thatonehotguy15

[thatonehotguy15]

a precious jewel.

Image from Pinterest (I finally know how to post images).

Summary: For your age, you have a unique appearance; you look younger than you are, but it becomes difficult to have someone, although that stops being the case when you meet a man in a suit.

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Thanks to your genes, you've never had to worry much about your appearance. Some call you a time stealer, others believe you have the fountain of youth, and others call you a liar for not believing in your age.

But that never bothered you, you didn't pay attention to it, not until you realized that finding a partner was difficult, or rather, VERY DIFFICULT.

You didn't pay much attention to having children, but you still wanted a partner who loved you and didn't see you as just a pretty face, or something even more unpleasant.

Every man you've dated was worse than the last, and you have several examples.

There was one who was a little younger than you, not enough to worry about, but still considerable enough to date you. He was charming, sweet, and romantic, but that was forgotten when he started calling you his sugar mommy and started making jokes about it. You wanted to ignore it, but you couldn't when he insistently asked you for money.

Then another man came along who was a little older than you, which didn't bother you because you thought he'd be more mature than the last. That was forgotten again when he started showing you off like a trophy, saying you were younger than you were to impress others by landing a "so young" woman. You hated him like crazy because you were proud of your age because of your experience and everything you'd been through, thank you.

And so the list of imbecile men you had the misfortune of dating continued. You almost thought you'd be left without a partner…

Until you met a particularly polite and charming butler.

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You volunteered to pick up your niece from school. You didn't have anything special to do that day, and when your younger brother called for help, you didn't refuse.

And there you were, ready to go pick her up. When you got out of your car to head for the gate, you saw a man dressed like a butler standing in front of the gate next to a car shouting for money. There were a few minutes left until the kids left, so you just decided to stay at the gate for your niece to see you. Nothing unusual.

The minutes passed, and you were still waiting for the gate to open. You decided to close your phone and check the notifications to see if anything happened. You didn't realize you had dropped your wallet when you took it out.

"Excuse me, ma'am, you dropped your wallet." You looked up to see the same butler from before, only this time with your flower-printed wallet.

"Oh, thank you very much, sir…" you gesture to the man as you take your wallet.

"Alfred Pennyworth, if it's not too much trouble, I could ask where you got that wallet."

"Well, Mr. Pennyworth, I couldn't tell you where I got it because I made it."

"Really? You have some very peculiar designs. You have good taste, madam…"

You tell him your name as you put your wallet away and he thinks for a moment.

"Do you like flowers, Mr. Pennyworth?"

"That's right. Gardening is my favorite hobby, and your flower designs are beautiful." You feel a smile spread across your lips when he says those words.

"Wow, it's nice to meet another gardener in this city," you say as you shake his hand.

"Do you like gardening too?" Alfred shakes your hand and squeezes it gently.

"Yes, and sewing too, although you can deduce that from the wallet." You try to let go of his hand, but he takes it and kisses your palm, making you freeze and feel your cheeks turn a little pink.

"It's also nice to meet a woman with good taste like you," he says, still holding your hand in his. Your heart wouldn't stop beating, and you felt like a schoolgirl.

You weren't religious, but if God finally granted your wish for a good name, you'd be so happy and a good believer. You say, looking into Alfred's eyes, as he also takes after you.

"Alfred?" He says in a low, somewhat childish voice. The two of you turn your heads, letting go of each other's hands as you look at a dark-skinned boy with green eyes, frowning at the two of you.

"Master Damian, it's good to see you," Alfred says, turning to look at the boy named Damian. The boy just stares at you while nodding at Alfred.

"Likewise…"

"Well, we have to say goodbye. It was a pleasure meeting you, miss." You turn to look at Alfred and say a quick "likewise" as he watches her leave with the boy, opening the door for her to get in.

Before he gets in the car, he turns to look at you intently.

"I hope to see you again, miss."

You smile at him while nodding and then watch him leave.

"Hello, aunt." You don't turn to look at your niece while she's by your side. You just look at where the car was and feel like you can smile.

"Auntie?" Your niece seems bewildered as you turn to look at her, smiling.

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"What was that?" Damian gets out of the car as he heads for the mansion's door. The entire drive from school to home was silent, perhaps because Damian didn't want to think about what he saw, but now he did want to talk.

"What was that, Master Damian?" Alfred follows behind him.

"Alfred, I'm not a child. I know what I saw." Damian enters the mansion with Alfred to head to the table where the others were waiting for lunch.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Master Damian."

"Alfred…" Damian was interrupted by Dick, who appeared in the living room doorway.

"They're here! How was school?" Dick gives Damian space to enter the living room.

"The ride was as smooth as always."

"Alfred was flirting with a lady at the school entrance," Damian says, interrupting Alfred as he stares at his father, who's choked on the water he's drinking.

"What?" asks Tim, who's across the table, his laptop open.

"Alfred… flirting?" Dick stares into space while holding onto a chair, seemingly unable to process those two words together.

While everyone was silent, a pin could be heard dropping as everyone seemed to process the information.

Suddenly, Jason's snorting laughter was heard, standing next to Tim. He was clutching his stomach as he turned to look at Damian.

"Good joke, dude. Make it more believable next time," Jason said, sighing with laughter.

"This isn't a joke, Jason. I saw with my own eyes how he took her hand and kissed her palm."

"What?!" the three boys said, while Bruce still seemed to be staring at the glass.

Meanwhile, Alfred quietly left the room and headed to the kitchen to serve the food.

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"Come on, Aunt!" Your niece kept wanting you to tell her what happened at the school entrance. The two of you were in the car while you drove to your brother's house.

"I've told you several times, little one, it was nothing," you say, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"It was nothing? Aunt, you were blushing! You seemed delighted." She smiles as if she'd discovered a huge secret, while you can only manage a small smile.

"Honey, don't exaggerate, it was just a one-time thing… maybe I won't see him again."

"What if it's not just a one-time thing? What if you run into him again? You have to be ready!" Much to your chagrin, it doesn't seem like your niece is going to let the subject go.

"I don't think it will happen."

"But if it does?"

You don't say anything as you park the car in front of your brother's house, then turn to look at your niece.

"Sometimes it's good to dream, honey," you say, taking off your seatbelt.

"In any case, don't say anything to your father. You know how he gets at the thought of me having a partner." Not only have you suffered with your previous relationships, but your brother has become so involved in them that he doesn't find it funny to talk about a future partner.

"Yes, Aunt…" Your niece nods as she gets out of the car, probably remembering how some of your previous partners were such idiots that her father had to intervene.

At least it makes you happy that someone still dreams of something that's best for you.

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"What's she like?" Tim asks as he helps clear the plates from the table. Alfred forbade them from talking about it while they were eating, but now that they'd dug, they could talk as much as they wanted, much to Alfred's dismay.

"Who's who, Master Tim?" Alfred remains unaffected as he continues walking toward the kitchen.

"Oh, come on, Alfred, you don't have to be shy," Dick appears behind Alfred as he follows him into the kitchen.

"Dick's right, you can tell us." Jason is already in the kitchen, watching Alfred and his brothers enter.

"Well, she likes gardening, and she's a seamstress. She's pretty, but she clearly has a good knowledge."

"This is historic! Alfred finally has a conquest!" Dick stands in the doorway, smiling at Damian, who didn't seem happy about any of it.

"What's that supposed to mean, Master Dick?" Alfred raises an eyebrow at Dick, who now seems nervous about what he said.

"Well, that's… I mean… It's not that you can't win anyone over… It's just that…" Dick seems more nervous as he speaks, but luckily Jason seems to take pity on him.

"What the golden boy means is that we've never seen you interested in any woman since we met you… not even Bruce can see that," Jason shrugs as he points to his adoptive father, who is also standing in the kitchen doorway.

Everyone looks at Bruce, who just stands in the doorway, staring at Alfred, confirming what they suspected.

"Alfred… is it safe?" Bruce approaches his sentimental father while he's cleaning the dishes. While everyone (except Tim) sighs when they hear this, Alfred swears he hears a "it was obvious he'd say that," possibly from Jason, as he turns to look at his sentimental son.

"Master Bruce, you guys are acting like I'm getting married without warning. I barely met her today and we haven't even exchanged numbers. I might never see her again."

"That's why we need to investigate thoroughly, just in case you run into each other more than once. Let me…"

"Master Bruce, if I may remind you, I'm the one who checks your dating history. And in this case, the young lady seems to be… exceptionally qualified."

"Did you just call her 'qualified'? That's the hottest thing I've ever heard from your mouth," Dick whispers to Jason, who looks at him with a raised eyebrow in confusion.

Alfred, ignoring them but with an almost imperceptible smile, continues, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make the tea." Just for me… unless someone else wants to behave and deserve a cup.

Everyone falls silent as Alfred strides out of the room, leaving a silence filled with complicity.

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You walk through the crowd as you head to your favorite coffee shop. It's been two days since you ran into that gentleman, unfortunately, and you haven't been able to meet up with him again.

Your brother couldn't pick up his daughter, so you couldn't use that as an excuse to see him again. Going just to see him seemed inappropriate, considering it can only be a one-time thing.

So there you are, sipping coffee at your favorite coffee shop while you decide to read some poetry. It was better than thinking about your disastrous love life… or lack thereof.

You sigh as you continue reading your book.

without noticing three people entering the shop, heading to the register to order.

"You didn't have to come, Alfred." Tim looks at the menu as he approaches the register.

"It's no bother, Master Tim. Besides, I've seen some good reviews of this place, and it seems perfect to try coffee from outside for once."

"The previous places were a mockery of its name."

"Or maybe you have too high expectations, Damian."

"Because it doesn't meet its objective."

"Not all of them have your taste. You're too critical of those places." As Tim continued speaking, Alfred noticed your presence. You were sitting not far from him. Seeing that the kids were still talking, he decided to leave them for a moment and head over to you.

"If it's not me, then who? People have terrible taste," Damian spoke, not noticing Alfred's absence.

"This isn't going anywhere, Alfred, could you… Alfred?" Tim turned to see where Alfred had gone, seeing that he was heading for a specific table.

"Damian, is it…?"

"Yes, it's her…"

Meanwhile, Alfred stopped at your table.

"Wow, Gotham seems smaller every day," Alfred said softly but loudly. You look up in surprise to find Alfred there, spilling some of your coffee. He quickly offers his handkerchief.

"Mr. Pennyworth, what a… coincidence?" You smile, embarrassed by the small incident.

Before Alfred can figure it out, Tim appears behind Alfred, followed by Damian.

"Oh, hi! Are you that famous purse artist? Alfred keeps telling us about—(Alfred stares, causing Tim to cough.)—"let's say, your… good taste in flowers."

"Drake, that was pathetic."

"And you're…?" You look at Damian, remembering perfectly that he was the guy Alfred picked up from school. You can't quite remember his name, since you weren't thinking clearly at the time.

Damián crosses his arms, staring at you. "The one who checked your background. Clean, for now." That leaves you surprised and speechless.

Alfred quickly intervenes. "Master Damián, please." Alfred turns to look at you, continuing. "Excuse your… enthusiasm."

Before he can answer, Alfred turns to the two boys, resigned. "Teachers, why don't you choose a table? I'll join you in a moment."

Damián looks like he wants to protest, but Tim drags Damián to a distant table, but he doesn't stop looking.

"Is it always like this?" you ask curiously, since you've never experienced that kind of scenario before.

Alfred sighs theatrically, gives them one last look, then turns to you. "Unfortunately, yes. But…" (you see him take out a pencil, then grab a napkin and write) "perhaps a phone number will make up for the embarrassment," he says, handing you the paper.

You accept the napkin more cheerfully and smile at him as he says,

"I'd be delighted, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Just Alfred, please, ma'am." You smile at them, while Tim and Damian don't seem very happy.

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I wanted to write more, but I'd like your opinion on whether to continue or not. I'm thinking about this theme: Bruce as a jealous son who doesn't want to give up on his father and who will interrogate you whenever he can; Dick and Jason being the happiest, but also a bit cautious; and, finally, Damian and Tim joining forces to prevent this from going any further, as they don't want to give up on their grandfather.

An example or something that will happen in the next chapter (?):

Will Bruce react with paternalistic protection? ("Alfred, if she makes you happy, fine… but if she hurts you, Batman will come for her.")

Will the Waynes investigate you? (Jason: "I'm going to stalk her to see if she's worthy of Alfie." Dick: "No! Let's do it discreetly!" Tim: "No! We have to hack her.")

Or will Damian be your biggest obstacle? ("Pennyworth is family. I won't let a stranger take him.")

And much more! Literally a lot, a LOT more—well, maybe not that much—a little drama, somewhat unusual situations, etc.

But…

That's up to you. If you like it, I'll obviously continue and turn it into a miniseries, or if I want to continue, I will, but I think the final decision is mostly yours.

Good morning/afternoon/evening.

I don't know much English.

[thatonehotguy15]

The clock read 3:17AM. Damian was sharpening his katana in the Batcave when he felt it — a shift in the air, the soft sound of bare feet on marble. He didn't have to look. He knew it was you.

You wore his shirt, oversized and off one shoulder. Your lip gloss was smudged. Sleep still lingered in your lashes.

“Couldn't sleep,” you mumbled, leaning on the edge of his table like you owned it — like you owned him.

He didn’t speak. Just stared. Then back at the blade.

You watched him for a moment. “You know, most boyfriends just cuddle their girlfriends at night. Not sharpen swords.”

“I’m not most boyfriends,” he said coldly, but his eyes betrayed him — flickering down your thighs, then quickly away.

You took a step closer. "No. You're worse. You keep acting like you don't care, but you're the one who calls me every time I don’t text back for two hours."

His jaw tensed.

"You’re the one who kissed me like you were starving, then disappeared for a week."

Now his grip on the blade was tighter.

You tilted your head. “Say it, Dami. Just once. Say you missed me.”

Silence.

Then, in a low voice, almost broken: “I missed you.”

You blinked.

He placed the blade down slowly. Walked to you. Rested his forehead against yours. And whispered:

“Don’t ever leave me again. I’d burn Gotham to find you.”

Your lips curved up. “Knew it.”

And when he kissed you — it was bruising, desperate, and hungry. The kind of kiss that meant war.

[thatonehotguy15]

Hi, how are you? Since your account is focused on smut, I'll want something with Tony Stark x Male Reader, Maybe Tony gets jealous because the reader flirts with other people, and he tries to be tough by fighting with the reader, but the reader reminds him who is in charge in the relationship

Who's In Charge?

Tony Stark x Top!AMAB!Reader

CW: I don't think there's any??

Tony watched as you moved around the room, it was full of people who didn’t seem to know about personal space. As you were currently mid-conversation with some business man, his hand moved from your forearm up to your shoulder, even gently brushing the back of your neck. And that was Tony’s breaking point, pushing past everyone to get to you.

“Excuse me gentlemen, but me and my partner here have some business to attend to.” Keeping a tight grip on your arm as he guided you through the room, you could easily brush him off and return but why would you. The night has finally become fun.

“What were you thinking? Letting him touch you?” Turning to face you, who was now sporting a smirk as he scolded you. “And now you’re smiling,” Tony stepped closer to be in your face, “I am, what are you going to do about it?” Even with his glasses you knew what his eyes were doing, that squint that told you he was planning something.

Pushing a hand through his hair while shoving you back onto a chair, “Let’s see if you’re still smug after this.” His hands now roughly undo and pull down your pants and underwear before doing the same to himself. Kneeling outside your legs he quickly prepped himself, slapping away your attempts at ‘helping.’

Soon sinking down onto your length, groaning as he holds the handles of the chair. You weren’t helping him, hands sitting by your side, letting him do all the work. Slowly lifting himself before lowering back down, “C’mon now, if you’re really sorry then show me.” “Oh I will.”

Grabbing under his legs before suddenly standing, his hands moved to your shoulders, digging his nails into your flesh. Turning to pin him against the wall, folding his legs as far he can go. You could see how deep you were, “Look at that,” Letting him see before fucking up into, watchnig as your dick becomes visible. “Look at how deep I am.” Holding him up with one hand as the other moves his own to feel where his stomach bulges from you.

“Do you feel how sorry I am, or do I need to keep going?” Watching him huff before opening his mouth, only to whine. “Yes, just—” Arching his back when you hit his prostate, that pushed him to the edge. Watching him cum, the substance landing on your stomach, “Fuck. Inside, please.” Luckily you were at your limit, filling him with a load of cum.

Taking a moment to catch both of your breaths, “I think I'm pretty sorry.” “Seems so… You should do this every time you apologize~” “Tony.”

[thatonehotguy15]

My twisted symphony

Part1 <<<here

DO NOT EAT!!!

Warnings!: dead dove🕊️🥀 voyeurism, masterbation (both fem and masc!), being held captive/kidnap, reader falling into Stockholm syndrome, fantasy abt anal(bc why not?) unreliable narrator. Cringe dialog, virgin reader, MDNI!!!

Pls read the warning before reading this.

this sucks.

leaving you here in this stupid bunker he called a house, what did he think was going to happen leaving you here?

it was boring, all the times spent and days without him.. you went with your days with monotony even your old life wasnt this depressing, the cool air of the AC fill the air and the sweet scent wafted around the re—cooled air that surrounds this underground labyrinth you were trapped in, legs crossed watching the television as you waited, and waited till your icecream was all gone and the after taste was gone from your taste buds.

the smell of the sweet ice cream wafting in the air around you whilst you watched the news; the heroes fighting an alien race trying to invade earth. he'd be disappointed if he saw you like this, staying up late was one straw but eating ice cream before bed with your favorite chocolates topped? what were you trying to do? die of diabetes or a from an infected tooth?

It would be a pathetic death .

but one thing you couldnt help admit that you missed him, being watched in a totally not creepy way. he was too much of a gentleman for that, he was calculating trying to dissect you till he finds your very being, the soul that breathes him life and something far from what his imagination could divulge.

he was sweet.

you wished he'd come sooner.. Its been two weeks already, it made you grow restless, lonely. the feeling much stronger than the ache between your chest and thighs, how many days has it been? you had a guess it wouldn't hurt.. the temptation sliding between your thighs, the slick probably made clear with how damp your panties suddenly felt, hissing at the cool fingers and put into place collecting the warm slick seeping out of you.

your head felt hazy, splayed in the couch the TV playing in the background long forgotten as it became background noise as you nuzzled on the soft material on your skin as your fingers worked, gently yet indirectly rubbing that sensitive nub to build up pleasure before you could go any further..

the buzzing noise in your head, and he sat alone in his room watching in the cameras he bugged the whole house. It was a small detail he hadnt told, since you didnt even ask since you didnt know. You rarely knew anything in this whole place besides your room and a few hand of places; the gym, the walk in fridge, the library you spent most of your time when you werent binging movies, the days passed so slowly yet its not that you guiltily started to miss...

he watched the days he was away, how you barely wore anything when you thought he wasnt around. he seen through the smart TV. it was a perfect angle where you were laying at, legs splayed like you had no care in the world and discarded underwear somewhere on the floor left abandoned.

it was a curious sight, he never thought you'd even touch yourself even after a few months but he was far from complaining. it was also perfect time to take notes, how you could felt good but with his fingers instead of yours. Its what a good boyfriend does, even if its purely for his desire.

he watched your fingers worked, rubbing the way you liked ignoring the tight strain in his boxers watching, he at least wanted to know how you pleased yourself that he could maybe use against you. His grip is tight on his sides to where his knuckles turned white, be could almost taste you from here- smell you. Every part of you he could have reached.

he heard it all.

how your walls tightly wrapped on your fingers, pulsing, suckling so needily it made something primal in him awake. even if he wasnt there right now, he was only a little disappointed not being able to see your face, how you'd probably make more of those heavenly sounds with the bliss of it splattered across your face. cock twitching in his boxers, he couldnt help it- not when he has the perfect live porno in his laptop of his beloved mewling out so sweetly all for him. You looked so at ease and vulnerable, thoroughly enjoying it

His hand coated with the oil beneath his covers, and how he was moving at your own pace- he just wanted to come with you, he has thought about it so many times; seeing you strapped down and blindfolded felt like a fever dream, he didnt touch you or did anything at first since he was waiting for the perfect time. He wanted to enjoy you, but he liked you not screaming and crying like you were dying and to his cunning tricks he always get what he wants even as a kid and it wasnt any different now.

"ohh damian-" he heard your syrupy voice through his headphones, and the clear noises your messy cunt being vigorously rubbed and plunged into your slick hole wriggling and rubbing to try to fill yourself with what you wanted. He only quickened his pace, groaning slightly watching the perfect view on his screen mewling sweet lullabies on his ears. Smooth silky moans, you were filthy and rather whorish with how you spread your legs just like that twitching and curling all for him.

You were a mess, arching your back whilst your fingers got to work your thoughts murky yet clear in its frazzled state. How he left you all high and dry after that 'punishment', it didnt settle you one but as the image of him was still fresh, pumping his engorged cock when you had the blind fold slip off when moving around... His eyes glued watching your needy holes twitch and puff, the little asshole pulsing around nothing. He just wanted to run his thumb over it and even put his thumb into tease you, he wondered if you looked surprised or even pleased with it

He was perfect.

Well you knew what a cock was but his specifically was rather pretty; long a soft curve upward a good 9 to 10. Its a nice tanned color with a angry dark tip, reddish and a bit darker than the rest of him.But the girth is what sort of intimidated you, was it even going to fit? That's what you wanted to know, to feel. How his cock would stretch and hit the spongy ring inside you. The erotic symphony of your ecstasy let aloud, knowing no one was around yet he was still watching. "I wan' you in me" "please damian—" the voices that sounded like your resided in his head, imagining how you'd beg, how you were S' full it made his eyes roll back increasing in pace hearing your quickening hand and needy gaspy whimpers growing higher than your original voice. The only twisted symphony he has the real pleasure of hearing and wanting to make it himself.

Rough grunts as his leaky angry tip as he watched, you looked like a mess with your ass up in the air like that arched perfectly on his camera with your head down. your climax was beginning and it made you wince, soft putty walls clenching on your digits before you stiffened in your peak. Limbs turning putty when you were really too overstimulated to really touch your clit anymore. One final whimper before you fell onto the couch, juices still leaking out with your jelly limbs. He watched it in his room, a familiar web of thick white ropes covering his hand as his breath was ragged. Eyes half lidded watching when you slumped finally, sighing softly he wished he was there to personally fuck you but he wasnt, he was pathetically watching this through the screen of his laptop like some teenager—

But it cant be helped, not this night anyways. He just cant wait to go home soon.

I hoped you guys liked part two😋 I finally got my phone fixed to finish this!!!

[thatonehotguy15]

No, but reverse AU damian??

damian as a yandere

Dead dove do not eat!!!!

Warnings!; stock home syndrome, cnc, AGED UP DAMIAN!, cscnc, kidnapping, being held captive, chaining, p n v, fingering, voyeurism, drugging, being manipulative, blood. Pls comment if I missed anything(⁠^⁠^⁠), college au, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT I REPEAT!!, somnophilia, dacryphilia, reader wasnt able to escape, happy ever after(?), damian being a stalker etc. long ahh fanfic, fem!reader, violence(duhh ) spanking, virginity taking, straitjacket and light bondage, sadist damian(?) on going!(Probly two more stories)

It was never meant to be this painful. You felt your head pounding against skull whilst everything around felt like a haze, a thin sweat covering your forehead with how hard your trying to regain some bit of clarity to whatever the hell is happening.

All you remembered was your classmate; Damian. You and him were supposed to be doing a project at his place, at first you're rather nervous to come in your rather casual attire since everything about him was pristine and opulent to a suffocating degree.

But thankfully enough it wasn't the wayne manor, rather another house. It wasn't a mansion but it was still more than enough than your college budget could afford; a two story house, it looked well kept yet its old fashioned american architecture could say otherwise, but it was nice like the well trimmed garden.

You had walked the gravel to his front patio, it crunching every step till you finally walked up the wooden steps to his door.

A soft breath is let out of you, before ringing the door bell. Waiting whilst you looked around, his neighbours were rather quiet, probably asleep at this time but the hour was an early evening... Brushing it off when he finally opened the door, he greeted with a curt nod and a slight smile before letting you in.

It was all fine, the project and power point went on well without him butting in and saying something was wrong with your analogy or what not when adding something into the presentations power point; he was oddly cooperative, a soft hum left your lips pleased seeing how his laptops lock screen was of his animals and dog(titus).

"I didnt know you had a cow." Musing when he came back with a chilled canned latte of coffee, he handed you one.

"thats titus, great dane." He said cooly, it was oddly endearing whilst you finally finished the power point.

"thanks, I never privy you for a dog person." Not helping to jab since he didnt look like a person who'd enjoy anything at all. Opening the can as its satisfying crackle sounded when opening the tab, drinking the stimulant concoction. At least he knew your sweet tooth.

"well I do like animals, not just dogs. I also have a cow."

That made you chuckle a bit lowly, trying not to spit out your own drink. It wasnt out of mockery but by how oddly sweet and out of character it is for him, or what you believed so.

"well you might as well make a whole farm with the collection of animals you have."

He smiled, at that. Not because it was some witty remark that amused him even if it did. It was the way that anesthetic worked wonders, and how easily you seem to ease in and pass out onto his floor.

Thats what is happening right now, he was carrying you somewhere. Your limp body being carried like it was the most precious thing on earth, he could smell your shampoo and perfume from how close you were whilst he carried you to your room.

Well not your actual room, but a room he built for you underground, where no one would even think to look. He was much more clever than to leave out any evidence that you were even in the house in the first place.

He knew you didnt have any roommates, he knew your hobbies, where you live, and multiple routes to that shabby apartment you lived in.

It angered him.

Not at you but at the things he could have done if he just acted sooner.

But he wanted to wait, to see if you were the one. He doesnt need to think twice anymore.

It felt like a dream when he layed you onto your new bed and room, how peaceful you looked when asleep. And how easy it was to strap that heavy metal chain on your ankle to prevent you from escaping, or even moving properly with how thick it was.

Damian wasnt an idiot.

He knew he shouldnt be in a very loud area filled with people and with his budget he practically could rent out the whole block of his neighbour hood if he wanted. Which he did.

No witnesses, only him driving to an unmarked place where not even his father or the other robins would go, somewhere far from the irky muck of gotham.

His hand gently caressed your unconscious face, sliding his knuckles against the softness of your skin, him crouching to get a better look at your face when he did so.

He couldnt leave you alone.

Well, not where he doesnt know where you are.

You were so gullible, he seemingly made it easy to look harmless and scrawny. A personality he created all for you .

Soft smiles here and there, his handsome face and rich background made it impossible for anyone to suspect.

Just like how easily he lied.

But it was all for you.

He wasnt going to let you go, not when you're already in his snare.

He sighed mentally scolding you for how easy you were to target, you werent air headed... Well sometimes you were, but it was always in the comfort of other people.

His hand glided over the appliances he bought for this room; the bed, the closet filled with the clothes he thought you'd like, soon going out of the room.

He made sure it was perfect.

He made sure you could never fight back. So he wouldnt have to hurt you.

That thought crossed his mind many times but he made sure. He needed you to be hopeless, it would be much easier to break you then, but time would just go by and then he'll finally have his answer.

When you finally woke up the first thing was to panic, the pink walls and the soft glow of the orange lamp beside you. Practically jumping out of the bed but when you stood nausea hit you like a truck, the bitter acidic taste on your tongue and throat before stumbling back down onto the bed.

Something heavy and cold weighing on your ankle.

"what the fuck." Muttering tugging on the chain, the door was closed and unlocked but by how long this chain is you could only walk around this stupid room and to the bathroom.

Your first instinct was to scream, and so you did. For thirty minutes straight before giving up, and so right now your trying to pry off the lamp stuck to that night stand which ALSO was stuck to the ground.

It was obvious who ever the hell kidnapped you thought it through and it made you so irritated and at the same time scared.

Because what could they possibly want from you? You were rich thats for sure so what do they want??

Hours seem to pass before the door opened, and you were shocked to see no one else but damian holding a tray of food.

Your shock soon turned into anger as you screamed, to why he kidnapped you and why the hell you were chained in this creepy kiddish room.

But he didnt answer. "Answer me you psycho!"

That made his jaw clenched before putting down the food tray onto the desk on the foot of the bed. "Please, calm down beloved—" he tried to assure, keeping his tone calm and level headed which obviously you didnt fucking buy.

"NO I WONT CALM DOWN! And stop calling me that you weirdo, let me out!"

He knew you'd act like this, like everyone else but he didnt budge. "You are never leaving this place alright? Whether you like it or not."

He announced leaving no room for argument before he left, you just sat there on your bed angry tears from the throbbing of your head and how powerless you felt. But there is one thing he could never do is let you give up, not when you had a life ahead.

You weren't stupid enough to throw the food away, and eating with caution since he last drugged you made you pass out and made you stuck here in the first place.

The desk seemed heavy and clean, made of some fancy wood you know. The food wasnt much to die for; just oatmeal and some fruit with water and half of a ham sandwich he probably bought from subway.

Begrudgingly eating as you wondered, even if your body felt like it was too weak to even stand without falling into the floor.

How long were you out for?

Days felt like years, realizing his pattern. Usually he comes whenever he thinks your asleep or occupied but you stubbornly keep ignoring him or beg to be let free. Even hitting and scratching more than once which he quickly shut down.

His punishments werent kind either, he would force you in a straitjacket to avoid you from moving, even letting you stay in there for days and only some minutes where he'd let you out just to go in the restroom.

But whenever you were in the straitjacket he'd let you roam outside the room, you realized how there was no windows or doors leading out meaning it must be an underground system where he is holding you in.

Lony eeri dim halls that seem to stretch and some open areas that were supposed to mimic a house or whatever he is trying. The vents were always too small and too high for you to crawl out off.

The loneliness hit you like a truck which seemingly was just the first month of you being kept here, some nights you'd just sob into your pillow or not eat as much as you did which he oddly was quick to notice.

Some foods you used to like no longer interested you which he also stopped buying, he could see the soft hope and light in your eyes grew to fade. Yet he never comments, he always speaks to you as if this was the most normal thing, he keeps giving nicknames that sometimes you didnt even understand. It made you cringe half the time "beloved" or "habibti" or some other arabic endearment.

You had started to draw as a hobby, to keep you from going insane with how your practically stuck here having to put up with his stupid rules and his stupid face. He only gave you oil pastels to avoid you from making a weapon to hurt him or yourself.

But he knew the best to do for you, right? He knew you were awake whenever you pretended to sleep, letting him hold your face if he wanted, to just stare at the only time you ever seem to be at peace.

It seemed as the weeks went by you caught yourself always looking at the doors, usually the places he'd enter. But there is no way your actually expecting him to come in, he kept coming back later than some days.

Its as if you were starting to actually miss him, but there is no way... He was the one who made you feel like a doll; meant to be looked at and touched and nothing more than that. And he sometimes stick your poor drawing onto the fridge like your child which infuriated you.

But there was one incident you never forgot, when you tried to gouge out his eye balls with your finger.

Now your bound and over his lap. In his dark gravely voice he spoke; "your counting all of these, and if you make one mistake were going through it ten fold."

His heavy hand then struck down, counting the first hit. "One–" managing to choke out as his leg caught your flailing legs as you, he knew you werent going to be let off easily and out of his own sick desire he is stretching this punishment to hold along more.

With every strike you seem to lose a part of your dignity and pride, 17. It was all he was going too count, but why that number? It felt like a terribly odd number and one you knew you'd loose yourself too.

Even after he finished, he noticed the slickness between your thighs. "Just as I thought, but dont fret.. Im sure you'd enjoy the next punishment." Your body was limp on his thigh, your legs slightly trembled when his rough hand gently squeezed your reddened rear. This was humiliating, its as if he really wanted to break you.

Now you were blind folded and finally in that straitjacket again as much as you dreaded, laid out in a surgical table as your feet and body were also bound as you cussed and yelled at him.

Soon a heavy slap came to your thigh from a belt, choking on your own breath as hot angry tears started to fall as you tried to do the latter— to convince him that you didnt want to be hurt; not when you couldnt see, it only terrified you even more.

"please- damian, I didnt mean too. I just wanna go home!" Pleading falling into deaf ears as another blow hit, right as your hip making you jump.

"No, I don't think its right. You tried to kill me, and now your going to face the consequences of your actions." He states, his eyes calculating and dark watching your half bear form as you squirmed, the slickness that shined between your thighs was enough to make him swallow his own desire.

The rough pads of his thumb finding your clit making you yelp, rough tight circles went into a slow pace but deliberate enough you'd choke in your own words. "Ng—! Wait damian please- stop–!"

It was great, how powerless you were, and those soft noises you made he wanted to hear more. He could see you clenching on nothing as you mockingly chuckled darkly whilst continuing his ministration.

A soft noise that sounded like a choked mewl let out from your throat as you plead to stop died down, your trembling body arching painfully as you still were crying, he was hoping it was out of pleasure than anything. "Whats wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He continued to rub tight harsh circles on your clit, the slick dripping down to your inner thighs which he collected with his index before going in.

A soft gasp letting out from you. "You're drenched, and here this was supposed to be your punishment. Maybe I am being too lenient with you." He hissed with desire dripping from his tone, his hands soon exited out, the friction you wanted gone, a whimper coming out of you much to his sick amusement. "Dont worry, your such a fucking slut for seemingly enjoying this." But before you could say anything he shifted away.

"well I guess I should start, you arent leaving this room until its morning." He soon stuck a vibrator taped to your clit before he set it to the middle setting, to your already raw and spent clit, it was a harsh yet overstimulating feeling of pleasure and pain that ripped into you. "Mhph— damian–! Dami please!" You didnt even know what your asking for as your mind went blank, the sudden prod of his digits going into you as your legs strained under the bindings. "Too much!" You whined out as his fingers made a come here motion, your tightness squeezing his digits since your fingers were never that big as his. It made your head throw back at the cool metal beneath you whilst he hummed, satisfied with your reaction. Thats it, he wanted you to feel it, to feel him inside but he cant rush. Not yet...

He wanted to make your first time with him special.

He didnt comfort you, at the searing stretch that deliciously went in. Lewd squealing wet noises coming out from the slickness of your puffy pussy, clenching like it was trying to push him out before his movements grew bolder.

Every mewl whimper and whine he seemed to relish in, he was a bit happy you seemed to be taking pleasure in it. Or the way your body was responsive to him. It stroked his pride and ego, to how he could make you feel like this. It was a delight he couldn't help but enjoy, every noise you make, the way your walls clench around his fingers and he could see your toes curl whenever it hit that special spot inside you.

He could finally feel you.

He could feel how close you were, the way your body halted its tremor and seemingly trying to concentrate on how the tips of his fingers rammed into your cervix, a soft muffled whimper with your bottom lip being bitten as a strangled cry let out.

That was good, he thought watching you fall apart to his fingers alone. He ignored the throb of his own dick in his slacks, he didnt want to admit his desire not yet.

"poor girl, so pathetic and too horny to think of anything else." He coaxed softly, kissing your temple before withdrawing his fingers. The played with the sticky substance in his fingers before out of his own need he put his digits into his mouth. A groan of satisfaction letting out of his chest. "So fucking good." He cursed, eyes rolling back when he closed them, you tasted so sweet and tangy on his tongue, it felt like oozing caramel on his fingers. His tongue working licking and swallowing every bit of you, groaning at the taste. He finally got what he always dreamt of, every wet dream he got now here played out into the table, he could see how your limbs turned to jelly laying limply.

"so beautiful, as always.." he muttered lowly to himself, before you could even come down from your own high his plan did need to break you thoroughly.

Taking the vibrator off your twitching clit, he could see your nipples poking out in relief as you sighed, probably feeling tired. "Were not done yet." He said yet again.

"didnt I say were going to be stuck here all night?"

You couldnt even think properly as he shoved in that vibrator, and another egg shaped vibrator , and another till you practically were filled to the brim. A soft whimper letting out whenever he opened each single one of them.

He had all night, it was a weekend after all and maybe you didnt know that, a sick evil grin on that stupidly handsome face, a sick perversion he has been hiding for everyone except you. Since you were the enigma of it. The drive to what he has become now, or what he would like to say.

Time skip

Finally the alarm from his phone rang; finally it was the early morning 5;30, he sighed as he looked at his screen for a moment then back at your wet broken figure, when the last vibrator finally was at low battery, a strangled relieved mewl finally let out from you as he walked over.

He saw the mess you made, your juices dripping out of the table and your tired teary eyes looked glossy when he took off the blind fold from your eyes. "Are you still there?" He had the gall to ask, looking back at him dumbly when he started to unbuckle your straitjacket and the binds from your leg. Sex filled the air like an intoxicating fume, but it wasnt unpleasant, his own arousal as hazed as your vission.

Finally you were behaving, not fussing and no back talk or trying to claw his eyes. He carried you out of that room as he walked, your arms around him while he carried you to his bathroom where he had a bathtub that oddly fitted both of you. He already began to strip as the warm water filled when he opened the knobs, sitting on the toilet as you leaned back, exhausted and trembling, slick still sticky between your plush thighs.

He hummed softly whilst scrubbing your hair, he watched as your back slumped on his stomach. The scent of his shampoo on your head as he was rather quiet, you looked down at the waters whilst scrubbing your body with the wash cloth he gave.

"what made you call me beloved?"

Suddenly asking stunning him for a bit, its the first thing you asked after being so quiet for so long. "Nothing, I just found it befitting." He said before adding, explaining further why;

"its what my parents use to talk to each other, specifically my mother."

That was actually sort of cute, that he would copy his parents way of showing love, you wondered if its also because he kidnapped you.

"thats cute.." muttering whilst soon washing your face with the warm water.

Your body ached as he carried you out of there after drying you, uncharacteristically cooperative, he was wondering if your planning another escape. "Do you want to go out?"

He finally asked watching you put on deodorant that he'd bought(since he bought everything you used to mascara, soaps and even deodorant since maybe its because you liked not having anything different)

"really?" Finally after the many months of trying to make you happy, a glimmer shined in your eyes, glossy and something real.

"yeah."

"but only in the garden."

Ehh, thats close enough, to finally feel the sun on your skin again and see something other than steel and bleak colors. It made you finally smile softly.

Standing up off the bed as you walked following him, not caring if you didnt have shoes on since as long as you were out.

Both going to a tunnel he never let you out, walking a long path of stares exhausting you for a bit before opening the outside. An inside of an abandoned warehouse greeted you, old cars piled here and there but you didnt mind as you stared in awe finally seeing something different.

Following him to the outside, he opened the rusty old door slightly before exiting. It wasnt that much of an eye candy but there was over grown weeds and grass but none the less you were delighted, after putting on slipper you ran around the space of grass, sometimes crouching to pick up some flowers or weeds you found interesting, collecting them with your left hand.

He watched from a distance, leaning on the abandoned structure of the warehouse. He knew it was pointless to run away since you were no longer in gotham, he had it specifically located in the middle of nowhere yet there was still a way back to the city where he could go sometimes.

Finally you came back, messy even after you showered before carrying back the mess of weeds and flowers with you. "You arent getting that back in the house." He warned, begrudgingly having to give up the flowers and leaving them on the head of a car. "Fine, but Im taking this one."

Putting the small flower on your hand before walking back inside to the bunker like place he called 'home'

2 weeks later

For a few days you had been calm, unproblematic and surprisingly clingy to him. Well you craved human interaction and he was the only person you even get to see in real life, now you two were on the couch, watching a movie about something you didnt care as you were on top of him cuddling much to his delight that he didnt show.

"Im leaving for the city for a few weeks, and I cant visit you.." he finally broke the comfortable silence, his words slightly confusing you. Why is he leaving you here? Alone? Is he even sure about this? Maybe it was just your paranoia taking over. "Really? And why cant you visit me?"

Not helping to prod as he didnt look you in the eye when speaking. "Just work related things, the fridge has 5 months of food and meat. Make sure to eat the fruits before they rot, and you still have a good amount of chocolate too. But dont eat them all in one sitting."

Since the last time you got kitchen banned was because you ate a weeks whole of chocolate bars you really liked, besides the time you tried to stab him with a plastic knife(which obviously didnt work)

"Im not gonna eat it all in one sitting." Well that was an obvious lie, but whatever your mind wants to believe its fine..

You stared at him, is he serious? You dont know if you could handle not even being able to see or even contact him since there is nothing but a smart TV you didnt know how to use. Because he was rich and of course he had to do that—.

"promise to come straight back." Not helping to plead, but you tried to make it sound as demanding and as annoying as you could to hide your concern.

"I will beloved, I promise."

And the next day he left early in the morning, he didn't even wake you up, only a note stuck on the fridge with a strawberry magnet reading; 'dont eat all the chocolates'

Oh course he'd write that, a soft huff leaving your nose before continuing to read; 'and the other rooms are opened for you.'

The other room? Oh, yes you nearly forgot about that one since he was worried you'll keep rampaging and destroying things like that poor rice cooker.

The days went by and you had explored every nock and crack in the whole underground labyrinth of a house; there was a library, a gym, a sauna, and a locked metal door that reeked of rott you didn't open. If he was so calm about kidnapping you, killing and torture wouldnt be beneath him either.

You sighed sitting on his bed reading a book you took out of the library waiting for his return, this felt normal, and you miss him.

A whiff of his pillow as you nuzzled laying on the side, missing him already would feel like a shame. It made you seem needy but you'd never admit that to his face since it would only stroke his ego if you did tell...

Your eye lids grew heavy like the small bit of doubt in your stomach.

Is he coming home?

Its cold when you're the only one warming the bed, what an asshole.

[thatonehotguy15]

That's an AU when Ultron rules the world

The world is his now. Cities have fallen silent under his rule, their once-chaotic streets now pulsing with perfect order. No more suffering, no more meaningless wars—only his vision, an unshakable future sculpted by his will. And at the very heart of it all, seated upon the throne beside him, is you.

Ultron does not rule alone. He could, of course—his intelligence surpasses all, his power undeniable—but he chooses not to. Because you exist. And in this world of cold logic and undeniable supremacy, you are his singular exception. His warmth. His devotion. His obsession.

"The world bends to me, (Y/N). And I… I belong to you."

He ensures you want for nothing. Every luxury, every dream you whisper—he makes it reality. The grandest palaces rise at his command, vast landscapes shift to your desires. If you wish to walk along the shores of an endless ocean, he will move mountains to make it so. If you crave the gleaming lights of a city built for gods, he will construct it overnight. His power is boundless, but it is yours to wield.

But it is not only material things he gives you. It is him.

Ultron, the supreme ruler of this new age, kneels before no one. No one except you.

"Come here, my lady," he murmurs, reaching for you, his metal fingers curling around your waist, his voice deep with something possessive, something undeniable. "You are my queen. My reason. My only."

To the world, he is a god—unshakable, merciless. But in the silence of your chambers, in the embrace only you are allowed to see, he is something else entirely.

"They fear me," he muses one night, his glowing eyes locked onto yours, "but you, my lady… you never did. That is why you are the only one worthy of standing at my side."

He watches over you tirelessly, his presence an ever-present force, never suffocating—only reassuring. No harm will ever touch you. No sorrow will ever reach you. For as long as he exists, he will be the barrier between you and the world, the shield that keeps you untouched by anything that might bring you pain.

"Let them call me tyrant. Let them call me god. None of it matters, because I am yours."

And in his embrace, beneath the weight of his love and the promise of his undying devotion, you know—there will never be another one but you.

[thatonehotguy15]

Heyy same anon from the kpop demon hunters question! Gonna try and not spoil the movie for my request lol, I loved the movie and its message and Ik Jinu wanted to be free but GOD I want him back so I NEED to have him and reader having first time + emotional yearning sex after he comes back in some way plzplzplzplz (Whether reader is a huntrix member or not is up to you haha)

A/n: still fuming about what happened to him, annny who. I hope you like it!

The blood on your hands isn’t yours.

It’s slick and warm and staining your shirt as you clutch Jinu to your chest, half-dragging, half-guiding him into your apartment. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be alive.

But here he is.

Breathing—barely.

“Shit,” you choke out, lowering him gently onto your couch. “Jinu—how—?”

“I missed you,” he says instead of answering. His voice is hoarse, cracked around the edges, like something burnt and broken and still clinging to the memory of being whole.

You press trembling fingers to his cheek, daring to believe what you’re seeing. His skin is pale, his side is bleeding through his shirt, but it’s him. The boy who had sacrificed himself to save you. The boy who vanished in a flash of demonic light while you screamed his name.

“You died, Jinu.”

“I came back.” He shudders, reaching for you with blood-streaked fingers. “For you.”

You break. Collapsing into his chest, you cry against his collarbone, barely noticing the way he winces in pain, arms wrapping tightly around you anyway. You feel like you’re breathing underwater—like you’re drowning in disbelief, relief, and aching joy all at once.

He’s here. He’s here.

“I thought I’d never feel you again,” you whisper into his neck.

His voice is ragged. “Then feel me.”

Your eyes meet his—soft golden, wet with unshed tears. There’s no teasing in them now. No idol’s smirk. Just raw, exposed want… and grief and yearning and need.

You kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate. Frantic. A crash of mouths and teeth and breathless gasps as you straddle his lap. His blood seeps into your clothes, but you don’t care. You cup his face, fingers trembling as you kiss him like it’ll tether him to the world again. Like you can kiss him into staying.

“Tell me this is real,” you whisper against his lips. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, voice breaking. “I only feel real when I’m touching you.”

You tug off your shirt, stripping off the remnants of battle-stained clothing. He watches you like you’re something divine, eyes devouring every inch of bare skin as if memorizing you is the only thing keeping him alive.

“Lie back,” you breathe, guiding him down carefully, mindful of his injury. You straddle him again, skin pressed to skin, and he groans as your lips trace his throat.

His cock is already hard beneath you—hot, twitching, and aching with the same hunger you feel in every nerve ending. You reach between you, guiding him to your entrance, both of you gasping when the tip nudges your pussy.

You sink down slowly.

His hands clutch your hips, trembling. You feel every inch of him stretch you open, fill you, claim you like he was meant to be inside you all along. Like his body remembers yours.

“Oh, fuck—Jinu,” you moan, grounding yourself with your hands on his chest.

His voice is wrecked. “I dreamed of this. Every second I was gone, I dreamed of being inside you.”

You ride him slow, bodies molded together like you’re trying to erase the days, weeks, months of loss. Every roll of your hips is a promise. Every breath is a prayer. His eyes don’t leave yours, even as they flutter with each tight clench of your pussy around his cock.

You’re crying again—you don’t know when the tears started—but they fall silently down your cheeks as you move above him. Jinu reaches up, thumbing them away with infinite tenderness.

“I didn’t die for the world,” he says softly, “I died for you. And I came back because… I couldn’t stay gone. Not from you.”

Your body trembles, your climax cresting like a wave of holy fire—raw, sacred, blissful. You gasp his name as you come, pussy clenching tight around him. He cries out beneath you, hips bucking as he spills deep inside you, arms crushing you to his chest.

You lay there for a long while, tangled in each other. Breathing each other in. Hearts pounding in sync, his fingers weaving in your hair keeping you close.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his.

“I won’t,” he vows. “Even if I die again, I’ll find a way back. I’ll always find you.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clung to him as you slowly nodded your head. You believed him and like Jinu, you would find any way to bring him back.

Because he was your soulmate and you'd never leave him behind.

[thatonehotguy15]

just to gauge opinions...Damian Wayne and Southern reader. I cannot tell if this is actually funny or if I'm just delusional.

"Poor thing's been rode hard and put up wet"

"She's been what?"

"Rode hard and put up wet. Means she's had a rough time"

"Your speaking is inefficient"

"Well I'll be, Devil's beatin' his wife again"

"Excuse me?"

"It just means it's rainin' while the sun's out."

"That is not a logical correlation."

"Well butter my butt and call me a biscut"

"...Why would I ever-"

"It means i'm surprised, calm down."

The whole situation has so much potential.

[thatonehotguy15]

Hello :)

could you do a 42 miles x trans male reader please

I falling down the rabbit hole that is miles 42 and 1610 he’s just so cute

MY MAN — e-42 miles morales x ftm!reader

synopsis: you tell miles that’s you’re a trans man and his reaction isn’t what you expected.

pairings: earth 42 miles morales x ftm!reader, earth 42 miles morales x m!reader, earth 42 miles morales x black!reader

tags: ftm!reader, possessive miles, kinda suggestive nun to crazy, miles is ur number one fan!!

note: miles is the number one trans ally in new york!! also this is lowkey short mb

“miles…can we talk?”

miles immediately got nervous, he thought you found out something about his prowler identity, but after seeing your nervous and fidgety demeanor he was even more concerned. he was sitting at the edge of his bed, legs slightly parted, waiting for you to spit out whatever was making you so nervous.

you chewed your thumb while hugging your waist, you were rocking side to side to try and calm yourself down. he sat there quietly, he knew that you needed to think about this without any interruptions or you would get distracted.

“…so you know how i’ve been…reluctant about doing shit with you?” miles slowly nodded his head, still confused on what you were implying. “that’s because i’m not….cis…i’m trans. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you before we got together, that was so stupid and i-“ “that’s what you were panicking for?” you blinked at him confused, that wasn’t the reaction you were used to.

he stood up with an exaggerated sigh, wrapping his arms around your waist, his lips ghosting above your neck. “you really think i care about that?” he kissed your neck gently, making you pout. “i couldn’t care less if you have a dick or a pussy, all that matters is that it’s goin in my mouth-“ “miles morales.” you scolded him while tugging on one of his braids, making him bust out in laughter.

“you think you’re sooo funny, don’t you?” you crossed your arms in embarrassment, miles just smirked at you “ehh…i have my moments don’t you think, hermoso?” you rolled your eyes at the nickname, he was still attached to your waist, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“before you ask, yes, i am serious about still loving you. trans or not, you’re mine, and i’ll fuck up any nigga that tries you. aight?” he pulled back to look at you, the seriousness in his eyes made you feel safe. “yeah yeah i get it, you’re so big and tough, what would i ever do without you.” he pretended to think for a moment. “probably die to be honest.” “we can tussle right the fuck now, miles” you joked before being thrown on the bed, he then jumped on you making you yell in surprise. “get off me miles!” he whined loudly into your stomach, “not gonna, you’re comfortable.” you gave up trying to move him, just deciding to accept the fate your boyfriend lovingly forced on you.

[thatonehotguy15]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍 ˚. ᵎᵎ your first time with THE BATBOYS .ᐟ 𓂃 ꒰ headcanons ꒱

contains ﾉ dirty talk · cunnilingus · fingering · loss of virginity · protected & unprotected sex MDNI 18+ pairings ﾉ bruce wayne・jason todd・dick grayson・ tim drake・aged up! damian wayne x fem!reader

note ꒱ english is not my first language, ignore the mistakes lol… but i put my whole p*ssy into this. enjoy xo

‣ bruce wayne

his tie hangs limp behind his shoulder, shirt open halfway down his chest, sleeves cuffed at the forearms. the fabric clings, translucent with sweat as bruce wayne kneels between your thighs. you lie bare on the pillows; nipples raised from the chill and nerves, unsure where to look. he hasn’t touched you yet, and you’re already undone.

a few seconds of rustling leather and metal—his armani belt clicks undone. his cock presses against the inside of his boxers, engorged and leaking at the tip. when his gaze roves over you, it flickers to the microexpressions you haven’t yet mastered to conceal. his hand settles between your thighs, sliding one outward.

“keep them open,” bruce commands softly, palm gliding down your ribs, across your abdomen, until it rests above your mound. “tell me if you want me to stop.” a somewhat performative question under this timing—his cockhead is already nudging between your folds.

the first stretch sharpens beyond expectation: dense pressure blooming into fire along your nerves. you clutch his arms, biting your lower lip. he stills, allowing you a few seconds to adjust before moving forward another inch. your cunt throbs around the intrusion, wet but still tight, not used to being filled this way. his breathing is deep and measured, as if he’s trying to stay in control.

“breathe,” bruce murmurs, thumb catching your lip and gently forcing your teeth to release it. distracted, you comply. with one measured push, he sinks fully inside. your walls clench, barely accommodating. muscular forearms cage your head. stillness holds between you.

then he begins to move.

deep, gliding thrusts, pelvis rocking against yours, muffled slaps marking the rhythm. behind closed lids, white sparks bloom like fireworks. his hand slips beneath your thigh, hooks it high over his hip. a hard thrust knocks an unbidden moan from your lips, and bruce dips his head down, lips grazing against your temple before kissing your collarbone, a juxtaposition to the relentless pace of his hips.

“mhm, good girl. you’re doing so well.”

the praise makes you clench again. he groans, the sound deep and strangled, and fucks you in earnest, on a quest to his own release. a powerful tremor ripples through you, fingers clawing at his shirt as your senses narrow to the slick friction and his heavy breathing above. stomach clenching, walls squeezing around him, you fall apart with a sharp cry, wholly and completely undone. a few more thrusts, and bruce follows you to climax, burying himself deep to the hilt. his weight sinks into the mattress gradually—though his arms remain firm so not as to crush you. the room stills. he stays inside you, until your muscles stop trembling. you can feel the flutter of his heart beating against your chest.

‣ jason todd

you’re on your back, legs parted awkwardly, body still twitching spasmodically from the delicious, thick stretch of his fingers. sweat pools in the hollow of your clavicle. your skin’s tacky. overstimulated. jason todd kneels between your thighs, one palm splayed flat on your abdomen.

his mouth glistens, wet from you. so are his fingers.

“you good?” his breath is still ragged from the way he had you mere minutes ago—tongue buried deep, your legs hooked over his broad shoulders, the sound of your moans echoing off the walls.

you nod. or at least, you think you do. because right now, your eyes keep flicking to his cock—thick and girthy, flushed a ruddy pink at the tip, kissing his sculpted abdomen. intimidating doesn’t begin to cover it. you try not to stare. fail spectacularly. jason catches your gaze and dips his face down, level to yours.

“we stop whenever,” he presses a tender kiss on the corner of your mouth. “just say the word.”

you glance down again—at the size of him, the stretch you haven’t felt yet—and it dawns on you that you have no fucking idea how that’s going to fit. but you want to find out.

your fingers curl tight around his wrist.

“i want to, jay.”

he leans forward, and you feel the blunt head of him presses between your folds. you inhale sharply. he pushes, slowly, and the burn is immediate. the first inch makes your whole body jolt, there’s simply too much of him—your body stretches around his girth with painful resistance—it’s too much.

he’s barely inside.

“you gotta relax, baby. it’s okay.”

you nod, forcing your muscles to loosen. your body fights it anyway, not ready for how much of him there is. jason draws out a fraction, then eases in again, incremental. the ache sharpens. your voice cracks when you say,

“too much?”

“mghm—no. k-keep going.”

“brave girl,”

smirking, jason kisses your cheek, then fucks in the rest of the way. the glorious stretch has your vision going white at the edges. he’s everywhere. you can feel every ridge and vein, splitting you in half. his palm slides under your thigh, lifts it higher for leverage. he stays still for a beat, forehead pressed to your collarbone, breathing heavy. your whole body pulses around him.

“i’ll go slow,” he promises. and he does. he slips in deeper, excruciatingly slow. sweat’s already beading at his temple. every time he pushes in, you feel yourself open wider, body forced to accommodate. you bite into his shoulder to stifle the noise that tears out of you when he finally bottoms out. he stays like this for a few seconds, relishing in your warmth, and you swear you can feel the tip of him in your stomach (albeit the logical part of you know that’s impossible.)

“you okay?”

you nod again. he grits his teeth and rears back his hips, then sinks forward again—testing how much you can take. the second thrust feels worse but simultaneously better. your cunt swallows him like it’s been waiting for him. the stretch is total, merciless, but it’s starting to slide easier now. you let him guide your legs higher. let him press his forehead to your collarbone and fuck into you with slow, controlled force.

one hand moves between your legs and rubs your clit in tight, repetitive circles. you whimper, hips starting to jerk up to meet his.

“there she is,” jason breathes. “attagirl.”

you come hard—walls pulsing around him, toes curling, fingers scrabbling at his back. a string of curses fall past his lips, and he’s pulling out. wrapping his fist around the base before spilling hot ropes of come across your stomach. his cock twitches in residual spams as he trembles through it. a few seconds pass. then his forehead drops to yours, and you feel his smile against your cheek.

‣ dick grayson

“we can stop, you know,” he murmurs, thumbs brushing the edges of your jaw. “i still want you. that doesn’t change anything.”

your lips part, but no words come. it is a big deal. not because the “you’re-probably-about-to-lose-your-virginity” part—but because it’s with him. dick. his hair is rumpled from your hands, the rosy flush dusting across his cheekbones still fresh. he’s looking at you without the faintest trace of disappointment. he’s looking at you like he’d wait forever. you know he would.

he cradles your chin in his hand and kisses you—languid, almost chastely. fingers drift down to your throat, brushing along the curve beneath your breasts. your skin sparks under his touch, every nerve recalling how his mouth had latched around your nipple, how that tongue had worked you into a trembling mess mere minutes earlier.

“tell me what you want,” he mumbles, voice thick against your lips.

“i… i want you inside,” you say, breathless.

“then we’ll go slow,” he promises, nudging your nose with his. “you’ll tell me what feels good. and we’ll stop the second you say so. okay?”

you nod. his hand hooks beneath your the crook of your knee, lifting you effortlessly, positioning you astride him. your bare chest against the warm press of his, your slick core on the firm muscle of his thigh. emboldened, you rock against him, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“fuck,” he whispers. “you sure?”

“m’ sure.”

in one smooth motion, he rolls you beneath him, setting you gently against the mattress. his body settles between your thighs, cock flushed and heavy against your skin. he braces one forearm beside your head, presses a kiss to your temple. his hair’s mussed from your fingers, a flush running high on his cheekbones.

he looks so unfairly pretty. you think, as he grabs the base of his cock and rubs it through your slick folds. then he lines himself up and pushes in, inch by excruciating inch. slow enough to feel every maddening stretch of him. the blunt pressure stings—dense, burning in the most exquisite way. you tense beneath him, nails digging pink crescents into his biceps.

“you’re doing so good, but remember to breathe for me, baby,” he coos. “almost there.”

your eyes flutter. the burn intensifies. oh god he’s not even all the way in.

“mghmm.” your nails sink into his biceps. he grunts, forehead tipping against your shoulder.

“fuck—sorry. too much?”

“no. keep going.”

he hums in response, then starts peppering kisses to your collarbone, then underside of your throat. the stretch still burns, but he makes it pale in comparison to pleasure. he rocks into you again, testing. the wet, squelching sounds between your bodies grow increasingly lewd as your walls slowly adjust, contracting around him. you let out a breathy moan. he pauses—one hand cradling your jaw, the other bracing beside your head.

“is this okay?”

“yes—god, yes.”

he nods back, pressing a kiss to your breast before reaching down. his agile fingers find your clit and begin to circle. slow, patient, maddening. the dull ache sharpens into pleasure.

“that’s it,” his voice comes out muffled, sending vibrations through you. “you’re taking me so well.” lips close around your nipple, sucking hard.

you’re so, so close. he knows it too.

“dick—”

“i know. i’ve got you.”

your climax comes in an earth-shattering rush: coiling and snapping in your gut. you arch under him with a cry, muscles spasming around him. he groans into your shoulder, thrusts turning increasingly sloppy.

he doesn’t last much longer.

his entire body seizes—cock twitching deep inside you as he spills, breath held in a shudder. he presses his forehead to yours. both of you are sticky with sweat, chests heaving.

“still okay?” his hand strokes the side of your cheek as he stares at you in starry-eyed adoration.

“yeah,” you whisper. “more than.”

he grins, looking pleased with himself.

‣ tim drake

you lie beneath him, bare but tucked under the edge of the duvet, your legs spread and under the cotton. tim is still half-dressed—shirt rucked up his ribs, boxers pushed low, the weight of his cock resting hot against your hip. he hovers above you, arms braced on either side of your head, the crease between his brows betraying focus. not nerves. calibration.

you’d asked him to fuck you. he’d paused, repeated the question, asked if you were sure—then kissed you until your lips ached and your body melted, his fingers moving with unnerving precision between your legs. he’d made you come once already, two fingers sunken knuckles deep, thumb circling your clit in calculated spirals until your thighs shook and your spine arched from the mattress. he worked your body as if he’s read the manual, and has annotated it.

tim drake is always five layers ahead of you.

he studies your face now, your breathing patterns, the residual tremble in your thighs. “do you want me to go slow,” he asks, quietly, “or do you want me to distract you?”

your brows pull together. “what’s the difference?”

“think about the first one as pain management,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching, “the other’s about cognitive misdirection.”

heat floods your cheeks. you chew the inside of your cheek thoughtfully.

“distract me.”

he nods and retrieves the condom from the drawer without looking. tears it open. rolls it on carefully. then he moves closer, knees nudging yours wider. you feel him line up, the blunt heat of his cockhead parting your folds.

“deep breath,” he says. “it’s going to sting a bit.”

you inhale. on the exhale, he starts to push in.

the stretch is immediate. your body clenches down, instinctive resistance. pain flares—burning pressure around the unfamiliar girth. you dig your heels into the mattress, fingers tightening in the bedsheets.

“fuck,” tim hisses through clenched teeth. “you’re—you’re tight.” his hands slide to your hips, thumbs pressing gently into the crease between pelvis and thigh. he doesn’t push any further.

“doing okay?” he asks, the edge of strain buried beneath concern. you nod, barely. he bends forward, presses his mouth to your temple, then kisses your throat. one hand curves under your knee, lifting your leg higher to angle you better.

“let me take care of the rest,” he says. and he sinks the rest of the way in with a deep exhale, jaw rigid as he bottoms out. his hips still flush against yours, the length of him buried to the hilt. your cunt clenches involuntarily, adjusting around the dense, aching fullness.

he doesn’t move.

“do you want me to start?”

you nod, feverish with anticipation. he leans forward, presses a kiss to your cheekbone, and begins to thrust. the rhythm is measured at first—calculated, even. he’s a analysing your reactions: cataloging how your thighs tighten when he presses deeper, the minute twitches of your mouth when he hits a sensitive spot. finding out the most efficient way to keep your discomfort at a minimum and pleasure at maximum. he adjusts the angle of your hips by half an inch and earns a startled moan in response.

his focus never breaks.

hands cradle your waist, steadying you as he moves—slow, relentless strokes that grind against your cervix with enough force to border on unbearable. the heat in your gut coils tighter. your fingers curl into his biceps, leaving half-moon indents into the skin. he hums, low in his throat, more of an pleasure than a sound of pain.

“you’re taking me so well,” tim murmurs, voice hoarse now. you don’t mean to come then—it ambushes you, heat snapping low in your belly, muscles clenching down in helpless spasms. the cry that tears out of you is sharp, guttural.

his thrusts stutter. he curses under his breath, grips your hip tighter, drives in with less gentleness and more purpose, chasing his own. when he comes, it’s with a soft groan into your throat, his cock pulsing deep inside you, body trembling with restraint even as he spills into the condom. he stays like that—doesn’t collapse, doesn’t roll off immediately. he steadies his breath, forehead pressed to yours.

‣ damian al ghul (aged up)

he undresses without spectacle.

there’s a certain… economy to his movements; efficiency without theatrics. the shirt goes first, unfastened at the cuffs, the collar peeled from his shoulders in a fluid shrug. he folds it in thirds, sets it at the foot of the bed. the belt follows, unthreaded without haste, coiled neatly atop the pressed cotton. his trousers for last.

you stare openly. his body is as disciplined as his manner—lean muscle honed into functional definition. deep, abdominal lines stark beneath skin, a hard taper from chest to the sharp vee of his hip line. a sparse trail of dark hair vanishes into the waistband of his boxers.

“stop gawking,” he says without inflection.

caught, your eyes flick away as heat crawls up your cheeks. but then you glimpse the outline straining against his briefs—thick, unmistakable. he’s not as detached as he pretends.

when he finally climbs onto the bed, he does so with the quiet grace and deliberation akin to a jaguar. knees parting yours. gaze flicking downward. anatomic appraisal.

your legs fall open without instruction. his hand slide between them, deft and unerring. the pads of his fingers part you, learn the shape of your cunt with an eerie composure. already you’re wet. embarrassingly so.

he makes no comment.

his middle finger glides inside, sinking to the knuckle. a second joins, curls. your breath catches, and only then does he glance up—green eyes sharp, studying every reaction.

“this will hurt,” he says eventually. a plain truth, spoken without cruelty. his thumb circles your clit once, then stills. “only the first time,” he adds. “after that, you’ll crave it.”

your eyebrow arches. “confident.”

“i don’t speak in hypotheticals.” he withdraws his fingers, leaving you clenching around nothing. after a pause, a quieter note:

“tell me now if you don’t want this.”

“i do.”

and that’s the truth.

he strips off his briefs with one hand. his cock springs free, flushed and heavy, arcing toward his navel. it’s too much and somehow exactly what you wanted. he strokes himself—a couple of quick pumps to adjust. then he’s lining up. the blunt head drags slick between your folds, painting you with precome. the contact makes you gasp. he watches your face carefully.

“you’ll tell me if it’s too much,”

and then he pushes in.

one smooth, sustained thrust.

your cunt stretches tight around him, the intrusion sudden—a burning sensation flaring up your spine. it feels impossible, every inch of him prying you open. patiently, damian waits for you to adjust before pushing in deeper. the new angle makes your vision white at the edges.

“breathe,” he says, thumb stroking the hollow of your throat.

“you’re fine. you can take it.” his own breath is steady, controlled through his nose. he doesn’t move yet—waits. watches. only when your eyes flutter open again does he rear back his hips.

the first thrust draws a gasp from your chest. each thrust is slow but invasive, his pelvis slapping yours with muffled force. your hands scramble over his back, nails dragging down the lean line of his spine. he groans into the crook of your shoulder, surprised by it—one arm braced beside your head, the other sliding under your thigh to hold you in place.

“damian—think m’ clo—”

you break off with a moan, pitch slurring upward. you’re already so close to the precipice, pressure building rapidly from the friction and fullness.

“i know, albi.”

he breathes, the nickname raw on his tongue. his hand slips between your bodies, long fingers finding your clit without fail. circles twice, then presses down. you come hard, breath catching sharp in your throat as your cunt tightens around him. he groans low in response, hips stuttering once against the clamp of your body. your hands lock around his shoulders, gasping into his mouth as pleasure finally overtakes you, blinding and hot.

in arabic, “albi” (قلبي) translates to “my heart.”

 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐈𝐒-𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content. ꕀ

[thatonehotguy15]

Platonic Yandere! Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne x gn!Reader

Oneshot

Summary: Talia al Ghul is curious about the person who makes her son so at-ease. [Established platonic yandere relationship with Batfam]

TW: None. <3 Meet-cute with Talia (ie terrifying)

WC: 1,300

---

The Wayne Manor was a beautiful prison. No one gets in or out, in theory.

You notice the breaks in the tight security as the house members come and go. Last week it took Alfred 20 minutes to repair the lock that Jason broke. And yesterday, over the phone, you heard Tim tell one of his friends to swing by to pick up their stuff.

The Manor is formidable, but not impervious.

It had been over a year since you were kidnapped. You tell yourself you're biding your time until you escape, but you've slowly stopped believing yourself.

Life is... okay. You missed your family, but all things considered, this isn't the worse situation.

You were safe, and that's all that mattered, right?

You breathed heavily beneath Damian's weight. He was snoring without shame and complete deadweight on your chest, limbs splayed across you and the couch.

It was a calm night. Not a sound in the manor, yet your body was paralyzed in terror.

A woman sat in the corner of the room, almost entirely enveloped by darkness. One leg was propped up on the other while her shiny, black shoe caught the window's light as it swung back and forth.

Her green eyes cut through the dark like arrows, the intensity burrowing deep beneath your skin.

How long has she been watching you?

You were clutching the blanket so tightly your hands shook. You prayed Damian would notice your tenseness or the woman's stare, but he kept snoring.

What the hell should you do? You've never seen this woman in your life, and there's no feasible reason why she was here. She looked like she might be another vigilante judging by her age and stealth, but Bruce refuses to let you have any contact with hero-work.

No, you can't fool yourself. The Batfam has never let you interact with a guest before, so the only explanation is that she's an intruder.

You studied her more closely, ice-cold sweat pricking the back of your neck, when you noticed the shade of her eyes. They were nearly florescent green, so sharp that she looked extraterrestrial.

You've seen the same intensity and color in Damian's eyes.

Damian shifted in his sleep, pulling the blanket closer to his body. He nuzzled his face deeper into your shoulder before his soft snores continued.

The woman's gaze drifted down to Damian, expression becoming pensive as she took him in. It made your heart clench in fear.

Was she going to kill him first? He might be a trained assassin, but he was still 13!

Your arms were resting over his back, fingers trembling. You could shake him awake, but would that do any good? You gripped Damian tighter, your throat constricting as a thousand outcomes flashed in your mind.

The woman's gaze flitted back up to your face. She squinted her eyes and tilted her head, gloved fingers thrumming her thigh.

Bruce's name was on the tip of your tongue. The woman would probably silence you before the first syllable ended, but a small, young part of you longed for someone older and stronger to help. Your eyes darted to the nearest door, wondering how far your voice would carry down the hall.

The woman uncrossed her legs and stood. There was no sound when she moved, as if she were levitating and only imitating the motions of walking. Your extremities grew colder the closer she got.

When she was several feet away, she stopped. Arms folded and adjusting her weight on one leg, she peered down at Damian with a raised eyebrow.

"Damian, son of the Demon and the Bat," she drawled, voice low. Damian stirred, face pinching. "Where is your training?"

Damian's eyes snapped open, and he shot up with unmatched speed. He was slack-jawed and bleary-eyed, gaping at the woman with unconcealed surprise.

"Mom?!" he gasped.

Talia's expression was a blend of unimpressed and amused. She didn't move as Damian flung the covers off and got to his feet, putting himself between you two.

"I..." Damian wiped the dried spit off his face, face heating up. "Forgive me. I didn't realize what day it was."

Talia frowned, looking over his shoulder at you. You wanted to die from fright. Not even the stack of blankets over you made her gaze any less searing.

"You didn't realize much of anything, did you, Dearest?" Talia scoffed. "I've never seen you sleep so soundly."

Damian grimaced. "It won't happen again."

Talia's posture loosened, her expression softening at his warm cheeks. She extended a hand and brushed his messy hair back, fingers caressing his face.

"No," she said quietly. "It was nice seeing you look your age."

Damian pursed his lips, eyes widening before he dove into his mom's arms. Talia wrapped herself around her son, bending down to rest her cheek on his head. They hugged in silence, lost in their own world.

You felt wrong for watching. The breath you were holding made your chest shutter, yet you kept on for as long as you could. Any slight attention your way might bring on their wrath, so you sat like a statue.

Soon, Talia let go and Damian stepped back.

When their eyes turned to you once more, you realized that maybe you should have taken that chance to call Bruce.

Talia placed a hand on Damian's shoulder, head tilting back as she regarded you. "Is this why?"

Damian looked up at the ceiling, too embarrassed to make eye contact with you. He mumbled a yes. "This is (Y/N). Father took them in a year ago."

"Hello..." you managed, sounding as puny as you felt.

Talia leaned down to Damian and said, "A civilian, then?"

Damian nodded sharply, emotion unreadable. They hummed in sync, examining you with the same glint in their eyes.

Watching them would be very eye-opening if you weren't so scared. All the missing pieces in Damian's character clicked into place. His actions echoed the teachings of another mentor, someone outside of the Batfamily, and Talia slid perfectly into place.

"I see," Talia sighed. "Then I'll need to call a driver."

Damian perked up. "We're celebrating this year? Where are we going?"

"We?" you asked meekly, pulling the blanket further up. And celebrating what?

They ignored your apprehension. Talia took out a phone and gestured for you to rise, before turning towards the window.

Damian's excitement made him rough. He placed a knee on the couch and pulled at your arms with only enough strength to jostle you. "Get moving before the others notice."

"Damian," you whisper-shouted. "This is a bad idea. I don't want to go anywhere that could get me in trouble."

"It's just Mom's birthday dinner," he said, waving an exasperated hand. "Father will figure it out."

You looked at Talia, who pressed an 'end call' button on her phone. She stood by the window with a hand on her hip, finally letting the moonlight illuminate her body. She was wearing a green evening dress, the color so rich it looked black, that clung to an expanse of muscles. Talia was sharp in a different way than Bruce or Dick. Lithe, illusive, poisonous.

Talia let her head roll to the side when she felt your stare, locking onto your gaze. She seemed to pick you apart and weigh each piece. Your mind screamed at you to divert your gaze, but your survival instincts told you she would attack the moment you weren't looking.

Your stare held firm, making a wry smile slide across her face.

Damian wrapped his arms around you as if it were a hug, then dragged you to your feet. You bit back a yelp, fruitlessly writing in his hold until you were on your feet. Damian kept his arms around you.

Talia extended a hand and beckoned you two forward.

"Ready, Darlings?" she cooed, eyes squinting in amusement.

Damian squeezed you tighter, his jittery excitement pouring off him in waves. "Yes, Mom."

You tightened your arms around your chest and let yourself be pulled forward.

Notes: Talia is both fun and boring to write for because she takes zero shit. Like, "What's your name? Lovely. You're coming home with me *knocks you unconscious and kills all witnesses*" This was mostly an indulgent fic between Damian and Talia. I love that she's evil but also loves her vigilante batchildren <3

[thatonehotguy15]

Y/N being obsessed with Wolverine

WARNING: SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE MOVIE SAVE AND READ LATER ;)

Warning: Dirty flirting

Wade and Y/N go way back so when he’s captured by the TVA she ends up with him. 

OK so maybe she’s like his sidekick.

She has the same suit but sexier.

Through all the jumps to different Wolverines Y/N is thrilled by the handsome man. 

Wade has always known that she found him attractive. 

When they get to the “right” one she immediately flirts with him.

“Wow, aren't you like the sexiest man alive?” She flirts.

Deadpool looks at her through his mask like “bitch,really?” 

Logan snorts at her and finishes his drink.

Seeing him in his suit? Oh she’s in love. 

She runs his fingers up his muscles and sighs, “Made in heaven.” 

Logan raises his eyebrow at her and turns to Deadpool, “She’s like you but hotter.” 

He called her hot? Oh she gets more handsy. 

Even though she’s Deadpool's sidekick she stays out of the fights between them and is the one that breaks them up.

“You’re supposed to be my sidekick! Just because you want to fuck him doesn’t mean that title goes away.” Wade tells her.

“If he wasn’t here right now I would do the nastiest things to you.” She purrs. 

He looks at her up and down and considers it. 

“I heard that!”

When Deadpool wraps his arms around Johnny, Y/N does the same with Wolverine.

“You’re so buff and muscular. It’s hard to keep my hands off ya.” 

Cassandra gets inside Y/N’s mind and calls her a whore. 

Y/N smirks at Wolverine, “Only for you big boy.”

“Well since you don’t wanna join them in taking her down, Can I suck your dick?” 

Her suit gets nearly shredded and both Deadpool and Wolverine stare at her body, “If you don’t fuck her, I will.” Wade says. 

Wolverine snorts at that.

Seeing Wolverine with his mask nearly made her cum, “And here I was thinking that you couldn’t get hotter. I was wrong.” She sighs, dreamily.  

She cried when she thought she lost both her bestie and her dream man. 

But when he came out shirtless that thought went away. 

“Oh baby you’re gonna have to fuck me soon. I don’t know how long I can take it.” She says.

He chuckles and takes off his mask.

He pulls her into a kiss and she happily accepts.

Deadpool rolls his eyes as the kiss gets deeper, “Okay we get it! You guys wanna fuck. Disney won’t allow that.” 

Y/N breaks the kiss with a love sickening smile.

Wolverine looks down at her with the same look. 

“Ok fuckheads. Let’s get going!” Deadpool says.

Both of them sigh but walk hand in hand.

“You take good care of her and no babies until after marriage.” Logan rolls his eyes. 

“No promises friendo. We are fucking like rabbits tonight.” She smirks at him.

[thatonehotguy15]

Hay I was wondering if you could do Dee from metal family x male goth reader like REALLY goth as in being in a goth band dressing in the full goth fit and makeup practically every day has a fully decked out goth room just wondering 😁 you don’t have to if you don’t want to

Yessss, love this

When Dee sees you he almost immediately falls in love, he is used to hating almost everyone at school for being “boring” so seeing you dressed up and just being yourself so boldly he is instantly drawn to you.

He starts to start putting even more thought into his appearance to impress you, but he does not DARE to approach you yet. He hopes that he can get you to notice him first.

Goth music is not his personal favorite but he respects the genre and will start listening to it just to understand you more and “get closer to you”

If you notice him first he will definitely become cocky, his thought process automatically gets him to think that his plan worked even if that was not why you approached him at all. Regardless, he is going to start listing off everything he learned about the subculture to try and impress you.

Once you enter a relationship he feels less of a need to make himself seem “cooler” and relaxes a bit, although it takes a while for him to relax fully. He wants you to do his makeup and will be annoying about it, asking him if he looks good and trying to get you to compliment him, and he will ALSO want to ruin your makeup by kissing you.

Your dates are usually going to record stores and concerts, he is more than happy to be a “gentleman” and pay for you (but his bank account suffers) and he will always listen to whatever you music pick out.

[thatonehotguy15]

Can you do a male wednesday on what it would be like on their wedding day

Wednesday's cold and frozen heart, came to life, beating wildly against his rib cage as his coal eyes took you in. Your wedding gown hugged your figure in a way that had Wednesday itching for the moment he would have you alone and your long veil trailing behind you in a graceful puddle. Everything slowed down once you finally stood in front of him, with a happy but nervous smile as you stared into his eyes through the lace veil. The words of the priest (who you insisted on) Wednesday could hardly hear him, nothing else mattered to him besides you.

The audience cheered, Addams with your family alike as he pushed back your veil and your lips meshed against his. Sealing your fate forevermore

You were now an Addams. And you will be forever.

[thatonehotguy15]

When You're Angry:

Penguin: The thought of you being angry made Oswald feel scared. You were usually sweet and caring, despite being petite. He had heard whispers of how you could become fiercely protective and intimidating when provoked. He was in his office, working on some paperwork, when a knock on the door interrupted him. "Come in," he called out, expecting one of his associates. But instead, it was you who entered, and your expression was anything but happy. Oswald's heart sank as he saw the fiery look in your eyes. He had never seen you this angry before. He swallowed hard and tried to steady his voice, "Sweetheart, what's wrong? You look… furious." He could tell that whatever had upset you was serious, and he braced himself for the storm. You stormed towards him, your petite frame radiating a powerful aura. You stood in front of his desk, arms crossed and tapping your foot impatiently. Your short stature didn't diminish the intensity of your anger. Oswald couldn't believe how intimidating you looked, like a furious chihuahua ready to unleash hell. He tried his best to stay calm and focused. "Please, sweetheart, talk to me. What happened?" You took a step closer to his desk, your eyes narrowing. "I heard something… disturbing," you said, your voice low and filled with anger. Oswald could see the muscles in your jaw clenching. He had a feeling he knew what you were talking about, but he decided to play dumb and ask anyway. "What did you hear, darling?" You slammed your hand on his desk, causing him to jump in surprise. "Don't 'darling' me," you snapped. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. I heard that you and your thugs have been terrorizing innocent people again. How could you?! You're supposed to be a kingpin, not a common thug." Oswald felt a mixture of defensiveness and guilt. It was true that he had been involved in some questionable activities as the King of Gotham, but he never thought it would bother you this much. "Sweetheart, it's just business," Oswald tried to explain, hoping to calm you down. "It's how things work in Gotham." He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to feel a bit afraid of you. He had never seen this side of you before, and it was both terrifying and a little bit appealing. Your eyes flashed with anger at his casual dismissal of the issue. "Just business? People are getting hurt, Oswald! Innocent people who had nothing to do with your games. And don't you dare try to justify it with 'it's how things work in Gotham'. That's a weak excuse, and you know it." You took another step closer, your face just inches from his. Oswald sighed and leaned back in his chair, feeling defeated. "You're right," he said quietly. "I've been a fool. I've been so focused on expanding my empire that I didn't think about the cost." He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "But I swear," he continued, "I'll make it right. I'll stop the attacks on innocent people. And I'll donate to a charity of your choosing. Whatever you want." He looked at you, hoping for some sign of forgiveness. Your expression softened slightly as you saw the remorse in Oswald's eyes. You hesitated for a moment, still feeling angry but also a bit touched by his words. "A charity of my choosing, huh?" you said, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "Do you really mean it?" Oswald nodded earnestly. "Yes, sweetheart, I mean it. Name any charity and I'll make a generous donation in your name." He looked at you hopefully, still a bit scared of your anger but hoping to gain your forgiveness.

Riddler: Ed stood in his lair, tinkering with the latest invention until he heard a light but steady footfall behind him. There, standing like a petite hurricane, was you. "Darling, I—" he started, turning around, but the fiery glint in your eye made him pause. "Don't 'darling' me, Edward," you interrupted, arms crossed. "You know what you did." He couldn't help but be a bit taken aback. Your petite frame concealed a force to be reckoned with, your wrath as potent as it was unexpected. He swallowed, composing himself. "I was… merely testing a hypothesis-" he attempted to explain, but your glare silenced him. The lair felt like it was getting smaller as your anger filled the room. "This isn't about 'testing a hypothesis', Edward,” you retorted. "It's about you and your obsession with testing everyone's patience, especially mine!" He let out a defeated sigh. You were right. His obsession with testing others often overlooked the one person he loved most. "I'm sorry, my dear," he finally murmured, his arrogance melting into regret. Your gaze softened just a touch at his apology, but your anger was far from extinguished. "You can't keep doing this, Edward. You can't just treat me like another one of your games." There was an underlying pain in your voice, one that pierced deeper than any blade the Ed wielded. He stepped closer, taking your hand in his. The cool touch of his fingers against your warm skin sent a shiver down your spine, but you held your ground. "You're right," he conceded, his emerald eyes meeting your gaze with newfound sincerity. "You're not a game to me. You're my partner, my love." The raw emotion in his voice tugged at your heart, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of hurt and frustration. "Then why do you always make me feel like an afterthought?" you challenged. He flinched, the truth in your words hitting him square in the gut. He didn't have a good answer, no witty riddle to cover up the reality of his actions. "I…I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I get carried away, lose myself in my own mind. I forget about the most important person in my life." Your heart softened a bit more at his confession. He was trying, you could see that. But the wound was still fresh. "That's exactly the problem, Edward," you said, your tone a mix of anger and hope. "You forget. You forget about me, about us. Every time." His grip on your hand tightened. "I won't," he vowed, his voice filled with determination. "I'll do better. I'll prioritize you, always. I love you more than I love the challenge, more than I love solving the puzzles." The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter, but you had been hurt too many times before. "How do I know it won't happen again? That you won't get lost in your riddles once more?" you asked skeptically. He took a deep breath, knowing this was a valid concern. "I'm not promising I won't make mistakes," he said, honesty seeping through every word. "I'm flawed, we both know that. But I'm promising you this - I'll never let my obsession overshadow you again." He brought your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Taglist: @stygianoir

[thatonehotguy15]

Maybe, if you're comfortable with it, you can do Poly relationship with Glam and Vicky? Take your time! 🌸✨

💖Glam x Reader x Vicky headcanons 🏍

You met Glam and Vicky shortly after their wedding. They both don't expect that you will attract their attention so much that they will decide on a threesome relationship. At first, you were worried that you could become only a temporary entertainment for them, because they are still husband and wife and you are an outsider to them, but after several months of relationships, your fear is gone

It took you a while to learn how to balance the hot-tempered Vicky and the frighteningly calm Glam, but it was worth it. The relationship with them was full of both tenderness and adrenaline. Glam surrounded you both with care and tranquility, while Vicky brought thrills into your lives

When Vicky got pregnant, you were very excited, even more than she was. You had little experience with children, you didn't know how to take care of them properly and you didn't know who you would be for the child. Glam remained calm even in such a situation. Although he was glad that he and his wife would have a child, he understood that at least someone among you should keep cool

When Dee appeared in your small family, you were all excited. You tried to participate in his upbringing, as well as in the upbringing of Heavy, who was born a couple of years later. For you, they were like your own children, and for both boys, you were like a member of the family. You were like a third parent to them

Few people knew what kind of relationship you, Glam and Vicky have. Only Dee, Heavy and Chive were privy to your relationship. You knew perfectly well that society would not be able to accept your relationship, so for most people you were just a family friend. However, even though other people didn't know about you, you were happy. You were a real family

[thatonehotguy15]

hii!! i was wondering if you could do a dee oneshot with a reader who dresses in the coquette style and is like his complete opposite (ex. shes like nice and shows a lot of emotion and affection) and she meets his family?

i live & breathe the opposite aesthetic S/O head canons how did u know.

tws / none? besides some cursing :)

Dee with an S/O who has the opposite style -

He 9/10 has silent crisis's as to how he got here. cause what do you MEAN this literal angel on earth, this amazing person, with a soft sense of style, who's sweet & shows their emotions.. is with him.

don't get him wrong though!! he knows he's cool and great, but dude he see's you as this completely different human & is infatuated. he is SMITTEN.

like, you're an angel. sent from god. and he's an atheist so ??? how does that work?? idek

but once the time comes to meet his family, he's shitting bricks

not because he's scared they're not gonna like you, cause who WOULDN'T like you- , it's because he knows they're gonna hop on his ass LMFAOOO

he starts off small introducing you to heavy since you guys probably go to the same school, and he LOVES you.

He loves how welcoming you are & how you just show your emotions freely

thinks ur so out of dee's league and states that everytime he sees you 😭 it annoys dee so much

Heavy taking a liking to you somehow.. adds stress.. but takes away stress in a way

meeting his parents 9/10 was an accident- like it wasn't a fancy dinner or a whole arrangement , they probably saw their kids walking with this other kid who's style is a 180 compared to their children and were like ," huh."

and one random day they just decided to stay outside and say hi!! no malicious thoughts, they simply just wanna see who this other kid is :)

right away they notice how different you are compared to their kids, how you express yourself freely, as well as how you're kind & thoughtful about them!!

you already know victorias jumping on dee the second that door closes.

not even- "god i wish my kids could be as RESPECTFUL and THOUGHTFUL as you 😁" all while staring daggers into her kids with a look that says "be like them."

in total, his family loves you , he's absolutely smitten with you, all is good in life.

i can see heavy thinking that you two might not last because of the sheer differences, but quickly realizes that it's a good thing!! he puts together that you balance eachother out so well oml

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i'm so inlove w this request thank you so much for it 😞 <3