#badass taking down the dicks

[echo-riot]

Opposites Attract ||highschool!Sevika x reader||

Synopsis: Sevika is the untouchable, tough-as-nails hockey star who keeps everyone at arm’s length, while you’re the kind-hearted, gentle soul who always puts others before yourself. When a random seating arrangement forces you two together in your last-hour English class, neither of you expect much. But as the weeks pass, small moments of connection begin to shift the dynamic between you. Over time, you both learn that opposites really do attract in the most unexpected, heartwarming way.

Warnings: Swearing, Slow burn romance, Opposites attract trope, Strong language, tough love, and sarcasm

•|||——————————————————————||•

The hum of the classroom buzzes in your ears as your English teacher, Mr. Kline, starts scribbling names on the chalkboard in his typical fashion. His voice drones on in the background, rattling off the seating chart for the day. You’re just hoping he doesn’t pair you with someone who’ll be a nightmare to work with. You’re already tired from the first few hours of class, and the last thing you need is a partner who’ll drag you down or make the whole process unbearable.

Then it happens. Mr. Kline announces the changes. You glance down at your notebook, trying to tune out his voice, but your ears catch one name that makes you freeze: Sevika.

Your stomach drops. Fuck. Not her.

You glance up, catching a glimpse of her towering frame at the back of the room. Her usual scowl is firmly in place as she slouches in her seat, arms crossed. You already know what everyone else is thinking: “Ogre,” the nickname they’ve given her because of her size and tough-as-nails persona. She doesn’t care, though. She doesn’t care about anyone’s opinion—hell, she doesn’t even care about school most of the time. She’s a hockey player, a badass, a walking legend in this place. And you? You’re just… you.

Kind-hearted, thoughtful, the girl who spends way too much time trying to help everyone, even the assholes who don’t deserve it. You’re not used to having your name whispered in the same breath as Sevika’s. She’s the kind of girl you’d avoid if you had any common sense. But for some damn reason, fate decided you’d be seated next to her for the rest of the semester.

You take a deep breath and adjust your glasses, preparing for whatever the hell this is going to be. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. Maybe she’s not as much of a dick as people say. Maybe you’ll be able to do your part and survive this project without being dragged into some awkward confrontation.

The bell rings, and Mr. Kline directs you to your new seats. As you walk to the back of the room, you see Sevika staring out the window, her elbow resting lazily on the desk. She’s in her usual getup—an oversized hoodie, ripped jeans, and the varsity jacket that makes her look even more like the queen of this place. Her short, choppy hair barely moves as she turns her head, her sharp grey eyes narrowing at you like a predator sizing up its next meal.

You clear your throat and approach the desk, trying to act like you’ve got this whole “partnering with Sevika” thing under control.

“Hey, Sevika,” you say, offering her a tentative smile. “Looks like we’re working together.”

She doesn’t immediately respond. Her gaze flickers to you for a brief moment, but it’s not a warm welcome. It’s the kind of look someone gives when they’re trying to decide whether or not they should punch you in the face.

“Yeah, whatever,” she mutters, returning her attention to the window.

Well, that’s a great start. You swallow and sit down next to her, fumbling with your notebook as you try to hide the awkward tension building between you. The thing is, you can’t blame her. You’ve heard all the stories. Sevika doesn’t have time for people who don’t know how to handle themselves. You’re pretty sure she considers kindness a weakness, and right now, you’re about as far from “tough” as you can get.

For the first few minutes, there’s silence. Complete and utter silence. You can hear the quiet shuffle of papers from the rest of the class, the occasional hum of the air conditioning, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. But Sevika doesn’t even seem to notice. Her pencil moves across her notebook in slow, deliberate strokes, and you catch glimpses of what she’s drawing—something abstract, chaotic, maybe even a little disturbing.

The longer you sit next to her, the more you start to feel like an intruder in her personal space. You’re trying to ignore the way she’s slowly making you feel more and more self-conscious, like you’re just a bug she’s tolerating. But you can’t help it. She’s intimidating. She’s tough, and you’re not. She doesn’t need anyone, especially not you.

And yet, despite the obvious discomfort radiating from Sevika, you can’t help but try. You want to make this work. You want to get along with her, even if everyone else is too scared to even look her in the eye.

“So… what do you think about this project?” You ask, offering the faintest of smiles as you open your textbook and flip to the assignment. “I think we’re supposed to write about—”

“Don’t care,” she interrupts with a grunt, rolling her eyes. She pushes the notebook aside and leans back in her chair, one leg stretched out in front of her as she rests her hands behind her head. “I’m just here so I don’t get detention, so don’t expect me to do much.”

Your mouth dries as you nod. Of course, you didn’t expect her to be a team player.

Mr. Kline announces the start of the project and asks everyone to get into pairs. Everyone groans, except for you. You’re used to working alone, but this time, you’re stuck with Sevika, and you know there’s no way out. You glance at her, hoping she might offer some small inkling of interest in the project, but no. She’s busy staring at the ceiling, barely giving a damn.

You sigh, pushing your hair out of your face as you try to think of a way to get her to participate.

“Sevika, do you want to divide the work or just wing it?” you ask, leaning a bit closer to her in an attempt to get her attention.

She snorts, not even looking at you. “Does it look like I give a shit about school projects?”

You can’t help but laugh nervously. “I guess I’ll do the writing, then. You can handle the research part?”

Sevika gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just don’t make me do anything that requires moving.”

You nod, already feeling like this is going to be the longest hour of your life.

Throughout the class, Sevika barely pays attention, her pencil still moving across the pages of her notebook, probably doodling whatever mess is bouncing around in her head. You take careful notes, trying to focus on the project while pretending it doesn’t bother you that she’s completely zoning out.

When it’s time to head to the library after class, you gather your things. “Ready to go?” you ask.

She grunts but doesn’t respond. Instead, she stands up, stretching her arms above her head and then walks out the door without another word. You scramble to catch up with her, trying to hide how out of place you feel next to her.

You follow her to the library, where Sevika flops down into a chair at one of the tables in the back. You pull out your laptop and begin to work, trying to make progress on the project despite the looming silence hanging between you two.

After a while, you can’t help but look up at her. She’s still doodling, her eyes focused intensely on the page. The aggressive scowl that usually defines her expression has softened just a little, and you almost wonder if there’s a glimpse of vulnerability behind the tough exterior.

You clear your throat. “You ever think about what you want to do after high school?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

Sevika doesn’t look up from her notebook. “Not really.” She shrugs. “I’ll probably just keep playing hockey. Doesn’t matter.”

You want to push more, to get her to open up just a little, but you don’t. You know better than to push someone like Sevika, especially when she’s clearly not interested in chatting. Instead, you focus on the project in front of you, determined to make this work, no matter how difficult she might be.

And even though the air between you two is thick with tension, you know one thing for sure: this semester is going to be a hell of a ride.

•||——————————————————————||•

The mornings are always cold, especially this time of year. The chill seeps through your jacket, biting at your skin as you head toward the school’s entrance. It’s early, the kind of time when most students are dragging themselves out of bed, scrambling to get their things together, or—like Sevika—already halfway through a grueling morning workout. You’ve seen her in the gym before, that intimidating presence of hers dominating the place as if the weights themselves trembled in her grip. It’s no surprise that she’s known as a beast on the ice, but somehow that intimidating side of her feels like a mask she wears to shield herself from everyone else.

Today, though, you’re not thinking about her as “the girl with a scowl that could cut glass.” No, you’re thinking about her as someone who’s obviously been burning the candle at both ends. You saw the signs yesterday: her eyelids heavy with fatigue, her movements slower than usual as she shuffled to class after practice. She barely participated in the project work, her pencil moving through her notebook in lazy, almost uninterested strokes. That wasn’t Sevika. Or maybe it was. Maybe, under all that tough exterior, there was something more to her that no one ever bothered to look for.

And so, with a sense of quiet determination, you stop by the café on your way into school. The coffee shop is crowded with early risers, but you manage to snag a large black coffee and a bagel. It’s not much, but you know it’s the kind of thing that could make someone’s day a little less miserable. It’s something you would’ve appreciated, so why wouldn’t Sevika?

You make your way to your usual seat in the back of the English class, hoping to catch her before she sinks into her usual routine of silence and indifference. You know she’s already in her seat when you walk in—the space next to her looking more like a battlefield than anything else. As usual, she’s hunched in her chair, hoodie pulled over her head, earbuds tucked in so tightly you doubt she hears a thing.

Sevika’s like a damn fortress, and you’re not sure if you’re trying to break through or just knock at the door.

“Hey, Sev,” you say, your voice a bit louder than usual, in case she’s zoned out again. “Got you something.”

She looks up from her notebook, those sharp grey eyes narrowing at you for a beat, as if trying to read your motives. When her gaze falls to the coffee cup in your hand, her expression softens—just a fraction, but enough to notice. It’s almost as if she’s surprised.

“Yeah?” She grunts, her voice still a bit rough from too many late nights. “What’s this, some kind of pity offering?”

You shrug, not wanting to make it weird. “Nah, just figured you could use a pick-me-up.” You set the coffee down in front of her with a quiet clink, watching as her fingers hover over the handle for a moment before she takes it. Her usual stoic expression doesn’t falter, but there’s something in her eyes—a flicker of something deeper.

“Thanks,” she mutters, clearly not used to someone offering her something without expecting anything in return. You don’t wait for her to respond beyond that. You take your seat and start unpacking your things, giving her space.

The first few minutes are quiet, just like always. You crack open your notebook, getting ready to dive into the classwork, but something feels different today. There’s an odd tension between you two, like she’s trying to figure you out in a way that she hasn’t before. Every so often, you catch her glancing at you over the rim of the coffee cup, her lips twitching as if she’s trying not to say something sarcastic or dismissive.

You decide to try again. This time, you don’t just talk at her. You actually listen to her.

“Anything interesting in that sketch of yours?” you ask, nodding toward the open notebook on her desk. “Looks like you’re working on something pretty intense.”

Sevika’s eyes flick to her notebook, where a few jagged lines are scrawled across the page. The artwork isn’t exactly graceful—nothing like the stuff you’d find in a gallery—but there’s something undeniably captivating about the way she draws. It’s raw. It’s chaotic. You can practically feel the frustration that bleeds out of every line.

She hesitates before shrugging. “It’s just a thing. Nothing special.”

The next morning is the same: cold and gray, but this time, you have an extra coffee in hand—two this time, just in case. You stop by the café on your way into school again, and this time, you don’t hesitate. You pick out the same large black coffee and bagel, and you add one more for her. You know it’s a bit forward, maybe even a little weird, but after yesterday, you figure you might as well keep trying. If anything, it’ll be a small act of kindness in a place that doesn’t exactly hand out second chances.

When you arrive in class, you spot Sevika already sitting at the back, just like usual. She doesn’t even look up when you walk in, so you make your way over to her desk. You set the coffee in front of her, waiting for her to acknowledge it. When she finally looks up, she catches sight of the second cup and raises an eyebrow.

“Why the hell are you always trying to bribe me?” she asks, clearly suspicious, but there’s no bite to her words.

You offer her a playful smile. “Just thought you might need it.”

Sevika snorts. “I’m not a charity case, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” You sit down next to her again, pulling out your own coffee. “But I’ve seen you running on empty lately, and I’m just trying to help.”

She looks at the coffee for a long second before finally taking it. She doesn’t say anything at first, just stares into the dark liquid like she’s trying to figure out what you want in return.

But then, just as she takes a sip, she mutters something that surprises you.

“Thanks… I guess.”

It’s a small thing, but it’s enough to make you smile. You might not have cracked the armor completely, but you can feel the first few cracks beginning to form. And that’s enough for now.

You might not know what it is about her that makes you want to keep pushing, keep trying to get through the walls she’s built around herself. But something about Sevika, hidden beneath all that sharpness and coldness, pulls you in. And you’re not about to give up on her, no matter how tough she tries to act.

•||——————————————————————||•

The first time Sevika offers to carry your books, it doesn’t seem like much at first. You’re leaving your biology class, walking down the hallway toward your next class when, out of nowhere, she steps up beside you.

“Here,” she says, her voice gruff but not unfriendly as she grabs the stack of books from your hands.

“Wait, what—?” you start, trying to hold onto the books, but she’s already too quick for you, pulling them out of your grasp with surprising ease. Her fingers brush yours, and for just a moment, the sensation is strange—unexpected, even though she’s always been a physical presence in your life, in every sense of the word.

Sevika’s eyes flick to yours for a brief moment, watching the confusion play out on your face. A smirk creeps up on her lips, but it’s less mocking and more playful, like she’s enjoying seeing you thrown off balance.

“Don’t get used to it,” she says, her tone teasing but with that sharp edge of hers still there. “I’m just doing you a solid, no big deal.”

You stare at her, unsure how to respond. She’s still the same Sevika—the girl who keeps everyone at arm’s length with her scowl, her tattoos, her armor of indifference. Yet, there’s a shift. She’s not as prickly today. There’s something different, something softer behind the usual harshness, but it’s hard to pin down exactly what it is.

You try to brush it off. “Thanks, I guess.” It’s an awkward response, but you can’t help it. The whole situation feels foreign—Sevika, helping you, even in her roundabout, no-nonsense way.

As you walk side by side, the silence feels comfortable, more natural than it’s ever been between the two of you. The usual tension, the kind that hangs thick in the air between people who don’t quite know each other but feel like they should, isn’t there. Instead, it’s just the sound of footsteps echoing through the empty hallways, punctuated by the soft rustle of Sevika’s hoodie as she moves.

Once you reach your next class, she hands your books back to you without saying much, her usual scowl returning. “Don’t make it weird,” she mutters, turning to walk off, her footsteps heavy and purposeful.

You don’t make it weird, but it sticks with you. The whole interaction lingers in the back of your mind, not in a bad way, but more like a question you don’t quite know the answer to yet. Why did she do that? Was it just a passing moment, or was there something more?

The next day, it happens again.

You’re at your locker, shoving your history book into your bag when you feel a presence at your side. You don’t even need to look up to know who it is—Sevika’s aura fills the space, a palpable thing that both commands attention and makes everyone else unconsciously take a step back.

You let her carry your books again, not because you need the help, but because, for some reason, it doesn’t feel like an imposition. It feels… well, it feels nice. There’s a quiet understanding growing between you two, something that wasn’t there a week ago. It’s unspoken, but it’s there.

The days blur together in a mix of English class, hallway interactions, and little moments like this—moments where Sevika’s sarcasm feels less biting, her teasing more playful than sharp. And as the days go on, you start noticing the changes in her even more.

One morning, you’re walking into class, the usual coffee in hand, when you see her leaning against the wall near the door. She’s not talking to anyone, just standing there, arms crossed, looking like she’s waiting for someone.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should approach. But then, with the casual confidence that’s so uniquely Sevika, she uncrosses her arms and nods toward you, that little tilt of her head that somehow speaks louder than words.

“Got something for me?” she asks, that playful edge to her voice as her grey eyes flick down to the coffee cup in your hand.

Without thinking, you hold it out to her. “Of course.”

“Guess I don’t need to thank you this time,” she says, taking the coffee from your hands with a teasing glint in her eyes.

You chuckle, leaning against the wall next to her. “You don’t have to, but it’d be nice.”

Her gaze flicks to you for just a second, a raised eyebrow the only acknowledgment of your words before she takes a sip from the coffee, her eyes narrowing slightly in appreciation. It’s not a thank you, but it’s close enough.

The bell rings, signaling the start of class, and the two of you walk in together, an unspoken understanding hanging between you. You’re no longer just the “nice kid” and the “badass hockey player”—you’re something else, something undefined, something more.

And that’s the thing about Sevika: she’s not the kind of person you can pin down. Every time you think you have her figured out, she surprises you.

By now, you’ve gotten used to the little rituals. She walks with you to class, books in hand, always a step behind you but close enough that you can hear her breathing. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to make you feel like you’ve made a little crack in her armor, even if she refuses to admit it.

Her teasing has become a part of the routine, too. It’s like she can’t help herself, always needling you, always making fun of your “perky” attitude or the way you get lost in your books. But you’ve noticed the shift—it’s not cruel anymore. It’s playful, like she’s teasing a friend, not someone she can’t stand.

One day, as you’re both walking to class, she surprises you again.

“I’ve been thinking,” she mutters, her voice quieter than usual. “You’re not so bad.”

You stop in your tracks, eyes wide in surprise. Did Sevika just… compliment you?

She catches your gaze and immediately rolls her eyes, the smirk returning to her lips. “I said, you’re not so bad, not that I like you or anything. Get over it.”

You smile, your heart skipping a beat. “Sure, Sevika. Whatever you say.”

The bell rings again, and you both make your way into class, but this time, it feels different. The tension between you two has shifted into something new, something more comfortable, and you both know it.

And every day, as you continue bringing her coffee, as she continues to walk with you to class, you both get a little closer, each moment chipping away at the walls she’s spent years building. Slowly, but surely, you’re getting to the person behind the tough exterior. And no matter how much she pretends it doesn’t matter, you can see it now—Sevika’s beginning to care.

•||——————————————————————||•

The afternoon is just starting to drag. You’re standing by your locker, shoving your history book into your bag with the kind of lethargy that only comes with the final bell of the day still being two classes away. You’re exhausted, not just from the day’s classes, but from the constant grind of high school itself. Your classmates, the ones who still don’t get you, don’t seem to understand that not everyone is out to make the most noise or throw the hardest punches. Some people—like you—just want to get through it all, helping where they can, smiling when they don’t feel like it, and quietly hoping things will get easier. But today is proving that’s not going to be the case.

As you turn to leave the hallway, a group of guys from your gym class snicker behind you. They’re a regular fixture of assholery in your life, always making their rounds to see who they can mess with. Today, it’s your turn.

“You know,” one of them says loud enough for you to hear, “somebody should really tell you to stop being so fucking soft. Like, seriously. You’re not gonna make it in this school with that wimpy attitude.”

You turn back slowly, hoping that if you ignore them, they’ll just keep walking like everyone else. But it doesn’t work. They crowd around you, blocking the hallway, sneering and laughing like they own the space.

“Look at this,” another one mocks, his voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness, “such a fucking goodie two-shoes. Maybe we should give you a medal for being so ‘nice.’ Too bad no one here actually gives a shit about that.”

Your fists clench, but you don’t say anything. They don’t deserve your energy, but it doesn’t stop the anger from bubbling up. It’s the same thing every time—words, insults, the relentless poking at who you are, how you try to be decent. It’s always this way, isn’t it? They want you to crack. To snap. To show weakness so they can laugh at it. But you won’t give them the satisfaction.

Just when you think they’re about to escalate, you hear it.

A voice. Low, commanding.

“Hey,” Sevika says, cutting through the tension like a knife.

You don’t even have time to look at her before you hear the unmistakable sound of a body slamming into metal. One of the guys lets out a strangled gasp as he’s shoved violently into a locker. The group steps back instinctively, surprised by the sudden force. The guy who got shoved stumbles to his feet, a wild, startled look in his eyes.

Sevika’s not even looking at him directly. She’s focused on the others, her jaw set, her lips curling slightly into a scowl.

“I don’t give a shit if you think you’re funny,” she says, her voice cold as ice, “but if you ever talk to her like that again, you won’t be able to walk the rest of the day. Got it?”

The group is frozen for a moment, a strange mix of fear and confusion on their faces. They’re not used to someone standing up to them like this—especially not Sevika. After all, she’s the star hockey player, the tough girl who runs the school with her stare alone. The group stammers out apologies, the bravado slipping from them as quickly as it appeared. They scatter, not wanting to risk getting into her bad books.

You stand there, blinking in disbelief. Sevika, the girl who’s always kept her distance, the one who’s never given you anything other than playful insults and sarcastic remarks, just fucking stood up for you.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and your mouth is suddenly dry.

Sevika turns to you, her shoulders relaxed now, but there’s still that fire in her eyes.

“You okay?” she asks, and her tone is softer, more genuine than you’ve ever heard it before.

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… yeah. I’m fine.”

She looks at you for a moment, eyes scanning you for any sign of weakness, but there’s none. She doesn’t apologize. She never does. But the way her lips tighten slightly, the way her brows furrow just a little—it’s enough. She’s not expecting you to say anything. She doesn’t even seem to know what to do with herself now that she’s done this. She’s Sevika, and she’s not used to letting people get close enough to care.

You can’t help but smile a little, a warmth spreading through you despite the rush of adrenaline still pounding in your chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” she says, turning away and heading down the hallway. “Just… don’t be such a soft target next time.”

You watch her walk away, your thoughts racing. Sevika had always been this untouchable figure—at least, to you. You were just the quiet, well-meaning kid in the back of the class who didn’t stand out. But now… now, things were changing. You didn’t know how or why, but you felt it.

Later, in English class, the usual noise of the room fades as you take your seat next to Sevika. She’s quiet today, almost too quiet, like she’s avoiding looking at you. You don’t push it. Not yet. But when the teacher starts droning on about something you’re not really paying attention to, you feel the familiar shift in the air.

Sevika leans over slightly, her face unreadable. The classroom is loud, with people chatting and fiddling with their phones, but for a moment, it’s just the two of you.

“You know,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, “you’re the only person I actually like being around.”

It hits you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, blinking at her in shock. Did she just…?

She glances at you, her eyes fleetingly meeting yours before quickly looking away, like she’s regretting saying anything at all. She lets out a frustrated huff and slouches in her seat, rubbing her forehead like she’s embarrassed. “Don’t get all weird about it,” she mutters. “I’m not trying to—”

You can’t help it. You’re flustered, but at the same time, your heart swells. You’re not even sure what to say, so you just laugh softly, trying to play it cool. “I’m not. I just… I didn’t expect that.”

She shoots you a side-eye, her usual scowl pulling at her lips. “Yeah, well, I don’t usually say shit like that.”

You can’t help but smile, even though you feel a little like a fool. “You’re not so bad either, you know that?”

Sevika huffs, but there’s a small, almost imperceptible softening in her expression. “Whatever. Let’s just get through this class, alright?”

And just like that, things feel a little different. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable anymore. It’s familiar, like you both know something now—something unspoken, but undeniable.

And as the bell rings, signaling the end of class, you both pack up your things, side by side, in a way that feels completely natural.

•||——————————————————————||•

You were pretty sure that when Sevika agreed to go out with you, she didn’t quite know what she was getting herself into. Hell, you didn’t either. You didn’t expect this—this unspoken connection that had grown between the two of you, or the idea that the girl who used to shove people against lockers and made it clear she didn’t give a shit about anyone might actually want to spend time with you outside of school. Yet, here you were, standing at the entrance of a small café after school, anxiously looking at the clock and waiting for Sevika to show up.

The awkwardness hit you like a freight train as soon as you heard the familiar heavy footsteps of her boots on the concrete. She came to a stop in front of you, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, a slight scowl on her lips. The look in her eyes was a mix of challenge and something else—something more vulnerable that she refused to acknowledge. She’d agreed to this date begrudgingly, and you weren’t sure if she was regretting it yet, but you sure as hell didn’t want her to.

“You’re late,” you say, trying to keep things light, hiding your nerves behind a teasing smile. You’ve never been good with first dates—not even close—but if you were going to do this, you were going to do it with your usual charm.

Sevika raises an eyebrow and gives you a look that’s almost as if she’s about to retort with something snarky, but she just shrugs, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t gonna rush for you, y’know. Not that you’d care.”

You blink, a little caught off guard by the lack of bite in her voice. She’s usually so sharp, so defensive. It’s almost… sweet. No, you’re imagining it. You must be.

“Fine,” you laugh. “Come on, let’s go inside before we both freeze our asses off.”

Sevika hesitates for a moment but then steps past you, pushing open the door with the same carelessness she’d shown with every decision in her life. She doesn’t look back, but you can feel the silent invitation to follow her. You take a deep breath and follow her into the cozy café, the smell of fresh coffee and warm pastries filling your senses.

“Not what I expected,” Sevika mutters as she looks around, her eyes scanning the room like she’s assessing every angle. “This place seems… soft.”

“Soft?” You raise an eyebrow. “It’s a café, Sevika. Not a fucking boxing ring.”

She scoffs at your response, though there’s a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Don’t get too comfortable. I don’t do cozy.”

“Well, I do,” you say, taking a seat at a small table by the window. You feel the tension in your shoulders slowly start to ease as you glance out at the street, watching cars pass by. “But I get it. Not everyone likes this sort of thing.”

Sevika slouches into the chair opposite you, not exactly relaxing but not standing either. She glances around, eyes darting over the simple décor with an almost bemused expression. She’s so out of her element, and you can’t help but admire the way she wears it like armor, pretending she’s cool with everything, even when she’s not.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence feels like a heavy weight, but it’s not uncomfortable—at least, not for you. You wait for Sevika to break it, because you know she will. It’s the way she is. She always has something to say, even if it’s just to fill the silence with sarcasm.

“So, this is your idea of a date, huh?” she finally asks, voice low but amused.

You shrug, leaning back in your chair. “I’m a simple person. Not every date has to be some grand, expensive thing.”

Sevika tilts her head, scrutinizing you like she’s trying to figure out your intentions. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to do this every weekend.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” you tease, a grin spreading across your face. “I’m just happy you showed up. Not many people would take me seriously when I said I wanted coffee instead of some fancy dinner.”

There’s a long pause before she nods. “Guess I’m not like most people.”

No, she’s not. Sevika has a way of doing things that doesn’t make sense to anyone else—she’s rough around the edges, unapologetically herself, and honestly, you admire that. She’s everything you aren’t, and maybe that’s why you’re so drawn to her. She’s not afraid to be the person everyone else fears. But right now, sitting across from you, she’s just Sevika. No tough-girl persona. No hockey star. Just a girl trying to figure things out like anyone else.

You place your order—coffee, naturally, with a slice of cheesecake because why the hell not? You know Sevika will roll her eyes when you ask for dessert, but it doesn’t stop you from making your choice. As you wait for your order to arrive, you both settle into a strange kind of rhythm—her occasional snort of laughter at something you say, the way she subtly relaxes the more you talk, as though she’s actually enjoying this time with you.

The conversation is clumsy at first, filled with small talk and awkward pauses, but slowly, like a puzzle slowly coming together, you both start finding your flow. You joke about your terrible math grades, and she complains about the bullshit demands of hockey practice, the tension of being the best player but also constantly fighting to prove she’s more than just her image. You listen, and she listens to you. In a weird way, this is easier than you expected.

“You know,” she says after a while, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup, “I don’t usually do this. Hang out with people like you.”

“People like me?” you repeat with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know, the ‘goody two-shoes’ types,” she says, using air quotes with a slight smirk. “The people who care about everyone and everything. It’s… exhausting to be around.”

You’re taken aback by her honesty, but you can’t help but smile. “You think I’m exhausting?”

“Sometimes,” she admits, eyes glinting with mischief. “But it’s… refreshing, I guess.”

You’re not sure if she means that as a compliment, but something inside of you swells at the idea that she sees you differently. There’s something strangely tender in her words, even though she’s trying to play it off as casual. You chuckle. “You’re not so bad either, you know.”

Sevika tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Don’t get all soft on me now.”

“No promises,” you reply, grinning.

The evening goes on with more laughter, more teasing, and moments of awkward silence that you’ve both learned to embrace. By the end of it, you’re not entirely sure when the awkwardness started to fade away, but it has.

the two of you stand outside the café, your breath visible in the cold air. Sevika tucks her hands into her jacket pockets, her expression unreadable.

“I had a good time,” she says, avoiding eye contact, her voice strangely soft. “Not that I’m saying I’ll do this again. Don’t get too fucking comfortable.”

You grin. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Don’t expect you to turn into a total softie or anything.”

She smirks at you, but you catch a glimmer of something in her eyes that makes your heart race.

“Maybe not,” she mutters, but there’s warmth behind her words that she’s not quite ready to admit.

You stand there for a moment, neither of you moving. For once, the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s comfortable. There’s a connection here, one that feels like it’s been building without either of you fully acknowledging it.

Before you can think too much about it, Sevika steps forward, her hand brushing against yours as she walks past you, her fingers lingering just long enough to make you wonder if it was on purpose.

“See you tomorrow,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make me regret this.”

You watch her walk away, a grin tugging at your lips. You may not know where this is going, but for the first time, you’re okay with that.

The next day in English class, you sit down at your usual spot, your mind still spinning from last night. You glance over at Sevika, who’s doodling something in her notebook, her lips curved in a faint smirk. You can’t resist taking a peek at what she’s drawing, and to your surprise, it’s a small, simple heart—next to your name.

You catch her eye just as she looks up, and she immediately shuts her notebook. “Not a word out of you.” She grumbled with her typical scowl.

You can’t help but laugh. But as she turns back to open her notebook again, you notice the warmth in her eyes—something real, something you know she doesn’t show anyone else.

You smile to yourself, knowing that despite everything, Sevika’s starting to crack, and you’ve never been more thrilled.

•||——————————————————————||•

[imyourbratzdoll]

I crave a good fluffy fic with wolverine, his wife is a badass and when someone threatens him she loses her shit and kicks their ass🫡 with so much disrespect.

hey baby, I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you enjoy what I did, it's a bit more violent than you probably wanted.

summary - a dumb 'bad guy' lures you and your husband out, things take an escalated turn when he threatens your husband.

warning - SUPER violent, like extreme level probably, swearing, mentions of sex, dude talks of touching what's his but nothing triggering, dick and balls suffer rip.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You couldn’t believe this guy, he was really threatening your husband right in front of you. Thinking he was all tough because he could throw fire or some shit? You didn’t know what he could do, except talk a lot of shit. That was probably his power. What was his name again? Captain Talks Shit? Shits A lot? Little Fucker? Who cares, all you care about right now is that he’s threatening your man. 

You walk out of the shadows, having heard enough because honestly. Why do the bad guys always talk for so long? Have none of them realised or picked up from past bad guys mistakes? It was tiring and a waste of your time because you and Logan could’ve been gone by now, screwing each other silly, probably somewhere extremely risky. But, noooo. You had to listen to this jackass.

“Listen, dick licker. If you don’t stop threatening my fucking husband. I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you with it.” You growl, moving to stand in front of Logan. (Sure, he would have protected himself and it may look weak to the other guy that a woman is standing in front of an extremely large man, in more ways than one, wink wink. But you happen to know that this turns your husband on and who are you to deny him his fantasies?)

“Is that a threat?” Captain Dipshit sneers.

“Did it sound like a fucking compliment, Princess?” You watch as he eyes you, sizing you up and in his mind he’s probably thinking ‘yeah, I can take this chick.’ You hope his ego deflates before you kill him.

“Listen, Babe. This is between us men, now why don’t you run along and go make us a sandwich or something. Maybe put on some cute lingerie and wait for me in the bedroom ‘cause once I’m done with your husband here. You’ll be creamin’ around me.”

Logan shakes his head, stepping way back. He remembered when he accidentally said something similar and he was in a coma for a whole month, not even his fast healing could help him. 

It was like a switch turning on, the beast that lived within you had been released from its cage and not even God could save this man now. You stalked towards him, he still smirked thinking he was safe. You jump, wrapping your legs around his neck and twisting, bringing him down using a move your good friend Natasha had taught you. You move swiftly while he is down, sending a harsh kick to his face, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose and possibly jaw breaking. You grab him by his hair and lift him, a large grin covering your face as you bring him eye level with you. 

“You wanna repeat that, Princess?” You bring him closer, whispering in his ear. “How bout you go make me a sandwich, put on a cute set and I’ll bash your dick in with a baseball bat. How do ya like the sound of that? Cause I love it.” 

He struggles within your grip, trying to swing at you but with your other hand that isn’t gripping his hair. You snap his arms, relishing in the sound of bones breaking. His screams echo the warehouse, dumbarse had lured us in here without a backup plan or backup. 

You let go of your grip on his hair, immediately switching to gripping his throat instead. “You don’t like my plan, Princess? Rethinking the whole thing? Cause ya already pissed me off by threatening the man I love, but then you had the balls to say THAT? Tell me, Princess. Just between us girls. Did mummy not give you any hugs as a kid? Cause how did you think this was gonna go? You could’ve ‘killed’ the Wolverine, but he wouldn’t have stayed dead. No. But if he heard you touching me, touching what’s HIS. He would’ve torn you to shreds, but slowly. Very slowly. It’s what makes me love him.” You pat the man’s cheek, grinning as he winces. 

“How bout an apology and I won’t kill you.”

“F–fuck you.” He spits at you, SPITS. Not even clear fucking spit, this shit has blood in it. You lift your hand, wiping the spit with the back of it and then onto his clothes. 

Your face screwed up. “Well, that was stupid.” With quick movements, you throw him, watching him crash into a wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Your hand reaches out and a bat flies into it. “You’re not wearing that cute set and I don’t have a sandwich, but this will do.” He tries to shuffle away, his eyes wide. You stalk toward him and swing, smashing his dick and balls with one hit. Think Superman merged with Hulk strength, how do you think his twig and berries did?

A scream rips out of his mouth before his eyes roll back and he falls backwards. You frown and poke him with your bat. “Hey mista, you dead?” You look at Logan, “Bitch passed out.” He shakes his head at the pout on your lips. 

He walks over and places a kiss on your head, “C’mon, let’s go home now or better yet. You ready to do something real risky, Sweets.” Your eyes light up.

“Do you mean…?!”

Logan nods, smirking. “I’ll finally let you fuck me while I drive.” Your squeals escape as you jump into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.

“OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You’re the best husband a woman could ask for!” And with that, Logan carries you out as you stare at him dreamily.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[shomixremix]

AT MERCY OF THE SAVIOURS

this is basically just gangfucking my team in genshin. but i do have one hot team, at least!

and thank you all sm for 100 followers!! this is like a little special for that occasion hehe

tags: zhongli, itto, alhaitham, wriothesley, female! reader, smut, gangbanging, blowjob, rough sex, creampie

-> listen. i do not know how or why the ex-geo archon turned businessman, a feral demon from inazuma who says fuck you to the authorities, a badass scholar from sumeru who's done with everyone and the count of criminals from fontaine would ever be in a same place let alone doing the same thing, yet here they are, gang-fucking the reader.

(can you imagine how much smuttier this will get once i pull for neuvillette)

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

"mhh, fuck, so good, doll.." wriothesley grunted as he fucked you from the back, pounding into you with a steady pace. his thick fingers squeezed your meaty hips, sternly holding you in place. his thick cock was entering, no, abusing your greedy hole, each time making sure you could feel every single one of his inches dragging harshly against your plushy walls.

you tried to moan, scream, make any sound from how good he felt - but you couldn't, not with zhongli's dick so deep in your throat.

"yes..." the ex-archon sighed, a couple of beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. "you feel otherworldly, my dear. keep on sucking like that for me, hm?"

his words thick with praise made your pussy throb and clench around the man dicking you down, your legs and arms quivering. propped up only on your hands and knees, ass met with wriothesley's balls every time he thrusted in and mouth wrapped entirely on zhongli's shaft, you weren't sure if you even had the strength to hold yourself up any more.

you were cockdrunk from the way you could feel zhongli's tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, your numerous moans sending vibrations through his length so deliciously. even though your mouth was entirely filled with him, you still managed to whine and whimper, a little bit of drool dripping from your mouth.

"mmpphh, zhongli! z-zhongli!!"

in the process of focusing on giving the dragon adeptus the best head of his entire immortal life, you didn't realize you were neglecting your other lover, the one who was bullying your gummy g-spot with every trust and making you cream around him for the nth time. and the duke of criminals was having none of that.

"i'm glad you think at least one of us is doing a good job at satisfying you, slut" he almost growled out a sarcastic comment, rubbing the soft cheeks of your milky ass. suddenly, he slapped it hard, bottoming out in you with a loud smack! and picking up his pace.

"hey, don't- ahh, fuck, don't talk to her like that! she's s' pretty, yeah, such a pretty girl... needs that perfect ass grabbed and fucked full, not hurt, yeah? you understand what i'm sayin', right, bro?" a familiar voice joined in on the conversation, his loud voice coming out in breathless pants as he warned wriothesley. even though you couldn't see him, you knew that the oni was watching you get fucked by these two men, roughly jerking his monster cock.

"shut it, itto" another voice chimed in, scolding the large demon. "she can take it. she's tougher than she looks; don't let those puppy-like eyes deceive you. it wouldn't even surprise me if this was what she wanted all along: to be spanked and punished as she begs for more. not to even mention the way there's four of us here and she's only paying her sweet attention to just one... i believe that behavior is suitable for a good punishment."

ahh, the all too familiar voice of the fourth man sitting beside the oni, a long cock in the scholar's hand as he slowly stroked himself to the sight of you being fucked out by the others. you whined around zhongli from how rough they were treating you, feeling a little bit guilty for neglecting wrio and putting all of your attention on the geo archon.

"they might be right, love" zhongli hums as he fucks your mouth, immensely enjoying how you take all of him in your throat so eagerly.

"you have been beyond good for me, darling, but i think it's time we let someone else take their turn, hm? i have already had my fun with you, i believe it is time i let our friend, mister wriothesley, gain your full attention... what do you think, dear?"

all you could do was let out a whine around his tip, displeased that you'll have to say goodbye to his warmth and his rock-hard cock that so nicely filled your mouth... on the other hand, you felt guilty and ashamed for neglecting wriothesley, who jealously and feverishly thrusted into you, staying quiet.

"oh, don't be like that, love... one more, and you're all mister wriothesley's. do you understand?" even though his tone made your head fuzzy, you knew damn well that was an order, a warning of some sort. you nod eagerly, sucking at his sensitive veins as you feel how the fontainian man fucks you eagerly.

"she's close, shit!" wrio hums to the rest of them, talking about you as if you weren't even there. "just finish on her face and mouth already so i can give her what she needs."

something about the thought of another spilling all of himself over your pretty face and in your plump mouth made itto's cock twitch in his hands. archons, how that thought brought feelings of jealousy mixed with excitement…

"very well" regarded zhongli, holding the back of your head as he thrusted hard in your mouth. you gave it your best to give him pleasure, gently swirling your tounge around all his most sensitive spots and relaxing the tense muscles of your throat. as soon as you relaxed and let him thrust a little deeper, zhongli groaned out your name and released his hot pleasure in your mouth. you couldn't help but eagerly gulp down everything he gave you, a little bit of it spilling from the corners of your plump lips.

you released him from your mouth with a pop! and he petted you hair, looking down at you with nothing but adoration in his tourmaline eyes.

"there. so well-behaved for me." zhongli praised through a hum, soothing your cheek gently with his thumb. his head slightly raised, now turned to the man still balls-deep inside your cushy cunt.

"she's all yours, mister wriothesley." the dark-haired man hums in acknowledgement, quickly changing your position and tossing you on your back. your hands fly to his head, gently holding him between your palms.

"mmphh, wrio.." you moan softly, your fingers gently dancing through his thick, black strands.

"oh, so now you know how to moan my name, doll?"

your hips buck up to his eagerly, begging for more movement. you were just on the very brink of your peak, sososo unbelievably close-

"need something?" he asks, completely still inside you. you nod feverishly, blabbing and moaning as you look up at his pretty, simply hypnotic eyes.

"mhm!! need to come, please wrio, need to come so bad-!"

he smirks and it's mischievous yet alluring, and it stirs something deep within you - almost a fear that he will not give you what you oh so desperately want.

"work for it, then." he simply says, in one swift motion turning you around so that you were on top, seated snuggly on his painfully hard dick.

your eyes widen as he manhandles you into a cowgirl position, his hands still bruising your hips.

"noooo" you whine, unhappy that you'll have to do all the work as he simply gets to lay back and enjoy!

"please! i can't, i don't want to, i want- mph, i just want- ohh!" you whined and begged but to no avail. his rough palms once again met your ass, giving it a spank. it hurt, but the sting of it felt so good.

"the only way you're getting anything is to do as i say, doll. now, why don't you move those pretty hips if you wanna come so badly?"

another spank, making you hiss out in pain. the demon sitting across from the both of you immediately reacted, unsure whether he could take any more of looking at you being hurt for wrio’s and alhaitham's selfish pleasure.

"hey, hey, dude! don't be sucha' asshole! i told ya', she needs to be loved on more, yeah? yeahhh, look at that pretty, fucked out face! like yeah, sure, she's bein' just a tiny bit bratty, but c'mon, other ways to solve that exist, bro! i mean, how can you deny when a woman as gorgeous and sexy as her begs you to make her cum?! simple answer - ya’ don’t! you do as she says! every idiot knows that!"

you blush at the oni's words, a warmth wrapping around you. he was so sweet, and the sight of his big palm roughly squeezing his impossibly large dick was even sweeter.

"let him do what he wishes, itto" alhaitham snarls, gently stroking himself, in contrast with his demon friend whose hand was moving up and down his shaft fast. "I understand that she’s your girlfriend, but she's on his lap, after all"

the oni grunted in defeated, mumbling something about how "it wasn't fair that it wasn't his turn yet" and "girls like you can't be treated so harshly" as he sat back down. with zhongli leaving for the baths to properly clean his skin of mixed slick, there were only three of them fucking you now. which meant itto could get his hands on you all the faster.

meanwhile, you start grinding yourself on wrio's lap, desperately trying to bounce on his cock but you can't. you're so close to your high that your pussy is greedily squeezing wrio in, and his impossible girth mixed with your neediness isn't letting you move at all. in attempt to get any pleasure, you start moving in circles, clamping down on him with every move.

"holy fuck..." wriothesley sighs, throwing his head back. the way your cunt spasmed around him made him just a little closer to his release, and his hips started bucking into yours. archons, he needed to finish so badly...

three more bucks into you and he came, shutting his eyes tight and letting all of his cum release into your more than willing womb. that put you over the edge, falling on him from exhaustion.

you couldn't even rest for a second more, a pair of arms not belonging to the duke of criminals pulling you off his body.

"that's enough" the scribe announced as he pulled your still-sensitive body in his hold, "it's my turn with her".

"fuck off!" wrio cussed at his friend, grabbing a hold of you. "who said i was done?"

"when did i ask if you were done?" alhaitham commented, snatching you away from the fontainian's arms. itto tried to resolve things:

"hey, hey, dudes, let's not fight, yeah? no need to! we'll just let her decide, alright?" the two men fighting over you grumbled to themselves in a displeased manner, but ultimately agreed that it was fair and right for you to decide.

"so, whaddya' say, baby? who do you want in between those pretty, sexy legs?"

you thought for a moment, looking between the three men, all impossibly hard and longing for you.

"it's 'haitham's turn..." you say quietly, earning a big smirk from the sumeru man. he pulls you to him, rather excited that he was the one you chose.

"but" you announce as you're pulled in alhaithams arms, "it's not fair to the rest of you guys..." itto's patience ran thin as he sat back down, angrily fucking his fist in quick, desperate motions. why’d he ever have to allow his friends to fuck you like this?

"fuck, love bug, fine... 'ts okay, i'll..." he had to gulp down his spit to be able to say this, unsure if he was even correctly hearing the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"i'll let them do ya', sweets. a deal’s a deal"

when itto made that stupid bet with his more-than-willing friends and put a night with you on the line, he certainly didn’t expect that he’d be the one sitting it out. he was your boyfriend, for Inazuma’s sake, he should be the one buried in you, not the one jerking off the entire night because he can’t get to you!

even though it was ripping his heart apart, itto thought it was right to ignore his selfish needs and let the two of them go first. you were their prize, after all, and arataki itto was nothing if not an honest man who kept his word. that was one of the qualities he had promised grandma oni to keep, and he certainly wasn’t letting up now.

"but itto... that's so unfair to you.. i can see that you're hurting pretty bad..."

his dick was weeping for your attention. somehow, no matter how hard he tried, jerking off didn't go anywhere, always leading him to a place of very precum-sticky hands and no orgasms.

still, he brushed it off, waving his hand in a shoo-ing manner.

"no sweat, baby. i can wait a lil' longer, yeah? you just say there and be good for my pals, hm? hey, i tried to stop 'em, but if you go overboard they are really gonna punish you, baby, and they won't be as nice as me!"

oh, nobody was as nice as him. his words laced with adoration for your body, desperation for your warmth and thirst for your touch drove you insane. no matter how much you'd like having two gorgeous men as alhaitham and wrio fucking you, your mind still couldn't get over the fact that this sweet demon just went against all of his primal urges, just so you'd be able to be with who you want for the night and so his friends get completely satisfied.

"and what if she can't go on after this, itto? i stopped counting her orgasms after six, and she has come quite a few times since then..." alhaitham asked, worried for his demon friend and the fact that he might be left with blue balls and an excruciatingly painful dick.

itto growled low, shutting his eyes. fuck, this whole situation was unfair and it hurt. both physically and emotionally. itto was the one who wanted you the most, who loved you the most, why'd he have to suffer with not getting you at all?!

"if her pretty pussy really can't take any more after us, she'll be good and help arataki at least with some nice head, yeah?" you nodd feverishly at wrio’s question. you'd do anything to help your generous and selfless boyfriend feel good.

thirty minutes later, your legs were far apart, making enough space for the two men to both fuck your greedy whole.

"shit! so tight, fuck!" the scribe's and wrio's moans about how good you felt certainly felt like salt in the wound for arataki. he sat a little from you with a pout on his face, his slowly-softening dick laid in his palm as he watched you take the two of them, at the same time.

"hah-ah! mphhr.. itto..? why don't you- ah! mmm, wrio! tham! why don't you help yourself, at least a little bit? ooh~" you asked through a wrecked moan, feeling immensely guilty for leaving your love hanging.

"i'm good, baby" he muttered, a displeased look on his face, "can't come if it's not in you, anyway"

those words shoot you right through the heart, melting your insides completely and you come hard, milking the two men inside you. they both quickly follow your lead, spurting ropes of white inside you and stuffing you fully.

the two of them removed themselves from your body, leaving you shivering and full, spread out on the bed. Itto noticed your fucked-out expression, chuckling to himself.

“hah, feels good, doesn’t it, sweets? did ya’ say thanks to my pals for fillin’ you up, hm?”

you turn your head over to where alhaitham and wriothesley rested, giving them a soft smile. you mouth a meek “thank you”, too tired to even speak.

“let’s get ya’ all cleaned up-” your boyfriend starts to get up to go to the bathroom, yet your words make him stop instantly.

“itto” you moan, as if there was nothing else for you in this world but him, “i-itto”

he turns around to look at you, an amused and a little shocked smile on his face. “that’s me, love bug, the one and oni! whatdya need?”

you look at him through your thick eyelashes, a gleam of lust in your eyes. 

“need you” you whimper, “really really really need you”

with those words, he’s immediately on you, nestling himself between your plushy thighs.

“awwww, there’s my pretty girl!” he exclaims excitedly, his palms on each side of your head as he presses kisses all over you. “i’m here, baby, i’m here. i gotcha.”

oh, no matter how good any of his friends felt, itto will forever be your favorite. not only because intercourse with him is pure love-making, filled with adoration and love you have for each other, but also because itto fucked like the big, beefy demon he is - rough and fast.

“ohhh… itto-oh..” you moaned as he slowly eased his tip inside your gaping hole, trying not to be overly rough right out of the gate - but he can’t, there’s no way after he’s been edging himself for hours. his hips snap into yours and he bottoms out in you, making you scream out in ecstasy.

you were amused by it all, really. just ten minutes ago you were taking two above-average cocks inside and doing just fine, and now you’re struggling to take your boyfriend’s cock? itto laughed at how you struggled, soothing your sides gently.

“aww, sweets, still so tight? three dicks haven’t loosened you f’ me, baby?” you whine in embarrassment, arms locking around your boyfriend’s large neck. your pussy pulsated and spasmed around him, sore muscles trying to accommodate his enormous size.

he started moving slightly, rocking into you with gentleness and warmth. itto pressed loving, eager kisses trailing all the way from your eyelids to your collarbone, trying to get you to rest and enjoy after hours worth of rough sex. 

three minutes of him moving and you were already seeing stars. Itto was so big, so thick and deliciously long, that just his shallow thrusts could hit all the right spots in you. he hissed as you clamped down on him again:

“shit, love bug, easy there, baby! already milking me, fuck! don’t ya’ do that, sweets, or i won’t be able to control myself, ‘kay?”

he groaned into your ear, warming you with the weight of his large, warm body on top of yours. even though he warned you not to, you couldn’t help but tighten on him and whimper for more. his thrusts changed their pace from slow and loving to erratic and careless, fucking into you like all he wanted was to breed you full.

“ahhh… mhh.. none of them could fill ya’ like i can, baby… yeah? and none of them could make you feel good, hm? this pretty little cunt needs me to fill her up, yeah? breed her nice and good, like no one ever before, right? mphh.. like no one ever will.. mine, sweets, all of this is just f’ me..” he groaned into your ear as he fucked you, his big palms sliding down to your ass and giving you a light squeeze.

suddenly, you clamp down on him hard, making him lose his composure. his hips stutter and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he finally reaches his high after a whole evening of torture, burying himself as far deep as possible and draining those pretty balls inside you. it felt so good - and you knew it did, by the small tears of pleasure in the corners of his eyes.

he stuffed you so full that you were sure it would make your stomach bulge, it had to! your boyfriend fell on you once he came, nuzzling his face in your skin. after a few minutes of deep breaths and cuddling, itto sat up:

“wanna go get cleaned, love bug? I dunno about you, but I wouldn’t wanna sleep bein’ this sticky!”

you smirk mischievously, putting a gentle hand on his meaty, exposed tigh. instead of getting up like he had asked, you slide down to your knees, in between his legs.

“what… what are you doing, baby?”

you paw at his cock once again, beginning to harden in your hand once again.

“mh… wanna say sorry for makin’ you wait, itto… wanna be good…”

and good you were, giving him all the attention he missed earlier that evening.

[louloulemons-posts]

heyyy. i saw your taking logan fics. do you think you can write a fic of logan and reader but she’s very girly and bimbo like? thank you 🩷

Claws and Frills

wolverine x fem!reader

(x-men wolverine, he’s a big boy)

summary : At first Logan didn’t know how to take you, but now your the first person he finds when he returns to the mansion.

word count : 0.8k

warnings : not proofread, fluffy, petnames (reader calls logan kitty and the famous bub), readers a necromancer, mentions of violence, blood and killing, readers not really described - only her outfit , hanks a bit of a dick, very very sweet, no established relationship.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

At first Logan didn’t know how to take you, you were unlike anyone he’d ever met. Cooing that Charles had adopted a pet ‘Kitty-cat’ when you first met one another.

It had taken him a few months to realise, you weren’t being condescending, you were truly that sweet and slightly ditzy. Saying that you had the gift of necromancy, controlling those who had passed, along with their powers if they were mutant.

Logan strolled outside of the mansion finding you, lay on your stomach reading a book, a soft lilac blanket beneath you.

A pink dress and short white cardigan hug your figure, as your pink converse lay discarded beside you, showing your white frilly socks.

“Hey Bub,” the man called out, walking over to you. With a grin you turned to him, “Kitty, come sit,” Scooting over to make room for his larger figure, the smile never left your lips.

With a soft groan he sat down next to you, laying back, hands behind his head. “How was your mission?” you asked, placing your book to the side to have your full focus on the man beside you.

With a shrug he spoke, “Went well, stopped the guys.”

“Any blood spilled?” You questioned, head cocked. “Less than last time.”

“And you?”

“Me?” Logan pulled his sunglasses down to rest on his nose, so he could meet your eyes with his own dark ones. “Did any of your blood get spilt?”

“Nothing I couldn’t heal from Bub.”

“Logan you promised-“

“Sometimes it can be helped,” he cut you off, “I did everything I could to be safe and come back to you in one piece, and look here I am.”

He motioned to his long body, dressed in a flannel, unsurprising, a pair of jeans a boots. “Well even if they killed you, you couldn’t be rid of me.”

He laughed, “You’re awful.” With a pout, you sat up on your knees, “What? I have to use my freaky-deaky powers at some point!”

“Freaky-deaky? Is that the technical term?” He smirked. With a groan you spoke, “Don’t, you sound like Hank.”

Logan’s face went serious, “What’s he said to you?” He was ready to shred that blue asshole to pieces for making you feel insecure.

“Nothing, he actually apologised. Charles told him he’d upset me. I mean I know I’m not the smartest sometimes,” Logan tried to cut you off, but you didn’t let him.

“But, I’m not stupid, we actually spent a lot of time talking about, neuroscience. Just because I’m not a total badass like Storm or Jean doesn’t mean I’m an awful hero, I just …” You sighed.

“What Bub?” Logan pushed himself up so you sat face to face. “I just don’t want to stop being myself, and my… gift already makes me feel like I have too.

“Maybe I was given the wrong one, would have been better if I could control plants or I don’t know, talk to animals.”

Logan smiled, pulling a cigar out of his pocket, which you snatched away without a second thought. If it was anyone else, his claws would be out, but it was you.

“Your power doesn’t define you, you know that right? You’re you. You’re sweet and kind, and anyone or anything you’ve controlled with your powers has been as respectful as you can make it.”

“But I’ve killed.”

“And you’ve saved.”

“But-“

“Bub, you’re good, and Hank isn’t a people person, he just talks sometimes. Nobody is a special or as badass as you, I promise.”

“Not even you?”

He titled his head, thinking for a moment, “I might be a close second.”

“Third, Erik’s more scary than you … and Jean oh and Scott-“ he put a hand over your mouth.

You couldn’t help but smile against it, causing his lips to twitch upwards. He pulled his palm away, “Thank you Kitty.”

“Never have to thank me, you know that.” Leaning forward you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You really are my favourite person, you know that?”

“You’re crazy,” he said making you laugh, arms coming round your waist, “But you’re my favourite too.”

Pulling away you stroked his face gently, “You’re a good man, you know that right?”

“You tell me most days. Now read to me,” he said, falling onto his back, hands going back behind his head.

Crossing your knees, you sat beside Logans figure, his eyes falling closed. One of his hands moving to stroke your leg softly. “What are we reading?”

With a smirk you spoke, “Pride and Prejudice.”

Logan groaned, “Again?!”

“Hush Kitty.”

And hush he did, listening to your soft voice hand never leaving your leg. Remaining on that soft blanket with you, until the sun began to set and the stars rise.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

i honestly can’t believe i’ve never done a logan fic but deadpool 3 brought back my obsession big time.

I hope you enjoyed.

Please leave any requests 🫶🏻

[arjudy224]

The Boys need help

Part 1- Alfred's new help

Alfred's New Help part 2

After a "random" attack on the Wayne family, the new maid may be more than what meets the eye.

Joker caresses the side of the young boy's face with a twisted smile. Tension spreads throughout his entire upper body. Dick notices how there is a slight shake in Damien's palms. After all this time, sometimes it is easy to forget how young Damien truly is. With his youthful round face and big blue eyes, Damien could fit in with your average middle schooler.... if you ignore the murder in his eyes.

"My Father used to say that-"

BANG!

The Joker crumbles to the ground surprising every member of the Wayne family. A small trembling figure is revealed slowly stepping out from behind the clown. Scanning the room for any other potential danger, Y/N reluctantly puts the safety back on.

"Are you guys okay?' Y/N's voice trembles before dutifully untying Bruce.

Five pairs of eyes stare at her in painful silence.

"Where did you get that?" Damien questions breaking the silence.

Making her way down the line, Y/N starts working on Tim's restraints next.

"Alfred stashed a few in case something like this happened. I never thought I would ever need it... Until a van full of clowns passed me on the highway this morning."

An unexpected smile appears on Damien's face. Jason and Dick share a long look. Jason shrugs. Bruce's unreadable gaze suddenly makes her defensive. Before untying Jason, Y/N kicks the Joker. A wheezy laugh echoes across the room. At the pure shock staring back at her, she defends "It's not like I killed him or anything. Have you guys never heard of stand-your-ground laws?"

Jason starts to chuckle to himself. Looking past the horrified reactions of his family to his unlikely savior, he flashes her a grateful smile. Patting her on the back, he says

"Well' I don't know about the rest of them, but I'm sure glad you were here. That was badass."

Sharing an unreadable look with Dick, it doesn't take very long for the rest of the family to snap out of their stupor. Tim and Damien team up to tie up the clown prince of crime while Dick gags him. Once the team realizes it wasn't a lethal shot, jokes run wild.

"Listen, I'm just saying you'll never see Y/N and Deadshot in the same room..." Dick jokes playfully shoving the girl.

"Please if Y/N's skill set resembled any vigilante, it would be Nightwing." Tim continues with a wink.

"Y/N would be great at bow staff, but I sincerally doubt that Nightwing could do colorguard." Jason jokes.

"Ladies. Ladies. You may be right, but my ass would not look as good in the uniform." She interjects, "Man's definitely got me beat there.

"Debatable," Jason comments under his breath.

Dick smacks him lightly on the arm.

Bruce offers the young girl a cold glass of water while steering her away from all the chatter. Y/n gratefully takes it.

"Are you alright?"

Y/n nods slowly.

Bruce's gaze meets hers. It's easy to see why people consider him a playboy. His eyes have the ability to make you feel completely and utterly seen.

"Thank you for protecting my family."

Melting under his earnest gaze, Y/N glances toward the 3 boys dragging Jason away from the Joker. Past the Billionaire heartthrob lies a wearied Father in constant fear of losing his family... again.

"I'm sorry I know you don't like guns. I didn't like the way he was looking at Damien."

Bruce sighs putting a hand on her shoulder. The wrestling brothers draw their attention back to the front of the room.

"I had to do it for old times' sake. Come on!" Jason protests with a smug grin as Tim and Dick drag him away.

Winking at Y/N, Jason weakly waves as the boys leave the room.

A parade of red and blue flashing lights interrupts the show.

Alfred slips into the room wordlessly.

"Master Bruce, Detective Gordan would like a word."

Y/N gasps in surprise.

"Where have you been?"

Alfred stays silent for a moment.

"Who do you think dealt with his goons?"

Batman and Gordon:

In the corner of the room watching the group of young men teasing Y/N, Batman and Gordan exchange glances.

Gordon cracks a smile.

"Seems like a good kid." Gordan

Batman stays silent observing the interactions unfolding before them.

"She has impeccable marksmanship for someone who has never been trained." Batman comments.

Gordon raises an eyebrow. Taking a sip of his coffee, he pauses.

"Are you insinuating something?"

"...No. It's an observation."

Tag list: @jjsmeowthie

[hazbinwhoree]

General Adam Headcanons

SFW

100% dresses like Adam Sandler under the robe

Pronounces bruh like “brah” unironically

Has a high body count, but not as high as you’d expect

He has abandonment issues cause of Lilith and Eve

He’d never admit it but losing both Lilith and Eve to Lucifer really fucked him up

Lilith left him for Lucifer, and Eve cheated on him with Lucifer

Due to knowing the pain of being cheated on, he will never cheat despite the fuckboy persona

Man can actually settle down with the right person

Wears his mask all the fucking time, he only takes it off to sleep

He thinks it makes him look badass and his favorite feature is the horns

He’s tall as fuck (6’5) but he’s kind of thin, so he wears a big ass robe to make up for it

You can only tell by his arms

He likes to appear big

His favorite thing about himself is his dick (surprise)

Listens to heavy metal

Can’t cook for shit

Needs therapy but will never accept therapy

Doesn’t realize how misogynistic he is and if you tried to tell him he would get defensive

“What, I fucking love women, they’re hot.”

Says “nuh uh”

Cried in front of Lute once– they never talk about it

Shockingly, he doesn’t have any STD’s and he’s very proud of that

Sees Lute as a best friend but he’d never let her know she means that much to him

Has a colorful vocabulary of cuss words and unique nicknames, ie “Danger Tits”

Is really good at coming up with unique insults too

Never get into banter with him, he will hurt your feelings

Sleeps like a rock but moves a lot in his sleep

Seriously, he’ll hit every position in one night

His band is actually really popular in Heaven, and he’s renowned for being the best guitarist

Of course, that only strokes his ego

Ego bigger than his dick, for real

But if you can get past his ego, he can be fun to be around

Touch starved

Cares for very few people, but he would die for the people he does care about

NSFW

Absolutely has a size kink

He’s tall and he loves to be able to look down at his partner

It makes him feel powerful, but he also finds it cute

Has tried every sex position possible but his favorite is missionary

Rarely does he do missionary however because he only likes it with someone he cares about

Phenomal at giving head

He has a long tongue and he knows his way around a vagina

Actually has a big dick, he’s not kidding

Like no wonder he walks around like he’s a god

Also has a virginity kink and it’s definately related to his abandonment issues but he’ll never address that

Whenever he has sex, he always goes for a round 2 in the shower

Actually hates being called things like “daddy” and “master”

While he has some kinks, he’s actually not a very kinky guy

But he’s down to try anything

Has been pegged, doesn’t prefer it

His third and final kink is a breeding kink

He has no idea why but its imperative that he finishes inside his partner

Messy, loves being feral in the bedroom

The kind of guy who’s gone right after a hookup

But if he has a partner, he insists on cuddling after sex

Perfers tits over ass

Will bury his face in his partner’s while they cuddle

One time he came from looking at himself in a mirror during a hookup

Eye contact goes crazy with a partner

Needs to see partner’s every reaction and expression

Also needs control the whole time

Will never sub again, he hated it

[sadhours]

dirty laundry

billy hargrove x fem!reader

masterlist • requests open

cw: 18+ minors dni, established relationship, smut, public sex, swallowing c*m hehehe I missed billy

🧡🧡🧡🧡

it’s kind of fitting. after a weekend of partying, you had to do some laundry. so monday morning, 9 AM, you’re sitting in the laundromat beside your boyfriend. you’re hungover. billy smokes a Marlboro and the smell is making you nauseous. you’re nursing a sprite he’d bought you from the vending machine. he has a coke. you’re somewhat regretting not indulging in the breakfast beer billy offered you but the thought of the booze had made your stomach twist something wicked. the shitty speakers spill a tinny “dirty laundry” by don henley.

“this songs actually pretty badass,” billy mumbles around the butt of his smoke, tapping his scuffed motorcycle boots.

you frown, “i like don henley.”

your boyfriend laughs, it’s a loud bellow and you really wish you had that beer to dull the headache splitting your head. but you love his laugh.

“like him like you’d suck his dick or…?” he teases and you roll your eyes despite the way it pains you.

“no, not my type,” you grumble. “i like his music.”

there’s a liquor store two stores up. you keep rubbernecking out the window at it and your boyfriend picks up on it. he reaches over and squeezes your knee, “regretting not having a beer with me this morning?”

“a little,” you gripe, “the lights are too bright, your cigarette stinks and i’m so tired.”

billy leans close to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed. he looks adorable, even though he’s condescending you. “want me to go get baby a shot and a beer?”

“would you?” you ask, all wide eyed in a silent beg you know gets him.

he smirks, leans forward and bites your nose. it pulls a giggle from you which is exactly what you need. “i’ll be back,” he grabs your face and squeezes it before pulling away and heading out the door, it chimes with his steps. you lean back and watch his ass saunter down the sidewalk in his too-tight Levi’s.

once he disappears into the liquor store, you bring your attention back to the washing machine. watching as your clothes spin in circles, which doesn’t do anything positive for the spinning happening in your gut so you look away quickly. billy’s hard to keep up with but you’ve never had so much fun in your life. and he’s so sweet, really, when he wants to be. you’d kind of saved him when you brought up him moving him after only a month of hooking up. you were shocked when he jumped at the opportunity but that was before you met neil. it makes sense now. your boyfriend is free to be himself, and you love every bit of him.

he’s quick in the liquor store, returning and hopping up on the row of unused washing machines opposite the chair you’re sitting in. he opens up the black plastic back and displays a little bottle of Jack Daniels.

“come get your hair of the dog, baby,” he says in a seductive voice, all low as he wiggles his eyebrows. you extend your hand and then his brows furrow, “I got you trained better than that. C’mere, girl.”

you exhale with a frustrated sigh but obey your sexy beyond belief boyfriend. standing up and taking the few short steps to situate yourself between his thighs.

“atta girl,” he purrs, opening the shooter and pressing it to your lips, “head back, foxy.”

you lean your head back, downing the shot in a quick three gulps. he hums, all satisfied as he watches. the whiskey isn’t sitting in your tummy the best but the way billy chases forward and licks a drip off your chin quells any sickness. he follows it with a filthy kiss, tongue dragging against yours as his right hand grabs the back of your head, knitting his fingers into the roots of your hair and tugs lightly. a helpless little whine escapes from your throat but billy swallows it, smiling into the dirty kiss. once he pulls away, he smirks, eyes darker than before.

“better?”

you nod, biting your lip as you look to him. billy retrieves the shooter he bought for himself and downs it easily, like it doesn’t make his stomach curl. then he hands you a tall can of beer, opens it for you before he does. you take an eager sip to get the bitterness of the whiskey off your tongue. billy chuckles, it’s deep and rattles his chest. he nudges his nose against yours, “i know that look.”

“s’your fault,” you mumble, cheeks hot as you admit, “‘cause you kissed me like that.”

billy hums, hooks his knuckle under your chin and tilts your head up a bit. “like this?” he whispers back before pressing his lips to yours hungrily. licks into your mouth like you’re not in public and has your spine tingling, thighs warm and cunt aching. you respond by kissing him back just as desperately, putting your beer down beside him before both your hands move to grip his white t-shirt. his mouth tastes like whiskey, cigarettes and Billy. You get lost in it, moaning pathetically as you make out like a couple of high school kids.

Then the dryer buzzes, loud and jarring. You pull away, groaning softly before strutting over to the machine. You open it, grabbing a cart and wheeling it over. You tug all the clothes into basket, reaching in deep and wiggling your ass because you can feel your boyfriends eyes on it. You don’t even realize he’s jumped off the washers and made his way behind you until he’s kicking the cart away and grabbing onto your hips.

“you missed something,” he tells you, all nonchalant.

“huh?” you peer inside the massive dryer but you don’t see anything. billy’s hips meet the fat of your ass, pushing your upper half deeper into the machine.

“it’s really in there,” he says, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. his other hand presses on the middle of your back, bending you over completely into the dryer. “almost there, you’re so close.”

you giggle, knowing exactly what you’re asshole of a boyfriend is doing. he pulls your leggings down to your thighs, moving his hand to rub your pussy through your underwear. you moan softly, still playing his game as you pretend to reach for the clothing he says in deep in there. billy’s impatient though, tugs your underwear down with your leggings. feels the slick collecting at your hole and hums, rubbing his fingers in circles at your entrance. his fingers are so thick, you can feel him stretching your hole just from the teasing. hangover suddenly forgotten, you’re spreading your legs and silently begging for him to slide inside you.

billy teases, “aw… keep reaching, baby… you’re almost there.”

his middle and ring finger slip inside your dripping cunt, the stretch delicious and intoxicating in their own right. he drags the pads of his fingers against your walls, pushing in and pulling out. your brains already fuzzy, eyes rolling back before your lids flutter shut. he laughs, soft and sultry as he fucks you with his fingers. out in the open. anyone can walk in here or hell, walk by and see your boyfriend bending you into the industrial dryer and fingering you senseless. the rush of it only make your cunt slicker.

he scissors his fingers, stretching your hole open wider as he smoothes his other hand over the expanse of your back.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” billy exhales, his voice echoing slightly into the drum of the dryer. hits your ears something fierce. has you pushing your ass back at him. you moan out, nails dragging against the metal of the dryer as he finger fucks you open.

you don’t even hear the sound of his zipper or the shuffle of him pushing his jeans back. suddenly he’s pulling his fingers out and you feel the round, thick tip of his cock pushing at your pussy.

“fuck, billy,” you gasp, arching your back just slightly.

“atta girl,” he purrs, “so wet and desperate for my cock, yeah?”

“yeah— ah!” your response is hijacked by a moan, result of billy snapping his hips forward and completely sheathing his girthy cock in your fluttering hole.

he groans, a vibrating and sexy sound. let’s you know you feel so so so good for him. he doesn’t go slow, a hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip as he bullies his cock deep in your walls. billy always makes you feel like such a desperate slut. knows he can use and abuse your hole whenever and however. and how the fuck could you say no? the stretch is fucking unworldly. his cock is a goddamn masterpiece. crafted by the gods themselves to help please. if there ain’t nothing else to live for, billy’s cock is all you need.

once he’s inside you, you’re fucking gone. cockdrunk in a second. his hands move to knead at your ass as he pummels into you. rough and reckless. so billy. reality slips, you’re not even thinking about how the two of you are in a public place. fucking so filthy, so rough where there’s nowhere to hide. if you get caught, you get caught and you don’t fucking care. both so zoned in on getting off.

your hips slightly ache from where they bounce against the edge of the dryer but the sensation of Billy deep in your cunt dulls any pain. his cock pulsing as it drags in and out of your fluttering walls. you squeeze him, want him buried so deep and dirty.

“that’s it, slut,” he groans, voice deep as it bounces around the drum of the deeper, “taking my cock like a good girl.”

you whine back, not able to do much else. there’s no way you could form sensible thoughts. you ache to tell him how fucking good it feels but it’s useless, would fumble out of your mouth like word soup because billy fucks you stupid.

it’s a fucking joke when he moves his hand around your hip to rub at your clit. his goal is to get you to cum as quick as he can, because once those skilled fingers start strumming against your clit, your legs are shaking and your voice is uncontrollable in the moans bellowing from you.

“you gonna cum for me?” he chuckles, circles firm and quick against your clit, “so easy. such an easy slut for me, ain’t ya?”

“billy…” you cry in a plea, a whiny and pathetic sound. you’re on the edge, you can see it. each little stroke of his fingers and each drag of his cock against your tight walls threatens to toss you over it.

“ya wanna cum?” he spits, fingers working faster, “cream all over my cock, be a good slut for daddy.”

that sends you. a deep breath and sinking over the edge you go, crying out in absolute ecstasy as his cock works you overtime. drags your orgasm out with his fingers not letting up. you’re dead weight after, billy’s hands moving to your hips to hold you up as he barrels his cock faster and faster into your sensitive cunt. he pulls back rather quickly, grabbing your hair and pulling you out of the dryer.

“on your knees,” he instructs and you obey, hands on his thighs to steady you as you stick your tongue out flat. eyes wide and needy as you gaze up at your boyfriend. a curl has fallen into the center of his forehead, blue eyes dark with lust as he fingers move to grip his cock, jerking it in quick and firm strokes. “that’s it, good girl, yeah…”

he busts, spilling cum into your eager tongue. you love the taste of billy’s cum. abnormally sweet for a guy whose diet consists of booze and red meat. and when billy cums, he doesn’t close his eyes. he stares down at you, his lips part and you can see the swell of his tongue against his lower lip as he moans. you swallow, licking your lips so you don’t miss any.

he reaches for the back of your hand, scratching at the back of your scalp as he smiles warmly down at you. after a beat of lovingly looking at each other, you both get dressed. you plant a sloppy kiss on his lips before moving to transfer the load from the washer into the dryer. billy sits on the chairs and lights up another cigarette.

“you’re something else, foxy,” he grins, cheeks flushed all pretty.

[hw4-l1z]

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Stray kids reaction to you having tattoos

Hyung line / Maknae line

Sub!skz x Dom!m!reader

Cw: slight size kink// choking// belly bulge// hand kink// punishment// pet play// mentions of cock stepping and spitting// scratching

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Han

Han would instantly be attracted to you when he met you. He thought you were the coolest person he had ever met and instantly started chatting you up.

You knew he'd be too scared to ever ask you out so you helped him out by asking him out yourself. Sungie was ecstatic to know that you returned the feeling and proceeded to go on the date with you. He'd be so giggly the whole time, his cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

You're big long tattooed hands would make him go feral evertime they gripped onto his tiny waist.

Evertime you'd give his waist or thighs a slight squeeze, he'd let out a soft, quite whimper. Sungie loves the feeling of your big, strong hands digging into his skin

Like many people do, he has a huge thing for your hands, especially your fingers. He loves the way they reach that spot inside him perfectly, rapidly moving in and out of him as you use your free hand to cover his mouth to prevent any of the members hearing

He'd want you to choke him, not to tight but not too soft. He absolutely loves watching you tightly grip his hips as you pound into him, watching the bulge form in his belly. He loves to trail his eyes down your stomach tattoos that stop right slightly about the base of your dick, it makes his head spin.

Felix

Felix never thought he'd be so attracted to someone who's quite the exact opposite of him, introverted and quiet, dark hair, multiple body tattoos and a couple of facial piercings, nails painted jet black, dark makeup around the eyes, alt styled clothing and multiple pieces of jewellery.

Your tattoos are what really drew him in, admiring the intricate details on your skin. You'd catch him staring, smirking slightly to yourself as you ask him if he wants a closer look. And ofc he'd never let down that offer.

Whilst he was checking out your hand tattoos he couldn't help but notice how big and veiny you hands were. He softly opened your hands and put his hand on top, giggling to himself when he saw the massive difference between the two. Lix knew his hands were small but my gosh your hands could probably fit both his fists in one.

As I mentioned before, Lix couldn't help but notice how big and veiny your hands were, the rings and tattoos only adding to the hotness.

He's been dreaming of you pinning both his wrists above his head while you fuck him into the mattress. These thoughts became so often that he eventually just told you about it, big beady eyes begging you to give him what he's been dreaming of.

Once you finally do pin his wrists he'd be a whining mess, thrusting his hips up in a needy, hungry way. He just wants to feel you close, whispering the filthiest things into his ear making his face flush bright. He loves how deep your voice can go, he loves thay it goes lower than his whenever your in the mood, fuck it turns him on so much.

Seungmin

Min would be slightly intimated by you at first but would see how your actually a very shy person so he would eventually ease up and talk to you alot more. He never knew how much you'd like to be praised until he told you how badass you looked with all your tattoos and dark look, causing a slight red tint to form over your cheeks and ears as you thank him with a shy tone.

He would get so flustered whenever you'd push him against the closest surface and push you pelvis right against his. He couldn't help but get turned on everyime you did this.

Sometimes you'd leave him hanging and sometimes you'd take him right on the surface you trapped him against.

Whenever Min acts up you'd punish him by putting a collar with a leash on him and a pair of dog ears. You'd make him put on a rubber tail plug that bounced with even the slightest movement, paired with some cute little laced panties with a hole in the back for the tail.

You'd make him sit there whilst you toyed around with him, stepping on his cock and spitting on his face making him hang his head in shame. He definitely learns a lesson since the embarrassment is too much. Although yes from time to time he'd decide to act up, forgetting what his punishments were.

I.N

Innie would instantly feel super flustered around you, blushing at the littlest things you do. He never usually likes to feel babied since he's growing up now but he couldn't help but love the way you'd pinch his cheeks whenever he did something slightly adorable.

He'd probably purposely act cute around you just so he could get you to pinch his cheeks again, to feel your soft hands touching his face.

One time he was acting all baby boy and you couldn't handle it so you grabbed his entire face with both your hands and smooshed it whilst cooing at him like he was a baby. He had to admit though, as weird as it was, he couldn't help but feel butterflies as your big hands held his face whilst you leaned in closer to coo at him

Innie would love to have you wrap your arms tightly around his as you fuck him. You love the feeling of him desperately clawing at your back as he starts to let out a few sobs

You'd be hesitant on choking him at first but Innie was very persistent on you doing so, getting a clear view of the snake tattoo that travels up your arm and stops at your shoulder.

He loves it cause it makes him feel like the snake is wrapped around his throat, sending an adrenaline rush full of fear and pleasure through him.

He usually isn't a very vocal person, just a few sobs, whines and whimpers here and there. But when you angle his body in the right position and attack his prostate, he'd be almost screaming. He would be gripping you shoulders harshly, digging his nails right into art on your skin.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[bigification]

Careful What You Wish For - M2

The wind felt great on Nate's arms as he sped down the road on his motorcycle. It made him feel badass, swerving through traffic and pissing off other drivers.

He finally slowed down as he pulled into the parking lot in front of his gym. A man needs his workout, otherwise there wouldn't be much to show off while riding his bike. He parked and took his helmet off, ready for his daily workout.

Nate gave a charming smile to the man behind the front counter as he waltzed into the gym. He had a routine, always starting with the same machine. He saw it was free and took his shot to get on it. But just as he was about to get there, another man walked through him like he wasn't even there and took the machine. The man was tall with broad shoulders and biceps the size of melons. Nate's first instinct was to stand up for himself, but as his head turned up to look the other guy in the face, he backed down. The man had a buzz cut and a beard, and looked scary as hell. This was not worth it.

He swallowed his pride and decided to go back to the locker room and wait. It wasn't his proudest moment. He went back to his bag and sat down, but something was different. Someone has been in his bag. Nate opened it to see if anything had been taken, but it was the opposite. Someone had left a weird looking lamp in his bag. He pulled out the lamp to check it out but as soon as he touched it, a purple mist started to pour out of it. He looked around the locker room to see if anyone else was seeing it, but there was no one in the room. The mist swirled into a human-like figure that floated above him.

"I may grant you one wish." It whispered.

Nate just sat there in awe for a moment, unable to react. Then an idea popped into his head.

"I wish I was bigger." He said confidently. No more assholes will fuck with him now.

The mist started to circle him. It felt like a massage as the mist worked its magic on his body. His shoulders started to broaden and his traps grew thick. His biceps exploded with muscle, making him look like a body builder. His pecs thickened until they stretched his shirt to its maximum. He felt his perspective rise as his body grew taller and taller, leaving him at an intimidating 6"5. His hands and feet also grew significantly to match his new height.

The mist then receded back into the lamp. Nate sat in shock for a moment, thinking what happened was some sort of dream. But then he looked down and saw his massive biceps and juicy pecs. He got up and stumbled forward, taking a moment to adjust to his new height.

"Ha... Holy shit!" He said with a chuckle, "I'm huge."

He walked over to the closest mirror and started to flex, nearly ripping through the sleeves of his shirt. He ran back to his bag and took off his shirt. He confidently strutted back out to the gym, making sure to duck under the doorway. He made his way back to the machine he got kicked off of before, and it was empty again. He sat down in the machine, struggling to fit his large body comfortably. He saw the intimidating man across the room and flexed at him.

The man just responded with a confused look, as he could have sworn Nate was half that size just minutes earlier.

Nate set the weights much higher than usual and started his workout. About halfway through the set, he noticed a tingling feeling around his crotch. The same feeling his had felt in his upper body before. He looked down and saw that the purple mist was now circling around his crotch. The transformation wasn't over, there are more ways of being big after all.

Nate's legs buckled slightly as his dick started to grow. 6, 7, 8 inches long, a visible bulge began to form in his gym shorts. He made weird faces trying to hide the pleasure he was feeling. 9, 10, 11 inches, his dick started to slip down the side of his leg. He blushed as he tried to hide the obvious bulge running down the leg of his shorts. This was plenty big, he thought. 12, 13, 14 inches, it wasn't slowing down. It felt so good, but Nate started to panic as his dick was getting close to slipping under his shorts. It didn't help that he was starting to get hard. 15, 16 inches long and nearly as thick as a pop can, it finally stopped growing. He squeezed his legs together to hide the sable that was hiding in his shorts. This was not what he meant when he said 'big'.

He was distraught, but he continued his workout instead. After his set, he sat there for a moment, thinking about what he was going to do. He knew his dick would be impossible to hide when he got up. He thought that maybe he should just go home and buy looser clothes before he embarrassed himself. Though before he could build up the courage to get up, the purple mist returned. It swirled around his midsection and tickled his stomach. He naively thought that this might give him a six pack, but it was quite the opposite. Nate watched in horror as his stomach jiggled as far poured into it.

"What? No!" He cried out as he grabbed his chubby belly.

He got up and ran back to the locker room, hoping no one would see him like this. He ran past the mirror and saw as his beer belly bounced with every step. Even his pecs started to look a little softer. And the sharp V shape on hips was slowly getting replaced by soft love handles.

Nate threw on his shirt hoping it would fit, but it wouldn't get past his belly button. And he had to tuck his dick up into his waist band to stop it from hanging out of his shorts.

He held his bag to his stomach hoping it would hide his exposed belly and the large bulge in his shorts. Then walked as fast as he could out of the gym, hitting his head on every doorway. He made it out of the gym and to his motorcycle with only a few passing glances from other gym goers. He got on his motorcycle and had to sit back to leave room for his growing belly and his massive legs.

He hated how good the wind felt on his exposed belly. And he hated how much his body would jiggle every time he hit a bump.

Nate finally made it home and rushed inside. Finally he was safe from the prying eyes of others. Though he wasn't safe from his main issue, the mist still surrounded his midsection. He managed to find one of his dad's shirts that barely fit him. He couldn't believe he was the same size as his dad of all people. Granted he was now significantly taller than his dad, but there was no denying his belly was getting big enough to rival his father's.

He stood in front of the mirror for what felt like forever, analyzing his body. The undeniable gut that hung in front of him, and the soft moobs that sat on top of it. The double chin that was hiding under his beard. The pudgy fat that covered his thick arms. Even his hands and feet looked swollen. And that's not even considering the problem that is his cock. He pulled it out and saw as it hung nearly down to his knees, it would have gone past his knees if it weren't for the fact that his legs had increased significantly in length.

As he was sulking about his body, he remembered the lamp. It was what caused all these problems for him, maybe it could reverse them. He walked back to his bag and pulled it out.

"I wish to go back to the way I was before." He said into the lamp as he rubbed it.

The purple mist once again poured out of the lamp. This time it engulfed his entire body. He smiled, thinking it would cause all of his problems to go away.

His comfort quickly turned to regret as he felt his clothes begin to tighten around his body. If his gut wasn't bigger than his father's before, it sure was now. Surges of fat poured into Nate's gut, each one adding tens of pounds of fat into his belly. His father's shirt started to ride up above his gut as it began to hang over his waistline. He would never be able to see anything past his belly anymore. His body also began to stretch again, making his shirt ride up even more. The fat also thickened his sides, making his love handles stretch to his back and spill over his waistline. His pecs were on the edge of being considered moobs, but now it was undeniable. His pecs swelled until they started to sag over his gut and into his armpits.

"Please ...ugh.. stop." Nate begged. Barely able to get words out due to the sheer amount of pleasure his body is feeling.

Whatever muscle definition that was on his back quickly got replaced with soft rolls of fat. And you would never guess there was any muscle under the thick layer of fat that covered his arms. His ass was still perky with all of the muscle that laid underneath his fat, but that didn't last. His ass widened as it began to sag under its immense weight. It quickly filled out all the space in his pants and popped the button off of them. A large fat pad quickly engulfed part of his dick, making it appear a couple inches shorter than it was. Though his dick responded by growing a few more inches. 17, 18, 19, 20 inches long spilling past his knees.

His thighs started to balloon, making him have to spread his legs to even walk. And his legs also became longer, topping him out at a monstrous 7 feet tall.

Finally he felt his face begin to change. His chin became three soft chins that connected to his thick neck. Though they quickly got covered in a thick bushy beard. His face widened as his cheeks became round and chubby.

With that, the most finally dissipated. Leaving Nate as the big guy he always wanted to be. Although he is not very appreciative of this.

"What the fuck!" He yelled.

He looked down and all he could see were his fat man tits and his monstrous belly. Though based on how heavy he feels, the rest of him is probably not much smaller. He desperately tried to buckle up his pants, but couldn't. They snapped open every time, sending a shockwave through his blubber.

He gave up and started to waddle back to his bedroom. He stumbled at first getting used to the way his body weighs him down. His gut swung back and forth with each step. He sucked below his doorway and squeezed his fat ass through. Looks like he's gonna have to get his doorways adjusted.

He grabbed a large pair of jeans with some suspenders his father had left at his place. He had to pull hard to get the jeans on and they're not long enough, but they fit better than anything else he has. And he found a black shirt he was going to gift his dad for his birthday. It was bigger than the rest of his father's clothes because he was scared his father would outgrow them too quickly. Lucky for him that made them fit him better, though his gut still hung out the bottom of them.

"You know what, fuck this!" Nate yelled as he angrily waddled back to the lamp. "No more!" He cried out as he threw the lamp on the floor, making it shatter on impact.

The purple mist spread across the room. Nate tried to back away, but was not nearly fast enough. The mist entered through his ears and clouded his brain. His insecurities soon disappeared as his ego inflated. His worries about his hulking body turned to pride, he loved being the biggest man in the room and commanding attention from everyone.

Nate fought the feeling and managed to stumble away from the mist. He coughed as he squeezed into his bathroom and shut the door.

"Good thing I got away." Nate said in a shockingly deep voice. "What the hell?"

He walked in front of the mirror and jumped when he didn't recognize himself. He had gotten so old. His hair turned grey as his hairline receded. His big bushy beard turned white and the body turned salt and pepper. His skin wrinkled and formed sun damage from all the years in the sun.

"Wow I'm looking good, hehe." Nate gave out a hearty laugh, making his body jiggle. "But as much as I love showing off this tank, I should probably get me some clothes that fit. I outgrew my pops a long time ago, so his clothes just won't do." He said as he ordered 6XL clothes online.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 3

WC: 1861 Masterpost CW: mentions of blood, past experimentation, and torture

Duke tugged the sleeves of the hoodie he had thrown on as he rolled out of bed down over his hands. The Cave was freezing. Usually the temperature was nice. Dressing up in layers of body armor and fighting crime made a person hot and the cool air of the Cave was a relief. When pulled out of bed by an all-hands meeting it was another story and so Duke tucked himself further in the hoodie.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t even his hoodie. This family (and those let into the inner circle) were almost all clothing thieves. Duke had even caught Wally West with his missing Gotham Academy hoodie once. The weird lack of boundaries had taken some getting used to. Seeing various family members naked for decontamination showers or medical procedures helped hurry that along. It was hard to care about who’s hoddie it was was after washing off cuddle pollen together.

The roar of a bike filled the Cave and Duke didn’t even look up. He knew the sound of Red Hood’s bike.

Man, he really had been in this family too long now, he thought and buried his face in his arms. Would they notice if he just went back to sleep?

“Perhaps some tea, Master Duke?”

Guess so.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Duke said and dragged himself properly upright to accept the mug of tea. At least it was warm.

Duke sipped at the tea, his favorite blend of course, as Jason sped into the Cave like the badass bastard he was. He spun his bike to a stop in one of the open spots.

“Hood,” Bruce addressed the other, the Batman™ gravel seeped into his voice even though he was dressed down in sweats, a hoodie Duke was pretty sure was actually Jason’s, and a brace on his wrist.

They all knew what Bruce meant though: report why an all-hands was called, why Tim wasn’t there, did those of them not suited up need to, was anyone they cared about hurt?

“No, old man, you report,” Jason said as he stalked up the steps towards them. “Who the fuck were you fucking fifteen years ago?”

Duke pinched himself to make sure he was actually awake and not still in bed having the most awkward dream. Alright, well, that hurt. So much for being saved from this conversation by the T-rex suddenly coming to life and breathing fire and them having to take it down with squirt guns and pool noodles.

He’d had some weird dreams since coming to live in the manor, alright?

“Um, ask what now, little wing?” Dick asked, looking between Jason and Bruce.

“I asked what I asked,” Jason said. He’d made it to the computer and they all turned obediently to look at the screen. Jason tugged off his helmet and set it down as he leaned against the console. “Who the fuck were you sleeping with at that time, Bruce?”

Bruce stared at Jason for a long moment. “Selina, mostly. Some socialites and such maybe still. What’s going on, Jason?”

“Oracle,” Jason said, not taking his eyes Bruce. “Red should have sent you some media. You’ll get why. Throw something fitting up on the screen.”

Despite what the superhero community and Gotham thought, everyone in the Cave knew that Batman was far from unflappable. They had all pulled one over on him before. But Duke had never seen Bruce looking like that before. As that image went up on the screen, it looked like someone had just shattered his brittle heart into pieces.

Duke couldn’t blame him. The sickly looking guy on the screen made Duke want to go find someone to punch and it wasn’t his face the other was wearing.

“Holy shit,” Steph whispered.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” Damian ordered.

“Jay?” Dick prompted when Bruce seemed unable to find the words.

Jason scowled down at the ground. “Red and I were on patrol. He noticed… blood.”

Babs brought another image up on the left monitor without prompting. It was a Gotham alley like any other except it was splattered with a green spray.

“That is Lazarus water, that is not blood,” Damian said. His words were as haughty as ever, but there was a wobble under them.

“It’s blood for him,” Jason said. “Trust me. I held the kid as Red stitched him up. Knife wound. It was the only… new wound. Oracle, did Red send you…”

A new image popped up on the left screen and Jason closed his eyes. Duke had to swallow heavily and look away himself. He got now why Jason came in demanding who Bruce had slept with. Bruce’s heart was going to break all over again.

“Who?” Cass signed. Her motion was sharp and aggressive as she pulled her thumb from her chin after the sign.

“We don’t know,” Jason said. “He was jumpy.”

The picture of the horrible injuries was replaced by a video, clearly from Red’s suit. The guy was pressed against the wall, one hand gripped tight over the wet, green stain on his hoodie. He looked dwarfed in it.

“Hey, looks like you could use some help with that wound before you bleed out,” Tim said in the video. Duke could hear how he was keeping his tone carefully light.

“…just who are you supposed to be?” The guy’s voice could barely be heard.

“You must not be from Gotham. I’m Red Robin, one of the heroes here.”

The guy snorted, curling further into himself rather than relaxing at that. “So you’re just going to hand me over to the government then?”

Everyone in the cave stiffened at that, including Jason, which was interesting.

“Why would I do that? I’m a vigilante. Do you know how illegal what I do is? I just don’t want to see you bleed out. Maybe I can even take you to a safe house where you can rest.”

“So that you can interrogate me? No thanks.”

“I mean, I’d like to know who tried to kill a kid, but that’s to make them pay, not you.”

As the guy gave a horrible laugh, Duke reached out and touched Cass’ elbow, reminding her they were all there. These sort of things always hit her hard. She sent him a grateful smile before focusing back on the screen. “Maybe I deserve it.”

The guy tensed suddenly, weight shifting like he was about to bolt as the video slumped slightly sideways.

Jason’s voice rumbled from close to the camera. “You’re what, sixteen?”

“…fifteen?”

“Uncertain,” Cass spoke. Duke had to agree, the guy didn’t know how old he was, not for sure.

“Yeah, no fifteen year old deserves to bleed out. You know who I am?”

Duke tracked the motion of the hood as it slipped. The white hair was curious, considering Bruce, but if the guy was a meta or had been in the Lazarus Pits long enough… or worse, both…

“I’m Red Hood. I protect part of this city called Crime Alley. I’m not afraid to kill a shithead, especially ones that hurt kids, but I never harm a kid,” the Jason of the video said, something they all knew was true. It was an argument still often enough on bad days. “I’ve got places to put you if you needed somewhere safe; places not in the system. Or we can get you somewhere. Do you have a place to go to?”

The guy laughed again. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.”

It was Tim who asked, “Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?”

After the photo earlier, they all knew what the guy would look like when he lifted his head, but it still made Duke glance over at Bruce.

“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

-

Jason motioned and the video stopped there and went away.

Bruce closed his eyes.

I need to get to Bruce Wayne.

Another son he didn’t know about. Another son he failed to save from a horrible childhood because he didn’t know they existed.

“He didn’t want to see you right away, but we think that Tim and I convinced him that we could arrange a meeting between you and him,” Jason said.

“Of course,” Bruce answered instantly.

Jason just gave a little nod and explained, “He doesn’t trust the offer, or us, completely. It was enough to get him to the safe house. Passed out on the way.”

“And still asleep,” Tim piped up from the computer. “I’ve been running analysis on the… collar he’s wearing. It’s definitely a one off, but very professionally made. There’s, well, there was a tracker in it that’s been crushed. It’s meant to deliver a shock if someone messes with it, but I can disable that long enough to remove it.”

“You should wait until one of is is there,” Duke spoke up. “Just… in case there’s a reaction when it’s removed.”

Duke ducked his head when all eyes turned to him, still bashful as the newest member of the family. Bruce had been trying to reassure the other, but he knew that was far from his own strength. Clearly he needed to try a different approach.

“Just, you know, he’s clearly a meta? Of some type? It’s probably a containment collar and it could release a, you know, backlog? Of power?”

“Good thinking,” Bruce assured Duke.

“Someone better get here quick then. I hate seeing this thing on him,” Tim grumbled. At least he agreed.

Bruce looked back at the photo still on the center screen to the pale, drawn face. Even in sleep his son’s face was etched with pain.

“Bruce?” Dick prompted.

Bruce took a breath and made himself focus, to be Batman, not a grieving father. How often had he had to make that choice? “Dick, you and Jason both should go. Tim, as soon as the collar is off I want you and Oracle working on it but stay mindful of traps.”

“Will do,” Tim replied.

“And what of the rest of us?” Damian asked.

His youngest had come so far, but Bruce knew this would be a big disruption for him. They would have to watch him. He caught Cass’ eyes and she gave the slightest nod.

“I want Robin, Batgirl, and Spoiler out on the streets. Don’t ask questions yet, we don’t want to lead anyone to him, but get a sense of the mood around the big players. If this is already on anyone’s radar, I want to know.”

“And you need to make a list,” Jason said. “Kid talked in his sleep, begged his mom to stop. Could just be nightmares…”

“I’ll make one,” Bruce said. His bedroom proclivities were hardly what the papers reported, but with how this new son wasn’t certain of his age, it could be pre-Dick, or even at the start of Dick joining the family. It certainly meant there would be more names then any of the years later on. Whoever it was though, Bruce would find them.

He had to try and do that much for his son.

--- AN: Not entirely sure about Bruce's part here, but he's always harder for me to write! I think goal is to get at least one POV with all of the kids, so I guess Dick's is next likely! I'm super fuzzy today (fatigue, day fuck it, seven? Eight? Of this headache), so I hope this is at least decent~

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost to be notified!

[haveihitanerve]

Alfred Pennyworth is to Blame

Okay first- let me start this by saying I love Alfred Pennyworth. He is the one who raised the great Bruce Wayne, hes a badass, and hes a killer Grandfather. But thats just it. He’s a good grandfather. Not a good father. I see so many people giving Bruce shit for how he treats his kids and then praise alfred as the savior, the only good responsible adult in the world, the one who should have taken all the kids and left Bruce because he ruined them and Alfred would have done better. But thats not true. I fully believe all of the kids would have suffered under just Alfred’s care because, well, he doesn't get it. Bruce’s prime motivator for almost al of his children is that they have shared pain and grief and he helps them work through it. Alfred? So many people have said being a grandparent is easier than being a parent- and its true. Because you don't have to deal with actually raising this child. You get to be the “fun one”. You don't have rules, you spoil them, you give hugs and advice. The actual parent is the one who has to criticize and raise you and punish and teach everything. Do I think Bruce could have raised his kids on his own? Probably. Do I think Alfred definitely helped raise them to be as amazing as they are today? Hell yeah! But Bruce, and I firmly believe this, is such a “terrible” dad, because Alfred was his. Alfred, who doesn’t call Bruce son or even Bruce because first and foremost this boy is his charge, his master, not his child. Bruce was not raised on much affection from the butler, because thats who he was- a butler. Alfred does his best, its not his fault- this was a job that unwillingly turned into a lifelong dedication of suddenly raising a child, but its not enough. And people need to realize that. Maybe, Bruce isn't that great at communicating because he was raised by a mostly silent butler. Maybe Bruce doesn't say I love you quite that often because Alfred never did. Maybe Bruce is so strict because he was raised by a man from the military. But, lets take a look at his kids. Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson is arguably one of my favorite Batfam members, and he became the man he is, overcoming his trauma and being nice and funny and joyous, because he had Bruce in his life. “Robin needed to help take down the man who murdered his parents. ‘So he could turn out like you?’ So that he wouldn't.” Because Bruce took him in and helped him overcome his trauma, Dick became better. Dick is what Bruce would have become… if he had had a Bruce in his life. But he hadn’t. He had an Alfred. 

Anyway, just my thoughts. It makes me so mad when people are so quick to serenade Alfred and shower him with love and then shit on Bruce so hard… when its fucking alfreds fault. Well, not fault thats not the right word but still. Bruce is, unfortunately, my favorite DC person ever and its a hard battle to fight and defend but I’ll do it gladly everyday. Please stop hating on Bruce only to turn around and applaud Alfred. No. Thats not how this works. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. 

[kisseobie]

OH AND-idk if you’ve received a request abt this before but I’ll take my chance, piwon with an s/o who has nipples or a tongue piercing 🤭

- 🪼 anon

p1harmony with a s/o who has specific piercings

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

genre: nsfw (mdni)

a/n: hii 🪼 anon! thank u so much for this request.. i have always wanted these types of piercings so this was fun to think abt :P i hope it’s okay that i included more than just the piercings u mentioned, i wanted some variety and couldn’t help myself lol

*ੈ keeho

kyo would beggggg you to get a clit piercing. kind of alludes to how hot it would be but he’s mostly just teasing—he doesn’t mind if you shoot down his jokes about it because at the end of the day it’s your body. when you do surprise him with one, probably getting it done when he’s touring so it has some time to heal, he’s dropping to his knees quicker than he’s ever done before, ready to eat you whole and gauge what reactions the heightened sensitivity from the jewel will get out of you. i can see him kissing your clit, right atop the pretty piercing, then replacing his lips with his tongue… would make a “v” shape with his fingers on your cunt just to spread you out so he can fully devour the view. taps the tip of his cock against the stud, and gets addicted to the mix of pain and pleasure when it slightly sinks into the slit of his cockhead .. buys you jewelry every now and then and makes you model it for him… yum

*ੈ theo

taeyang might be a mood maker, but he’s still very shy in nature, so i don’t think he’d ever express his desires for your nipples to be pierced directly to you, but he’s definitely fantasized about it. he might have drunkenly mentioned his little fantasy to one of his members late at night, when he’s assumed you’ve passed out on his thigh, when in reality, you were fully awake… if you surprise him in the future by flashing him, he’s immediately grabbing you by the waist with a crazed look in his eyes. lovesss pinching your buds and sucking at them whilst making eye contact with you, in fact i don’t think there’s anything he loves more. if you mix and match the color of your nipple jewelry with your lingerie sets, trust and believe he’s fucking your boobs and spilling all over them :P oh and he loves helping you switch and pick out your jewelry .. praises you all the time with words like “got your tits all dolled up for me, angel? you’re driving me crazy.”

*ੈ jiung

i’ve mentioned before that this man is a sucker for blowjobs, and if you get a tongue piercing and give him head? he’s losing his fucking mind.. would get all rough with it, standing up and slapping his cockhead against your tongue—decorated with a little bud of metal that he oh so adores. jiung would whine out from the added stimulation of your tongue piercing, especially when it would drag over the prominent vein etched on his shaft. would have you on your knees with your tongue stuck out as he fucks into his fist, making sure that when he comes, he paints your tongue, and your little stud, white :3 he’s soooo nasty with it… would probably think about getting a tongue piercing as well, especially after feeling how yours feels against his dick.. i feel like ji is such an experimentalist so he’d wanna know how a tongue piercing would make you feel … woah guys jiung tongue piercing WHEN?

*ੈ intak

intak is a simple man at heart, so he doesn’t need you to have any fancy piercings for him to get riled up. just a typical nostril hoop or loaded ears are enough for him to feel like the luckiest man on earth.. is always telling you how badass you are, it’s actually very endearing. ooh but if you do want to catch him completely off guard .. getting his name tattooed in traditional cursive lettering, with a single dermal stud on the “i” in his name, would bring a possessive side out of intak like you’ve never seen before. he’d probably spend many mornings admiring your piercings whilst watch you sleep, would definitely kiss the jewelry and help you clean the pierced skin with saline solution. doesn’t particularly want piercings of his own, but he’d buy those fake ones, matching yours just to surprise you one day (he’d be giggling because he thought he looked ridiculous, but would be pleasantly surprised of you pounced on him and found the potential piercings sexy) :D

*ੈ soul

any dermal or facial piercings would fuck shota up for sure. back dermals or angel bites, he doesn’t really care exactly what you opt to get.. he just loves to see his girlfriend pierced up tbh. imagining you with back dermals though.. i think soulie would be so amazed at how brave you would be to get them, as they are known as being pretty painful piercings. would accompany you to your appointment and hold your hand so sweetly throughout the entire process, and then he’d take you home and fuck you from the back so he’d have the perfect view of the new jewelry. once you’re all healed up, he’s definitely making excuses to cum on your back when you in fact know he’s just obsessed with coming on top of the studs <33 and if you have facial piercings? he’s kissing them as he pounds into your heat, making out with you impossibly close and hissing at the way the jewelry pokes at his soft skin. like jiung, he might even try to get matching piercings with you :3

*ੈ jongseob

get your belly button pierced and jongseob is fucking you into next week. his emo self would be so stoked if his girlfriend decided to get her belly button pierced. loves you and your crop tops already, but he doesn’t realize until you’ve been pierced just how much he loves the sight of your tummy out and about, especially now that it’s been decorated with a little pink heart charm. finds it so cute and so sexy, would definitely pull you into him and wrap his hands around your waist, thumbs etching little circles into your skin and getting dangerously close to the piercing.. oh and i can’t write jongseob without mentioning his love for photography. can you imagine getting your button pierced and seobie taking polaroid pictures of you on his bed, topless and only wearing some skimpy panties.. ugh and he loves looking at how ur tummy bulges when he’s fucking into you, the piercing being the cherry on top.. oh i’m gonna faint

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

ੈ ₊ ° .

[suzukiblu]

Day five of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Tim,” he starts, and wants to ask if he can suck him off, wants to ask if he can ride him, wants to ask what he’d have to do to just get the other’s dick back inside him one way or the other, wants to ask so many things–

“You want something, pet?” Tim says, tilting his head as he draws his fingers through his hair. It’s a question, technically, but obviously one he already knows the answer to. “Go ahead and ask for it. You were so good for me, you deserve something nice.” 

Kon opens his mouth to ask for Tim’s cock or permission to come or just a kiss, maybe, but what comes out of it is actually– 

“M’jacket,” he blurts, and feels his skin prickle and his face burn. “Is it–s’it too weird if I ask you to, uh . . . to wear . . . ?” 

Tim blinks, very slowly, and his fingers curl against his scalp again. Kon feels a flash of intense embarrassment cut through his arousal and thinks–maybe it is weird, maybe it’s too much, maybe he’s too– 

“Well, leather is traditional,” Bernard muses as he slides his hands up Kon’s arms and curls his hands around his shoulders, still a little bit breathless but smirking slyly up at Tim, who looks–sort of weirdly flustered, Kon almost thinks for a second. Sort of like . . . 

“You want me to wear your jacket?” Tim asks, his tone a little–off, maybe, and Kon feels another flash of embarrassment and half-ducks his head. 

“Just if it’s . . . like, if it’s not too–weird,” he says lamely, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment. Is it too weird? Like, is he making it weird? 

“Ngh,” Tim mutters very, very quietly, his fingers still curled in against his scalp, and then lets out a slow breath and flattens them out to smooth back over his hair slow and easy. It settles the uncomfortable anxiety a little, and Kon feels a little less embarrassed about asking, whether it’s a weird thing to want or not. Like–just a little less, but still. “You were so good for me, pet. Of course I’ll wear it for you. And–that’s not weird either. It’s sweet.” 

Kon melts into absolute fucking mush under both that hand and those words, because of course he does, and thinks–and thinks– 

“For the record I am also all for this idea,” Bernard says approvingly as Tim takes his hand back and leans over to grab Kon’s jacket off the headboard, and Kon loses whatever was trying to come together in his head. It doesn’t matter, compared to what’s going on right in front of him. “Like, literally any idea that involves my boyfriend in badass black leather I am all about.” 

“I’m a great source of badass black leather, yeah,” Kon replies with a smirk, which is an attempt at answering Bernard but also something that he can’t quite take his eyes off of Tim while he’s saying. Tim doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to him, but Kon doesn’t care about that; he cares about the fact that Tim said he’d wear his jacket, and right now Tim’s holding his jacket, and– 

Tim slips the jacket on over his own shirt and unzipped hoodie and it’s probably, like, two sizes too big for him, honestly–he’s more than half a head shorter than Kon is and way more, like, lithe or whatever–but the sight still makes Kon’s gut burn even hotter and his dick throb. He really, like–he really wants– 

The sleeves come down almost to Tim’s knuckles, which is something that Kon is immediately weirdly obsessed with, and when Tim brushes his hair back out of his eyes their cuffs pull up to just below his wrists and god, Kon just wants to bite him. Or go down on him. Or get back in his lap or back under him or–just anything, anything Tim wants, as long as it’s an anything that’ll get Tim to touch him. 

“Fuck, how are you still this hard,” Bernard says under his breath, rubbing one hand up Kon’s bicep and trying to worm the other in between their stomachs. Kon’s a little distracted, but–okay, no, he’s actually very distracted, and kind of forgets to give him the space to do whatever it is he’s trying to do there, and– 

Tim tucks one last loose lock of hair behind his ear and then leans over and kisses him, just a light little peck on the mouth, and Kon’s whole body burns.

[deadsetobsessions]

Tim drake triplet au owns my soul I’m not gonna lie

Have some more ✨

——

Moral and ethical crises aside, having three Robins increased the crime fighting rate exponentially. Crooks could not do even a mildly villainous scheme without being cheerfully beaten down (Lionel), robbed blind (Tim), and having their operations permanently crippled (Archy). At this point, the only reason the Rogues were still alive was because Batman insisted on handling them.

“There’s a weird ship coming into Gotham bay~!” Lionel sang, skipping into the room with an armful of papers. Alfred sedately followed behind him, with a plate full of snacks and milk. He had been passive aggressive in feeding them, muttering something about making up for lost time.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Tim mumbled, grabbing a snack. One hand was doing case work, the other (the hand that grabbed a snack) was doing homework. “Yeah, I clocked that. Some pretty interesting people on it.”

“Once again, Bruce’s old flings haunt our doorstep.” Archy crossed the room and plucked some of the papers off of Lionel.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. People are gonna come flocking to his gates with the fake baby traps again at the end of the social season.” Tim grimaced, remembering all the cheek pinches he endured last season as he headed off anyone that would approach Bruce in his Brucie persona.

“Talia al Ghul is a different kind of issue.”

“I’d take fist fighting her over Mrs. Laughfy’s pinching any day.”

“Gee, I kind of want to meet Talia. She seems kind of badass.” Lionel plopped down onto his seat, dumping the rest of the papers onto the table. “Dick hates her though. Oh, Archy, here’s all of the paperwork from that shady chemical plant.”

“Thanks.” Archy went back to the drawing board, drafting up a complicated corporate scheme that ended up with Drake industries acquiring said shady chemical plants. They were planning the reveal of the Drake triplets soon, but their method had much to be planned.

As a matter of fact…

“As expected,” Archy scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Our best bet is to pretend we were always there.”

“Gaslight, gatekeep, girl-boss!”

The triplets nodded and moved on, Archy forging their birth certificates.

Idle conversation started up again, rotating between their upcoming gaslight gatekeep girl boss masterplan, Talia’s arrival, and whether or not they should dye Jason’s hair bright purple.

“I wonder why she came? She got on the ship with a… kid.” Tim stilled, dawning horror and realization settling upon his face. “No way.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s juicy.” Lionel grinned like a bat fresh out of hell.

“We need more information.” Archy set aside his papers, an indication of intense focus from him.

The door clicked open and three heads swung in unison.

“Hey, guys, what are you…” Dick faltered as three sets of piercing blue eyes locked onto him. “Uh. Something wrong?”

Lionel dove at the door, shutting it closed and locking it.

Tim sprung up and clamped a hand onto Dick’s wrist. His smile became eerily polite. “Dick! We had a couple of questions for you!”

Dick glanced down at him, back at Lionel, and then forward at Archy’s widening grin. He shuddered.

“Am I about to die?” He wondered out loud, resigning himself to his fate as his baby-birds dragged him over to their war table.

——

“You didn’t know about me.”

“…No.”

“But we did!” Damian startled, unsheathing his sword in record time and swinging an arc of deadly blades towards the voice.

“Heya! I’m Robin!”

“I am also Robin.” Damian sidled back and looked up, weapon at the ready. Two identical Robins perched on the flickering street lamps, tilting their heads down at him.

“Hey, Damian. I’m Robin.” The one on the left waves.

“Boys,” his father sighed.

“Can it, B. I can’t believe you did the horizontal tango with Talia, of all people.”

Damian bristled. “You would not be worth the ground mother walks upon, you ingrate!”

The three robins looked at each other and simultaneously looked back at Damian. “Oh, we like you. Yes, you’re about to be our new favorite brother.”

Damian didn’t know whether to lunge at them or be flattered.

“C’mon, Wayne junior. We’ll show you around. Pick an alias, one you can use before we train you to be Robin.”

“I… I will fight you! Robin is mine by right! I am father’s blood son!”

One of the Robins perched on top of the lamp post grinned, half feral as he swung down. “We’d like to see you try, little bird.”

“Stop antagonizing him. Damian, you’ll become Robin eventually, but the only way is to get acknowledged by the former Robins. There’s so much more to becoming Robin than being good at combat like you are.”

“We’ll teach you! Robin lesson number one! Annoy B with competence!” The cheery Robin cheered.

“No.”

They ignored Batman. Damian, after checking his father’s face and not finding anything other than exhaustion, followed their example hesitantly.

“Here, take this grapple.” The serious Robin handed him a grapple and a domino mask. “Second lesson, Robins fly through the sky. We can stalk, sure, but we fly better than anyone else.”

Damian glanced at Batman again, before taking the grapple. In unison, the Robins shot up and away.

“Let’s go, Damian. We shouldn’t leave them unsupervised.”

“They are not competent enough to patrol alone?”

Father grimaced. “They are. But if we leave them be, they’ll take over Gotham in a matter of weeks.”

Damian’s respect towards the Robins went up a couple of notches. He put on the domino and grappled after the Robins.

When they find Joker goons transporting goods, the third Robin (Timothy, he found out later) turned to him and smirked.

“Third lesson? The punishment has to fit the crime. Those are stolen goods. So we rob them blind.”

“Those goods are evidence, Robin,” Father rumbled. Damian tensed, but the Robins remained relaxed.

“Okay, so we don’t touch the evidence, but everything else is fair game. Wallets, keys, lightbulbs.”

“That is incredibly petty,” Damian snapped.

“Well, B said we can’t murder them and maiming someone for stealing is too much. So, petty we must be, to refrain from going off the deep end.”

Damian considered tossing them off the roof, but these infernal fools would probably laugh and return to the roofs like cockroaches.

——

Damian watched the carnage in awe. The Robins were incredibly efficient and effective, drawing terror from their victims even before even commencing a beat down.

“I will accept their guidance,” Damian muttered to himself.

Behind him Batman lowered his head into hands in a moment of weakness. He prayed to allah and his parents for patience… and sanity.

——

“Jaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyysonnnnnnn!”

“Oh, fuck no!” Jason shot out rubber bullets without hesitation. “Fuck off, you demon!”

“But don’t you want to meet our youngest brother?”

Jason lowered his guns, glaring at Lionel’s chirpy face. “What? I’ve already met Tim.”

“Nope! Apparently, Bruce had a kid with, I shit you not, Talia al Ghul!”

Jason holstered his guns, interested in any mockery aimed at Bruce. “No way. You’re lying.”

“Nope! Meet Damian!”

Behind Lionel, Bruce’s mini-me stepped out. “Todd.”

Jason straightened and stepped closer, though noticeably giving Lionel a wide berth. He was never going to let the old man live this down. And from the looks of it, he had allies in the form of the three terrors.

——

Bruce looked down at the cake. He looked back up.

On one hand, his kids were getting along.

On the other hand… he was getting bullied by his kids.

Bruce heard a low chuckle.

Scratch that, he was being unjustly bullied by his kids and Alfred.

In front of the exhausted dad of six (and future dad of so many more), sat a cake with the words “congrats, it’s a boy!” and a picture of Talia.

[confused-wanderer]

Alfred is badass and has unuasual skills even for a batfam member.

Inspired by pandaredd’s skit where Alfred says “Bond wishes he was me”

The man is the caretaker of the bat family, he has raised every damn member, and has seen more than his fair share of wars, doomsdays and worse. He is a butler. And god knows what else in the spare time. All I imagine is that if a teenage Bruce looks up at Alfred and whispers he wants to train, Alfred might be the one who gives him contacts.

Alfred:

Bruce:

Alfred: .. wait here master Bruce, I know you won’t even listen to what I’m saying so I will let you learn the arts. Only under one condition though, I choose your trainers

Teenage Bruce: Alfred, whom would you-

Alfred *already on the phone* : Hello there Lee

Teenage Bruce *wide eyes* *mouthing* : Rock Lee??

Alfred *scoffing* : what world do you think we live in! Be more realistic Master Bruce.

Bruce: .. so who is it?

Alfred: Bruce Lee.

The scariest thing about the butler is that he will take you apart in less than a blow, and he doesn’t even need weapons. He will however use them just for fun.He can still hear if Bruce or any of the batfamily sneaks around, he’s been the only one who somehow knew Cass was in the room and offered her snacks while she was hanging upside down from the ceiling in the pitch black and overall has better instincts to locate any of them in the mansion than a GPS tracking system.

When supervillains, nosy reporters or even crooks try to break into the Manor, the fact that no one installed a security system should’ve really been a warning point that the Waynes had other.. deadlier security.

By the time Jason comes home he sees Alfred cleaning up the carpet, but doesn’t miss the wrinkled edge of the sleeve. It is only then when he looks to the other room and the criminals are all sitting in time out, each a truly remarkable shade of blue, black purple and green he’s never seen in real life. And none of them were even bleeding.

Alfred also has insanely fast reflexes. And to everyone surprise, he is an bloody good shot. Green arrow was once testing out a new arrow and it accidentally whizzed past the target and almost hit the cat when out of nowhere Alfred caught it and snapped it with one hand. And then proceeded to borrow a pistol and shoot the target while walking to the other side of the room, not even sparing a glance at the bullseye he had hit. All the while holding a tray of glass bottles that hadn’t moved a single inch.

He’s given advice to Jason on how to make explosives out of everything and nothing, taught Dick how to cut a tree in half with one kick, showed Stephanie how to always win Russian Roulette, guided Damian on how to break bones without ever leaving traces, taught Tim how to mimic someone’s voice and be scarily accurate, and so much more. Once on live television the world saw Alfred eat three cookies and refuse to pass them to Bruce Wayne before saying “They’ve been poisoned” and throwing them away. A few people swear they heard him mouth “bloody amateurs” afterwards and he insisted he was fine, stating that he was already “used to it.”

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And that is why the bat cave is a safer option for batman’s enemies than the mansion. Because if you were caught by the butler, just know that god has already forsaken you.

[daddychi-01]

Batman Headcanon

Give me a 9 or 10-year-old Dick Grayson who has been Robin for a little bit but is still figuring out his relationship with Bruce Wayne. They are more than a guardian and his ward but not quite yet father and son. They both want that but neither of them have gotten up the courage to say it.

Now give me a hostage situation, during some kind of gala or charity event for the school. One where a lot of rich people and their rich kids are present so it’s very important for Bruce and Dick to be selling the whole secret ID thing, so they have to looking just as pathetic and scared as the other people around them.

The bad guys immediately recognize Bruce Wayne and his brat, and they pull Dick away from Bruce. They threaten Dick’s life, saying that Bruce better cooperate or he’ll have to find a new orphan to to take care of, not like it would be a problem since Gotham has so many.

Dick thinks the fear in Bruce’s eyes is an act. That’s not just Bruce after all, it’s Batman. The Dark Knight. He’s literally not allowed to be afraid, so that look can’t be real.

But it is.

Bruce hasn’t been this terrified since the night he lost his parents. His heart is racing and he has to physically push down a panic attack because that isn’t going to save Dick right now. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t fight these people, not when he is Bruce Wayne. Without the cape and cowl, he has to be a helpless playboy.

So he does the only thing he can think of: he begs.

Bruce Wayne drops to his knees and he pleads with the masked goons to spare Dick’s life. He’s just a boy. A boy who has already lived through enough trauma. Bruce understands if these people hate him and if they want to hurt him instead, that’s fine. But he begs them not to hurt Dick.

He promises to give them anything. They can have his fortune, his life, whatever they want. Just spare Dick. That’s all he asks.

And a masked woman steps forward, leaning down in front of Bruce with what he knows is a sick smirk. The air around them thins and Dick feels himself shiver fifteen feet away. He hadn’t been expecting Bruce to say any of those things. Sure they were close, they had to be as the Dynamic Duo. But he thought after his parents died, there wouldn’t be another adult who would speak about him like that.

That would care enough to swallow their pride and beg, just for him.

Dick’s ears perk up when he hears the woman speak.

“Anything?” She asks. She sounds delighted, almost like she had won some sort of bet at a bar and not that she was leading a hostage situation.

“Anything.” Bruce confirms.

“Okay.” She stands, pointing her gun in Dick’s general direction. “I want your Mommy’s pearls.”

Bruce’s body freezes in shock.

Dick closes his eyes now resigned. Bruce may have been willing to say he would give anything but those were just words. It was one thing to say it, it was entirely different to actually do it. And Martha Wayne’s pearls were too high a price.

Dick can’t blame Bruce either. He imagined being asked to give up his mother’s wedding ring and felt his stomach turn. No, he wouldn’t begrudge Bruce for changing his mind—

“Done.”

Dick’s head shoots up, eyes wide with surprise. He had to have misheard. Bruce didn’t. He wouldn’t…

“Give me a phone. I’ll call my Butler and he will bring them here.”

And Dick cries. Not because someone is holding him hostage, he doesn’t care about that, but because a wave of realization crashes down onto him with an unforgiving strength.

He isn’t an orphan anymore. He has a dad. Bruce loves him.

Bruce ends up calling Alfred and Alfred, being the badass that he is, gives the Gotham PD a heads up but drives there anyway just so he can sucker punch the woman who demanded his late mistress’s pearls just to psychologically torture his son while holding his grandson hostage.

He then takes the pair home. There’s a small tin of cookies in the back for them to share on the drive back.