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enhard · 3 months

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sim jaeyun — “you’re in safe hands”

pairing: s.jy x fem!reader

not proofread, enjoy! (MINORS DNI)

: you can’t handle looking at your boyfriend’s nice and veiny hands without doing anything about it.

cw: SMUT SMUT ALLLL SMUT, everything is consensual, hand kink (obviously), a bit of size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, riding, jake calls you princess most of the time, playing with your tits, slight choking, mentions of sending nudes??, lots of whimpers from him, jake slaps your mouth, established relationship, jake has a drivers license woahwoahwoah

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you faintly hear the ringtone of your phone through the buzzing in your ear. you slowly open your eyes, let out a sigh and immediately grab your phone to stop that annoying sound.. until you look at the now lit up screen of your phone, that your boyfriend jake is calling you.

you quickly sit up in shock, trying to clear your throat and answering the call, remembering that you were supposed to go on a date today.

“mm..yes my love? how are.. you?” you say, trying your best not to yawn in the middle of your sentence.

you can hear jake laughing at you through the other line. “princess, you’re still sleeping at this hour? i’m sorry for waking you up but.. it’s 4 pm already.” wait.. what?? 4 pm?? you were supposed to meet up 3 hours ago. how is it possible that you slept this long?

“don’t worry.. sunoo told me that he tried calling you since morning and you never answered, so i just let you sleep. instead of lunch.. could we go out to dinner now..?”

“ugh..fuck.. i’m sorry. i didn’t realise i slept that long.. is it okay in 3 hours..? i need to shower..” you reply as you’re massaging your head from the massive headache you got.

“of course love. i’ll come pick you up.. although.. does this mean i get no shower sneak peek??” he chuckles, and you just roll your eyes at his words.

“hold your horses now.. you might get to see me another time.” you smile.

there’s a few awkward seconds of silence, then he decides to hang up so you can get ready.

truth is.. you slept this long because of the hangover you’re having after a longgg night partying with your best friend sunoo. main reason why your headache is also present. —

you hop in the shower, actually debating to send jake a little picture or a video but.. you decide to be a bit of a tease. you just finish your shower and start getting ready.

you get dolled up all for him, putting on a nice laced dress and your favourite ysl lipgloss, that jake bought for you as a present not long ago. you get your phone and keys, locking your huge metal gate. your phone makes a few clicking sounds while you search for jake’s number to call him.

“baby, i’m right in front of my house. i’ll be waiting for you.”

“okay princess, i’m almost there. i can’t wait to see you”

you smile at your phone as you hang up, already seeing the blinding lights of his black suv, stopping right next to you. he gets out the car to check you out for atleast 5 minutes, offering you a kiss and then opening the car door like a true gentleman. you get in the car, the seats all warmed up. “good.” you say in your mind. it’s mildly snowing out, you needed this.

jake sits back in the driver’s seat, getting ready to leave. you turn to look at him while he’s focused on the road and you can’t help but admire him. you would lie if you said that he’s not the hottest man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. with his slick back black hair, a nice black suit hugging his waist while also complementing his eyes.

your eyes suddenly slip to his arms, more specifically his hands. they’re resting on the top of the steering wheel, his fingers so long and pretty, multiple veins following from his forearm up to the back of his hand. that scenery alone made you squeeze your thighs together, knowing you couldn’t act on it here..

there is only one thing you thought about on that silent car ride, his long fingers inside you. you needed that more than anything. right now. instead, you try to look the other way, your body as stiff as a rock.

jake looks at you for a split second wondering why you’re moving around in your seat so much. he smiles, reaching out one hand to place on your inner left thigh. “what’s wrong love? are you uncomfortable?”

you thought you would let out a moan right there, right as he placed his hand on your inner thigh. you quickly shake your head left and right trying to diffuse the situation. you accidentally look downwards at your lap, and see that same hand, now grasping the soft skin of your thigh, one vein getting more prominent with each squeeze.

you continue through this hell for a few more minutes until you arrive, exhaling when he gets his hand off you.

. . . you get to your table, through the reservation that jake made previously. the place is pretty packed for a high end restaurant like this one. you’re both making small talk, asking how your day was and.. what plans you have for tonight.. he’s flipping through the menu and all you can stare at are those hands. you begin to breathe more rapidly, getting impatient.

“who cares about food right now? all i want are those fingers in my mouth” you think, trying not to slap yourself from the realisation of what you just almost said out loud.

still, you finish eating, he pays with his black card of course. even though you keep insisting that you want to pitch in. he loves spoiling you every time and all you can give him in return are kisses or.. something more.

after another few excruciating minutes in that car, you arrive back at your home. jake sits down on the couch, manspreading while you take your shoes off.

“thank you my love.. the dinner was amazing. what can i do to repay you?” he plasters on a confused look on his face, almost replying with “you don’t have to repay me” but.. seeing how beautiful you were for him.. how you looked and how you got ready all for him.. made him needy. in a blink of an eye. he knew he was lucky dating you, and the thought that you were all his made him so excited.

“hmm.. there might be something you can do for me princess. you think i’m stupid? i saw how you were drooling over my hands. you really love them huh?”

you get a bit embarrassed, but you’re way too horny to deny anything right now. “yeah.. i really do… i need them. please.” you say already biting your bottom lip.

you can see him slowly form a grin on his face, not saying a word. he pats his thigh two times, to show you the seat you’ll have for the rest of the night.

you eagerly walk up to him and take off your coat to take your seat on his lap. he pulls you into a kiss that turns into a make out session. he travels his hands down to your waist, and you move yours to hold onto his shoulders. you don’t pull away from his lips for a long time, the taste keeping you addicted.

he makes you pull away at one point, smiling at you. he takes his own coat off, having only a white satin shirt underneath. two buttons of the shirt are already undone, showing his chest real well.. with a nod from him as agreement, you begin unbuttoning his shirt, in a few seconds leaving him shirtless. you saw those abs and muscles countless times yet.. it still makes your body have a reaction you can’t explain.

he softly tugs on your dress while whining and pouting. you laugh at his pouty face, finding him so adorable yet so demanding. “go ahead”, quiet words leave your mouth while looking into his eyes.

he does not hesitate. he takes off that dress almost ripping it off out of excitement, leaving you in your underwear. he uses his middle and ring finger to open your mouth, shoving them in and wetting them with your saliva. you suck on his fingers a bit, getting to be a bit of a show-off.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, taking off your panties now. he immediately starts rubbing your clit first, flicking it a bit and getting it all wet.. then he moves down to your folds, moving his fingers back and forth. you grab onto one of his shoulders for support, digging your nails in it.

“l..love please.. put them in..”

he does exactly as he’s told. he shoves both fingers inside you, slowly pumping them in and out.. you’re rapidly losing your mind, this is everything you wished for. you grab onto his wrist with your other hand, trying to make him keep going but.. to no avail.

he stops, giving you a signal to ride his fingers instead. you get into position, trying your best to move your hips back and forth. you moaned feeling his fingers in you, not being able to resist anymore already. when he curls his fingers up inside you, he was almost convinced you were about to cum.

you ride his fingers as well as you can, trying to get on his good side. he’s not quite satisfied with your pace, so he gives you a slap over the mouth. “ride them faster princess, what’s up? tired already?” you’re fucked up as is, his words are making this WAY harder for you. the moans are getting more and more consistent, figuring that you’re going to cum soon.

“okay slut, slow down now. i don’t want you to get too tired. i’ll make you bounce on my cock just like this if you’re a good girl for me.” but… you don’t slow down. with how much energy you have left, you keep going. “ahh..i need to cum..first..plea..” he cuts you off, his tone getting more irritated.

“oh? you wanna cum? let me help you cum then whore.” he grabs onto your neck, choking you ever so slightly while fucking you with his fingers. he’s moving his hand as fast as he can trying to make you cum. you moan uncontrollably at this point, getting so close to your release and not being able to talk properly from the choking.

you do end up cumming all over his veiny fingers and pants. the grasp on your neck loosens, leaving a red mark around it.

“mmm.. since i stretched you out so well with my fingers.. how about we put that to good use?” he smiles, that smile being far away from innocent. you know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give him that.

you catch up your breath, grabbing onto his shoulders again. “let me ride you then.” you reply, trying to be as nonchalant as you can.

you move your hands down to his pants, slowly slipping them off him. the bulge in his boxers is huge, obviously you already knew that but the thought didn’t comfort you. he’s usually hard to take in, now imagine being all fucked up and having to ride him. you let out a small scared sigh, while taking his boxers off too.

his cock springs up immediately and you lick your lips looking at it. you grab the base to stroke it a few times, before getting into position to ride him. you intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly go down on him. you almost feel like giving out when you take him all in but you need to make him feel good.

you slowly start riding him, his size almost being unbearable to take. he loves it though, he loves how you struggle to take him and how that small bulge appears in your stomach everytime you bounce up and down. he grabs and pulls on your hair just to make you speed up, teasing you with that hair pull each time he feels you slowed down.

you pick up your pace significantly, moving up and down, back and forth on him. your eyes roll back from the pleasure and it really feels like he’s splitting you into two. he stops holding hands to take your tits out of your bra just to fondle them a bit. he’s running his thumb all over your nipples, sending you shivers down your spine.

“such a good girl.” he remarks, coming from him this is a compliment. you smile at his words, motivating you to keep going. he’s very deep inside you right now, any sudden movement almost making you cum a second time..

you can hear him getting more vocal over time, he’s whimpering and cooing.. the usual tough guy that would control every movement of yours, is now getting so vocal.. you love it though, your favourite part of it might just be his moans.

you clench your teeth and force yourself to go as fast as you can, just to make him cum.

“fffuck…. princess hold.. on.. i’m close..” just music to your ears. you want to let this man fill you up right now. you push yourself even more to overstimulation just to make him cum.

he lets out a whimpery moan getting so close already.

“cum.. inside me.. please my love..”

those are the last words you can say before he cums all in you. he’s filling you up to the brim and you can do is smile, feeling his cum leaking out of you. you give him a sweet kiss on the lips then on the nose.

“fucking hell… maybe we should go out to dinner more often hm?”

you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “you’re so cute.. now, wanna join me in the shower? no games this time.”

“waittt.. so this is why you didn’t send anything from your shower today.. let’s go for another round baby. what do you think?” he says, hugging your waist.

“hmmm.. maybeee. if you use those hands of yours again.”

“well, you know you’re in safe hands with me.”

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen #enhypen smut #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake smut #jake hard thoughts #sim jake #kpop bg #kpop

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abandoned-quiche · 5 months

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seam ripper

[Image ID: A series of MS Paint style drawings on a blank white background.

Image 1: The Fun Gang from deltarune are about to fight Shawm. Shawm is drawn chubby with a brown cloak and wizard hat. Their clothing has various patches and stitches on it. Shawm says, "Let's see how you heroes fare against my..." The word heroes is in quotation marks.

Image 2: Shawm proudly holds out a seam ripper, saying, "SHAWM RIPPER-" but cuts themself off. The seam ripper does not have a red ball on it like most seam rippers would.

Image 3: Shawm looks at the seam ripper, scratching their chin, saying, "Oh, wait, it's missing..." Smaller parenthetical text nearby clarifies, "Referring to the ball"

Image 4: Shawm is bent over, digging through a treasure chest. They say, "Ha ha! Well, that's a bit anticlimactic, isn't it? Oh well! I'm sure there's something in my junk pile that can help me out here..."

Image 5: Shawm's paw holding a whistle. The whistle has the face and ears of the Annoying Dog from undertale. Shawm says, "Oh! A dog whistle! Perfect!"

Image 6: Shawm blowing into the dog whistle as multicolored lines come out. There is text that reads "Horrible piercing shriek" in all caps.

Image 7: Multicolored jagged lines, indicating a horrible sound, sit above the fun gang. Kris is grasping their head in pain, their hair over their face. Ralsei has rolled his goat ears up and is covering them with his hands. Susie is looking at them both in confusion, unbothered by the dog whistle.

Image 8: The metal part of Shawm's seam ripper. Shawm is saying, "Here, doggy!"

Image 9: The previous image, but with no text. The annoying dog from undertale is peeking in from the side of the screen.

Image 10: The previous image, but the dog has now reached the spot where the ball should be on the seam ripper.

Image 11: The previous image, but with the text "Dog vibration" in asterisks.

Image 12: The previous image, but the dog is now emitting an intense red glow.

Image 13: A plain white image with faint text that reads "Screen flashes white."

Image 14: The seam ripper. Its metal part is now glowing red, and the legendary artifact from undertale now resides where the ball is meant to be on the seam ripper. There is an arrow pointing to the orb that reads "legendary artifact."

Image 15: The first image again, of the fun gang and shawm about to do battle. Shawm is now holding their Shawm Ripper. They say, "Now...! Let the games begin!" At the bottom of the image is a deltarune-style text box that reads "Let the games begin!" Both instances of "Let the games begin" are in all caps.

End ID.]

#deltarune #seam #seam deltarune #my art #IT'S FINISHED YIPPEE #i was working on this like all day #my deltarune ideas #1k

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taesanrot · 2 months

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[earrings] anton x reader | 1.5k words fwb!anton, secret relationship kinda, theyre in a bit of a limbo hehe syn. in which anton accidently leaves behind evidence of his stay last night note. first anton au hehe, also my first riize fic in a minute. hope u guys r enjoying this series so far :)

now playing: earrings by malcolm todd

"her love is your head, you lost your earrings in her bed"

anton was fucked, he was sure of that. it only took a glance at his reflection in the mirror to notice the jewelry he was missing, his usual earrings nowhere to be seen.

hand shooting up to feel his jewelry-less earlobes, he sighed and massaged his temples slowly. it was barely 10 in the morning, and he'd just trudged back to his place after being shooed out of your apartment.

you and anton were … complicated, for a lack of better terms. if the two of you were being honest, you'd say you were talking — although you definitely did a lot more than that when you were together.

anton didn't mind the slower pace; he wasn't itching to jump into anything super quickly, and he enjoyed getting to know you bit by bit.

what he struggled with a little more was you requesting to keep things between the two of you a secret. your friend circles were pretty much merged, and you weren't super keen on letting them in on your escapades with the taller boy just yet.

this meant quiet excuses away from larger functions, meeting up to walk to one of your places, and panicked morning afters.usually he had until at least noon to make his way back to his own place, but today you'd promised your friends that you'd study for a calculus exam with them.

anton groaned and whined when you'd shaken him awake at nine in the morning, saying something about some people coming over in an hour. he could barely hear over his exhaustion, eyes bleary as he looked at your face hovering above him.

you were trying to explain that his friends were on their way but all he could focus on was the strands of your soft hair falling in his face and how good you smelled. you eventually herded the poor boy out of your apartment, sending him on his way back home with a wet kiss to his cheek and a protein bar.

what neither of you seemed to remember were anton's earrings sitting in the small tray on your nightstand. they were the earrings he wore everywhere — gold links with his initials engraved on the front.

over time, anton made a habit of taking them off and placing them on your nightstand before getting in bed with you. the two of you learned the hard way that keeping them on in bed was not a good idea; the second time anton came over, your hair had gotten tangled in the metal and he almost lost an earlobe.

groggily pulling his phone out of his pocket, anton debated sending you a text. he typed it out before hesitating. what if someone looked at your phone screen and saw the text from him? how would you explain yourself? frustrated, anton shut his phone off and tossed it onto his bed.

god, anton hated sneaking around. but he liked you, more than he'd like to admit, and the last thing he wanted was go against what you asked of him. he just hoped that no one would notice the earrings before going to take a shower.

...

"morning." seunghan greeted you cheerfully as you answered the door. shotaro and sohee followed after, waving at you before walking into your apartment.

"sup, ning." as you shut the door you heard shotaro greet ningning, who had arrived 10 minutes earlier and was sitting in your living room.

eventually, the 5 of you migrated to your bedroom to study — you, ningning, and sohee were sprawled across the floor while shotaro and seunghan sat on your bed. your calculus notes were strewn about, having studied for what felt like days.

yawning and stretching his arms, seunghan sat up a bit, taking his attention off of the chapter you guys were reviewing. the rest of you were chattering with each other, reviewing a practice problem that was particularly confusing.

"ugh, what time is it?" he mumbled, leaning over to look at the clock on your nightstand. his phone was somewhere in your blankets and his notes, and he wasn't keen on looking for it.

before his eyes could drift to your alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, his attention was caught by something shiny glinting at his eyes.

your focus was pulled from your notes as you heard a soft gasp from the direction of your bed. looking up, your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.

seunghan had one of anton's earrings in his fingers, eyes squinting as he inspected it curiously.

"are these anton's?" he asked suspiciously, turning to look at you. his lips were curled slightly upwards, clearly amused by the discovery. your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you stumbled over your words, not knowing what to say.

"uh-" before you could deny it, sohee interjected.

"they totally are! he wears those like every day!" sohee exclaimed. shotaro and ningning also looked up from their work, both of them giggling at how obviously flustered you were.

"no they're not, those are mine." you mumbled unconvincingly, cringing at how bad your lie was.

"you're lying! i can see his initials on them!" seunghan was leaning across the bed to show the rest of your friends, all of them nodding in agreement.

"y/n why do you have those?" ningning's head tilted confusedly as she turned in your direction. after a beat of silence, a look of realization passed across shotaro's face.

"he was here, wasn't he?" he asked, the knowing smile on his face growing even bigger. you choked on your spit at his question, coughing lightly.

"what are you talking about?" sohee rolled his eyes and seunghan laughed loudly at your weak response.

"hyung's right, he totally was here!"

"did he spend the night?"

"oh my god y/n did you guys fuck?"

"ok, enough!" you spoke up, finally finding your voice. you gulped nervously before continuing. "yes, anton was here last night. we've been seeing each other for a while."

you let out the biggest breath, one you didn't even know you were holding as the words escaped your mouth. seunghan was the first one to break the silence following your announcement.

"i fucking knew it!" he exclaimed, taking you by surprise.

"huh?" you asked, perplexed.

"you know you guys aren't that subtle right?" ningning laughed as she spoke, ruffling your hair gently. "we all noticed you two leaving every function together."

"not to mention the way you basically eye fuck each other 24/7" sohee fake gagged, earning a punch in the arm from you.

…

after his whirlwind of a morning, anton decided to shower and take a well-deserved nap. unlike you, he did not have calculus test to study for, so after washing up he climbed into his covers and caught up on some much needed sleep.

a couple hours later, he finally woke up, groaning at the sun shining onto his face. it was late afternoon, and the light shined directly on his eyes, making going back to sleep nearly impossible. stretching his arms and legs, he rubbed his eyes and sat up groggily, grabbing his phone to check the time.

to his surprise, he was greeted by what seemed like 100 notifications from his messages. clicking them open, his eyes widened as the words came into focus.

it was in fact, your friends' group chat discussing the two of your and your not-so-secret arrangement. his eyes nearly popped out of his head reading the texts, still groggy from just waking up.

scrolling through the rest of his notifications quickly, he clicked on one with your name.

3 missed calls from y/n <3

[2:03 p.m.] y/n <3: r u asleep? call me when you see this

anton's fingers were practically shaking as he dialed your number, each ring making him wish the earth would open up and swallow him whole. his anxious thoughts were interrupted by your soft voice.

"hey."

"hi."

"um… did you see the groupchat?" anton winced. straight to the point, then.

"yeah… i'm sorry. i forgot them in a rush this morning" he felt like he was holding his breath waiting for you to answer, until he heard you chuckle on the other end of the line.

"anton, it's okay."

"what? but i thought-"

"it's about time we told them anyways, i'm tired of sneaking around." you laughed as you heard anton stutter on the line.

"plus, i like you, a lot."

"me too." he spoke softly, his heart nearly exploding in his chest. you smiled on the other end; his timidness never failed to make you feel giddy.

"good, cause it would've been really awkward if you didn't" you giggled, fiddling with the end of your shirt.

"so … does this mean i can take you on a real date now?"

"hmmm i guess that's fine" you answered teasingly. anton sighed dramatically on the other end, slapping a hand over his chest so loud that even you could hear it.

"in that case, what are you doing tonight?"

…

[bonus] the groupchat

#riize #riize imagines #riize x reader #anton lee #lee chanyoung #anton x reader #anton imagines #anton lee x reader #riize fluff #anton fluff #chanyoung x reader #anton #riize anton #riize fics #anton fic #anton lee fic #riize fic recs

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marisashorror · 1 month

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Rating my character's evilness

1. Factory Guy: just let him/it work, won't show you the way out of the factory bc he's forgotten anywhere else exists. Might stab you with his pointy arm if you bother him enough. 1/10 evils

2. Mushroom Guy: don't step on its' garden or you'll be sorry. If you use pesticides it'll make many tiny holes grow on the backs of your hands. Moves faster than you think. 1.5/10 evils

3. Screen Guy: If it's at the door and you don't have your wards in place, it's already too late. 8/10 evils

4. Arm Portal: as a non sentient arm wreath, the concept of evil does not apply. The beings moving through the portal are a different story. 0/10 evils

5. Autumn Angel: If you gaze upon it, it will give you the worst sunburn of your life, and will age you exactly 1 calender year. 1/10 evils

6. Curse Breaker: has only done one mildly evil thing, but he paid the price immediately 1/10 evils

7. Soup Guy: evil in the sense that, if it fits in the soup, it's going in the soup, and by soup we mean caustic metal cleaning solution. You WILL be degreased. 4/10 evils

8. Metal Grinding Guy: mostly he's just doing his job. Like a wasp he won't bother you unless you bother him, mostly. Might put your face on the grinder just to see what'll happen. 5/10 evils

9. Wants to eat the skin off your face 9/10 evils

10. Wallpaper Face: it's power is mostly in fear, can't get out of the wall, but if it could it'd be bad. 7/10 evils

#art #horror #ink #horror illustration #ballpointpen #drawing #rating my drawings #on evilness #just for funsies

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yannawayne · 2 months

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vi. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE

 ༻⊰───⋅

"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.

The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.

Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God. And I'd get Him to swap our places. Be runnin' up that road. Be runnin' up that hill Be runnin' up that building.

Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.

When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.

You:

"At your locker."

You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.

Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain.

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.

“Beloved?”

A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.

“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.

Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.

His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.

“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.

“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”

Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.

Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.

Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.

“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”

“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”

Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts.

Damian’s hand froze.

Muscle tear. He realized.

Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy.

Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.

Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.

"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”

He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.

“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.

You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.

“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.

“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.

“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”

Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.

"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.

But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”

“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”

Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”

You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”

“No.”

“You’re going to miss your first period.”

“And?”

“Your education will be in ruins.”

“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”

You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”

Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.

Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.

“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”

“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.

“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.

"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.

“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”

“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.

"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."

“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”

Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”

“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”

“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.

“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”

It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.

Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.

When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle.

“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.

“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”

Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"

“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”

“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”

Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”

WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!

The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.

You stared at Morgan, incredulous.

“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”

As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.

Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”

“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."

You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.

“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.

Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”

You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”

“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.

Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.

Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.

A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.

With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings.

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.

CRACK!

Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.

Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”

You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”

Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.

“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.

“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.

"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”

You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”

Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”

You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”

As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.

One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.

When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.

The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.

Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"

"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"

Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."

You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”

Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”

She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”

“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.

You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.

“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.

As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.

CLANG!

You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.

“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.

Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.

After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”

Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.

You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen.

Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.

"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."

As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.

“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.

!!!

“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.

Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”

Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.

DANGER.

“Get down!”

Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.

A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.

Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.

"A little spider has wandered into my web~"

Shit.

Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.

"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.

You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.

From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.

"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"

The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.

"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."

Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.

"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."

Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.

"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."

Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”

“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”

“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.

Beep!

In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.

“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”

“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”

With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them.

Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.

You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.

You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.

JAB!

“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.

Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”

Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.

Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”

“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”

You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”

“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”

You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”

“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”

“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”

!!!

Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.

Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:

TOXIN DETECTED.

“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.

“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”

"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"

Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”

“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”

With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.

Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision.

Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”

Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window.

"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."

THWIP.

Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.

“PEST!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.

Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.

From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.

He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.

"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.

"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."

"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."

"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."

As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.

He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.

He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.

Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.

THWIP.

There was a pause.

Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.

As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.

Hunt.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.

Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”

"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”

Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"

With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.

Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.

You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

CRACK.

The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.

“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.

You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.

“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.

“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements.

“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”

Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”

“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”

You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”

You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”

Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”

With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.

‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.

After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.

The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night.

Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm.

Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.

In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.

Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.

For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.

A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.

“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”

Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.

Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”

You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.

“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”

Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.

Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.

He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.

Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you.

He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.

Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.

Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.

Pest.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent.

In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.

Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.

"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"

Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.

"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.

For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.

You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.

"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.

Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.

Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.

Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.

The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.

Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.

A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

dundunDUN

whatchu think bookiebears

surely the batfam will handle this well

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #dc robin #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne imagine #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman

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gravitysmokeshoptulsa · 2 years

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circeyoru · 6 months

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Collection of Overlords _ Part 5 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 (here) — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13

You honestly, truly didn’t want to bring up the negatives because it’s been so long since everyone was gathered here. You merely wanted to celebrate the achievement some of your Elites have done and reward them accordingly, then you’ll move on to another topic

But no, those three sinners sharing the title of Overlords just couldn’t fully grasp their situation and keep their mouths shut until they were back in what tiny territory they have. You’ve overlooked their words since it was their privacy

However, not when they bring it to the open

Everyone tensed up when the glass shattered in your direction. Slowly, their heads turned in your direction. On another occasion, they’d melt under your gaze as it wasn’t always that your eyes were visible

Yet this was not such a time. They felt caged and suffocated, the air around them pressuring them to be more compacted. The smile you had was long gone, now replaced by a slight frown and your eyes were sharp, cold and cruel. They could see the shadowy wisps around you while your hair floated in the air

You stood from your seat, glaring down. Your surroundings molding to match your aura and deathly wrath and rage towards souls that you deemed to be placed in your Elite Collection

The other Overlords regained their composure and sat in their seats with their heads slightly bowed, the Vees were in a different state

Their arms up and heads tilted to the side as though they were puppets on strings. The slight shake in their limbs suggests they were fighting the power that held them in such a humiliating place. Velvette and Valentino started to choke as though the air was sucked out of them, while Vox’s screen face cracked more and more from the pressure

“How brazen of you to judge your fellow Overlords in front of me.” Your voice roared even though it was soft and gentle. “I will have to remind you that it was I who chose them to be under my wing, that includes you.”

What a front. What a misleading trap. You’re not one to initiate fights, but you do provoke fights to give yourself an excuse to let out some steam. That’s to the other demons and sinner, not your Collection, as you give them their chances to change and correct their way on their own. Like how you let Zestial and the others warn the Vees before something triggering happens.

“Brazen. Brazen.” Cages appeared around the room, some perched on the top of the chairs, some on the table, and some hovering around you with their wings flapping. “Disrespectful. Disrespectful.”

“No, wait, I…” Vox raised his hands, trying to explain himself but words fall short from his speakers.

“You have no right to say they are ganging up on you three when you have been acting as a group since the beginning. You have no right to say they are not fighting because where were you when Carmilla and Rosie were providing support and Alastor was fighting on the front lines?” You laughed dryly, “Yes, I recall…”

The Vees’ bodies tensed up even more, twitching like branches in the wind. Your dear Cages flew over to them, pecking their bodies with their beck and clawing their flesh with their talons that were coated with angelic steel, courtesy of Carmilla.

“You were safe in your little bunker and watched the entire battle like a show. Don’t make me start with you three using the souls you own as meat shields and bait!” Your eyes narrowed, then you raised your hand with your palm facing upwards and her fingers curled inwards a bit. “You certainly have no right to bet your soul because it is not yours to use anymore.” You growled, “If anything, you should be ashamed of sharing your title as an Overlord with others.”

At your last words, the deafening, crunching sounds of bones and metal started to echo in the silent room. Zestial closed his eyes, opting to drink from his cup. Carmilla sighed, exasperated, while her head shook from side to side with the smallest of motion. Zeezi gulp at the scene with fear, but she can’t help but smirk a bit. Rosie watched in fascination with the most intrigued expression. And Alastor peeked over to your glorious form.

Vox, Velvette, and Valentino’s bodies were squished and squeezed into the shape of a ball at the slow forming of your fist. Their screams muffled by your powers, their lips were sewn shut with a glowing silver line that appeared along with more silver strings that held them up. Only broke when their bodies were reshaped into balls and dropped on the table, noticing that Valentino’s size was even smaller than what his other two partners have. Their blood spread across the table, but nothing was dirtied by the liquid.

Your beloved Cages flew to what was your Overlords, some ripping pieces of meat as much as they could with their beaks and claws and some licking the blood on the table.

“There is so much more that I could pick on you three for, however, I want to have you three know it was never my intention to keep everything this dark.” You sighed and massaged the side of your head with a finger. Your eyes glowed with an aura around them, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll correct your current ways before my patience is gone. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.” Vox was quick to mutter out despite his current state.

“Crystal clear… Master.” Velvette followed after.

“I’m s… sorry… Master.” Valentino whined out.

With the snap of your fingers, they were back to their normal form. They gasped and patted themselves, their minds reliving what they had gone through. They bowed before taking their seats, “Thank you for your mercy, Master.”

Your eyes closed and a smile reformed on your face, “Well then! Let’s move on to something more fun!”

Just like that, the meeting’s main agenda was finally mentioned. You needed your Overlords to dominate the lowlives that were claiming to be Overlords and trying to take territories for themselves

The hologram changed to the landscape of the Pride Ring, and the signature colours of the Overlords marked their respective territories. An eerie black colour mixed with silver marked those that were occupied by self-proclaimed Overlords

You had already checked that there were no Overlords worthwhile to add to your collection, so you gave your Overlords the chance to claim more lands, as well as the opportunity to impress you with their ability to perform a given test. There was a lot of land to cover, so you sat back and let them divide it amongst themselves

It was almost laughable how docile the Vees were acting now, if they had been like so in the first place, then your hand wouldn’t be forced. Still, with some demons and sinners, if they aren’t reminded what real power looks like, they’ll never learn

Their discussion was civil and structured, with Carmilla marking down and arranging the biggest threat and size of new territories. You trust in her judgment. Most picked their preferred land as it was near what territory they have, the ones that benefit most from this was the Vees as they needed to win back your favour in order to wipe the slate clean of their mistakes

While they did so, this time without the arguing and fighting since they had been warned. You petted your Cages one by one and let them return to where they came from, continuing to serve you until you saw they could help more in their former bodies or a humanoid one. You played around with their claws and wings, even feeding them with the everlasting snacks that you summoned when there was no need to

A smile graced the peaceful scene as you sighed in relief over the cooperation they are capable of. You see them working together, it’ll be better if they could set aside their differences and help each other grow

However, you also know it’s impossible for such an idealistic fantasy to come true. This was Hell, no matter how well you have them under your control, they have free will, therefore, free thought. Lucifer’s right when he believes the people of Hell to be awful, even thinking his daughter was wasting time helping them

You’ll have to deny it because Princess Charlie’s redemption worked. For you were approached by the true Ruler of Heaven in regards to a soul needing to leave Hell and go to Heaven. Similar to your role, they reminded in the background and not rule over the souls of Heaven. The only difference was that they were more mischievous in their actions to prove the high-ranking angels wrong

It’s not your business. So you didn’t care. You let that soul leave your realm either way

Still, the individuals before you wouldn’t be able to leave Hell. Never. You won’t allow it since they have sold their souls to you. Even if they are redempted, you won’t let their soul leave and Heaven’s true Ruler knows better than to fight you on that. You’ll let other souls go, but not ones within your Collection

“My Liege, we have divided our work.” Alastor brought you out of your thoughts.

You looked over to the other Overlord, who all nodded, showing willingness and agreement to Alastor’s words. You smiled. Yes, if only they didn’t sell their souls to you. “In that case, that’s all for this meeting. I know you won’t keep me waiting or disappoint me.”

“Yes!”

You return to the hotel with your disguised form already taken place when you teleported back. Alastor was such a dear to offer making you a meal to relax and rewind after a long meeting, so you went and sat down, waiting patiently in the dining room with a book in hand

While your eyes seem to be reading the words on the page, you were keeping an eye out for Overlords

Zestial had gone back to his home and reorganize his knowledge and information collected. You have a feeling he’ll be giving you a report some time soon. Since your little absence, he has been diligently working away with what he was provided. He was an Overlord to not much of you until you gave him, after all. Yet he produces excellent results all the same. Very outstanding

Camilla was preserving the room you have significantly changed to the point that nothing would be changed, now you know where to go when another meeting were to take place. You have a good chuckle when you saw Odette and Clara take turns sitting where you sat like schoolgirls with their idol or crush

It’s good not to be feared. Of course, you understand that they weren’t in a contract with you unlike their mother, so maybe that element of fear wasn’t present as they won’t offend you anyhow. You adore those two and secretly put a little protection charm on them when they left before the meeting started. Seriously, them meeting other demons and sinners while delivering weapons is dangerous

Rosie, being the dear she is, went back to Cannibal Town and retold her people the joyous news of your visit. While it was never specified when, they were already preparing a grand welcome for you. Now, you’re feeling a bit awkward since you didn’t plan an exact date. You thought just a spontaneous visit would do

As if sensing your thoughts, Rosie reminded everyone there was no set date or time you’ll be visiting. The cannibals were forced to stop their rushed preparations, but some still prepared all the same. You seriously couldn’t help but smile at their exchange. You do enjoy how Rosie treated you normally at casual times and wasn’t always as a superior

Zeezi was quick to start in her assignment. Immediately acting after mobilizing the souls she owned, the marked territories she was to take over were swiftly put into her hands and her power did grow. Of course, you saw growth in her. Before, she’d be charging head-first into battle. Here, she studied her target from afar for a while then she hunted them down

Now the Vees, they were recovering from their little ordeal. The wounds done on them from your Cages’ angelic touches weren’t recovered by your recovery power, licking their wounds, they made sure to reevaluate themselves and watch what they do. Valentino received quick the shouting from Vox and Velvette, but he shouted back, in the end, it turned out to be a bit of a blaming-on-each-other shout

You had hoped this would be a push for Vox and Velvette to step away from Valentino, to isolate him because there wasn’t much contribution he offered the two. Vox and Velvette can go hand-in-hand and you don’t mind it, they complement each other and their dynamic could be something like Zestial and Carmilla or Alastor and Rosie. But you know it was a stretch to expect them to do so now

Time will tell how your little Overlord group will go

“And now, we change the layout. Remember the bar was in the lobby before? Well, now it’s next to the kitchen and we have a giant dining room where everyone can have meals together! Oh oh! We can even host parties here and feasts!” Charlie’s voice became louder and louder. You figure she was giving a tour to another new guest and minded your business.

“No way…” Now that was a familiar voice.

“Yes way! We can totally host—” Charlie cut off, and her tone became confused. “Uh, dad, where’re you going?”

When the thought registered, Lucifer was already sitting in front of the empty seat in front of you with a bright smile, “My golly! It’s you!”

You smiled politely, keeping up an act, “Yes, greetings, your highness.”

Lucifer laughed, waving his hand like a slap to dismiss it, “Oh, come on! Where’s the familiarity? I owe you so much! Teach!”

Your smile twitched as did your eye, “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“Charlie!” Lucifer called over his daughter. Your smile widened as you felt like screaming into the void. “Meet my lovely teacher that helped me become the man I am today, King of Hell and all that! This is The Collector, or Silver!” He whispered, “A bit shy on the name, or it’s a taboo to say it. You know how it is.”

“Collector!?” Charlie exclaimed with wide eyes, doubling back and forth from her father to you. “But. But! Guest? How? Huh!?”

Husk spit out his drink from what he heard at the bar, immediately wiping his mouth when he looked over to the commotion. “Oh sh*t…”

You sighed and glared at Lucifer with a twitching smile while still in your disguised form, “You…”

Note: And that concludes the meeting~ No tease this time~

I'll be moving back to {Unwanted Soul} plotline (I think), so in the meantime, you guys can send in some scenes you want for this, and I'll see how to write them or treat it as trivia~!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft

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charles-leclerizz · 7 months

Text

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ flustered tweets

🏁 Pairings : Max Verstappen X fem!Reader

🏁 Warnings : suggestive sexual themes, touching, kissing, licking etc. no explicit content, swearing, Daniel Ricciardo being a menace.

🏁 Word Count : 3.3k words (3352 words)

🏁 Author's note : First suggestive conntent on this blog! woo-hoo, light the fireworks. But I do hope you enjoy and as always please leave a comment or reblog, since they do fuel my motivation. <3 Note that word dividers are by @cottage-writings and as always, translations are available via radio comm.

🏁 Music player : Love by Lana Del Ray

You smile to yourself as you stare at your television screen, the metallic box was currently projecting your boyfriend’s face, post-race, red faced and sweaty. Positively gorgeous. His blonde hair was mused due to his helmet and droplets of water leaked down from the strands to his forehead, trickling down his temple to his chin where they dripped down to his fire-proofs. It was nearing the end of the interview, and that meant his favourite questions would begin to pop up, the personal ones.

“So Max, how’s the missus doing? Based off her Instagram it looks like you both are very happy.” The man holding the microphone smiled at the driver, who rolled his eyes playfully at the memory of the multitude of stories that you would post by the hour, in fact he was 99% sure that you had posted at least 5 whilst he was in the car.

“Yeah well, it’s a dream being with her, it really feels like I’m on cloud 9.” He gushed, a rare occurrence for the notoriously grumpy man, but as soon as you were brought up in conversation, it was as though he was a wilting sunflower that was just introduced to sunlight, “I’m doing all of this for her.” Max admitted bashfully.

“Well, if that isn’t proof of the it couple on the grid, then I don’t know what is.” The interviewer admitted, grinning at the lovesick expression on your boyfriend’s face, “But before I let you go, the fans were in uproar a few days before the race. Based on a tweet made by a fellow driver on the grid.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if his humorous actions would jog Max’s memory.

You, on the other hand, knew exactly of the tweet Mark, as he introduced himself as, was talking of. It was tweeted by none other than Daniel Ricciardo, the cheeky bastard decided to divulge the fans with a tidbit of information about Max and your sex life.

Just walked into the 2-time WDC and his girlfriend doing it like bunnies. Somehow, this man is never embarrassed.

You remember that day like no-other, it was the moment after the Spanish Grand Prix and Max had just won.

“I’m so proud of you,” You breathed against his lips, holding his face between your palms as your fingers fisted his hair, close enough to the root that he groaned outwardly. The scent of victory wafted from him as one of your hands snaked down between the two of you to unzip his race suit. Allowing you to push him against the hotel room wall and move down to lick thick, wet stripes against his pulse point, revelling in the taste of fresh champagne.

“heilige shit,” he breathed out, gnawing at his bottom lip whilst the hands that rested on your waist tightened and bruised his fingerprints against your skin.

“Geliefde.” Max whispered, bringing his left hand up to grip the nape of your neck and guide your face away from the fifth fresh hickey you were creating on his muscle, towards his own, gazing into your eyes with a heavy stare.

“Yeah?” You answer, blinking rapidly to clear the misty haze that overtook your brain, all you could think of was the delicious way that his suit hung low from his hips and how tight his fireproofs were, exaggerating his muscular pecs that strained against the protective layer.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as you scratched your nails lightly down his scalp towards his thick collar that stuck to his body, “Maxie?” You prompt, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

He chuckled at your act, wrapping a large hand around your neck and squeezing gently at the sides, just enough for you to gasp, “What do you think the press will say huh? My girlfriend got too horny watching me win?” He guided you towards the freshly made bed, pushing you down to a sitting position as your knees hit the back of the padded mattress, “It’s okay though, mijn mooie vriendin-“ He paused, moving his hand up to cup your jaw and pull at your lower lip, parting your mouth until you obediently allowed him to slip his thumb in, “I only do this for you.” He murmured.

Max nudged you further, watching contently as you fell onto your back, sinking into the thick blanket and released his thumb with a loud pop. You laugh a little at his proclamation, “Really? You do this for me?” You bite your lip, fiddling with the comforter beneath your fingertips, pushing off from the bed as you anchor yourself on your elbows.

“You doubt me?” He arches an incredulous eyebrow at you, bending down to part your knees, “dat zal niet lukken.” He murmured, getting down onto his knees to hook your thigh onto his shoulder, allowing him to twist his head and kiss the sensitive skin, “What should I do to prove it to you? Huh?”

Max chuckled as you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down suggestively and he would’ve given into your request had it not been for the interruption.

“HEYYY CHAMP-“The friendly boisterous voice of a certain Australian rang through your hotel room, causing you to jump and grip your boyfriends head, which had merely jolted slightly before coming to rest against your opposite thigh, uninterested.

“Daniel.” Max deadpanned, his cerulean eyes merely slackened, cracking a lazy smile as his friend stopped in his tracks, blocking the door from what seemed to be at least half of the grid, “Must you really bother me?”

“Sorry man,” you heard Lewis call out, chuckling loudly as a familiar French cackle sounded off after a lewd comment sounding like, “damn he’s pussy-whipped”. You whimpered with embarrassment, falling back against the bed as you covered your face, hiding the blotchy blush that covered your face.

“Max” You whined, twitching your leg so that he could get up and most likely go out to celebrate, “Get up, we can continue this later.” You assured him, already imagining the dress that you would wear.

“See what you did wankers?” He called out, barely lifting himself up, “Made my girl embarrassed.” He admonished his colleagues. Max looked up at you, cooing at your red face, “It’s okay, Mijn liefje. I’ll get them to leave.”

“Guys lets go” Lando called out, “Let the guy get his dick wet.”

“Ew gross.”

“Not my fault you’re single fuck-face.”

You groaned, “Guys!” The crowd settled at the sound of your harsh, crackly voice, “It’s fine, let us at least get ready?”

“Yes ma’am” Charles shouted, which was soon followed with sounds of violence and pathetic groans.

Max kissed your cheek, getting up from the floor to go and slam the door in the few faces, but before you could hear the satisfying wood beat against the hinges, Daniel had whispered, “How the fuck are you not embarrassed?” Which prompted more snickers and a flurry of agreements about your lover’s lack of humiliation.

“You should be embarrassed ass wipe.” Max chuckled as he pushed the group out of the doorway, “Walked in on me about to get the best meal money could never buy.”

If you thought about it too much the humiliation would creep back in, along with the curiosity.

Later that same evening, when your friends and you had gone out for dinner, your face was still flushed and any thought that led back to that moment in the hotel room would lead to you shaking your head promptly and diving back into conversation. Whereas Max was comfortably seated next to you, chatting happily as he sipped more alcohol from the flute by his porcelain plate whilst his free hand rested on your thigh, slipped underneath the silky material of your sundress.

It was as if the moment never happened and he was already fantasising about getting you back into the room, ready to bend you into different positions that would make your legs shake hard enough into next Sunday. He did infact, manage that.

Max laughed on your television screen, turning to look at Daniel, who was animatedly doing his own interview, “Yeah well, it’s hard to embarrass me,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth as he shrugged nonchalantly, “It really was just an inchident.”

Max winked cheekily at the camera as Mark laughed and patted his shoulder, “Nice to see Max, have a good one,”

“You too,”

You huffed out with amusement as you pointed the remote at the screen a certain calm filling the apartment as the light blinked away from the box in front of you. The sun was slowly setting on the streets of Monaco, a subtle signal that meant that your boyfriend would soon be returning home to you. Max would claim that home was where you were, but you could tell that the large penthouse was probably the closest alternative to the driver, it was a joint investment as a couple, the first of many and it was beloved by both of you.

Large windows that overlooked the high-end shopping district which curved with the positioning of the building, an oblong shape that influenced the soft edges of the entire apartment. The home was out of your Pinterest board, soft plush coaches and tall glass vases that littered every free surface, Max had claimed 2 of the 4 bedrooms, one of them being his office and the other being his specialist home gym. The third was saved for guests and the fourth, that resided on a separate floor; took over the entire area and was your shared bedroom. Luckily on his and your salary, the home was merely a drop in the ocean, along with the numerous pretty pennies you spent on furniture.

It was in other words, your baby.

Jimmy and Sassy slinked between your legs as you walked to the kitchen from your spot on the largest couch that was turned inwards to face the TV that was mounted within the ceiling, dropping down mechanically at the push of a button and retreating into the seemingly solid concrete at another. You had done exactly that, dismissing the piece of tech to show off the full-length balcony. Cooing at your fur-children you picked them up in one hand, “Come on guys, let’s finish dinner,” You kissed their heads, chuckling as they nuzzled into your face before letting them down on the floor in front of the sink when you went to put on a pair of gloves and fish out dinner from the oven.

The tell-tale chime of your elevator and the mechanical tone of the keypad informed you that Max was home, along with the cats going off to welcome their father from a long day of work,

“Hey guys,” you heard him greet the children whilst he kicked off his shoes and tucked them along with his jacket into the small cupboard that sat within the wall in the entrance hall. You turned away from the oven, placing the entire grill onto the kitchen island as you huffed happily at the dish within the Tupperware as Max walked further into the house and towards the kitchen, where you stood patiently, the soft sounds of the Vitamin String Quartet playing in the background.

“Hey, schat,” He murmured, eyes softening at the corners as he rushed to your side, tugging you away from the counter to wrap his hands around your and bury his head into your neck. You giggle at the tickle of his hair against your skin and bring your hands down to cover his that were wrapped around you, “Hello my love,” you whisper, turning your head slightly to kiss his forehead.

“You cooked,” He stated happily, smiling against you.

“I did.”

“I’m happy,” He confirmed, removing himself from your neck whilst keeping a firm hold on your waist, “How was work?”

“Same old same old, people want to invest in stocks, I do it for them. Very boring.” You rush through your day, recounting the odd events that went on in the office, “But I saw your interview, watched it on the archive.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, knowing that when you do watch the interviews, you normally do it to hear his voice and see his absurdly attractive post-race glow, not listen to the odd mechanical language and repeated statements of, “-push the car harder next race.” Or “-really disappointed this time.”

“Heard what you said about that tweet Daniel made,” You feel him kiss the skin behind your ear before snorting.

“What else could I say? Man doesn’t think before tweeting.” Max grumbled.

“Made me think-“

“Oh no.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay,”

“Anyway, made me think that I actually have never seen you blush.”

“I’m sure you have,” He assured you, untangling himself from you to get a chilled water bottle from the fridge behind you. You twist your body around, leaning back against the counter to watch his movements with squinted eyes.

“Hmm,” You tap your chin for a few seconds, “Nope, never.”

“Schat, it’s been almost two years,” He paused to crack off the top of the bottle, “I am positive you’ve seen me blush. And even if you haven’t, it’s no big deal.”

You huffed and crossed your arms childishly, “But I’m your girlfriend!” You reached out with your hands to grab his own slutty-man waist.

“Thanks for the reminder, had het anders niet geweten,” Max chuckled, allowing you to pull him by the waist to rest his abdomen just above yours.

“It’s a big deal Maxie, I’m meant to be able to make you blush,” You pouted up at him, scratching your nails up his spine, grinning as he shivered against your hold.

He took a final gulp from his bottle before minutely shifting to press harshly against a cupboard to reveal a hidden bin that popped out at his commend. Max dropped the empty plastic into the metallic cylinder and pushed the sliding contraption in again. He turned back to you, focussing on your large unblinking eyes and wet, pouting lips.

He held your face tenderly, kissing your forehead with his own, “S’okay schat, somethings just aren’t meant to happen.”

You pull away at his statement.

Like hell it won’t

“Nope, that won’t do,” You tug at his arm, guiding him into the separate dining room, a large area that was painted an off-white creamy colour, containing a brass sputnik chandelier that hung low against the white marble dining table which had at least 12 separate chairs tucked beneath its oval body. You pulled at the upholstered chair and dug your hand into the tactile Borg fabric before seating Max, who patiently trailed behind you whilst holding the separate doors open, allowing you to execute your plan perfectly.

You stood in front of the man, who was sat with his legs spread graciously in front of him with his large palms splayed against his slightly-less than normal skinny jeans. It was going to hard, yes. Harder than a diamond heist, to extract the long sought over blush from this well practiced stoic man. But you were determined.

Starting easily, you planted your hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward, close enough that your noses were touching and lips ghosting over each other’s.

“What about this?” You whispered, eyes fluttering closed as you could begin to feel the small grooves and indents of his lips against yours along with his tongue licking at your bottom lip.

“Don’t think so, love.” He murmured back, laughing heartily when you groaned and pushed at his chest.

“Ok that’s it, take it off.” You folded your arms, tapping your foot impatiently.

“Woah, at least buy me dinner first?” Max’s eyes widened as you growled playfully and tugged at the hem of his branded red-bull shirt, “O-Okay okay, chill out you horny demon.”

“Good,” You huff, undoing the buttons of your light blue shirt, until you stood in just your bra and a long pair of silky lounge-wear pants, “We aren’t leaving here until you blush at least once.” You promised him, grinning manically when he stared at your chest.

You re-started once again, barely brushing your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling to yourself when his breath hitched and he groaned, “Anything?” You breathe out, licking slowly, lustfully at the sensitive skin between his ear and the nape of his neck.

“No,” Max denied, squeezing his eyes shut when you took the skin of his collar bone between your lips, sucking lavishly until you were sure of a dark blue love bite before moving inwards, littering the pale canvas with your marks.

“Come on Maxie, you know you want to,” You crooned moving further down, until your face was between his pecs and your hands were braced against the muscles, you dug your nails into his skin before dragging them slowly downwards whilst keeping your eyes locked with his, waiting for the victorious rosy tint to paint his face.

No luck.

“Maybe we should just give up? I can think of a lot of things I can do,” He just barely moaned out from between heavy pants whilst your mouth had made its way to his navel, leaving a wet trail in its wake. You shook your head slightly, flicking your eyes down to where your tongue lay flat against his stomach, “Are you fucking kidding me?” You complained, biting his abs.

“What? I can’t help it,” He defended, holding his arms up innocently before clenching his jaw shut when you began to fiddle with the button of his jeans.

“Yeah?” You challenge, getting up from the tiled floor to swing one leg to one side of his waist while the other sat on the opposite side, allowing you to straddle him and sit directly on his crotch whilst raising an eyebrow at his rolled back eyes.

“What about now Maxie?”

You winded your hips once. Twice. Until he came to hold your love-handles with a tight, possessive grip. Max leaned up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, you whimpered when one of his hands slipped beneath your pants to snap the elastic of your underwear.

You pulled away, burring your hands in his hair and letting the soft strands flow through your fingers, “What about now?” You murmur, pushing yourself against his palm whilst arching your back. He hissed, smirking at your determination.

“Nope.” He removed both hands from your body to fold them behind his head and lean back, “Now what, schat?”

You slumped down and pulled at your bra strap contemplatively, “Dinner.” You stated simply, clambering out of his lap.

“That’s what I tho- wait why are your clothes on?” He asked you incredulously, pointing at the significant tent in his jeans.

“Max Emillian Verstappen I put a lot of effort into dinner tonight,” You scolded him with your pointer finger as you slipped on your shirt, leaving the buttons undone.

“W-what the-“ He spluttered reaching for your hand, “Seriously don’t do this,” he whined, adjusting his jeans with an uncomfortable expression.

“That’s what you get.” You shrugged, leaving him in the dining room, not before you bent down in front of him- swaying your hips suggestively as you collected his shirt from the floor and throwing it at him, “Don’t come out without your shirt on.”

The door slowly creaked shut, leaving Max still shirtless, flabbergasted at his inability to blush.

Well, not really.

He groaned loudly, balling up his shirt to hide the angry red flush that creeped up his cheeks and took over the entirety of his chest, ears and neck.

“HAH!” You called out, re-emerging from the door with a bang, “I KNEW IT.” You had your phone in your hand, displaying a perfect picture of his flustered state, the blonde was buried within his team’s shirt and was very obviously scarlet, “NOW THE WORLD WILL KNOW!” You shouted victoriously, jumping up and down in your spot, shirt still unbuttoned.

You squealed when Max jumped and growled at you, “Get back here, I’ll give you something to tweet about.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

heilige shit - Holy shit

Geliefde - Love [r]

mijn mooie vriendin - my beautiful girlfriend

dat zal niet lukken - that won't work

Mijn liefje - My darling

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

had het anders niet geweten - wouldn't have known otherwise

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donutdisturblivball · 1 year

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after rewatching nimona four times since its release (because yes, this movie is just that good), i caught a few little details that just make the whole experience so much better. so, incoming SPOILER ALERT, don’t read this if you haven’t watched the movie yet. speaking of, why the fuck haven’t you?? go watch the movie (and read the comic while you’re at it, some sites offer it for free), then come back and enjoy.

1. When the Squire gives Ballister his sword, he clearly realizes something’s wrong with it. He’s trained with it for so long that he knew that something was off just by holding it. This detail is something you wouldn’t pay much attention to when you first watch the film, but it’s there to make you realize something is a little off, especially when the Squire attempts to show him the video, but it also has plausible deniability so you could chalk it up to being something else (ie. the Squire wanting a picture with Ballister).

2. This sneaky line from this sneaky bitch.

3. Nimona tells us exactly how the movie ends. (Sorta. In a sense. The phoenix rises from the ashes and overthrows the government.)

4. You can see Nimona sneaking into the jail where Ballister is being kept.

5. Mini Ballister and Ambrosius! I think a few others have pointed this out before, but I only noticed it upon my second rewatch. (A little surprised younger Ambrosius didn’t have the Asian bob. That’s like a right of passage.)

6. Nimona’s train backstory versus her flashback.

7. During Nimona’s nightmare on the couch, she turns into a wolf, and then a cat. In her flashback, as the villagers attack her, she turns into a cat and then a wolf. It could be because having her turn into anything else would be too big for the couch, but if this is intentional, then it means Nimona was having a nightmare of that day.

8. This. Visually, the sparks are sorta similar, and in both instances, Ballister has lost something irreplaceable. I think this one might be a reach and may not be intentional, but my mind connected the two scenes and wouldn’t let go, so.

Honorable mention: the gay and trans flags above Ballister and Nimona respectively in that one scene. iykyk. I didn’t add it because 1. I think many other people have brought it up and 2. the mobile app is limiting me to 10 images. Anyway, I love this movie and its comic SO much and I’m so glad that it made it to our screens from the box of scrapped movies that could have been great if people (namely, executives) gave them a chance. There is so much love, care, and passion put into this movie, and you can really sense that this was made for its audience and its author, for its story and not only for the money it could make. This movie is metal as fuck, so GO STREAM IT!!

#nimona #nimona movie #nd stevenson #i love this movie sm this is my love letter to this movie #ballister and ambrosius r so fucking cute THIS is the queer rep i want #and nimona just.. she has my heart. my soul. I LOVE HER SM #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ive forced my brother my mom and five of my friends to watch this movie with me. it has been brilliant.

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dcandmarvelimagines · 17 days

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sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 3)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, canon typical violence (mostly all off screen), descriptions of dead/dismembered bodies, reader is injured (leg injury and slapped), the kidnapper emotionally manipulates the reader, on page murder. Author's note: Thank you so much for all the support it's been crazy!!! This chapter is a bit intense, I'm not going to lie. We just need to hold hands and get through this. But I swear, the next part of this will be sooo tooth rottingly sweet. It's so long that I actually had to make this five parts lmao. I could not stop with the comfort and softness. ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know. If I forgot someone I'm so sorry!!): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o @thedevilsaysthings @jaeyuni @redmitsuru5 @jeffs77 @spideybv28 @trumanbluee @jennapearce13 @chxrrybomb22 @7soulstars @what-the-jams @lostinheavensworld @purplestars222 @movieat @whiskeyghoul @paintballkid711 @unmotivated-artist164 @sun7lowxr @minniekitties @ceobuggy @amararoseblog @harryshousewhore

The first thing I felt was rough rope as it scraped against my skin. I worked my eyes open, the task feeling too great. I was strapped to an old chair. Nausea swirled in my head as I tried to take in my surroundings. It was a plain, nondescript gray room. The walls were concrete. In the middle of the room, directly in front of me, was a large iron door. It looked like something you would find in a bomb shelter. Around my chair were shafts of moonlight provided by a skylight above. There was a bite in the air that made me shiver. My breathing was uneven as I weakly struggled against the ropes.

“I see you’re awake. Wonderful.” The man with ice cold eyes appeared from the corner of my vision, a folder in his hand. “I don’t want to waste either of our time.” He lugged a metal chair in front of me and I cringed at the horrible screech as it echoed around the room. “Where is Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett?” I blinked, my brain foggy.

“I don't know who those people are.” The man tsked. There was a flash of anger across his calm face before it was replaced by cool indifference.

“Bullshit, we see you coming in and out of their apartment.” My stomach churned, either from whatever they shot me with or from the creeping anxiety.

“Oh you mean Al’s roommates? I work for social services for her. I don’t know anything about them.” The man grinned. It was vicious and predatory.

“You are a bad liar.”He sat on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Why do we have photos of you with both men? What? One not enough for you?” He flicked open the folder and pulled out two pictures. One was of Logan and I on the fire escape. It had been captured at the perfect moment to have clear shots of our profiles in it. The other was of Wade and I at the bar. No, not just the bar, the bathroom. I was half exposed, Wade’s face against my bare breast. The woman who interrupted us had worked for him. Now I was actually going to throw up. I had been followed for months at this point. “Now, I’m going to ask again. Where are they?”

“They don’t tell me about their jobs, I swear. Please just let me go.” The man shook his head with a hum, sounding like a disappointed teacher, sliding the photos back into the folder.

“I’ll leave you here for a couple days, see if that jogs your memory.” Days?

“Wait no! Please!” But he had already disappeared through the metal door. In the doorway, I saw a woman waiting. I blinked in shock. The woman, the one from the dingy bar bathroom. She was the one who had taken our picture. My kidnapper nodded at her before the heavy door thudded shut. Days did pass, the skylight allowing me to count by the motion of the sun. My body soon grew stiff and achy as I sat on the chair. I wanted to sleep, anything to pass the time, but I wasn’t able to calm my mind enough. The shadow of the woman never moved from the small window. I could feel her watching me, my arm hair standing up at the feeling. To distract myself, I thought of Wade and Logan, of them bursting in here and rescuing me in a blaze of glory. But as the days bled into one another, hope started to fade.

The man reappeared after four days. He removed the chair from in front of me, opting to just stand. “Have you thought about your answer?”

“I don’t know where they are.” It was the truth. They didn’t give me any information about their jobs. They could be on Everest for all I knew.

“I don’t believe you!” He began to pace, wearing a line into the concrete floor.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me, it’s the truth.” He rushed at me suddenly, fingers digging brutally into my cheeks as he gripped me. My fists clenched as I forced myself not to jerk away.

“Stop bullshitting me,” his voice was a venomous hiss. “Tell me now.”

“Do you not understand me?” My voice had lowered too, anger boiling inside me. “Get it through your fucking head that I. Don’t. Know. You are wasting your time. Let me go. Do it before they find me here. They’ll kill you before you can even try to fight back.”

“Oh is that right?” I knew he was toying with me, but I fell stupidly into his trap anyways. I was angry and tired and so fucking scared. My brain was barely functioning.

“Wade’s gonna make a necklace of your intestines.”

The slap made a stomach churning crack. My mouth filled instantly with blood from my split lip. My cheek throbbed in the aftershocks. Tears pooled and trickled down my pulsating cheek. Another thunderous slap caught my other side. Blood splattered across my sweats. It was so hot, it practically burned through to my skin.

“What a shame.” His hand wrapped in my hair, yanking my head back, neck stretched too far. The warm blood rushed down my throat and I gagged. “You had such a pretty face. I see why those two kept you around. It’s so nice to have some stress relief. But it seems that they’ve moved on to a better piece of meat now.” He winced when I spat at him, the saliva and blood sticking to his cheek. He touched it like he couldn’t believe it, rubbing it between his index finger and thumb.

“When they get here they’re gonna eat you fucking alive!!” His face twisted in rage. His grip tore at my hair as he ripped my head to the side. Something pricked my neck, cool liquid rushing through my veins. My vision began to fog, body feeling too dense, brain going fuzzy.

“Sleep well.”

It had been days.

I watched the sun beams make their slow progression across the dusty floor, only to be replaced by the darkness of night. My face still stung and my lip kept dripping blood. I called to the woman who was still standing there, hoping that she would take mercy and help me. But I might as well have been shouting at the wall. No one came. No one helped. All I could do was wallow in my pain and loneliness. Maybe they had really abandoned me. What was I to them anyways? Exactly what he said, stress relief. Nothing more than a convenient body. Something to pass the time. If I was worth anything, they would have been here.

My eyes had just slipped shut, head lolling to my shoulder, when the door opened. “Good morning!” It was him. My shoulders slumped, hoping I could just ignore him, that he was just some hallucination. “Your saviors haven’t appeared. So we have come up with a solution.” I opened my bleary eyes when I heard the chair in front of me creak. He clutched my phone in one hand and a wickedly sharp knife in the other. He swiped my phone open before clicking on the screen. I could hear ringing and then someone picked it up on the second one. My eyes were fixated on the knife as he flipped it, catching the hilt each time.

“Baby cakes?! Where are you? What happened?” Wade’s voice was horrifyingly panicked.

“Aw baby cakes?” The tip of his knife traced my cheekbone and I held my breath, hoping I wouldn't flinch and cut myself. “What a cute name.”

“It’s not as cute when you say it,” I grumbled. My voice was thick through my swollen lip.

“What happened? Why do you sound like you have cotton in your mouth?” The man pinched my busted lip, fresh blood bursting forward, and I whined in pain. My nails bit into my palms. Over the line, I heard a growl, letting me know Logan was also listening in.

“Sometimes I just don’t know how to handle myself around such a pretty lady.” Wade let off a string of choice swears and Logan snarled. “She has such a naughty mouth. I see why you keep her around. But it seems you’ve left her for good, huh? She won’t be too pretty once I’m done with her.”

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” Logan was spitting in rage. “If you do I swear I’ll rip that worm you call a dick and ram it down your throat.” I smiled despite myself, something warm unfurling in my chest. They were still trying to find me. After over a week, they were still hunting.

“I told you,” I hissed, “they are going to eat you alive.”

There was a split moment where I knew I had fucked up. His eyes snapped to me, lips pulled back in a horrifying smile.

Then the knife flashed.

The pain in my leg was indescribable. I thrashed, desperate to escape the blade stuck through my thigh. I knew I was screaming but I couldn’t hear it over the pounding in my ears. Fresh blood from my lip and tears traveled down my chin. More blood pooled under my thigh, soaking into my ruined pants. I was only faintly aware that others were shouting and someone was laughing.

His hand hammered the knife in deeper, the wood seat cracking under me, the hilt flush with my leg. I wailed, pleading sobs of mercy clogging my throat. “Stop moving so much.” There was more shouting. My head knocked against the back of my chair. The corners of my vision grew dark. “Do you want to say goodbye? Who knows if you’ll make it to see them.” All I could do was weakly whimper. “She seems preoccupied. I’ll see you two soon.” He tapped my face, the force just under another slap. “You sound so nice screaming. Maybe I will actually keep you around.”

He left me like this, bleeding, trembling, pinned to the chair like a piece of meat. More days passed and the bleeding didn’t stop. It wasn’t normal. I should have died like this. Cold was lingering on my skin and small shivers racked my body. My bare feet had long gone numb. Someone, my foggy vision only registered them as a blob of white, entered the room. They carefully removed the knife and then eased me out of my pants. They methodically stitched my skin together, the haze of shock covered the pain of the stitches. Once a thick white bandage covered the wound, they turned and left.

On the fourteenth day, I heard shouting. Then gunshots. My head jerked from where I had been sleeping. Panic spiked. I needed to run. “Fuck,” I mumbled, looking around desperately for something, anything, to save me. The room was mostly bare besides a table against the opposite wall. Then I saw it.

The knife.

I tried to wiggle closer, but failed to move an inch. “Fuck,” I repeated, desperate now. More shouting and gunshots, closer this time. The more I fidgeted, the more of the seat fell away from under me. Think think think. I continued to sway, lifting the chair onto its sides before it cracked against the floor as it fell. Then I heard a splinter in one of the legs. I took a breath to steel myself before I tipped myself completely over. I nearly sobbed in relief when the chair leg connected to my uninjured leg was the one that snapped off. I awkwardly propelled myself across the scratchy ground, the exposed skin on my left side becoming ragged. The rope on my left wrist began to fray, just enough that when I got to the table, I was able to yank my hand off and reach blindly for the knife. The blade caught my palm but I gripped it tightly, ignoring the bite of pain.

I made quick work of my other binds, the knife almost slipping from my wet grip, and rose to my freezing feet. My injured leg protested instantly, nearly giving out when I put weight down. But I had to run, had to escape. I limped toward the door, and looked through the small window. I couldn’t see anyone, but I heard screaming. I had to yank hard on the door to get it open. There was a dead end to the right and a long twisty hallway to my left. I took a few tentative steps out. When no alarm sounded, I sprinted.

The stitches in my thigh ripped right away. I couldn’t think about the pain. Only escape. I clutched my stolen knife close and ducked into any small nook I could when I heard people thundering by. I should have followed them, maybe found an exit, but the squelching sounds of limbs being severed launched me forward. I turned left, left, right, middle at a fork, up a flight of stairs. I was hopelessly lost but all I could think of was escape, running on pure instinct to find it.

The smell of blood hit me first as I turned a corner. Body parts were strewn across the wide room. Intestines dangled from the ceiling beams. Heads, half crushed, lolled away from their torsos. I wretched, nothing came up besides bile. But I could see outside through large bay windows. My legs were like water under me as I moved to the door. I stepped on an eyeball, the firm jelly bursting between my toes. Just keep going. My head was swimming, nausea from the gore around me mingling with the searing pain in my leg.

I collapsed. I could barely feel the pain as my hands slammed down on broken glass. Then I heard two men’s voices. I scrambled to hide behind a stack of boxes, jamming my sore body into the smallest crack I could find. “I know she’s in here, can smell her.” My knuckles turned white around the knife. My breath was weak, I had lost too much blood.

“Could you maybe sound less like a pervy vampire?” I heard boots lightly hitting the floor as they spread out. “Do you think this scared her?” He sounded timid, maybe even a little afraid. The first man laughed.

“What do you think? You pulled this guy’s entire spine out! Of course she’s fucking scared!” The shout made me jump, huddling deeper into my hiding spot. “Fucking idiot.” A pair of red boots passed my hiding spot, then planted back in front of me. I sucked in a breath as fear rippled through me. My eyes closed tight.

“Hey,” the voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “There you are.” I was so on edge, so terrified, that the hand with the knife whipped out on pure impulse. The tip pushed through something firm, before that gave way to softness. It sunk deep, blood rapidly flowing over my hand. I couldn’t open my eyes. I had attacked someone and they were bleeding all over me. My victim barely made a noise when I stabbed them.

“You can let go of the knife, you're okay.” A hand caressed my face and my teeth sunk into the leather glove, jaw latched tight. I felt like a cornered animal, ready to tear into anything that came near. “Sweetheart,” the name, the voice, pulled me back. I released the hand and opened my blurry eyes. Logan and Wade were squatted down in front of me. Their faces were covered but I recognized the suits.

My knife was stuck through Wade’s neck.

“Wade,” my voice shattered, tears welling. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t see it was you.” He pulled the blade out with a little grunt. There was a hole straight through his throat. My stomach churned again but I held it back. The muscles and tendons laced together rapidly before the skin closed over it completely.

“Don’t apologize. I said the height of romance was stabbing, didn't I?” Logan reached out again and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. A frown drew down his lips when he saw the bruises on my cheeks. “What do you say we get you out of here, yeah? I don’t think extreme violence is really your scene.”

Logan was examining my leg the best he could without touching me. I could hear him sniffing as he leaned closer. “We need to take her to a doctor. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“They stitched me up but I think all of them have ripped now.” My head felt so heavy. “My fingers are cold…is that normal?”

“We have to carry you out, is that okay?” As Logan asked, Wade was already reaching for me. He scooped me into his arms and clutched me tight to him. I hissed as my thigh stretched, head falling heavily against Wade’s chest. Logan walked beside us and I reached blindly for his hand. He gave it a small kiss, but didn’t hold it.

After two weeks, I was safe.

I was safe.

But we had to get out of this building first. Logan walked a head to peer down corners before signaling we could move forward. Wade moved slowly, keeping a firm hold on me. He stayed uncharacteristically quiet. I felt limp and weak in his arms, ready to sink into sleep as soon as I could. To keep myself conscious, I tried to remember all our turns, but it felt like there was an impossible amount. There was a round of clicking and the shuffle of feet as we rounded a corner.

“Ah shit.”

“Fuck.”

My sore eyes opened to find rows and rows of armed men. In front of them was him. There was a cruel smile on his face as he took me in. The woman was tucked behind him, her eyes pinned on me. “I see you pulled your stitches. You should have waited for me to get you instead of trying to run off on your own.” Logan snarled as his claws extended.

“Listen here bub. I don’t make idle threats. So best believe I’m going to follow through with skinning you alive.” Wade moved suddenly, his back to the men. He moved far quicker than he had before. I heard men readjusting their guns, their anxiousness clear.

“And where are you going Mister Wilson?”

“First off, Mister Wilson is my father.” I groaned as Wade placed me on the hard concrete floor, safely tucked behind a stack of boxes. He stood, “you can call me Marvel Jesus.” I watched with an unfocused gaze as his hand snapped open a holster and handed me the gun that it held. “Just dropping off special cargo.” I took it, my hands shook at the light weight. There was a flash of gold along the black metal but my hazy brain couldn’t make out the text. I carefully tucked it under my leg to hide it from view. Once that was done, Wade traveled back to Logan’s side. “What do you say darling?”

“Let’s fucking go.” My hands slapped over my ears at the thunderous noise of all those guns firing. I was desperate to drown out the screams, the wet slap of limbs falling to the floor. My first instinct was to take deep, calming breaths, but my nose was too full of the scent of iron. The time stretched, the fight going for hours.

Just as a sense of shaky calm fell over me, hands grabbed me. I recoiled instantly. “Don’t be difficult.” It was him. He was trying to pick me up, trying to move me. But my body was dead weight and he struggled to lift me. Something cool pressed under my thigh.

Now don’t be afraid of it. If you show fear around guns, you’ll end up shooting yourself in the foot.

Okay, see this little switch? No, not me you insatiable minx. This. Get a feel for it. If you are ever in danger you have to know where it is right away.

He was distracted, watching something over the boxes next to me, his arms suspended in mid air. A female scream cut through the rest of the deep shouts. That rush of time, the feeling that wasn’t easy to explain, snapped. I blinked in confusion. With the man’s focus somewhere else, I put every ounce of concentration into my hands, willing them to stay still, as I lifted the gun. I found the safety and flicked it back.

Now don’t get any big action hero dreams of just pulling this trigger and letting bullets fly. It requires a lot of force, so you have to pull the hammer back first. Make sure you hold it with both hands, okay? Last thing you need is a concussion from it flying back and hitting you in the head.

My sweaty thumb slipped from the hammer. The movement seemed to catch the man’s attention. There was a split moment where neither of us moved. Then, as if in slow motion, he reached for his own gun. I raised mine and pressed the barrel to his forehead. Both of my index fingers wrapped around the trigger. I squeezed with every ounce of strength I had left.

You can’t look away, pumpkin.

You gotta make sure anyone who is trying to hurt you is dead.

I didn’t.

One second his head was there, eyes bulging in fear. The next, just a cloud of red remained. Squishy chunks of brain, shards of skull, and a splatter of blood went everywhere. It was in my mouth, in my hair, across my bare legs. All sound died and was replaced by a dull ringing. His body slumped before it fell. I stared at it, dark red spluttering from the exposed veins of his neck, the liquid pooling on the floor. The concrete was quick to drink it up. Logan was the first to appear at my feet. He took me in, his face unreadable under his mask. I saw his mouth move but it was jumbled, words half broken. I shook my head, tapping my ears. It was like a dial slowly moving up on the radio. The sound of bullet casings hitting the ground, screams of pain, the thud of bodies.

“You alright?” Logan sounded panicked, his loud gruff voice cutting through the renewed sound. I nodded. “We’ll get you out of here, don’t worry sweetheart.” I nodded again. There was one last shout of agony before silence fell again. Logan maneuvered the dead man off me, throwing the body carelessly away. He slipped the gun from my sticky hands before hoisting me into his arms. I buried my face in his neck, taking in his scent. Sweet, earthy, the tang of sweat.

“We got you. I got you, sweetheart. Always will.”

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