he hadn't meant to. honestly- he hadn't. your face had been shoved into the sheets- moans muffled, a small patch of drool pooling below you.. and you knew how much he loved eye contact during sex. so of course he would want to see how cock drunk and needy you were!
"let me see you,” he whispered, moving his arm under you to put a hand on your cheek to turn your head towards him.
"jack-"
"I know baby I know."
his arm settles right between your neck and the bed, bracing him and keeping you from hiding your pretty expressions from him.
from there all it takes is a simple flex of his arm and suddenly your face is squished between his bicep and forearm— the sudden squeeze accompanied by jack picking up the pace has you whimpering and moaning pathetically.
"that's it- there you are," he groaned out, hips jerking to grind deeper into you, "knew you'd like this- ah fuck- knew you'd let me do this to you.”
okay... maybe it wasn't so unintentional after all..
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
even if he didn't show it, bakugo was thrilled to finally let you into his home.
you had been together for nearly two years at this point and your lease for your own place was ending, so why not move in with him? you were shocked when he proposed the idea, but agreed after barely a second thought. you loved him, he loved you...you spent most night's at bakugo's place anyway so there really wouldn't be a difference, would there?
you already had so much of your stuff there! a whole cabinet of snacks in his kitchen and a drawer of your things in the bathroom. whenever bakugo does the laundry, most of his basket consists of your clothes instead of his. and that stupid fluffy blanket you left draped over the couch? his friend's laughed at it when the two of you got together because it was very much not 'bakugocore'...whatever the hell that meant.
one evening after coming home from a particularly rough patrol, bakugo barely took off his boots before some ridiculously sweet smell filled his nose. he could immediately tell you were lighting a candle, but looked up to see his place more...decorated.
"what the hell...?" he grumbled under his breath, stumbling further into his apartment.
a purple rug now sat under under the coffee table. a framed photo of the two of you from your first anniversary dinner hanging above the dining room table in a spot where he said we would put a clock -to which he never did.
some of your knick knacks he remembered seeing in your room arranged cutely on the tv-stand. in addition to that blanket you left on his couch all that time ago sat three new throw pillows.
'hey..." bakugo kissed your cheek as you sat hunched over the dining room table, sorting through some papers. work related? lease related? he had no clue nor did he care much for it anyway. "i see you were busy getting cozy."
you nodded with a soft smile at him. "mhm. i've always told you your place looked so dull. look how much more colourful it is now! i also got you a new spice rack because you were complaining non-stop about the old one."
shifting to sit beside you, bakugo leaned his arm against the table to rest his chin in his palm. damn, he could get used to this. coming home and the first thing he sees is you...amazing view, really. "yeah, guess it is. but you didn't need to, i could have fixed it no problem."
"but you didn't!" you sing-songed to him and boy, did his heart melt. "oh, i found this fantastic side table on sale quite close from facebook market place. can we go visit the seller and pick it up tomorrow? i think it will look great next to that new lamp that came in the other day."
"yeah, anything you want," he nodded. and bakugo meant it. his apartment was now as much yours and it was his. and for the first time, bakugo truly felt at home in his own apartment.
Now, now - of course, he can. It's not because he isn't capable of it; It's simply a rare occurrence. (God knows he could fold you like a fresh pile of laundry with just one hand). But I fear he would like the intimacy of it all too much. Like the way your fingers dig into his bicep, how your legs shake on his shoulders when he's hitting that special spot just right. The soft little whimpers and cries of cute little pet names, with the occasional squeal of his full legal name.
He knows he doesn't need to be rough to make you go a little braindead, okay? And half the time, if he does leave you drooling and barely remembering your own name, it's totally on accident. You'd think that fine man would be more self-aware than he is. For someone so skilled in various things, Jason genuinely underestimates how much he's packing. He knows he's a big guy and awfully strong - but down there? Completely clueless.
He gets so embarrassed afterward, apologizing when you can barely walk straight to the toilet, and somehow manages to embarrass you too by insisting on checking that he didn't tear anything down there. Seriously, man is on his hands and knees in the bathroom just trying to catch a look while you're pushing him away.
He's not even into anything too kinky (call him puppy, and he'll cream). He does enjoy giving you the occasional spank here and there when you're being a brat, but never degrading. He's a praise guy, through and through. Loves it when you ride him so he can get a full view with his rough hands steady on your hips. Whispering things like "you're doing so good love," and "mmm, just like that, pretty."
However, don't even think about post-patrol, Jason. He'll come home at three in the morning with bruises, maybe a knife wound, caffeine finally wearing off. Helmet tossed on the counter, shower until the water is cold and clear - only to find you so excited to see him! Bouncing on your feet, pressing kisses to his neck, being a needy little thing.
Prepare to get your shit rocked.
It's really the only time he fucks you hard and deep, not even taking the time to properly prep you as much as he normally does. Once you're drooling on his chest, falling asleep with a dazed smile on your face, only then does he kiss your forehead and fall asleep himself. He doesn't mean to be rough like that - but damn, baby, he's tired!
He may have the scary dog privileges, but at the end of the day, he's just a lapdog waiting for your love.
Low-key. Imagine being like the nurse/doctor for the SDN. Maybe also being an ex-villain but deciding to use some medical knowledge to heal (or maybe your powers help you)
But you're a big fan of who the ex-villains are. Like you're casually trying to work when THE Prism comes in and you have to help her. Of course you do, it's your job and they need to be healed up for their next mission.
But then imagine when they start getting merch of their hero status. Flambae plushes, Waterboy pins, Malevola stickers. The works. You buy them all, you're still a fan after all. What kind of fan would you be if you still didn't support them as a hero?
Maybe your bag is covered in the pins, the pen you use to note down what happened has has a mini figurine of them on top. The notebook is absolutely plastered with stickers of them. And they notice it. You could try to hide it but they notice it and oh how honoured they are that their favourite medic seems to like them just as much as they do. (Or they're absolutely embarrassed and is eternally dying inside from finding out you bought merch of them, THEM)
(Bonus points: If it's actually mechaman you're a fan of and you're just ranting to Robert about how much you like him and how cool the hero is when you're trying to heal him. Not knowing he is mechaman. Bros just laying there nodding along like "yeah yeah he's so cool" - Imagine how embarrassing it is to find out you ranted about the love you have for the hero TO THE HERO)
cw: yandere, captivity, isolation, emotional distress, alien/human dynamics.
project hail mary has me in a tight hold for cute aliens.
Yandere! alien who understands your body as a living organism, though the strange complexities of your human heart still confuse him.
The first thing you noticed about him was that he didn't look alive, at least not in the aspect of a human alien like in the comic books. Instead, his body resembles a humanoid silhouette sculpted from living stone and starlight, hulking shoulders draped in a mantle of glittering crystal. Beneath the cracks in his dark form, galaxies churn smoothly, violet nebulae blooming between fractures, eruptions of light every minute or so, dulled not to hurt your human eyes. Tiny stars flicker beneath his skin. Looking directly at him for too long makes your eyes ache, as though your mind cannot decide whether he is a creature or a piece of the universe that broke away just to torment you. His eyes seem to eat into your soul, licking your mind with fear. Vast and black, not empty, but full.
He finds you horrifyingly fascinating, while you simply find him horrifying.
To him, your species seems absurdly fragile. Your skin bruises. Calcium-rich bones break. Microorganisms seem to make you sick. You require food, water, sleep, and countless other conditions to continue existing. Every new discovery leaves him increasingly bewildered by the fact that humanity survived long enough to build civilizations.
So he builds you a habitat to withstand his otherwise harsh environment for a critter like yourself.
The environment remains perfectly controlled. The structure itself is carved from luminous crystal from worlds you've never heard of. Yet clear all the same, so he can observe your every move. He spends weeks perfecting it, arranging every detail according to his observations.
Yet you cry.
The sight troubles him every time. Those strange leaks from your eyes. The trembling in your voice. The way you press your hands against solid crystal and plead useless words that he cannot understand, yet can only associate the movements with begging. He has monitored your tears extensively. He has adjusted humidity levels. Nutrient intake. Sleep cycles. Light exposure. Nothing prevents them. The phenomenon remains unexplained.
Whenever your pitiful cries happen, gifts begin appearing.
Fossils from planets that your species has never had the chance to explore. Kills from his hunting expeditions that would make any of his own kind swoon but you simply gag and huddle yourself further in a corner.
You never seem grateful. Sometimes you even shout what seems to be profanities. The occasional kick to the crystal does nothing but raise a rumble from his vast solar system. A laugh that you associate with anger because you continue to cry yourself helpless.
He listens patiently, galaxies slowly rotating beneath the shifting surface of his skin while you pour your heart out in a language he cannot decipher. When you finish, he answers in soft clicks, low vibrations, and musical tones that resonate through the echo of your mind.
Neither of you understands the other. Every day, he records your vocalizations. Every day, he grows more confident that he understands you.
And without fail, his conclusions are catastrophically wrong.
He continues trying. From his perspective, everything is perfect. You are safe - fed, protected. What more do you need? The outside universe is vast and cruel. He has seen civilizations disappear. Worlds reduced to nothing but rock dust. Species vanish between one century and the next. Humans, especially, seem determined to place themselves in danger.
Why would he allow such a thing?
Eventually, he settles beside your habitat and simply watches, cross-legged and chin propped. His palm touches the crystal in hopes that you reach out to him, too. Knowing the day will never come, although you've become the center of his universe. Perhaps that's why escape is impossible. Stars are held in orbit by gravity.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
requested | by @haven-is-happy
pairing | dick grayson x gn! reader
summary | five times dick's family find him at peace with you
ONE
Richard's window slid open with ease, the well-worn, well-oiled hinges accustomed to the movement from the occupants' own nightly vigilante activities.
Damian's feet hit the carpet softly, his eyes narrowed as he searched the area, guided only by the TV's low lighting.
Soft puppy, paws pad over to him, Haley's tail wagging hard enough to shake her little body as she waited for pats. Kneeling, Damian gladly obliged, lavishing the dog with attention before he stood, holding her in his arms.
"Where are your owners?" He softly asked, scratching between Haley's ears. She whuffed softly, nosing toward the couch Damian was already moving toward.
Reaching for the remote to turn off the unused television, Damian freezes at the sight that greets him from the couch. It's Dick, cuddled into your chest beneath a pile of fuzzy blankets. One of your hands is threaded in his hair, the other resting gently on the back of Dick's neck.
His brother's face is half obscured by a bicep, his arms curled possessively around you, but Damian thinks he's never seen Dick so at peace.
Suddenly, the disagreement he'd had with father doesn't seem so significant, not if it meant waking you two.
TWO
Jason's boots hit the floor with a thud, not bothering to contain the groan as he squeezes through your window. It's not exactly built for a man of his size to utilise. Still, he manages to crawl through without falling face-first onto the floor, so Jason counts that as an absolute win.
Dick's apartment is hardly Jason's first choice, but it's closer than any of his safe houses. He doesn't need Nightwing's help, just the supplies that Jason's not too stubborn to admit will stop him from bleeding out in the very immediate future.
Kicking the coffee table accidentally, Jason curses silently. Dick's a light sleeper; they all are, and the last thing he needs right now is his wanna be big brother fretting over him. He freezes, listening out for any sudden changes in the previously still atmosphere, ready to make a sudden break for it if necessary.
When seconds pass, and there's no hint of movement from the bedroom, Jason assumes he's safe, continuing on his well-practised route through the space.
It's decorated, lived in, filled to the brim with photos and trinkets. Your influence, no doubt. He's seen it all before, in the previous instances just like this one (that have happened more times than he cares to admit), but one of the photos on the side table makes him pause.
The frame is new, but the image isn't — him, Dick and Bruce — one of the very few (if only) taken of them all together before he'd... well—
"Jason?" Your voice is soft, groggy, and a little confused from the leftover sleep in your system, but it surprises him nonetheless, only years of training preventing him from dropping the framed photo he hadn't even realised he'd picked up.
Swivelling, his eyes narrow behind the domino mask as he locates the outline of your form emerging from a fluffy blanket on the couch, "What are you... Are you alright?"
Generally, by now you'd be up and by his side, (You fret over him more than the strange new version of Dick that Jason's still not 100% sure isn't an imposter,) but it doesn't take him long to realise the reason you're still.
Dick is passed out, slumbering unaware, curled around you like an octopus. Peaceful. It's an alien scene, one that Jason is increasingly uncomfortable looking at, something unfamiliar lodging in his chest.
"Jason?" You call again, worry staining your tone and looking like you're ready to try and move, to dislodge his limpet of a brother at his lack of response.
"I'm fine, just needed a place to crash." His voice is soft, unsure, now that he's been thrown off balance. Now, more than ever feeling like an intruder upon sacred ground. "Go back to sleep, yeah?"
You squint at him, the silent stare off dragging uncomfotably long for Jason's tastes until you relax, seemingly finding something in his countenance.
"Mkay, the spare room's set up for you. You can use it, but only if you stay for breakfast."
You're already slipping back into the dark embrace of sleep, completely unbothered by his presence. It's that nonchalant show of trust that leaves Jason reeling more than anything, but he thinks he's beginning to understand how Dick sleeps so easily by your side.
THREE
Tim's a skilled combatant, for all that people underestimate him; he's no slouch when it comes to a fight. But more than that, he's a detective, one of the greatest in the world.
That's why, for the life of him, Dick doesn't understand why his little brother is still here, in his apartment, ruining his date with you. He's been lobbing increasingly less subtle hints Tim's way for nearly hours now.
Your cozy movie night in has long since been killed with no hope of resuscitation. Tim's dragged you and Dick into working on a case alongside him well into the late hours of the night.
He'd barged in like he owned the place, eating the food you'd made for Dick! Stealing the attention that belonged to him! Transforming your wall into his own personal murder board, like he didn't have one back in the cave.
Now you were struggling to stay awake, head resting on Dick's chest, legs thrown over his thighs as you stared at a file he wasn't entirely sure you were reading.
Not even five minutes passed before your breathing evened out, hands slackening as the file slipped uselessly onto his lap, as you succumbed to sleep.
Gently shifting you so you're in a more comfortable position, one that won't leave your back screaming bloody murder in the morning, Dick feels his own eyelids begin to droop and decides that a few minutes' rest won't hurt.
Oblivious to the state of his now-sleeping companions, Tim held a file out toward Dick. "Hey, could you take a look at this and—" He paused at the lack of response, looking up when the weight of the file in his hand wasn't taken.
"Dick, did you—" Oh.
He stares, a little mesmerised at the sight of you asleep in his brother's arms. At the sight of Dick, looking more contented than Tim can ever recall seeing him, nuzzling closer to you in his sleep.
Tim supposed the rest could wait until tomorrow.
FOUR
Cassandra adores you. Dick had once jokingly pouted that his sister loved you more than him, and Cass, well, she hadn't exactly denied it.
It wasn't that she loved you more, per se, but it was a different kind of appreciation. You never once looked at her as if she were broken or defective. Cass was aware she made people uneasy, but you never did. Even when she silently appeared from the shadows in a way that tended to make people jump.
But beyond that, you made Dick happy. Her brother would gush to anyone who'd listen about how spectacular, fantastic, amazing you were, and he meant every word.
Some would accuse him of hamming it up, but Cassandra knew the truth because body language never lies. Dick Grayson was so irrevocably, pathetically in love with you.
So, when Cass comes to pick you up for a girls' day out, only to find you snuggled up together on the couch, she's not all that mad. Patrol had been particularly rough last night, and it was only natural that Dick would seek comfort in your arms.
Likely still keyed up from last night, Dick's eyes slid open when he sensed Cass's presence, body tensing until he registered who'd intruded in his space.
Cass smiled in amusement, eyes softening as she raised her hands so Dick could see. 'Don't ruin this one.' She signed, making Dick huff.
Careful not to wake you, he moved so Cass could see him better before mouthing, "Wouldn't dream of it."
FIVE
To say you were nervous was putting it lightly. You'd met Batman before, had worked with him plenty of times too, but that was before you were dating his son.
You liked to think he didn't hate you at least, but this dinner would be your first time meeting Bruce Wayne, and you wanted him to like you.
Sensing your inner turmoil, Dick tries to make a joke, "Relax, babe, Batman doesn't like anyone," which has you pausing in your stride to glare at him.
"Putting aside that I need your dad to like me if we're going to have any sort of future, that's blatantly untrue; he likes Barry."
"What?" It's Dick's turn to raise a brow as you scoff.
"I know you have Superbat dreams, but I'm telling you, Flash is his favourite!"
Dick paused, a faraway look in his eyes as if he were suddenly recontextualising every interaction he'd ever witnessed between the two heroes. "Let's table that for now."
Entwining your fingers with his, Dick tugs you closer, using his free hand to cup your cheek. "I promise, Bruce likes you."
The nerves still lingered, but with Dick by your side, dinner ended up being... nice. Sure, Bruce asked enough questions to make it feel like an interrogation, but you saw it for what it was: an attempt to get to know his son's new partner.
"As bad as you thought it would be?" Dick teased, laughing when you chucked a pillow at him before sliding under the covers beside you.
Settling your head on his chest, it doesn't take long for you to succumb to the effects of sleep. With Dick by your side, it rarely does, even in foreign environments like his childhood bedroom in Wayne Manor.
Meanwhile, Bruce had made his way toward his son's room, feeling slightly guilty for wanting to interrupt your time together, but he needed help on patrol tonight.
"Dick, I'm sorry but—" Bruce paused in the doorway, gaze softening at the sight of his son nestled comfortably beneath the blankets with you.
He takes a few moments to absorb the picture before him, soaking in the sight of his eldest son so at peace, before quietly turning to leave.
Patrol could wait for tonight.
(+ ONE)
You were going to skin him alive. He was three hours later than he had promised. You'd forgive him once he explained the situation — a kidnapped child — but that didn't assuage the sliver of guilt in his heart.
Not long after you'd started dating, Dick had accidentally confided that he slept better by your side. You'd spoiled him, and now he could barely get a wink of sleep if you weren't next to him. He'd nearly been embarrassed by the display of vulnerability until you'd admitted you felt the same.
Your job often left you exhausted after working long hours, and still, on the nights you didn't patrol together, you'd always wait up for him without fail.
Apologies are already falling from his tongue as he slips through the window, only to taper off as he registers the sight waiting for him. You've found some company while waiting for him, it seems, as a plate of what was likely Dick's dinner sits empty on the coffee table, and Damian's stolen his spot by your side, the two of you dead asleep beneath the fuzzy blanket.
It's an adorable sight, one that has him reaching for his phone speedily to record the momentous occasion.
He manages to take a few photos before he's startled by the sudden realisation: if Damian's sleeping by your side, where's he supposed to sleep?
It's not all that cute anymore, and for the first time, Dick contemplates enacting a strictly 'no Waynes allowed' policy for his apartment. He's glad you're getting along with his brother, truly, but those cuddles are his goddammit!
Unfortunately, staring at the protective hold you have on Damian, Dick doubts he could keep them away even if he wanted to.
You'd been having horrible nightmares of him not coming back from deployment, and the recent extended missions have not been helping. When he's finally home, all battered and bruised but allowed to go home, you're sobbing in his arms all through the night.
You feel guilty. You should be the one comforting him, the injured, traumatized man, yet when you even mention your worry, he's quick to shut you up. He lifts you up from the couch and carries you to the bedroom just to show that he's the same capable man as before.
He settles you on his chest, warm, calloused hands running down your back. Hands that were too used to the trigger of a pistol than the fragile skin of a human.
He calmed himself for you, softened himself for you, and he found a great happiness in taking care of you. He continued rubbing your back, letting you press your ear to his chest so you could count his heartbeats. Slowly, you're lulled to sleep in his embrace.
You had a date. A Valentine's Day date, to be precise. You were definitely going to miss it and look like the biggest jerk in the world but to be honest, you have a bigger problem at the moment.
"I don't understand why you'd go against our traditions this year. You know that we always watch a movie together, eat a ton of candy, and then fall asleep on the couch together. We've been doing this since we were ten! I can't believe that you'd try to abandon me like this." Dick whines as he clings to you.
Dick Grayson, your very best friend, is officially insane. You were on his couch, in his apartment, and had been telling him about how excited you were to have a real Valentine. He snapped, muttering about how you were supposed to be best friends forever while forcing you down and tying your arms and legs. After you had been gagged and restrained to his liking, he decided that it was time for you to make this up to him via cuddles. So, there you were, lying next to your supposed best friend with his arms and legs wrapped around you while he squeezes you like an anaconda and complains about what a bad friend he thinks that you are.
"I know that I always handled your dates before you were able to go out with them but I need time to prepare for that! It's the day before! I can't intimidate someone with less than 24 hours of notice! I don't know how you can manage feeling comfortable doing that to us." He murmured, tucking his face into the crook of your neck.
"I know you think you're doing something good by putting yourself out there in the world but you're not. We're supposed to be best friends. That means that we prioritize each other. What's gonna happen with this is that you're going to sleep over tonight and every night until you realize that you were wrong and that I was right. We're going to have our Valentine's Day party together and you're going to say sorry for causing trouble. You're lucky that you're so cute and that I love you so much. You'd be in way more trouble if you weren't." He grumbles before nuzzling against you and sighing contentedly.
Dick was finally happy. He had you all to himself for once. You were finally going to give him all of your attention again, just like when you were both kids. He was lying about letting you go eventually but he figured that a little fib wasn't the worst thing to do when it came to taking care of his best friend. You were too precious. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, just like he always did when you both were children, and snuggles closer. He loves your warmth. He can't wait to cuddle with you every day for the rest of your lives. He doesn't mind that you're squirming in a poor attempt to get out of your restraints and grunting through the gag. You'll come around eventually.
