#shitequeue

[writeshite]

How would Bucky react the first time he’s inside you please? ❤️

Bucky was silent. That in itself wasn't odd, neither were the deep spaced-out breaths he took—you'd think he was the one laid in a car clutching the map pocket of the car door as the someone slipped a dick inside you—he was cautious with his weight, not one to rest it all atop you, but still wanting to be as close as possible. "Sorry," he spoke breathlessly. It had been years since he'd had anything of the sort like this.

"It's ok," you responded, head in your arm as he tested a thrust. "Gods Buck, I'm not going to break." You laughed softly. He rested his head between your shoulder blades, breath warm on your back. You clenched around him and he pushed the leg already off the back seat up towards your arm.

"I know," his metal arm squeezed your thigh as he tested another thrust, repeating slowly to acquaint himself, his head remained where it was, his soft muttering strewn together words of English and Russian as he rocked his hips unhurriedly. 'I love you,' he thought to himself, face pressed completely to your back now, he couldn’t imagine a world where he pulled out but he must as the echo of the radio phone hit his ears and he was reminded why you were there in the first place. “Fuck.”

You huffed, annoyed. Bucky whined, equally frustrated at the interruption. He gave himself a moment more to memorise the feel of you, and then he was gone.

[cloningfailure]

“Is thi…this Rory?” 

█ ▌ @drcwningvoices​   █ ▌ Rory

[writeshite]

Villain!Reader: "I'm telling you, Bruce Wayne is Batman!"

Minion: "Oh, come on, Boss, that's a little far-fetched. Why'd you think that?"

Villain!Reader: *fantasised about Batman's jawline so much that they definitely noticed Bruce Wayne's is the exact same*

Villain!Reader: "I...well...that...I just do!"

Minion: "....riiiiiiiiiight."

The idea of Bruce getting found out as Batman cause Reader is thirsting that hard sends me everytime 😭

[writeshite]

Alpha Bucky needs his Omega bf.

The Soldier all but clawed viciously at the collar around his throat. The experimental hormonal treatment had the opposite effect, heightening his senses, he'd raged at the walls of his cage and nearly torn a scientist's arm off.

"You said it would turn him into a Beta!" The handler's anger was palpable, his own scent acrid, the Beta had little to no experience with feral alphas, "You said, it would work!'

"I said it was experimental, and rushing into things would worsen the process!" The Soldier caught bits and pieces of the conversation, hardly caring as he was more focused on his search for something, they'd severed his secondary scent glands and reset him as many times as they could, and yet he yearned for the heat of cinnamon, and something sweet. What was left of the man he was before the Soldier, clung to it desperately.

"Fix it!" the handler's command was thrown at every scientist in the room. The soldier's jaw clenched tighter, and his hands kneaded his thighs, clutching the skin with such desperation as memories fought to surface, he fought back fiercely. Much more than he should. Half his mind reprimanded him, reminding him he should comply for his own best interest, the other half, already losing to his secondary gender, screamed for freedom.

"Don't miss me too much, ok?"

"Says you," you snorted, pressing your head to his, you'd been assigned a ways apart from each other, he'd be off somewhere North of Europe, you somewhere along the coast of Northern Africa. You'd exchanged half your wardrobes, hoping to chase off homesickness as long as possible. "Don't make me wait, Barnes."

The memory burns in his mind as the machine does it's work, poking holes until your face is a blank construct in the recess of his mind.

[writeshite]

a mark sloan and firefighter!reader pls 🥲🥲

"If I set my house on fire would you cover for me?"

Derek's gaze panned up from his lunch, confused by Mark's question, and partly concerned as to the earnesty of it. "What?"

Mark glanced around then leaned in close to speak quietly, "There's this...guy, he's a firefighter and I never get to see him unless there's a fire."

"You could go to the fire station, like a sane man," Derek would be more baffled by the train of thought if he wasn't already accustomed to the absurdness and insanity of Seattle Grace.

[writeshite]

How would Bucky react if you nervously confessed you want to wake him up with a blowjob?

Bucky stares.

It's almost comical - you kneeled between his legs, and looking to him with the softest eyes possible, him sat up in bed digesting the words you'd spoken - blowjobs weren't unknown to him. He'd seen what you could do. The same tongue that held a paralytic poison could produce an aphrodisiac, both potent in even the smallest of measurements.

"Y—yeah," he stammers, finally responding after so long. He'd never been woken with a blowjob, but he wasn't averse to starting now.

[writeshite]

It's not that children were an oddity, but the Pediatric ward wasn't anywhere near the Diagnostics Department to warrant the six, maybe seven-year-old kid sitting comfortably at House's desk. Chase stares, it's all he can really do. The kid's comfortable enough and made themselves at home.

Chase is barely listening to House, more focused on his confusion, until the source of said confusion throws a crayon directly at him. The accuracy would impress him if it didn't hurt. "Hey!"

House snorts, "Good shot."

Foreman outwardly laughs, turning away before Chase can throw the crayon at him. “It’s not funny.” The latter grumbles. “Whose kid even is that?!”

The subject of Chase’s query pulls a face, sticking out their tongue, and reeling back to throw another crayon. “Bee,” House chastises halfheartedly and the kid huffs, returning to colouring. He turns to Chase and responds, “That little ray of sunshine and crayons is my favourite daughter.”

“I’m your only daughter,” Bee huffed, throwing a crayon at House, who caught it and threw it right back.

“Allegedly.”

Cameron was the first to exclaim in surprise and anger on the kid’s behalf. “You can’t just say that to a kid,” Foreman stressed as another crayon was thrown, this one hitting House square on his temple.

[writeshite]

Thor showing you his bulge in his briefs please?🙈🙈

You stared down at Thor's bulge, disbelief and confusion on your face; you reached out, pulled the hem of the briefs out to peek in, and your eyes widened. You glanced back at a very proud, very smug Thor, "I—"

"Don't worry, dear heart, I'm no monster," he pecks your temple, promising to be gentle.

[writeshite]

Untreated lacerations can lead up to 15% of infection rates, with what little the unsub provided, Spencer had done his best to patch up the deep cuts running down your back—a gift from the unsub who’d thought to give you ‘wings’. “Evidence in human and non human mammal species links social behaviours and relationships like love to positive health and longevity.” He rambled largely to himself.

You were laid between his legs, back to his chest, head lolled to the side, unconscious but thankfully still breathing. Spencer held you as a child would a teddy bear, “L—love could play part in the longevity,” his breath came out shaky and he hugged you closer, “the survival of various mammals. Your survival.” It’s illogical—by all accounts—to rely on something superficial, the chances of one of you getting out alive was just marginally higher than both of you. But the superficial reliability offered more comfort as he nuzzled his face into your hair. The study itself lent itself more towards parental care and other relatives to the development of survival, but it was also the first study to come to his mind that would comfort him.

[writeshite]

i love your style, ‘m not doing all that great rn healthwise, could i ask for a male reader x aaron hotchner where hotch takes care of either an injured or sick male reader?

like some fluffy hurt/comfort or something?

You nuzzled your face into your husband’s palm as he took your temperature. “Pretty sure that’s meant to go in the other way,” your quip is met with a disapproving glance from Aaron.

“Thirty seven point five and rising,” he mutters.

“Low-grade fever,” you respond, “I’ll be back on my feet by Monday.” You assure him, taking his hand from your cheek and kissing the palm, “Now stop worrying.”

He huffs fondly, adjusting the blankets around you closer to keep you comfortable. “Can’t help it." He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and you push him away lightly, warning he might catch your cold. "You'll take care of me." He quips in response.

[writeshite]

Can't help but think about needy robb begging his husband to breed him all day everyday 🥺

Robb's back arched beneath you, his torso front pressed against the bed, you pinned him by the wrists, the temptation to breed him could never be passed up, much less when Robb begged. "Are four children not enough for you?" you huffed, hips bucking forward at a quickened pace.

"What's wrong with another?" Robb's voice was faint, his legs had yet to give out, but the tremors indicated they would soon enough. "I thought you liked it," he laughed breathlessly.

You chuckled, "We'll pop out of a village at this pace," and leaned down to speak the words as your pace quickened.

[writeshite]

Okay but being sandwiched between Batman and Superman in that hot spring on that cover would cure my depression 🥵😭🥵

“Do you have to wear the mask in the spring?” You teased, head leaned back and laid on Bruce’s shoulder. The man in question had left a handful of hickeys along your skin.

“It’s called immersion,” Clark laughed, as he came back up for air. You could feel the imprint of his teeth still healing from where he’s spent the past hour and a half between your legs.

“Don’t encourage him, Clark, next thing you know I’ll be fucked on the side of some Gotham tower.”

“You like it,” Bruce snorted, biting your ear in retaliation to the teasing, you swat his arm, huffing softly.

“Don’t fight you two,” Clark quipped, going back underwater, he slings your legs over his shoulders, and gets back to sucking your dick.

[writeshite]

“How’s he doing?” Morgan asks.

Emily glances up from the piles of diaries Tobias Hankel had stashed around his home. She’d given you majority of the space on the dining table and taken, the distant thud of your foot bouncing on the ground had been a constant since you sat down. Hotch had taken your gun off you, and any form of caffeine had been kept as far as possible—not that you needed it—you hadn’t slept. Not that Emily had seen you blink. Much less after Tobias had streamed the first video of Reid.

“Not good.” Emily replied finally, “I don’t think he’s blinked since we got here, should we—”

Hotch interjects, “Don’t,” denying whatever suggestion would have been made. “It’s better we let him cool off,” he gestured to you, “just keep an eye on him. We don’t need him going vigilante on us.” He whispered the latter of his words.

“Just cause you whisper doesn’t mean I can’t hear you,” you remarked, turning your attention to them.

“Maybe you should take a breather,” it’s less of a suggestion and more of a direction as Morgan grabs you by the arm and hustles you outside. You shove at him as you’re past the door, but that only serves to push you all the way outside. “You look like shit, lover boy.”

“Not in the mood, Morgan,” you say when he blocks you from entering the home again.

“Well get in the mood.”

Your hands ball up into fists and you walk away from him, cussing out before sitting on the steps with your head in your hands. Morgan ran a hand over his head and sighed as he sat beside you. Takes a moment before you start talking, “I was gonna ask him to be my boyfriend,” you clasped your hands tightly.

Morgan whistles, chuckling, “Already? You move fast.”

“We’ve been on several dates, over several months,” you snorted, “doubt I’m as fast as you.” You punched him lightly.

“Below the belt.”

You snickered, half smiling, “We started spending the night at each other’s, and I woke up beside him one of those times,” there was nothing special about that time—work day, chilly morning and breakfast together—but it was nice. So nice you thought about doing it again and again for the rest of your life. “I thought I’d save the question for after the case.”

“Keep saving it,” Morgan pats your shoulder, “I expect to see you two kids frolicking together after this.” His words manage to draw out one of the few laughs from you since Spencer had gone missing.

[writeshite]

Asking Bucky if you can put your hands down his pants?

Bucky lifts his newspaper and looks down at you, you’re both laid down on the couch, you atop him swinging your legs idly with a grin. “Can I help you, doll?”

You tug at the waistband of his pants, “Can I put my hands down your pants, Buck?”

Bucky snorts, “Sure thing.” He goes back to his reading, you unbutton his pants, and pull down his underwear as much as you can before playing around with his dick.

[writeshite]

Hello hope you are having an awesome day/night

I was wondering if I could request the BAU Team x Male reader (older then hotch)

Reader is an older agent an old case that not only went cold in the earlier part of their career starts popping up, dragging them and the team in and old scars reopened. Maybe the unsub has a bit of an obsession with reader, maybe the murders the unsub leaves are all specifically ment for reader in some form? It be interesting to wonder how the team would react

"Your secret admirer leave you a name yet?" Morgan teased, though his tone was less jovial as he covered his nose. You glared at him, then turned your attention back to the scene around you—butchered hearts carved out to resemble roses, scattered poetry, no witnesses, no clues to a break-in, just a couple enjoying dinner together before being tragically struck down—the comparisons were hard to ignore. You'd rather not point the finger towards the Heartbreaker, but the details were nearly identical, bar the newly added poetry. But that was relative as the subject matter remained the same—unrequited love, star-crossed lovers, secret affairs—an unsub so terrifyingly infatuated with you.

"I don't know if I could say it's the same person," Gideon remarked, "M.O.'s the same, the poetry could be a new addition or a deviation from the original songs." The poetry was all handpicked from various authors, all meant to convey the subject matter.

"The original songs were handwritten, though, weren't they?" Hotch inquired.

"Handwritten, original songs with details about my life, down to the bedroom of my then apartment at the time," you sneered. The Heartbreaker had stalked you; there was no doubt about it. They'd killed every month, with each song leaving important and identifiable details of something you'd done, seen or been part of that month. There wasn't any certainty as to when the unsub had met or seen you, only that they'd been infatuated ever since. Not that they took it any more seriously now, but the police had scoffed at the concept of a man being stalked. Whatever profile existed was a mismatch of assumptions strung together haphazardly over the years.

"It could be a successor, an obsession passed down from father to son," Morgan remarked.

"Or mother to daughter," Elle added.

"Father to daughter, mother to son, mentor to protégé," Gideon rambled, "whoever it was then and is now, clearly has romantic delusions surrounding Agent Allaway."

"Right, but why did they stop in the first place?" J.J. inquired, "And why are they starting back up again?"

"Good question," Gideon pondered, turning to you," What changed?"

[writeshite]

Sorcerer!Reader: *looking between Thor and Dr Strange* "God I wanna be the filling in this sandwich so fucking bad."

Strange: "Excuse me?"

Thor: "What?"

Reader: "Huh?"

Reader: who said that??? Must’ve been the wind