his vanity table. Looking at it makes him feel like a teenage schoolgirl. He supposes it’s alright to indulge in such silliness occasionally, hm?

Wow, you made him a marketable plushy? Of one of the Great Seven? He wasn’t expecting you to have such a normie hobby. Oh, but that’s not a bad thing. He’s extremely grateful, but extremely awkward - does this mean he has to get you something now? What kinda thing would you like? Ah, wait, was that not the appropriate thing to say? Ortho’s giving him the “shut up and be polite” look.

Please don’t be offended if it seems like he doesn’t like it when he receives it. He actually really, really does. He decides to make it his new “gaming buddy”, making him a little custom headset and fake controller and sitting it next to him while he games. He’s stunned to silence when the lil guy’s presence improves his gacha rolls by, like, a LOT. He was already taking pretty good care of it, but now he’s being WAY more careful with it.

Occasionally, Ortho will catch him talking to it. Idia genuinely loves the plushy - and you - a lot. Even if Idia doesn’t quite know how to show it, Ortho does - by recording Idia’s conversations with the toy and showing them to you. Idia is mortified.

Oh? My child of man made me this… adorable plushy? My, how generous of you. He’s absolutely in love. If you thought he was attached to his tamagotchi, just wait and see. Malleus is NEVER letting the plushy leave his presence. Lilia had to take it away to clean it once and it stormed for a week. He loves it so much - and you so much more.

He absolutely treats the plushy as a human, and asks the others to do the same. Occasionally, he (or rather, Lilia using his phone to assist him) will send you a photo of him and the plushy doing something together, such as having a tea party or a picnic. Almost always with the caption, “Dear Prefect, would you care to join us? Kind regards, Malleus.”

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[beababoobies]

NAUGHTY BOY! -

a collection of what makes the jjk men so naughty - ft GETO, NANAMI, CHOSO. 𝜗𝜚 a/n : this is dedicated to my dearly beloved @bugbonesandthinskin , my favs for my fav. Enjoy my love! <3

CHOSO KAMO 𝜗𝜚 - poor baby!

Choso is fucking whiney. Choso will paw at you, at your body, whining and trying to discretely hump you. He’s such a desperate little puppy, it would be pathetic if it didn’t make you completely fold for him.

Choso is insanely sensitive - but also insanely filled with stamina. Sure, he’ll be whining and cumming under you in less than two minutes - but that doesn’t mean the fun has stopped, oh no, he’s practically used to the sensation of overstimulation by now. The first time you were intimate with him, he looked surprised when you asked if he wanted to stop after he finished. 

“D-does that mean it’s over? I u-usually do that at like five time w-when I get myself off.” 

He’s perfectly ready to be your mouldable little toy, to be ruined and wrecked by every naughty thing you know how to do that he couldn’t even fathom to have existed. But you have to be careful, ready - because once you’ve started, you’d be brave to try and stop. Because he’ll be behind you, arms wrapped around your waist after you tried to brush him off. Two days is really the most he can go before he feels like he’ll breakdown.

 It’s almost cute how insensitive he is to how taboo sex is actually supposed to be. He’s so confused when you blush or get why when he mentions something about having sex out of nowhere, or mentions something he fantasized about last night. You’ll be sitting on the couch, morning cup of tea in your grasp, gently blowing in it, waiting it for it to be just cold enough for you to drink, when your boyfriend sneaks in between your thighs, and -

“Can I eat you out? Please? Wanna feel you, feel you cum on my tongue…” 

He’s lucky you didn’t almost spill the cup of scolding hot liquid all down his face. 

GETOU SUGURU 𝜗𝜚 - t-that’s gross!

Geto is nasty because he’s just nasty. There’s nothing about his sexual habits that scream vanilla, or soft. He loves seeing you humiliated, embarrased about how your body keeps betraying you under his touch. All with your consent, of course, safe words - but there’s something about you sobbing and trying to squirm away from him that has him fucking throbbing.

The first time he ate you out, he could easily be mistaken for a man who had been crawling the desert for thousands of years coming in contact with his first taste of ice cold water. His entire face shoved in between your juicy folds, tongue pressed deeply against your clit as he used his tongue to scrape and squeeze out every little remnant of your slick from your cunt. Every little speck of your taste from every crevice of your walls, it’s his. 

And by the end, when you cried and sobbed and tried to pull him away with the cry of worrying you might squirt and practically drown the man, he pulled your thighs so quickly you could swear his faces collision with your slit could have broken his nose. Poor man couldn’t even care about air, broken noses, water down the wrong pipe, when you’re crying and trying to push at his head away while you shoot a stream of cum straight into his wanting mouth.

It’s that - or it’s grabbing you, tasting you, or fucking you in places of your body you wouldn’t ever expect someone to get creative enough to do. There’s in-between your thighs, of course, but that’s a classic - no, this man will rut his cock against your soft tummy and make your beg him to fuck you. He’ll watch his tip bump against your belly button as you whine and complain. 

His favourite? Using all your holes when you never expect it. Eating you out, and letting his tongue slip down to your ass, feeling you try to squirm away with protests. “T-that’s nasty, Sugu!” “S-sugu, that’s gross, you don’t h-have to -“ only to be silenced by your own whines when his tongue gently makes its way inside the tighter puckered hole, pressing up eagerly against your most sensitive spots . Because it’s beautiful to live on your perineum, to him, live in a state of consistently having access to ruining you. 

NANAMI KENTO 𝜗𝜚  - a man, ruined!

Nanami is a simple man. He hates work. He hates his job. He doesn’t like xyz, and he likes zyx. It’s not his fault that when you came into his life, he wanted to tear you apart for making him feel pushed out of his love for normalcy. You made him feel like a feral creature how you lead him to spending nights doing things that would change the worlds reputation of him.

Mating press after mating press, he feels so nasty but he can’t stop. You’re so easy to move, like putty in his hands. The way you’ll bend over, kneel, and cum at his command has him feeling out of control. At work, nearly off the clock, when his mind flashes to the way he held you to his chest by your stomach, other hand on your chin, letting you suck on his fingers as you slowly rode him until you were dumb. The way your pretty lacy lingerie slipped down enough for your breasts to poke out. And suddenly he’s running to the nearest restroom, flushed and bothered.

Because when he’s had other relationships, when he’s dated other women, hookups - none of them entranced him quite like you. It felt good, it was great, sure. But he wishes he could get the noise you make when you feel yourself getting close tattoos on his mind, that excited little whine when you realize you’re about to get what you want, the way your eyes light up, even if you’ve only been at it for a handful of minutes, you are just so ready to make a mess for him, so eager to let yourself get dumber and dumber everytime you cum. It’s filthy how much he wouldn’t mind quitting his job so he can spend all his time breaking you down to less than a human. Having you practically live on his swollen and sensitive cock. 

Nanami is a man ruined. Secretly, sure. He can hide it pretty well. In fact, no one would even know he had a pretty little thing like you to his name. But it was getting harder and harder to remain composed. Steady. Normal. When all his mind could think about the view of your cunt gently lowering itself onto his face. The way you put your whole weight on him, the way he didn’t even have to ask you.

[sapphosclosefriend]

~ Nerd! Nat Headcanons ~

18+ content. Minors DNI!

Based on this and this idea.

SFW

Nerd! Nat who is getting a degree in something like History in college and meets you at a party (strangely so). Her sister has begged her non stop to drive her to said party and her almost non existent social skills and the people there being from a completely different department of her school make it so awkward for her. But then she catches your eye, you start talking to her and the rest is history!

Nerd! Nat who is basically biologically averse to technology. It's not that she doesn't like it, her brain just doesn't comprehend it. She barely has a random old phone of Yelena's (who begged her to take it not to “embarrass her”) and the oldest, slowest laptop she touches only when she's forced to for certain school projects.

Nerd! Nat who is SO passionate about History. She's read every book (good and bad), gone to every convention, talked to every professor. It is her passion and at first it feels a little strange to her when you start occupying so much of her attention, but she soon gets used to it.

Nerd! Nat who speaks Latin and Greek almost fluently and always uses quotes in those languages. The first time she does it in front of you it is unconsciously and once she realizes what she's done she's scared about what you'll think of her. She blushes like crazy when you act impressed by her skill and ask her about it with interest.

Nerd! Nat who is a little shy but as soon as you give her an ounce of genuine attention starts yapping nonstop in the cutest way possible.

Nerd! Nat who straight up dresses like a grandpa and LOVES it. She's always loved going thrifting for sweaters and now that she does it with you she's ecstatic.

Nerd! Nat who has to speak at some sort of conference at school and is thankful she has a random suit she thrifted a while ago for occasions like this, because she is so engrossed in researching and preparing her speech that she would've never had the time to buy something. When you get to the event, wanting to support her, you see her wearing a tweed suit that doesn't really fit her right and is just a little too big, but she looks so cute in it you can't help but kiss her and hug her, unknowingly calming her down before her speech.

NSFW

Nerd! Nat who panics when you start sucking her off in her car one night and she doesn't tell you she's a virgin. She tries to hold it as much as she can, but the first time she hits the back of your throat she cums so hard her hips buckle, making you gag around her and making her cum even more (it's a never ending cycle with her).

Nerd! Nat who apologizes so much for cumming quickly but gets shut up by you kissing her because you think she's even hotter now.

Nerd! Nat who, as you straddle her hips while you make out still in the car, shyly asks you to do it some other time. She knows she wouldn't be able to control herself at all if she saw you riding her in front of her bare eyes and she's too nervous about having another “quick” accident. You think she's so cute and you end up just making out for the rest of the night. You understood what her actual “issue” was and you can't help but like everything about her more and more.

Nerd! Nat who soon gets addicted to your pussy. The first time you fuck in missionary she hugs you so tightly and buries her face in the crook of your neck while she ruts into you so frantically. At first the strength behind her thrusts shocks you a little, but her desperate whines right next to your ear soon make you smirk once again at how needy she is.

Nerd! Nat who of course likes tits, but is such an ass girl! She's embarrassed to tell you how much your ass turns her on, but you easily pick up on it (she's not as subtle as she believes). You start almost always riding her facing the other way, to give her a clear view of your ass and it takes her breath away every single time you do it.

Nerd! Nat who wants to try to fuck you doggystyle (because the view would be simply too good to her), but gets so desperate the second you start pushing back to meet her thrusts that you end up fully lying on your stomach while she pathetically mewls and ruts into you, begging you to cum around her cock.

Taglist: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox