#but now with x and helping him fight this new power and “evil”

[softmenace]

Ohhhhmygod I just read the Xaden plot twist at the end of Iron Flame and damn. I knew something happened but I didn't know what.

[strange-dreams-are-made-of-these]

Your Heart Fits Like A Key

Summary: Your ex boyfriend is your knight in shining armor rescuing you after a bad date. There's nobody else like Logan, and you finally see it. This is imagined with 2013 Logan in mind, but any Logan could work Warnings: MDNI!!! its porn without plot. Logan receives road head, afab!female reader, reader receives oral, pet names (baby, baby girl, princess), car sex, logan talks reader through it, not proofread, no use of y/n Word Count: 3.7k+

You blamed yourself for not checking the weather report before getting ready for your date today. Westchester County was huge, but the upper part of the county wasn't the kindest to pedestrians. Granted, you did have a car, but good ole Casper the white Dodge was sitting in the shop still waiting on that part needed to fix the transmission. Had you lived closer to the southern end of the county you could have at least been within decent walking range of the subways and trains that made the lives of New York City's residents easier.

Your phone buzzed again on your bathroom counter as you plucked the stray eyebrow hair between your brow and temple. As you looked down, you saw his name, and a flutter rose in your chest. You shook your head, deciding to answer it. "You would have thought that after i didn't answer your third call you would have thought I didn't want to talk to you."

A gruff filled the space in a response. "What can I say? If I'm known to be anything, its protective. Something could have been wrong and I would have to come and save you"

"Did you mean protective or possessive?" You asked, though not able to get rid of the smirk that crept up on your face.

"There's a very fine line between the two, darlin'." he cooed into the phone, sounding just as smooth as his line delivery.

It had been nearly a year since you and Logan broke up, yet he couldn't quite just leave you alone. It wasn't just that you two dated for two years, two wonderful years filled with love and domesticity, and the occasional fight between the forces of good and evil. You weren't much one to fight with the team known as the X-Men. Your powers occur in the cases of near accidents or without much effort. Probability field manipulation made it nearly impossible for you to receive a scratch or bruise.

Which was ironic due to your lack of success in your dating life after Logan. What was that saying about being unlucky in love?

"I'd love to stay and chit-chat with you, Logan-"

"Perfect, let's have dinner tonight at Lucky's." You could barley hear the jingling of keys in his hand, as if he was spinning them around in his finger.

You rested one hand on the bathroom counter, dropping your jaw slightly before speaking again. "I can't. I'm already going out tonight."

The keys stopped spinning and an audible change could be heard in his tone. "I'm sure the girls from work won't mind having a scary dog privilege around, or whatever you girls are saying these days."

"It's not with the girls, or with coworkers." You looked at yourself int he mirror, then pressing your brows together. Why did you tell him that?

Logan hummed on the other side of the phone, not a jovial one. "So, some slob is taking you out tonight?" He asked you.

You didn't think Jake to be a slob, except for the inappropriate water cooler bathroom humor, but he was nice and somewhat good looking.

Not as good looking as Logan though.

"Nothing too crazy. Just pizza and a walk." As you looked at your dress in the mirror, you knew you were overdressed, but you couldn't help yourself. It had been ages since you last wore the dress, and it was the perfect combination of being short enough to leave the mind wanting more and hugging your curves in the right way.

"Sounds like he can't afford to take you on a proper date. Who knows what else he can't properly do." Logan replied, knowing the sound of his voice was already driving you wild. He could imagine your face now, how soft your eyes would be as he looked down at you.

You knew the voice he was using was his bedroom voice, and it drove you mad. To feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you back into his hold, to feel his lips dance across your cheeks and ears, nibbling the lobes had sent shivers down your spine.

Oh, how you missed him dearly.

"Too bad you'll never know." You responded, trying to force the thoughts of Logan out of your mind.

"We'll see, princess."

–

Later that night, you and Jake had sat in Martin and Rocco's pizzeria, a little place you enjoyed from time to time. Jake had showed up not only half an hour late, but he decided to wear an ill-fitting grey t-shirt and baggy jeans. His hair looked as if he had just rolled out of his bed. All while you were in the slim red dress with your black leather jacket tucked on your lap.

Jake had been laughing rather loud and ruthlessly, spitting food out as he did so. It left a sour taste in your mouth as you protectively shielded your glass of red wine from his debris. The waiter came back asking about your check. "It'll be one, bro." Jake spoke. The waiter nodded, handing the printed check over to Jake. He shook his head, then pointed at you. You looked at him dumbfounded as the waiter left.

"Why are you pointing at me?" You asked him.

He threw his hands up. "Don't look at me. This was your idea." He sounded rather confident, making your blood boil.

"I don't mind paying for my own, I would rather pay for my own. I'm not paying for you." You spoke firmly, clutching your purse. Now the bill wasn't large at all. A medium-sized pizza that you ate only one slice of as he consumed the rest, your one glass of wine, and his three beers came to around forty-five dollars before tip. "I'll pay for the drinks, no problem. I'm not paying for a pizza I barely touched."

Jake narrowed his eyes at you. "This date was your idea. Why do you think I didn't bring my wallet? Just my I.D." He asked you again.

Eyeing the rest of the wine in your glass, you looked back at Jake. The highest road to take would be to pay for the meal, tip the waiter, and never speak to Jake again.

But you never were one to take the high road.

Hanging your jacket over your arm, you stand up and walk over to Jake. "You know what?" You swirled the red liquid in your glass, watching as it stained the sides temporarily. "He's right... You wouldn't know how to treat me right." You turned to look at him, changing your posture. "Suck a bag of dicks." You then turn the glass over in your hand, drenching your pathetic date in the rest of your wine.

He wiped his eyes, making a scene of himself as you walked away. You spoke to the waiter, making sure to pay for the drinks and tip him as you said you would, then leaving the staff to take care of the rest.

You felt a newfound sense of confidence as your hips swayed leaving the restaurant and putting on your jacket.

Then the rain started to soak your hair. The confidence started to fade as you then remembered to had to use an Uber to get to the restaurant because your car was in the shop. You sighed loudly, turning on your heel to begin your long walk home.

A car pulled up toward you as the passenger window rolled down. "Need a ride, baby?"

You looked over, feeling defeated that Logan had found you. Of course, he would, like he did with all of your previous dates. "I'm good." You lied.

You knew better, he could tell by the way your cheeks had been red, even under the street lights, that something was wrong. Logan got out of the car, shutting the door before walking around, opening the passenger door, shielding it from the rain. "You sure about that?"

Option A: Tell Logan, the honest love of your life, to leave you alone and continue to walk home.

Option B: stick around until Jake comes out of the restaurant smelling like the house wine special for the night and risk watching Logan beat the shit out of him.

Option C: Accept the universe's way of telling you everything will be alright.

You pull your jacket around you a little tighter as you turn and approach Logan and his car. You look up at him, placing a hand on his cheek and gently patting it. Before you could sink into the seat, he gently grabbed ahold of your wrist, bringing it to his lips and pressing those perfectly soft lips to the inside of your wrist as he kissed it.

After making sure you were in the car, Logan closed the door, walked around the front of the car, and entered the driver's side. As he turned the engine back over, police sirens could be heard in the distance. "What's going on?" He asked watching as they approached the pizzeria and a couple of cops entered the restaurant.

"Well, if we don't get out of here, I may end up in handcuffs.” You sighed, your chest rising and falling harshly. “Not in the good way.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s my girl.” He turned the wheel, quickly speeding out of the parking spot.

He rested one hand on the steering wheel, the other was on the gearshift as he comfortably sped down the roads of the town you called home. You ignored the burning pit in your stomach, reaching into your bag and pulling out your perfume. It was a small bottle with a roller ball, applying it on your wrists and neck. Logan looked over at you, smirking. “You’re too dolled up for that slouch, Doll.” He spoke, then peering back at the road.

You hummed a little, then resting your elbow on the side door, pressing your temple on your hand as you looked over at him. “What can I say? I wanted to dress up for somebody.” But Jake was the wrong somebody.

“When you feel the need to dress up, just call me.” He spoke lowly, turning down the scenic route on the backside of the town.

You knew what he was doing, what he had planned from the time you spoke to him on the phone. After the night you had, you weren’t going to deny your knight on his white horse the pleasure of making you happy.

You knew it made him happy too, something you craved. Nobody else you have ever met was Logan. Nobody was going to be Logan. It was impossible.

“You know, I’m more than just a pretty little girl to look at, Logan.” Your left hand reached over slowly to rest on his jeans. His perfectly fitting jeans, matching with the dark button up he wore. Logan knew exactly what he was doing. His face remained pointed at the road, his eyes looking down at your hand as you finally reach to ghost over his clothed erection. He bit his lip, quickly closing his eyes as you palm him over his jeans. “I can be evil.” You coo, leaning over as you press your forehead to his shoulder.

Logan sucked in a deep breath, now placing both hands on the steering wheel. “You already torment me, princess.” He responded, now looking over at you.

You shift in your seat, now pressing both knees on the seat bottom, your hands busy unbuckling his belt. Your fingers rested on the button of his jeans as you look up at him, a devious glare in both of your eyes. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

His eyes searched yours, triangulating your eyes and lips. “Come back to me.” He whispered to your lips before you could capture them in yours. Falling back into your vicious cycle, your lips mold well with his you give into your desires.

Logan pulls away only to look at the road. This gives you enough time to unbutton and unzip his jeans. You slip your hand down his boxers, taking a hold of his girth as you bring it to the surface. You lick your lips, then pooling some more saliva in your mouth, spitting on him. As you lower down to him, your lips meet his red tip, already leaking pre-cum, and kiss him a couple times. This earned you an approving groan from Logan, who drew his lips into a thin line as he focused on the road.

You lick down his veins, then kiss up his shaft, feeling the heat in your belly grow into something different. You took Logan in your mouth, tongue wrapping around his length as you went down on him. You felt his hand then lace a crown in your hair as you bobbed up and down on him, sucking him the way he deserved.

“Good girl,” He practically purred, making your thighs shake in response. One of your hands braced yourself on his leg, knowing if you reached for yourself Logan would tear into you. The other hand reached for his balls, thumbing the skin as you massaged him. Logan began to speed, the sensation of you taking all of him without a gag reflex was pure ecstasy to him. He groaned out, huffing harshly as he praised you. Warm, velvety ropes of cum filled your mouth and throat as Logan breathed heavily. It was sweet heavenly music to your ears as you worked him through his orgasm, feeling your core deprived of attention.

“Fuck this.” Logan spoke harshly, taking another turn down a dirt road. He pulled the car into a space off the side of the dirt road, turning it off as you left go of him as you lick up the rest of his cum. “My girl needs me.” He spoke again, pulling the level on his seat back. The seat scooted all the way back before he grabbed both of your hips, practically pulling you into his lap. “You need me, don’t you baby?” He asked you, bushing your hair out of your face as you straddled him.

You had long discarded the leather jacket to the passenger seat floor, resting both of your hands on his shoulders. You nodded quickly, licking your lips feeling yourself quake over his body. “Take me to bed, or lose me forever.” You whisper between the two of you.

This sent chills down his spine as one hand raced up your spine, grabbing you by the neck and pulling your faces to each other, grabbing you in a passionate kiss. A hungry one. A desperate one. He never wanted to let you go, never again. He would gladly taking a beating every day if it meant he could hold you life this again.

His free hand reached between your bodies, unsheathing one claw to cut through your underwear. The delicate lace fell between the both of you in shreds. “I just bought those.” You complained as you broke the kiss for air.

Logan then lowered the seat back giving you both room. “I’ll buy you new ones.” He promised.

Both his and your hands reached for the back of the dress, pulling the zipper down. Logan was faster pulling it off of your body, his eyes scanning over your body once again. Like a child in a candy store, he stared in awe as you were now only clothed in your bra. Your hands made quick work of his shirt, ripping the buttons apart as the scattered around the car’s interior. “You’re not the only one with money.” you retort, now pressing your lips to his, then lining kiss to his jaw and down his neck.

One of his arms braces you, holding him closer to you as the other hand now begins to give you attention. His index and middle fingers part your folds, bringing a moan from you as you bury yourself between his neck and shoulder. “I got you, princess. I’ll work you through it.” He whispered in your ear, feeling your hips buck up into hand. His palm rubs against your core, soaked in your pre-cum as your body shivers in his. “Gotta get your ready for me, baby.” You gasp into his shoulder, lips now splayed on his shoulder as you wrap your arms around him. His finger and thumb pinch the delicate flesh of your clit, making you buck again. He used your bucking to his advantage, pressing two fingers into you. “Just like that. You take me so well.” He rubbed your gummy walls, feeling you already clench around him.

“Lo-Logan… please.”

You feel the rumble in his chest, how your chest begins to quickly rise and fall into his as you plead with him. He wonders if you will ever find out how cute you are begging him. “Please what, princess?”

You pull away from his shoulder, grinding your hips against his fingers, your bottom lip quivering. “Please fuck me.”

His lips crashed onto yours again as he removed his hand, stroking it over his length before guiding himself toward your entrance. You both sigh at the same time when he presses his tip in. His hands find your hips, grabbing handfuls of your skin as you skin onto him. You busy yourself with kissed to his hairy pecs as you roll your hips over him, bouncing on his length. Logan’s head dipped back, closing his eyes briefly. He looked up at your face, your jaw dropped again as your hands rest on his stomach to brace yourself. “Good-Good girl.” He then reached up to your bra, unsheathing his claws again and he sliced it off of your body. Once off, his hands reached your your breasts, palming your nipples, pulling your breasts together and pinching your nipples.

You bounced more on him, feeling the car rock with your movements as you clench around him, not even a whole three minutes in and your are already weak for this man.

Logan must have sensed this as he then pulled you off of him, carefully and skillfully he maneuvered you to the back seat, setting you on your back. He shimmed around, moving his head between your thighs, lining kisses from the middle of your thigh down to your core, suckling your clit as he slung on of your legs over his shoulder. You brought your hands up to your face, covering your eyes before dragging down your cheeks, then lips, then neck. “LOG-ah!” You called out as he pressed further into your core, his tongue lathing up your undoing.

As your breathed heavily recovering front our high, he continued to pamper you with kisses. Kissed from your core up to your belly button, to your sternum as his nose danced between your breasts, his arms now reaching up to cage you in after throwing both your legs over his shoulders. “It’s time to let me take care of you.”

He pressed himself inside of you again in one harsh thrust, picking the pace up as your joined bodies moved in unison. Your hands reached to cup his face as you breathed heavily in each others face, chasing another high together.

Oh how you missed Logan, and how he knows how to treat a lady.

It felt so right, all of it. Your mascara began to run down your face. Logan wiped your face with his thumb. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You’re fine. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He soothed you.

“I-I’m gon-” You scrunch your face before looking back up at him.

“Cum for me, princess.” He commanded. AS your coil came undone again, Logan’s lips met yours, causing you to moan into his face as he rode your high out on him. Your cries of pleasure fill the car as Logan’s release fell over him. Your pussy milking him for all he was worth. Logan hovered above you as you both came down from your highs, clinging onto each other tightly.

Once things began to settle for the both of you, He removed himself from you, then shifting you around to where you were now resting on top of him. His arms wrapped around your lower back and the back of your head while yours laid on the sides of his chest. Your breathing and heart beats began to slow down to as the buzz filled your head.

After a few minutes of silence, and one long over due fuck session, Logan broken the silence. “What did you mean earlier? When you said take me to bed or lose me forever?”

You looked up at him, adjusting yourself to be able to look at his eyes as you spoke. “You were right. He was a slob, and he didn’t know how to treat me.” You look as if you were caught in thought as your finger traced a figure eight on his chest, causing Logan to look at you in his usual inquiring way. “Nobody will ever be you.”

This caused him to laugh, fog inside the windows growing at the statement. “Here, I was thinking you had watched Top Gun and wanted to be cheesy.”

You narrowed one eyebrow at him, a flirty smirk growing on your face. “You’re no Goose, but you sure are a big stud, Wolverine.”

Logan nodded, the hand resting on your lower back slowly ran up and down your spine. “So, about Lucky’s?”

You hummed a little thinking about the events of the night. “Tomorrow. I’m quitting my job, no thanks to Jake. So any time after noon?”

Logan nodded, accepting the terms of the date. He then cocked his head at you, tsking you and wagging a finger. “You remembered his name, baby girl. That means I need to fuck it out of you again.”

“Maybe in a bed next time? Or a shower?” You ask him, knowing your addiction to this man was a hard one to break.

He stared at you, his face turning soft as he nodded. “Come here.” He whispered. You were more than happy to oblige, pressing your lips to his again.

Oh yes, Logan Howlett was a man of many talents. But one thing you were more than thankful for was his way of loving you harder outside of your relationship.

[rosepinks-world]

WHEN SHE SQUEEZED ME TIGHT, SHE NEARLY BROKE MY SPINE!

logan howlett x fem reader

logan meets wades friend in the void and to his surprise and dismay she’s stronger than he is.

a/n: powers are basically my girl queen maeves

After Wade had got beaten up by every Wolverine variant he encountered he decided to call in the big guns.

“Y/n I need your help jumping into different multiverses to find a new Wolverine.”

“…Well I ain’t got nothing better to do.”

You were not a hero. You knew from a young age the world was poisoned with corruption and evil so naturally you decided to take matters into your own hands. You were unwillingly experimented on and as a result gained intensified strength and healing factors the perfect combination to become an infamous assassin- which is how you met Wade.

After a while of searching, you met the best Wolverine you could possibly find. Although hope began to fade when you and Wade watched in horror as he chugged a whole bottle of whiskey and passed out on the floor.

You easily hoisted the unconscious man onto your shoulders and carried him out of the bar letting Wade transport you back to the building that you learned was called the ‘TVA’ You threw Wolverine down harshly as Wade presented him to the man who reminded you of someone from pride and prejudice.

Mr Darcy Paradox was not happy. Was it because you had plucked the so called ‘worst’ Wolverine from a different timeline? That Wade had broken his nose? Or because you were now suddenly involved when you really shouldn’t be? Ultimately, he immediately transported the three of you to the void.

You sat criss crossed on the floor, drawing random patterns in the sand as you waited for the two men infront of you to gain consciousness.

Logan jolted up looking around erratically. He made eye contact with you and looked you up and down before he yelled a rather polite: “Who the fuck are you?”

You went to answer but Wade finally woke up.

“That’s Y/n she’s basically an off brand Wonder Woman.”

You gave Wolverine a bright innocent smile and Logan brushed off Wade’s reference with a confused look on his face. Now realising Wade was awake, he immediately stood up and attacked him, jamming his claws into his chest and hoisting him in the air. “Where the hell are we?”

“I don’t know!” Wade yelled defensively.

You sat there entertained as you let the two grown men throw each other around for a bit when Wade said something that seemed to have struck a nerve.

“Is that what you said when your world went to shit?

Your eyes widened in surprise. If this was the worst Wolverine (according to paradox) you wondered what had happened to him to make him so bad. Logan retaliated by throwing Wade through a concrete wall. He looked pretty proud of himself and you just couldn’t help yourself. You rose from your spot kicking away the sand where you had created a very artistic depiction of their fight. You cracked your knuckles and snuck up behind him reaching up to tap his shoulder. He turned around confused and sighed dissatisfied when he saw you.

“Listen bub. Just leave this between me and red I don’t want to hurt a powerless girl-“

Just as he finished his sentence, you punched him square in the face and sent him flying through the same wall that he’d sent Wade into.

Logan threw his body up in shock for what seemed to be hundredth time today. He was getting sick of these surprises. The injuries you’d caused to his body began to heal as Wade cackled at the man from his spot on the floor.

“Told ya she’s like Wonder Woman.”

Logan growled at Wade but was also in disbelief.

You had just caught him off guard. Yep, that was it.

He charged towards you with his claws ready to attack but you countered. You grabbed his claws drawing blood from your hands and threw him to the ground. He groaned and watched as the cuts you inflicted on yourself began to heal the same way his had done. You stood above him a stern look on your face.

“I’m not doing this with you Logan. Just listen to us.”

He wasn’t giving in. He grabbed your calf and pulled you to the ground, flipping you onto your back caging you in with his muscular arms.

He won.

You groaned in anger as you shoved him off of you sending him flying once again. He fell next to you on his stomach, face first into the dirt. You stood up quick before he could and placed a foot on his back and crouched down so you were closer to his face. This was how he realised the intensity of your strength. He could feel the weight of your foot and he was built of fucking adamantium.

“You gonna stop being a little bitch and listen to me or do I have to toss you around some more?”

Logan growled in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Wade had returned, finally healed, and decided to make a comment. “I’ll listen if it means you’ll toss me around.”

You rolled your eyes at Wades comment and picked up a stone throwing it at his face with your intensified strength which knocked him back onto the floor.

Still not getting an answer from the Wolverine you flipped him onto his back pinning his splayed arms to the ground as you straddled his waist. He writhed underneath you- still trying to prove his strength- but you had him, he couldn’t move.

You won.

You tilted your head at Logan and he angrily answered your question.

“I’ll listen.”

You patted the side of his face condescendingly.

“Good boy.”

You graciously unpinned him and he shoved you off, moving away from you rapidly.

He was humiliated.

You looked so ordinary. No indication of your strength and you were half his size. And here you were, tossing the big bad, made of goddamn metal Wolverine around like a fucking rag doll. He’d never met anyone that could do the things you had done to him. Wade had matched his strength when they had their little fight but you didn’t just match his strength you were exceeding it. He didn’t hold back once. He was using his full ability and it didn’t even effect you. He felt a whirlwind of emotions but one stuck out the most to him.

Lust.

He would be lying if he said this whole situation didn’t turn him on. Which didn’t go unnoticed by Wade

“You kinky son of a bitch you into a bit of masochism?” Wade asked getting dangerously close to Logan’s face.

Logan snapped out of his thoughts (unfortunately) and growled at Wade as a warning, “Shut the fuck up.”

You couldn’t help but smirk as Logan started to walk away from you two. It was kinda flattering to beat up Wolverine and also turn him on within the span of five minutes. Wade looked at you, eyes still somehow expressive through his mask.

“Oh! That was definitely a yes!”

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Rings of Power Masterlist

*all fics posted so far are x reader, written with fem!Elf!reader in mind

These works are also being gradually added to my ao3 account.

🎀 - contains smut

-> Sauron

Ruin - in which you share a moment alone in the forge

Misled - in which he tries to convince you that your father, Lord Celebrimbor, is the darkness you saw in the Unseen World

Distraction - in which he blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Choice - in which you try to persuade Halbrand to follow you to the Southlands, regardless of his past

Decision - in which you find out why Halbrand has been distant despite the intimacy you shared in Númenor, and now it’s your turn to decide whether or not to follow him on the path ahead

Perfect illusion - in which you have to sit at your father’s side while Sauron coerces him into finishing the Nine, realizing just how blind you have been all along

🎀 Inspiration - In which you struggle coming up with new designs for the Nine, and the Lord of Gifts helps you overcome your creative block

🎀 Further inspiration - in which you discover Annatar aiding Celebrimbor in his work with the same unconventional method he used with you, but that doesn’t mean he has discarded you

-> Evil!reader (chronological order)

* technically these share the same reader, but as the fics were not written in chronological order, each of them is either self-contained or has some info beforehand so it’s not too confusing wherever you start. So feel free to read them as a series or simply pick what sounds good to you.

* playlist for vibes

*some crazy memes about these two here and here

Remade - in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

🎀 Tides of fate -> in which your newly returned husband is unsure of the path ahead, and the sea itself tries to deter you from the one you choose together

Reunion - in which your husband finally returns from his time in Númenor, and you make the most of the first moment you get him alone

As one - in which you sense that your husband is being tormented at Adar’s camp, and you join him through your bond to share in his burden from afar

🎀 As we are now - in which you explore your husband’s new form, and it leads to you breaching a rather delicate subject

A true gift - in which you share a private moment with your husband, then add a special little detail to his new look

Jealousy - in which you know he is only getting close to Mirdania as part of your plans, but it still bothers you

Reveal - in which you can’t seem to quell Celebrimbor’s suspicions, and he finally learns the true identity of you and your husband

🎀 Theatrics - in which Celebrimbor tries to expose you and your husband to the people of Eregion, but you play the role of the innocent maiden to perfection

Old Wounds - in which you guard Celebrimbor to make sure he finishes the Nine, and he makes the mistake of underestimating the bond you and your husband share

Kill and make up - in which you and your husband discover that Celebrimbor has escaped with the Nine, and it brings out the uglier side of your relationship

Defied - in which Celebrimbor manages, with his dying words, to unearth some truths which you and your husband are desperate to deny

The Two - in which Galadriel fights to withhold Nenya and the Nine, but in the end she fails to stop your husband placing yet another ring upon your finger

-> Galadriel

Lost - in which she sees you in her 2x02 vision instead of Celebrimbor

in which you find Galadriel in the waters of the Glanduin, acting strange in a terrifying way (here)

[jinxthequeergirl]

omg yay!! so glad i can request you some billy cuz i love him sooo much… yeah, and also: if you don't want to write this it’s okay, but then please reply to this post somehow because damn otherwise i end up waiting like a hachiko😔

how about bill and reader had a deal but eventually their interactions developed into some kind of relationship (?). i don't know, in short bill became very attached to the reader but something happened and they had a fight which cancelled the deal.

time passed and bill still couldn't forget reader. and now, already being in a mental hospital, bill is sitting in general therapy in a circle with everyone else, with an empty look at the floor "i don't want to be here, they made me" in his eyes, and then suddenly one of the therapists says: "so, i want to introduce you to a new patient: y/n!"

bill, hearing this name, is shocked because how did this even happen, and the reader just smiled

ps english is not my first language i'm writing this by translation sorry for mistakes, i love you💘

The Multi-Dimensional break up

Bill chiper x Interdemensinal being!reader

Here, take this while i work on Part 8!

Picture bill however you want to in this I left him vague for a reason (I personally go for the unconventional twink cipher)

Warning: none, it's short

~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~

Sure, Ford was interesting enough, but YOU were far more interesting. He remembered helping Ford with the portal, watching him fo test runs only to pull you out.

Ford was instantly fascinated with you, running tests interagating you, you happily answered, glad to talk to someone new, and you gladly accepted when offered to help with the portal reaserch.

That's when he'd introduce you to Bill, his other interdimensinal friend helping him. You two bonded quickly, and you shared how similar your dimensions were as well as how vastly different they were.

What he liked most of all about you was how he could talk to you about things others usually didn't get, not his parents in his home dimension, not ford...no one.

"You were only a child... That must've been hard." You admit to him after he opened up to you on a whim about his past, about seeing past his dimensions, about what he did...who he lost.

"It...it's was! But look at me now! Look at all the power I have because of it!" You gave him a sideways look.

"But are you happy?..." He stared at you.

No one's ever asked him that before.

"I understand what you did...I was given a similar chance to yours...but before I made my choice I stopped to think about everyone I held dear to me, I thought about everyone else and who they held dear to themselves...and most of all I thought about myself...would this really make me happy in the long run? If I lost everything, would I care if it was replaced with what I'm being offered?"

Bill stared at you once again. A strange sinking feeling he'd only ever felt once before in his life. "What did you do?"

"Well...to put it simply my home dimension is thriving! They all lived and still lived happily...in the end, I knew if I was willing to do something like that, I could risk it all just like that, then I was the one who needed to leave."

You weren't exactly the type of being he surrounded himself with. You were....well adjusted, to say the least. He kept you around.

He grew attached to you, basically at the hip. He liked that for some reason in a sea of crazy, horrific, and terrifying things you were very calm and collected. Though you did end up sharing his affinity for all those things, giving him a good evil idea in the most calm manner he'd ever seen.

But like before in his home dimension, he began to crave more. Working with you and Ford to get the portal up and running only made him desire it tenfold. He had a vision and with you in it.

So, who better to ask for help bleed into Fords reality and take over then you. Though he didn't tell you the whole plan or truth as to what the plan held in store for everyone.

"Would it make you happy?" He felt his eye twitch. Not a question he thought you'd ask.

"If it does?" You finally looked up at him from what you were fiddling with. "If you came to me right now asking me to do this and you were a million percent positive, it would make you happy... I would say ok."

"Really? Why?"

"You should have some happiness to if I could help achieve that I would love nothing more."

"Then it's a deal."

You shook his hand.

He beamed at you, worried a moment that you would give him a long speech about doing the right thing. True that you enjoyed the bits of chaos he would sprinkle about and even partake in them. But you also had a bit of a moral Compass. It never seemed to stop you from having fun with him, and to him it didn't seem like it stopped him from his fun when you thought other wise.

But it did. You not partaking with him felt wrong. You'd become his right hand in everything. Usually, if you rode a high horse, suddenly he was too.

However, you were hell-bent on helping him with this, that was until you realized what he was doing and trying to do to Ford.

You stopped helping him immediately.

"You lied to me! You didn't tell me this was your plan! Another dimension you can treat, like your home dimension?" Bill was taken aback for a moment. And hurt that you would compare what he was doing now to what he did in the past.

"Are you seriously going to do this? To Ford!?"

"Hey! We had a deal remember!"

"You purposely left information out you tricked me!"

Bill realized he'd never seen you angry in the years he'd gotten to know you. Seeing you now almost made him hesitate, almost.

"The deal is off! And I'm going to tell Ford about your plan."

"Not so fast!" You froze in place your whole body feeling over and turning to gold. "Bill wait! Wait! Don't do this! We can talk this out!"

"I don't think so...you and no one else in any dimension is going to stop me!"

"Bill Cipher, I swear I will -"

He winced, waiting for the rest of your sentence that never came, your face permanently frozen in distorted anger. This is what he wanted, right? He wanted out of the nightmare dimension. He wanted complete and utter chaos in the real world. He was sure of it only a moment ago.

Then why did he feel so bad.

He stared at your face solid gold and gleaming now.

"Are you happy?"

He shook your voice from his head.

"You'll see y/n! I'm going to Rule this dimension and you'll regret not joining me!" He said trying to gain back his confidence.

He could.

Not when you where looking at him like that.

So he possessed Fords body, tossed you threw the still finicky portal and forgot about you.

Tried to forget about you.

Every day, something new would come up, and he would still be ready to tell you, still wake up, ready to spend his time with you.

Who knew how lonely he really was until Ford dragged you out of that portal all those years ago.

He thought about you now most of all, staring up at the ceiling in his interdemensinal cell.

He wondered if he would have beaten the Pines family if you were by his side. He wandered if he would have even gone through with weirdmagedon if you were by his side.

He truly just missed you. He regretted throwing you away like you weren't everything to him. He hoped you would eventually forgive him if you ever crossed paths or if you were even unfrozen.

He avoided bringing you up now that he was in mandatory therapy. Anytime he felt he might mention you, he paused and steered the conversation away as best he could.

"Welcome, everyone. Let's settle down."

Bill sighed, slumping into his chair. Bracing himself for yet another group therapy session.

"Before we get started, I'd like to welcome a new member to the group." He rolled his eye while the other members erupted in chatter.

"Settle down, everyone, please welcome y/n."

Bill felt his heart stop, and the air leave his lungs.

Low and behold you scanned the room looking for an open seat, you sat across from him locking eyes with him for a moment.

"I like your scar" You mouthed.

He stared at you jaw on the floor.

"How?" He asked all you did was smile before the mediators spoke up again.

"Alright, everyone, let's begin."

[floofeh-purpi]

Creator x Destroyer. ♡

Sagau! Foul Legacy x Creator! Gn! Reader

『Beloved fluffball/s mentioned below! 💜』

@mc-cos-charm (Thank you for supporting my sagau fatui series Ilysm fluffball :3) @justmare @keirennyx @catratnap @fantasticarcadefan

A/n: My poetic side came out this night.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

• The world thrummed with discord, a harsh dissonance echoing in the very fabric of Teyvat. As the creator, you felt it keenly - a tremor, a crack in your creation.

• Locating the source, you found yourself hovering above a desolate landscape ravaged by a crimson storm. In the swirling chaos, a figure fought with a primal ferocity.

• It was Childe, or rather, Foul Legacy.

• Foul Legacy didn't possess Childe's usual mocking grin. Its face was a mask of cold fury, its movements mechanical, fueled by a raw, destructive power.

• Yet, you saw a flicker, a fleeting moment where the crimson energy seemed to dim, revealing a sliver of blue beneath. Briefly, the eyes locked with yours, a desperate plea flashing within their depths.

• Confused, you reached out, calming the storm with a thought. The world stilled, the crimson fading to reveal a kneeling Foul Legacy, its monstrous form trembling.

• You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. Though destructive, it wasn't inherently evil. It was a part of Childe, warped by his past and the Abyss.

• "Why did you cause such destruction?" your voice resonated in the empty space.

• Foul Leagacy didn't speak, its roars and growls replaced by a chilling silence. You knelt before it, offering a hand.

• "Don't be afraid," you said gently, sensing the turmoil within. The monstrous being hesitated, then hesitantly reached out, a single claw brushing your outstretched palm.

• It was a small touch, but the world seemed to sigh in relief. You felt a surge of warmth, a strange connection to this being.

• It was a connection unlike any you'd experienced with your creations before, almost…affectionate? You dismissed it as your own projection, a desire to understand this part of Childe.

• "You're strong," you admitted, "but strength isn't everything. Perhaps... you could find another way to use your power."

• Foul Legacy seemed to ponder this, then slowly withdrew its hand. It bowed its head, a gesture that surprised you.

• Before you could press further, a surge of energy pulled you back. You reappeared in your sanctum, the echoes of Teyvat's unease a dull thrum in your mind.

• Meanwhile, Childe, stripped of Foul Legacy's power, lay unconscious in his Snezhnayan quarters. When he awoke, a strange feeling lingered - an echo of warmth, a memory of an oh-so tender touch.

• He dismissed it as a fever dream, yet couldn't shake the feeling that he'd interacted with you, the creator. His creator, in some form. A blush crept onto his face, a sensation entirely new and unnerving.

• Oblivious to Childe's internal turmoil, you continued to observe Teyvat, your gaze lingering on Snezhnaya for a moment longer. The strange connection to Foul Legacy puzzled you, but it also sparked a newfound curiosity about Childe himself.

• Perhaps, you mused, there was more to him than just his destructive tendencies.

• Little did you know, your gentle touch had awakened a spark within the Harbinger, a devotion that transcended his human form. As Foul Legacy, Childe would continue to fight, but now, a new purpose bloomed - to be worthy of your touch, to earn a place in the world you created.

♡

Its my 1st time writing smth oike this, have some mercy please—

【Part 2.】

Published: July 21, 2024. 7:02pm.

[spacedace]

Got another dc x dp writing prompt blurb thing for yall (this time featuring TimKon)

Elle declaring herself Queen of the Clones as a joke because Danny is the Ghost King and she should get a fun title too and accidentally making herself effectively the god of clones across all dimensions as a result.

Elle being suddenly aware of all the clones in existence in a vague way, but able to "tune in" on specific ones, or suddenly becoming aware when a clone is in serious trouble.

Elle deciding, fuck it, she's gonna take care of all the clones that need taking care of, turning her haunt in the Ghost Zone into a place of safety, using her new abilities as God Queen of Clones to make it so whenever any of them need help they get pulled to her Haunt instantly.

Connor getting mortally wounded in a fight, saving the day but getting buried in rubble away from where anyone would be able to dig him out in time to save him and suddenly being Somewhere Else.

Connor getting saved by Elle and the yetis, but having amnesia from the severe headroom (he can't remember anything except maybe the face of a boy his age, dark circles under sharp blue eyes, a wry smile, the understanding that Connor was in love with whoever the boy is or was).

Elle not being able to tell where Connor is from, her Haunt just pulls clones in trouble in when they need her help, there's no sending address or anything like that. And he was in such bad shape its not like she trusts that sending him back to where ever he's from is even safe to do.

Connor being one of the permanent residents of Elle's haunt (she always tries to find the clones that end up there a place of their own, getting Clockwork to de-age them and a good family to love them for those that want that, a spot in Amity where clones don't even register as anything weird, or just back to where they came from but now with the promise of somewhere to call home and a new family of clones to care for them) and ends up with the title of her knight or champion or something along the way, looking after everyone when Elle is off traveling and generally being vice-president of Clone Club

Elle getting captured by the GIW while out seeing the world, unable to escape but at least able to alert her family that she's in trouble.

Danny and the Pham not being able to break in because of all the upped security keeping away anything ghostly or ghost adjacent

Connor and a group of the clone club rallying to get Elle out themselves, breaking in and releasing as many ghosts as they can and destroying as much as they can and oops the Justice League has shown up

Connor not having powers in the Ghost Zone and being very freaked out when he punched Superman in the face and sent him flying a hundred yards, surprising the Clone Club with his super strength and surprising the League with his surprise about his super strength and frantic apologies to Superman for yeeting him across an open field (up to this point they assumed this was another evil clone situation Lex cooked up but now aren't so sure).

The GIW ends up closing in to attack the clones who just got Elle back and need to make a break for it before the portal back closes while that's happening and Connor decides to be self-sacrificing and give them cover, so they can escape.

Connor surrendering to the Justice League before the GIW can grab him once everyone else is free and clear, because he knows Elle and the other Clones will break him out and that's gonna be a lot easier if he's not in GIW custody

Tim and the Young Justice gang losing their God damn minds because that's Connor?? Maybe?? He doesn't remember them or the Justice League or Superman or anything but it has to be him right? They never found his body, Tim had been so sure he was still out there alive somehow - had lost weeks and months to maddening grief, desperately searching for some sign that Connor was out there somewhere - and now here he is!

Connor refusing to talk to the JL, low key trying to figure out if they actually do know who he is or if it's a trick - the Pham's stories of what they've all had to deal with and his own recent raid on the GIW has left him with a healthy suspicion of anything government related and the JL may not be with the GIW but they sure as hell are still government goons as far as he's concerned.

The main league being worried that it's mind control or a clone scheme or something like that and not really being sure what to do. There's too many questions about what happened to him, where he's been, what he was doing in that raid on that government facility - there's questions too on just what kind of facility that was, and a new case has already been opened on that whole can of worms - and Connor (if it is Connor) isn't answer their questions.

So they put him in a cell with some Kryptonite to make sure his powers are suppressed - half out of concern that him surrendering to them is a scheme, half terrified that if he really doesn't know he has powers anymore that he'll accidentally destroy the Watchtower with a sneeze. They make sure it's comfortable, he did apologize about punching Superman in the face - a lot, actually, it was pretty much the only thing he had said the entire time, along with very concerned questions on if the Man of Steel was okay - and while there's something strange going on, if it's mind control then they'd rather Connor come back to himself somewhere decent.

And no one is supposed to talk to him alone, or outside of a formal interrogation or without Wonder Woman there in case Connor gets hostile - even with the Kryptonite, they can't be too careful - but that's not going to stop Tim. His best friend is alive, there isn't a power in the universe that's going to keep him away.

Connor doesn't recognize him. Except that he does. It's weird, because his only memory has been the face of that boy, but there's also just something so familiar about Red Robin and it's the first familiar thing he's known since waking up in the Far Frozen over a year ago.

For awhile it's just Tim talking, trying to get Connor to remember, trying to do anything he can to prove (to everyone, to himself) that this really is Connor. And after over an hour he's nowhere near ready to give up, but he is maybe ready to go and have a breakdown in a supply closet for a bit, when Connor finally starts talking back.

He doesn't say much - he's suspicious, even as he becomes more and more sure that Red Robin is someone to him - but he does start talking and, it's nice. Familiar.

And just as he's considering actually telling Red Robin something - everything, really, Connor's always been a sucker for a cute boy that looked one more cup of coffee away from a psychotic break - the cavalry arrives. Ghosts everywhere, causing a distraction and looking for Connor and maybe just having a little fun fucking around for a bit while they're at it.

(Constantine is trying to sneak off to smoke somewhere he won't end up getting lectured like he's a disobedient school boy, opening a door to come face to spectral bellybutton with Fright Knight. He decides maybe Bats is right and he should quite smoking as he - fruitlessly - closes the door again without a word.)

Wulf is ready with a portal and Technus is in control of the station and the cell door opens just as Lunch Box appears to phase the cuffs off Connor (and maybe steal some of that delicious rock candy that was in those cuffs for some reason, her parents won't let her have any back at home and she's helping the royal family get one of their loyal knights back, she deserves a little treat) and it's time to go.

Tim's ready to throw down, terrified that whatever the hell these things are they're going to take Connor away again, but just as he's working out a plan on just how he's going to fight something that can walk through walls, disappear and fly (and eat fucking Kryptonite), he suddenly finds himself being thrown over Connor's shoulder and being carried through a terrifying rip in space and time to another dimension.

Conner can admit, as he lands back in Elle's haunt with all the ghosts streaming in behind him as the portal closes and the Clone Club rushing forward to check on him and Red Robin still slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (a cute sake of potatoes, though) he might not have thought this one through.

Kidnapped by his amnesiac and possibly mind controlled best friend and dragged to hell(?) aside, Tim's just happy Conner brought him with him this time. Batman and the rest of the League, still reeling from what just happened, are not nearly as happy with that fact.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello author. I hope your having a splendid day

May I request a reader x batfamily ( a year younger than Damian)

They are a Demi god of lightning and electricity.

He has been having a hard time with cases and failing and stuff like that, too much pressure. And he’s kind of hitting his breaking point.

So during a fight with a villain, alone. The villain corrupts the reader and makes him evil.

For a few months he became a villain and barely anyone could stop him. The batfamily at first didn’t know it was him but during a mission that was orders by the villain that corrupted him, to kill Althea (your oc) but Althea got away with injures but saw his face and told her mom and her mom told bats.

So with this new information the batfamily were more devastated .

With the help of the justice league the batfamily are in a show down with the reader, somewhere near a cliff and they fight and while also talking about their memories together. Reader was too powerful though and restrains everyone with use his electricity. His eyes are red and with dead eyes he walks towards any batfamily member of your choice and was about to deliver the final blow before the bat member looks at them and says ‘ I love you, my son/little brother’ reader hesitates and his eyes widens and filled with tears, the red disappearing.

He’s of course confused and disoriented, he steps back and not notices the cliff. His mind coming back to me as he slowly lets his restaions of the others disappear. He steps back near the cliff and looks back into the abyss and back at his family and friends. With regret and a messed up mind right now thinking he won’t be forgiven, he purposely steps back and fall down the cliff. No one was fast enough to stop his fall and he dies.

They retrieve his body and they’re just depressed and stuff for a while hut Damian won’t allow his only little sibling to die and takes his body to talia and he gets revived back.  when he brings unconscious reader back, the batfamily are upset at him for doing a dangerous act but happy that it went well.

Sorry it’s too long.

Hi anon, I hope you have have a splendid day too. Also, don't worry about the length. Lets go.

Summary: (Y/N) gets taken and is broken. The family has to save him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, SUICIDE- read at your own risk everyone!, near death of another character, the fam is suffering...

(Y/N) Wayne, the youngest child in the family and the only child who isn't really human. He is a demigod you see, a demigod of lighting and electricity. I think you can guess that his biological dad is Zeus. Because of it, he got close to Wonder Woman her daughter, Althea. He liked them both and he didn't mind hanging out with them.

He was a good detective too. Bruce was happy and proud, but made sure he wasn't over working himself and neglecting himself like, ahem, Tim. He was different from the rest of the family too. He didn't really have a traumatic past. His mom left him, but the Justice League and Bruce took care of him.

He was really close with his brothers too. Jason and Dick made sure he didn't overwork himself, Tim was fascinated with his powers and how they worked and Damian liked to just hang out with him in general. (Y/N) is the only person he liked and tolerated.

But times have shifted a little bit. (Y/N) was overworked and he was just dead inside. The pressure to solve the cases was piling and piling on and while (Y/N) knew that Bruce wouldn't mind if he took a break, he knew it wouldn't fit his own image. He would be disappointed in him, although not outwardly, inwardly.

He was nearing his breaking his point. He hid it well from the others, not wanting to disappoint them or worry them. He worked himself to the bone, closing in and refusing to open up. He knew he needed to do this and solve this. These cases need to be solved one way or another.

One way or another. It was time to get this shit over with and to do this as best as he can. He needs to get as far away from this pressure and from this breaking point as soon as possible. ASAP. Bruce explained to him that whenever he is nearing that point, he should take a break, but there are people depending him to solve this shit.

(Y/N) hated this shit more than anything else in the world. He really wanted to get this over with. Frustration, anger, sadness... He really wants to feel happy...

Is that so wrong to feel and wish for.

(Y/N) knew that he had to tell someone. Maybe Wonder Woman and Althea would be a better option to talk to, but those two were raised as warriors and they probably don't put emotions on the first place. Mental health is a difficult area to navigate. (Y/N) didn't even sleep from time to time, for a few days, school also being a big overwhelming factor in this stuff. He had good grades, not a straight A student, but still a good student. That was more than enough for Bruce who simply says to do your best in school.

If (Y/N)'s grades dropped, then Bruce would've caught on. Really caught on and he would force (Y/N) to stop with the cases and patrol.

(Y/N) knew it was a bad idea to do this. But there was nobody to help him in this fight. It's said that every single batkid has his own villains. Well, (Y/N) could fricking confirm it. This bastard was a pain in his ass for him and for the rest of the family. (Y/N) was thrown into the wall and he grunted as he tried to get up.

It was difficult, but he managed to do it.

He glared at the villain, clenching his fist. He could feel electricity coursing through his veins, out right refusing to back down. He could feel his eyes turning electric blue. The villain used his powers to disappear into the shadows, making (Y/N) scowl.

" Did you really come here alone? " The villain said from the shadows, making (Y/N) look around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. He really didn't like this at all.

" That is brave. Coming here alone to face me. " (Y/N) scowled more as he heard mocking tone in his voice, knowing that facing alone this type of villain is not good and not advisable. (Y/N) threw some electricity at the villain.

He didn't know whether or not he has hit him, but he moved, not wanting to stay somewhere where he could be a sitting duck and more so an easy target for the villain. Shadow and darkness is a scary place and although his family could often be found in it, (Y/N) thought of them as some sort of beacons of light. Sure, they were dark figures, but they were bringing hope and justice.

That sounds like a paradox or oxymoron, but it was true. But being a person in the darkness and shadows and being evil... Yeah... Not good. Really not good.

(Y/N) turned his head when he heard something behind him, but that was a distraction. The real blow came from the front, leaving (Y/N) no time to react as he was thrown into the darkness and into the shadows. (Y/N) couldn't get his bearings together and he was panicking now. He had to get out of this cloud of darkness. He really had to.

He had to.

He started walking, hands reaching out to try and feel where a wall is. Everything was dark and he had no idea where he was going. One guess would be hell, one would be the exit for this stupid building. (Y/N) hoped that he was on his way to the exit, but hey, you can't have it all, can you?

(Y/N) pushed on, but screamed only a few moments later when the shadows pulled him in, invading his mind, breaking through his defenses easily. NO! Fighting was futile though, (Y/N) knew it. (Y/N) knew that very well.

" Just surrender. It will be easier. " The voice said and (Y/N) knew that he couldn't fight and with the last bit of resistance, (Y/N) allowed the darkness to take over his mind.

For now, it was over.

The entire family was loosing their collective minds and their shit. Each in their own way. Some were silent, but some were more emotional and taking it out on criminals. Ahem, Jason. Bruce was quiet and worked non stop to to find his youngest son, his child. Alfred was on the verge of killing someone.

It was difficult to even function normally without their family member. Also, there is another problem on the horizon. A new villain was on the prowl and he was good. Bruce saw he had a lot of training that was far too good for some amateur.

What the hell is going on here?

Bruce was overworked and asked Wonder Woman and Superman to try to locate this new villain because his son was a far more bigger priority than some stupid villain coming to their scene so to speak. Bruce had no time or patience for it.

If only Bruce knew.

Wonder Woman and Superman were doing a good job at tracking the new villain, making sure to communicate with Batman and offer comfort whenever they could. They would often see their nephews, trying to bring some comfort to the poor boys who lost their brother.

For a few months, there were no clues, nothing. Not about a new villain, not about (Y/N) either. Bruce was on the edge of an abyss and he can't do anything to stop himself from going over the edge. A little push was needed and then he would be long gone in that aspect.

The entire batfamily was at the Justice League HQ, looking through intel. Wonder Woman and Superman were in the middle of presenting the intel they managed to obtain when Althea burst through the doors, falling down on her knees, making Wonder Woman gasp before running towards her daughter.

" Althea! " She said, clearly worried and Bruce walked up to the duo, trying to see if Althea is okay.

" Mom, it's (Y/N)... " She said before coughing up more blood, making the inside of her mouth red.

" What about (Y/N)? " Bruce asked quickly, hoping she would stay awake and conscience long enough for him to know. Everyone was waiting patiently for Althea to start.

" (Y/N) is the villain. " She said, coughing even more and Wonder Woman picked her up and ran towards the medical wing of the HQ.

When Wonder Woman left, the room was shrouded in silence. Tense and palpable. Bruce had to sit down. No. No. (Y/N) couldn't have... Dick wiped his eyes as he started crying softly. Bruce broke out of his trance and quickly hugged his sons in a big group hug.

" I know... " Bruce said, pausing to compose himself. " But now we know that (Y/N) is alive. He is somewhat okay. " Bruce said as he swallowed with a bit of difficulty.

(Y/N) was alive. (Y/N) IS alive. They will bring their brother and son home. No matter what.

Well, (Y/N) got stronger during his kidnapping. His eyes were red and nobody could even get close to him. Tim and Dick were unable to move from being restrained by electricity and the other three members were trying everything they could fricking think of. Everything. They have tried to awake his memories. From when he was little, from when they did stupid pranks... Anything they could think of.

Nothing worked.

Soon enough, everyone was restrained with electricity and (Y/N) looked like he was going to kill them. Bruce watched his son as he walked over to him, ready to finish him. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was ready to kill him. But there was one thing that they didn't try just yet.

Bruce watched as his son raised his fist up, ready to strike. Ready to kill.

" I love you son. " Bruce said as he smile and (Y/N) stopped.

The red was gone. The red was gone! Bruce smiled even more and the boys were waiting with a baited breath as to what would (Y/N) do. They didn't expect the tears. But by God, it was a sight they were hoping.

The shadow chains were getting broken.

(Y/N) was slowly moving backwards, going to the edge of the cliff, hands gripping his hair and head. Everything was coming back to him... What he did to Althea... His brothers... His dad, father.... What he did when he was under the villain's control...

(Y/N) looked back at the edge of a cliff, seeing the waves crash at the hard stone... Usually, (Y/N) would love to watch it, just to relax. But now, (Y/N) only sees the dark abyss. Everyone at one point is just standing at the edge of that abyss and then, sometimes, the abyss blinks back at you.

He glanced back at his family, who were out of the restraints, just waiting for (Y/N) to say something. (Y/N) couldn't really see their faces due to tears, but he did wonder one single thing.

Would they forgive him? Would Althea forgive him?

(Y/N) shook his head as he took another backwards, he could feel the edge, right at his heels. His mind was in shambles, ruins... He wouldn't be forgiven...

He knew that his family wouldn't forgive him. But Althea might kill him... (Y/N) looked back at his family once more, one last time. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment.

" I'm sorry. "

Bruce's eyes widened and he knew exactly what he was going to do and he got up and ran towards (Y/N), but it was too late. (Y/N) took a step over the edge, falling backwards into the waves and onto the hard rocks. Bruce leapt forward, hands grabbing the edge, but it was too late.

Bruce watched his son laying down there, waves washing over him. Bruce closed his eyes as he heard a scream behind him and then there was sobbing. Bruce looked up towards the sky, which opened up and Bruce for a moment thought that the sky was crying over their son.

The boys were destroyed and Bruce was destroyed with them... Oh God... Alfred will be destroyed too... Bruce allowed his tears to fall, and those tears were mixed with the rain.

Bruce swore that someone came in and took a part of soul. Just took it and ripped it out of his chest. A part of his heart was also taken and shattered. He look back at his sons, quickly grouping them into a hug, wanting to give them as much comfort as he can.

" Why? " Damian asked, shaken to his core.

" He said he was sorry... He thought we wouldn't forgive him... " Bruce said, burying his face into Damian's hair.

The boys all cried, crying out for their brother. Their souls and hearts were shattered too.

The world seemed to cry for (Y/N) Wayne.

Unfortunately, they couldn't bury (Y/N) just yet. They had to make sure that there were no restraints on his mind and body... And maybe they weren't ready to bury him just yet. They all hoped for a miracle to happen. Maybe (Y/N) would wake up and just be hey guys... But they all knew that wouldn't happen.

They were all grieving for (Y/N) in their own ways, but Damian was hurting the most. He was thinking about (Y/N) all the time and he cried alone in his room, thinking about his brother. The house was silent and there was no way it could ever be the same.

Damian thought about his grandfather and the Lazarus pit... Maybe... Just maybe...

The way back was easier than the way to Lazarus pit. Talia didn't expect him to come, especially not with his younger brother, well, half brother but still. Talia met (Y/N) and she did like him. She didn't know what happened, but she felt bad for the poor boy. She also didn't expect that Damian would want to use the pit, but she wasn't going to stop him.

She helped him put (Y/N) in the pit, waiting and watching. The color was coming back to his cheeks. There was that infamous white streak in his hair... Damian watched with a bated breath, hoping it would work.

After a few minutes, they checked for a pulse. Damian sighed in relief as he felt a pulse. His brother was alive... He is alive.... Talia watched as Damian took (Y/N) into his arms, lifting him out of the water, hugging him tightly.

She left the two brothers alone, allowing Damian to have a moment to get himself ready. He had to go back home...

As said before, the way back was easier and oddly enough, he made it just in time for dinner. He didn't question it and walked through, carrying his now alive brother.

Bruce spat out his water and the rest paled. There was (Y/N), but he looked like he was sleeping. He had more color than he had...

" Damian, " Bruce started as he stood up, not sure what more to say. The rest was quiet. " What did you do? "

" I used the Lazarus pit. "

That sentence... Bruce's eyes widened as he walked closer to his now alive son... He took (Y/N) into his arms, trying not to cry. (Y/N) was alive... He is alive.

" Lets put him to bed. " Bruce said with a strain in his voice. The other 3 boys jumped from their seats to really see if their brother is really alive.

(Y/N) was alive... They all cried softly as they realized that (Y/N) was alive... (Y/N) is alive!

They were happy, but mad at the same time since Damian didn't tell anyone of them what the hell he was planning. But they were happy and maybe their family could be whole again, once more.

[simp-ly-writes]

"I'll have you know..."

Ask: who was a feared overlord that decided to eventually take a backseat in the power struggle and everything? Because of how long ago she was on top of everything, others tend to forget how evil they are...

Pairing: Vox x overlord!Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and suggestive themes.

A/N: Sorry for the delay @matrixbearer2024! Hope you all enjoy~

Masterlist | Taglist | un-edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

↳ Back before television was trying to kill the radio star, you were on the up and up becoming one of hells most feared overlords- picking your way up through the ranks and eventually demoting many names before you in hells history. Yet overtime the constant displays of killing, blood stained underneath your fingernails and lack of social life ate away at you- forcing you to drop it all much to the publics shock and awe

↳ Over the next few years, many other up-and-coming overlords did their best to come take over your position and you allowed them to think they did because in the meanwhile you were finding much richer entertainment than their potential screams while sitting in the audience to one of your closest fellow overlords, Vox.

--

Without the need for the laugh and clapping cue to play, you were rolling around in your seat to his dry humor and... interesting threats. The crowd was forced into a hypnotic state alongside all the viewers tuneing in for the night while you shook your head, fighting to keep the smile off your face as they cut to a commercial break, Vox waves you up on to the stage with a smile.

He helps you up the last few steps before guiding you into his chair as he leans against the desk to converse with you, "So, what brought the smile out earlier in the crowd?" The TV man asks you as you raise your brow, "just amused with your," you wave your hand around Vox's appearance, "displays of power. Remember how well that went with me the first time," you giggle out as Vox groans, hands moving to cover his screen with embarrassment.

"I was just trying to... impress you then," he tries to redeem himself while looking through his fingers as you crack your head back now, cackles coming out from the back of your throat as Vox thanks himself for hypnotizing the crowd earlier so they would not see the feared overlord like this. "Erm- impressed is one way of putting it love," you read out and pull his hands away from his face as you calm one another down by rubbing small circles to the back of his gloved hand.

"And on that note, we are coming back from commercial break in 20 seconds, back you go now" Vox pulls his hand away with a small smile, ushering you off stage as you mockingly protest with a grin to his laughter before sitting in-behind the camera crew.

"Welcome back, now on tonights news- the Radio Demon appears to be back! And who gives a shit, do any of you?" Vox points towards the silent crowd as they all lifelessly stare back at him with open mouths. "By the sounds of that, no one gives an absolute fuck- just as any sane mind should!" You roll you eyes at the statement, thinking to yourself, he really is not over that lost contract- is he?

--

↳ When you and Vox are out on the streets one night together grabbing a bite to eat with the rest of the Vee's. A group of up-and-coming overlords swarm your group- trying to force you all into the sewers below them.

You are doing your best to not lose control of your power- of the souls you had collected in that past life of yours but as you soon become overwhelmed, watching as Vox's screen fractures against a brick wall with nowhere to escape to- your mind gives up control in that moment.

Shoving the guys off you- you call forth a few souls linked in contract to you that join the battle as your size only grows with every last breath of the enemy. Stopping and laughing to the sounds of skulls cracking against your boots, twirling around your fingers to strangle another while devouring their very soul. On-lookers run away in horror at the sight, the once feared overlord was feared one more with such hellish displays of power.

Yet Vox, beated, bruised, and trying to pick of the peices of glass in order to repair himself later was out of breath at the sight of you in your true demonic form. His heart hammered in his chest, fuck you look so fucking hot like this, drummed in his head like a broken reccord as Valentino casted him a questioning glance while shooting down another swarm coming up from the sewers.

"Everything alright there Vee?" The studio director asks while reloading his weapon as Vox staggers to a stand, brushing off his coat tails before they both duck out of the way as your claws sweep across the street, a horror-filled amusement park ride the attacks were on while you flung them around and into the side of a building without a second thought.

Twisting back around, you send Vox and ensemble a wink before turning down the street to find the organizer of this attack. Velvette turns around from snapping one of their necks, waving her hands in disgust as she calls for Valentinos handkerchief.

Hands clean she points a finger to Vox, signaling up and down with her eyes, "You may want to sort that out, darling. Does not look good for our image- being all stood proudly and that- would steal from Valentinos side, no?"

Going bright red, Vox forces himself into the wire systems and back to the headquarters where you are already sitting, waiting for him in the living room, freshly showered and a set of coffee on the table. "Do hate the smell of blood, gets in the way on my appetite, what about you?" you casually ask while patting the seat next to you as Vox waddles his way over with wide-eyes.

"Umm... yeah," Vox manages to output, not meeting your eyes as you tilt your head at him in confusion, his breath hitching as more of your skin is exposed as you mutter an ah. Now understanding the issue, "If I had known my true form got you this riled up- sweetheart this would become a weekend special~" you tease, looking the way his screen flickers and his system overheats.

Valentino and Velvette soon burst into the room just as you reach over Vox's lap to grab a blanket for the man. Letting out one last wink, you smile widly at the remaining members as you recall your old stories.

↳ Taglist: @jtcat305 @amarokofficial

[spacebarbarianweird]

Can I request Aasimar Tav headcanons (with astarion)? I barely see anything about Aasimar Tav since it's a mod to get in game

Astarion x Protector Aasimar!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

Aasimar are pretty new as a race and there are three main types: Protector, Scourge and Fallen.

Protector Aasimar is filled with the power of goodness to protect the weak, root out evil anywhere, and stand tirelessly in the path of darkness. From a young age, they receive advice and guidance that encourages him to resist evil.

Scourge Aasimar is filled with a divine energy that blazes within. It fuels a strong desire to destroy evil - a desire at best firm and at worst all-consuming. Many aasimars wear masks to shield themselves from the world and focus on containing this power, removing the mask only during battle.

Fallen Aasimar is touched by the forces of darkness in their youth or turn to evil as an adult. Their inner light has been replaced by shadow. Instead of angelic wings, they have skeleton ones which aren't fit for flying but good for intimidation.

I am going to do Protector Aasimar for you, and later I will do Fallen Aasimar for another request I have. If you want Scourge Aasimar or another vision of the character, let me know in the inbox!

You are born of celestial blood, a descendant of angelic creatures.

Raised among humans, your skin is pale, and metallic freckles scatter over your perfect face.

Your eyes are perfect silver, the glow in the dark.

A ghostly halo crowns your head.

And what is the most important, you have wings.

They are big and strong, you learned to fly before you learned to walk.

Your patron is Myllandra, a cold and distant creature.

Torn between two worlds, you are neither a celestial nor a human.

Not immortal, your lifespan is even shorter than one of a half-elf.

Your patron gives you orders and you have to follow them even if it means you ignore someone's sufferings.

You are given an order - you need to lead the fight against the Absolute.

If it means someone dies in the process, it's not your problem.

But you must not fight the Selunites' wars against the Sharns.

Don't look for the Night Song.

You obey and abide, cold and distant as you've been taught.

But the tadpole cuts your connection with your patron, forcing you to make decisions on your own.

You suddenly can decide whom to help. You can have fun. You can fall in love.

Astarion is absolutely bewildered by you.

An aasimar! A descendant of angels!

And, gods, your wings!

They are wonderful!

Your blood tastes divine in the truest sense.

And Astarion sort of corrupts you, teaching you to be selfish, to cherish material things - everything which was forbidden to you.

But the moment comes and he realizes he can't lie anymore. You are too pure, too honest, it's unfair to play games with you.

He confesses and waits for the divine punishment.

Instead, you hug Astarion wrapping him in your wings.

Corrupted and free, you are still an aasimar.

Now, when you are together, he often caresses your wings in public.

He especially loves cleaning the feathers of blood and gore.

And putting ointment on your back to ease the muscle pain after flying.

You are shocked to see the Night Song.

An aasimar! Just like you!

But why were your patron's orders like that? What is going on?

You act according to your ideals and win the war on your own terms.

When it's all over, you are ready to cover Astarion with your wings from the sun but instead…

He doesn't burn.

Your blood gives him temporary resistance.

But-

Your patron is back.

Myllandra is pissed.

She spares you the details of how much you have interfered with the divine plan and what a horrible creature you are.

As a punishment, she rips your wings off.

The pain is so unbearable you want to die.

Now you are locked in some interdimensional prison, restrained with chains and cursed with never never-ending pain of having your wings torn.

You've lost track of time, your life is only pain and suffering, the divine punishment for everything you did.

The thing is -

You aren't alone.

You hear the distant sounds of fighting, of some cruel battle outside the walls of your prison.

And then your chains are broken with the Orphic Hammer.

"Fuck, what has this bitch done to you", you hear the exhausted voice.

Of course.

Astarion isn't afraid of some angel who thinks too much about herself.

He is here. Along with the Night Song and the Selunites.

It takes you time to forget your imprisonment. The pain. The desperation.

What is worse, is the changes in your body.

You have the chronic pain in your back. Your skin is much darker than it was. Your eyes return to their "natural" grey color and don't glow in the dark.

Though, your blood still protects Astarion from the sunlight.

Even your patron can't take everything from you.

Together, you stay with the Selunites.

You are still Protector Aasimar - and there are plenty of ways to live up to your ideals.

Together, you are a peculiar couple.

A mutilated aasimar and a vampire, both in the Selunites' armor, go to the darkest and most cursed places to be heroes and adventurers.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe 

[thedevilspearl]

author’s note ʚɞ i’m testing the waters with this one so please be kind about it. please also excuse the pet name sugar tits, i think it’s hot don’t judge me >_<

tags ʚɞ 5.6k words, dark content, mammon x female reader, bully!mammon, dubcon (forced consent), non–consensual photo taking, semi–public sex, (public) groping, blowjob, degradation, name calling, praise, pet names, humiliation kink, breeding kink, dacryphillia. minors do not interact!

ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀᴍᴍᴏɴ and his antics. it’s beyond ridiculous at this point. never did you imagine becoming his target but when you think about it long enough, you realise your whole existence in the devildom was set up to be a laughing stock from the beginning.

back when you had just arrived, he acted as your tour guide but then forced you to cover his dinner duties at home. he helped you with your homework since you were new to the subjects but demanded you pay him back with all of your saved grimm. he even lent you some of his friends to help curb your homesickness only to have them report back every little detail so he could blackmail you later on.

and those kind of things happen when he’s being nice; unfortunately for you, mammon is very rarely nice. not a day goes by where he doesn’t find a way to make your life hell.

mammon, the avatar of greed, the second eldest of the powerful demon brothers, and as he likes to call himself, your first man, rarely shows kindness towards you unless he can gain something from it.

even if he gets nothing in return, he will go out of his way. from tripping you up in hallways to stealing your possessions, and forcing you to complete his homework to treating you like his lackey. anything and everything he does is in some way or another intended to bring you misery.

you’ve grown accustomed to being pushed around and laughed at for the sake of some demon’s entertainment, but there’s something else you’ve also grown used to.

the fact is, mammon gives you more attention than he gives anyone, even himself. and it’s a delusional way to think but it helps you cope with your sorrowful life in the devildom.

you’ve considered confiding in someone; surely the bullying would cease if diavolo found out mammon was harming the student exchange programme like this. but at the end of the day, mammon held more power over you than diavolo himself.

each and every decision you make, reluctantly or otherwise, gives him more power as the days go by. because you have no other choice but to go along with it; and if you don’t want to, he’ll simply blackmail you.

a while ago, you became incredibly close to knocking on lucifer’s door and confessing everything after mammon snapped pictures of you showering and threatened to post them if you didn’t do what he said. lamentably, you gave up on the effort.

if lucifer found out, he would have punished mammon. and after that, you have no doubt mammon would come after you with those big threats again. and you’ve never been in a position strong enough to fight back against him.

the pathetic little human, the bane of his life. yet, he can’t seem to stay away from you. demons are inherently evil creatures, that is a known fact. but after coming to the devildom, you learned demons are, in fact, not all monster.

they have bodies that look human and thoughts and feelings which may be questionable at time but still similar enough to the people in your own world to make you think wait a minute, they’re not all bad.

but that was before mammon revealed his irrational hatred for you. it has nothing to do with him hating humans or those weaker than him and everything to do with his dark, twisted infatuation with you. he’s the definition of cruel and demonic and you feel his animosity deep in your bones, now more than ever.

you don’t know how he did it, but staring at an empty locker where your rad uniform should be sitting boils your blood.

filled with fury, you storm out of the changing rooms in search of the demon.

mammon had already shrunk your sports kit by turning up the temperature when they were getting washed so your usually loose–fitting shorts cling to your thighs and butt. and after getting caught in the rain five minutes ago, you rushed inside to change your sodden white shirt.

but you were foolish to think things would go your way and now you’re storming through rad’s hallways with shorts riding up your ass and your bra fully visible under the wet shirt clinging to you. you’re overflowing with so much rage that you don’t care about the demons eyeing you in the tight clothes or licking their lips as you rush past them.

you spot your nemesis at the end of the hallway and for a moment, your heart stops beating. inhaling deeply, you build the courage to storm up to the white–haired demon.

he’s surrounded by his cronies, laughing at some sleazy joke that came out of his mouth and he refuses to look at you despite you standing in front of him. you know he knows you’re there. but in mammon fashion, he publicly humiliates you once again by completely ignoring you.

meanwhile, a small crowd of hungry demons gathers around you and your heart patters, shying under their interested eyes. but now is not a time to show weakness. now is the time to finally put mammon in his place, which is rather ironic since his place is among the strongest beings in all three realms and you are but a measly human.

“hey!” you shout and he rolls his eyes before finally turning to look at you.

just the sight of him infuriates you, but you’re not sure if the heat growing in your core is rooted from fury or from the way his eyes rake up and down your body. he blue orbs fall to your feet and slowly rise, taking in every detail of your frame.

little do you know, the shape of your body has him salivating. his eyes linger at your thighs, so thick and plush; your hips, so curvaceous and delicious; your tits, so tempting with your perky nipples poking through and your lacey bra visible under the wet shirt.

the tip of his tongue runs under his fangs before wetting his lips as they inch up one side of his face. as attractive as his smirk is, you want to slap it right off his face.

“what’s up, sugar tits?” he quirks his brows, nodding his head to notion the attention he has for the state of your chest, hence the nickname.

you follow his gaze downwards, fully grasping how much of your breasts were on display. you gasp, covering them but it does nothing to hide your entire ass also being showcased.

damn, mammon thinks. you might as well not be wearing any underwear with how tightly your shorts are pressed against your pussy. he can see everything.

“i knew ya were a desperate little thing,” mammon taunts. “but i didn’t think you’d be so dumb to come beg for me in front of everyone.”

“i didn’t come to beg!” you yell, cowering as the crowd fills with laughs and jeers.

“then what did ya come for?” mammon rolls his eyes.

“i came here to…”

“….to what?” mammon steps closer. his scent is intoxicating as it surrounds you. “ya came here to yell at me, the great mammon?”

“n-no….” you mutter, suddenly afraid of his close proximity. with ever step forward he makes, you take one back which ends with your back against the wall and his big frame caging you against it.

he creates a little cave between your bodies that holds barely enough air for you to breathe. just like always, he controls you in any situation. if he doesn’t want you to breathe, he will simply steal all the air you could possibly breathe. and that means locking you tightly between his body and the wall will suffocate you as much as he wants it to, regardless of your pleas for forgiveness.

“i’m sorry....i–i shouldn’t have yelled at you....i didn’t mean to.”

whatever flattery you have in your tone fails to do the job as he closes in, the space between you negligent while you try to figure out a way to escape.

but as your body heats up from mammon forcing proximity, his hands begin to roam your body and you lose the ability to think straight.

“aww, the little human’s blushing. ya like me being this close?” you whimper against him, but he leans in to your ear and whispers, “want me to touch you?”

a quiet but still audible gasp drifts to his ears and he reigns in the delicacy of the sound. such a sweet, pretty sound. he simply needs to hear it again.

“you do, don’t you?” he chuckles lowly. “just say the words and i’ll do it.”

despite every cell in your brain rooting against you, you quietly whisper back to him, “please.... please touch me.”

a rumble sounds in his chest, growling from the pleasure of you inviting him to touch you. the heat radiates from your body, your desperation oozing from your pores. and there’s something else coming from your body, something you’re so ashamed to admit.

mammon’s teasing alone is enough to create wetness between your legs and succumbing to his dominance has your pussy producing more arousal with each throb of your lips.

“ah!” you gasp as a large hand cups your breast. you push his arm away but it only tightens his grip on it. “mammon....”

“these are some sweet tits, mc. shame ya hid ’m from me for so long.”

you have no chance to protest as he moves onto the next, grabbing both your breasts and squeazing hard. you cry out, hoping it would signal for help but it comes out as a moan instead, arousing the audience further.

every demon wants a piece of you, but mammon lays his claim on your body by roaming every inch of it, grabbing every bit of flesh as if it’s the only thing keeping him sane, which might well be true.

with the way he kneads your ass between his rough fingers, you’re just about ready to submit to him completely, to sacrifice your entire body to him so he can have his way and be satisfied.

“fuck,” mammon grumbles as his hands slide lower; you moan and whimper, embarrassed by your helpless position. there’s no way you can come back from this, not when mammon’s hand cups your pussy, rubbing up and down to bring you the relief you so desperately needed. and to his surprise, he finds more than what he expected. “look at that! she soaked through her panties and her shorts.”

“it’s your fault they’re so tight on me....”

“but it’s your fault that you’re this fucking wet,” he reminds you, and you back down with a heavy blush. “you’re the one getting turned on by this, sicko.”

he continues groping you, fondling your tits and squeezing your ass before his hand moves to your front and cups your tight pussy over and over again. you find what energy you have in you to hide your moans but it’s a failed attempt. as quiet as they are, he still hears them.

“fuck,” he groans into your ear, and whispers so no one else can hear his filthy voice. “wanna fuck this pussy so bad.”

“d-don’t….” you whimper, but your resistance earns a harsh grip on your ass. his fingers dig deep into your flesh, sure to leave behind bruises. “stop....”

“hah? you’re telling me, the great mammon, no? darlin’, ya already know how that’s gonna turn out.”

your gaze is blurred by tears — from embarrassment, from shame, from arousal. you can barely understand the plethora of sensations in your body but you do know that mammon touching you is so wrong even if it feels so right.

it confuses you so much that you can’t stop your hand from rising and colliding with his face. at least your gut instincts are still working. you push him away in the moment he is stunned and your palm stings from the slap.

the entire right side of his face burns red as he holds it.

“the fuck?!” he growls, bearing his fangs at you. “you fucking hit me?”

the crowd gasps and mutters as he dives towards you with his fists raised. you brace for impact, ready to be slammed into the wall. he’s never hurt you so badly before, but today just happens to be the day where all lines are crossed.

you gasp, holding up your hands to protect your face but as if time has frozen, you don’t feel the impact coming. when you finally breathe and look up, mammon looks down at you with raging eyes and a contorted face — as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to do.

before you can even think to question why he stopped himself, the two demons you least expect to see appear, parting the crowd as they arrive: lucifer, with diavolo trailing behind him.

“what is the meaning of this?” diavolo bellows, his eyes draping down your form.

lucifer’s cheeks burn, not from blushing but rather, anger, embarrassment, humiliation. “what on earth are you wearing?”

regret floods you as you remember your position in their household. and you’ve brought shame onto the brothers for flaunting yourself around rad dressed in what might as well be underwear.

diavolo’s voice is a bit more kind towards you, but he’s definitely pissed. “i’m going to assume you aren’t aware of the dress code within these walls, mc. might i remind you that dressing inappropriately will result in punishment. as will attacking another student. you will both receive detention effective immediately.”

“it was mammon—”

“stop your sputtering,” lucifer snaps. “go change this instant.”

“but….my uniform was stolen.”

“by who?”

you glance slyly to the white–haired demon beside you and your heart hammers. you could tell lucifer now, tell him everything that mammon has ever done to you. but mammon’s death glare scares you. not because of what he might do to you if you snitch, but how you’ll feel if he is ordered to never interact with you again.

you’re sure diavolo would put a stop to the bullying straight away, maybe even move you out of the house of lamentation. but that means you’ll see less of mammon and despite how much you hate him, you’ll feel lonely without his constant unwarranted attention.

“never mind,” you mutter. “i’ll find it.”

you arrived to detention on time, not wanting to anger lucifer any further. thankfully, the eldest had figured out it was mammon who stole your uniform and had him return it. the classroom is empty save for your sorrowful soul.

you hope mammon doesn’t come. he skips detentions just like he skips classes so you’re happy to have some time alone to calm down before heading home.

but as your luck would have it, the demon struts in, spotting you in your seat before striding over to sit beside you.

“you can sit anywhere in the room but you choose to sit next to me?” you scoff. “i thought you were supposed to hate me.”

“i do.”

“then why are you sitting next to me?”

mammon won’t allow that, though. he’s in control. whatever fantasies you have of him being soft and affectionate with you are over the seconds he decides them to be and right now, he puts an end to them by slipping his hand under your blazer and cupping your breast.

“so i can do this.” mammon raises his hand, slowly but it’s still concerning. his fingers brush your hair away from your face and your mind spins from the action. his thumb creeps closer, brushing the soft, sensitive skin of your lips.

you’re afraid to look at him, to see the gentleness hidden beneath his mean facade knowing that you’d fall for it in an instant.

you were beginning to feel the phantom of his touches from earlier, which is nothing if not the biggest red flag. but having his hand places on them again, fondling them eagerly is infinitely better than the memories of his corroding touch.

every second which passes with his hands on you, another part of you is corrupted by him and those few sacred, untouched parts rebel against all odds and finally give you some self–restraint and control.

“don’t touch me!” you whack his arm away and scoot over to the next chair, embarrassed that you almost fell for him again. every single time he teases you with niceties and gentle gestures that border flirtation, you find yourself hoping that it might be real.

but he’s just playing with you like he always has. he wants nothing more than to make you feel like a fool under his charms. your humiliation is food to him.

“come on, you said it was fine earlier. let me do it again.”

“no,” you say firmly. “i don’t want you to touch me anymore.”

mammon huffs. “suit yourself.”

hopefully with a seat between you, he’ll put an end to his interest in you and ignore you just like you’re ignoring him.

but choosing to ignore him would be your biggest mistake because when you glance over, in the corner of your eye you see on his ddd a photo of you naked in the shower. your body jolts at the sight of it.

“what the hell, mammon?!” you scream. “what are you doing?”

“gonna post it on devilgram, duh.”

“wait, mammon! don’t!” you try grabbing for his phone but he yanks your arm away from it and pushes you away.

“come on,” he whistles. “show me your tits.”

“what....”

he threatens you by holding his thumb over the post button. “didn’t want me to touch you, well now you gotta do what i say or i’ll post ’em”

“please, mammon. don’t do this.”

“nuh-uh. you should be on your knees begging me if you want me to stop.”

an inhumane noise releases from your throat. you’re not quite sure what it was — a growl of frustration, a beg for help? you’ll bever know because you’re too busy sinking to your knees pleading for mercy.

“not yet,” mammon stops you before your knees graze the ground. “get your tits out first.”

“what?”

“fuck, how many times do i need to say it?” he stares at you, demanding your obedience and you slowly rise, shamefully removing your blazer. “that’s better.”

his demonic blue–gold eyes cut through your skin and you unbutton your shirt one button at a time, shrugging it off so it falls down your shoulders but still hooked on your elbows. mammon salivates at the sight of your pretty chest.

he’s been waiting to see them since he saw you earlier, but fuck. this is the real deal. your breasts sit nicely in their lacey cups and just like a few hours ago, your slutty nipples poke through.

his hand immediately goes to his crotch and palms himself. you feel sick, disgusted but the way his hand moves against himself and his reddening cheeks turns you on. you try to look away from him, but you simply cannot do so.

“c’mere,” mammon mutters and with the phone in his hand ready to post your nude pictures, you do as he says. “get on your knees.”

when they touch the ground, your body shudders and you settle in front of him. there are no words to describe the way he looks down at you. you almost feel like it’s a blessing to be looked at by him at all.

“take my dick outta my pants.”

“what?”

“are ya dumb or something? take my fucking dick out of my pants.”

you can tell his patience is running thin and you don’t dare to test him further when he waves his ddd in front of your face. you reach up with shaky hands to unzip his pants but he stops you again.

“do it with your mouth.”

what kind of fantasies must he be having to order you to do such a thing? well, they’re the fantasies you play a part in and you’ll play them out exactly as he desires for your own wellbeing, lest the entire devildom see pictures of you naked.

taking the metal zip between your teeth, you pull it down. the button is more difficult to undo but you get there in the end despite mammon cackling at your struggle. next, you bite the fabric before dragging it down his thighs.

the sheer size of his cock amazes you and the ghost of it fills you up just by looking at it. your body is begging for him to be inside you, and you pray he’ll never find out. he ushers you to keep going and in the same way, you pull down his boxers, looking him dead in the eyes as you drag them down with your teeth.

he hisses as his cock is freed, letting it bounce as it twitches to life. cum oozes from his tip and you mindlessly lick your lips.

“suck it.” he says and reluctantly, you inch forward, taking his tip between your lips. your tongue swipes over it, tasting his cum that you can only describe as the only substance you’ll need to survive on from now on.

“fuck,” he groans. “your slutty mouth feels so fucking good.”

your pussy throbs each and every time he calls you a slut no matter how much you hate it and he inspires you to take him deeper in your mouth in hopes of him calling you it again. his fat cock fills your cheeks and you move back and forth, tongue running along his shaft.

he’s thick and hard, too big to fit in your mouth and you can only imagine the size of it tearing your pussy walls apart when he finally finds his home in there.

“ya looked so fucking hot in those shorts,” he grunts. “bet ya loved every minute of it, strutting around like a slut.”

“i’m not,” you mumble around his cock. “i’m not a slut.”

mammon scoffs, somehow able to understand your muffled words while his cock sits heavy in your mouth. he tuts as you pull back, drenching his cock in your saliva. “don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i know what a dirty little slut ya.”

“no…”

“every demon in that hallway was looking at ya and all i could smell was your sweet pussy leaking for me. bet they could all smell it too. bet they wanted ya as bad as i do.”

mammon….wants you?

now, that’s not something you ever thought of being a possibility. but as the words slip from his lips, your lower body heats up even more. there is so much desperation growing between your legs and you can’t hold back.

your nimble fingers find their way between your legs and mammon uses his foot to lift up your skirt and peek at the dirty things you do to yourself underneath it. god, your eyes are just so needy for him as he watches your fingers push in and out of your pussy.

the only thing blocking his view are the panties you pulled to the side and he orders you to take them off. it pains you to obey him again but the ache in your belly hurts so much more. if you listen to him well enough, maybe he’ll fill you up and finally put your body at ease.

after all that’s happened, the only thing you want right now is his fat cock stuffing you to the hilt instead of your amateur fingers which do not dare to match the level of pleasure mammon’s cock can give you.

swallowing bitterly, you gently place your soaked panties in the hand he holds out, feeling your arousal drip down your thighs already.

“you’re such a naughty girl, getting wet like this,” he teases, rubbing his thumb over the soggy patch on your panties. “so fucking bad.”

“i’m not!” you move away from him completely and plead on your knees. “i’m good, i’ve been nothing but good to you and you treat me so horribly!”

mammon supposes he should feel bad seeing you cry, but your cute little sniffles and the way your teary eyes look up at him through sodden lashes, well, it does make him feel bad….for what he’s about to do to you.

“aww, baby,” his hand snakes his hand under your chin. your skin burns from the way his fingers feel so right around your neck. his touch is gentle, guiding you up onto your feet and your knees are so weak that you begrudgingly lean on him for support. “i didn’t mean to make ya cry.”

his voice is soft as he feigns a pout while spouting such a lie. making you cry is a reward for mammon. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting off on this.

“what did i do to deserve this?” you whimper.

“oh darlin’” he kisses your cheek, nuzzling into your neck. the softness in his voice is foreign, and the gentle graze of his lips teasing your skin is addicting. “do you want me to stop?”

“huh?”

“want me to stop being mean to ya?”

freeing himself from the intoxicating scent of your pulse, he holds his face close to you with a hand on either side of yours, thumbs stroking your hot cheeks and wiping away tears. a sick feeling builds in your stomach, but a desperate, needy ache grows faster and stronger.

and as loud as they both are, you can only listen to one bodily instinct at a time.

nodding slowly, you don’t tear your eyes away from his hoping he will see how pathetic and miserable and desperate you are. you’d do anything if it means he’ll stop harassing you.

mammon’s wide smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he leans in, surprising you when his lips touch yours. your eyes grow to an abstractly large size and you don’t dare to move as he glides his lips against yours.

one arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him and his cock presses into your tummy while the other snakes around your shoulders, grabbing your scalp and holding your head in place. despite your best efforts to push him away, you remain with your lips locked onto his.

they’re both hot and cold at the same time, both gentle and destructive. all of your walls break down as he pries your sorry lips apart, swiping his tongue along them before devouring your mouth whole.

you moan and gasp against him, beating his chest with your fists but he refuses to let you go and to your dismay — or delight, you can’t quite tell — his hips begin moving. he grinds into your body, rubbing his bare cock along your tummy and leaving cum stains on your clothes.

every alarm in your body rings loudly and you lose the ability to breathe. your mind fogs up from the lack of air but you’re sure he’s doing this on purpose, not allowing you a single ounce of it and if one manages to slip past your lips, he steals it right away.

you know how he works. what mammon wants, mammon gets and while he deprives you of oxygen, he’s waiting for you to give in.

he forces his tongue deep in your mouth but the feel of it is new and draws out a deeper beast within you, greed and excitement growing in your core. while his cock ruts against you, your hands find it and you slowly stroke him, spreading his pre–cum along his length.

“that’s it. keep doing that,” he groans, lips only inches apart. “good girl.”

a whimper escapes you as the words roll of his tongue and your pussy erupts in sparks.

“what’s that, huh? you like it when i call you good girl?” biting your lip, you nod eagerly, earning another proud smile from him. “hm, maybe i should keep calling ya it. but then again, you’re nothing but a worthless slut.”

mammon grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes you to the cold, hard ground. before you can wiggle away, he has you locked in place with your arms pinned down at the sides and your legs stretched on either side of his hips.

“mammon!” you yelp. “please, no….”

“dontcha ya want me to stop being mean to ya?” he questions, eyes filled with madness as he yanks down your bra and gropes your breasts. holding you in place as you writhe against him, mammon leans down and takes your nipple between his lips. “i’ll stop if you let me fuck your sweet little pussy. it’s a good deal, ain’t it?”

it’s the most horrific deal you’ve ever heard but you’re beyond reasoning at this point. the two things you desire most — for him to fuck you dumb on his cock and for him to stop bullying you — he can give to you right now. there’s no harm in killing two birds with one stone, right? if he’s going to be mean about it, you’ve no choice but to take it given it’s the only chance you’ll ever have to free yourself from him.

“fuck, your tits are so sweet.” he can’t stop playing with them, squeezing them, slapping them and marvelling at the way they jiggle, then pinching your nipples and pulling them taught before releasing them and taking them in his mouth again.

“ah!” you moan. “mammon, don’t…” but the warmth of his lips is welcomed by your body and you arch into him.

burying his face into your breasts, he sucks and bites for what feels like hours, covering your mounds with bruises and when he rises with a gasp, his lips are covered in his saliva. his mini–makeout session with your breasts makes every hair on your body stand tall, all the while, your pussy leaks onto the ground beneath you.

mammon grabs both of your breasts, blessing each of his hands with their softness and rubs his cock head over your puffy lips.

“fucking sugar tits, alright,” he jokes. “ya like it when i call ya that?”

you shake your head violently but the truth is, you haven’t stopped thinking about it since he called you it earlier. it’s such a ridiculous name, so degrading and obscene. yet, your hole clenches over nothing when he calls you it.

“that’s right, sugar tits. i can feel your pussy throbbing against me.” mammon warns. “you’re gonna cum while i call ya sugar tits, ain’t ya?”

shaking your head again, you cry no’s and stop’s but each of them fly past his ears. but a guttural feeling deep down knows you’re glad he won’t listen. your pussy aches for his cock to fill you up, for your name to roll off his lips while he fucks his cum far into your pussy.

“you want this, don’t ya?”

“no,” you sob.

“don’t lie to me, bitch. you know you want it.”

“i don’t!”

oh, but you do.

you want this more than anything but you’d rather him not know because it would only give him more fuel to ruin you with.

“yes, you fucking do,” he forces the answer for you. his grabs his cock and prods it against your hole. it’s so wet and slippery that he almost falls deep inside but he’s using the last remainders of his control to hear you say the words he’s wanted to hear for so long. “you fucking want this. tell me you want this.”

you whine. struggling against him but he pushes you down with his ungodly strength.

“say it or i’ll post the fucking pictures.”

“i want it!” you yelp, the words blurting out against your will. “please, mammon. i want it!”

“that’s what i fucking thought.”

and with that, mammon pushes himself past your hole, his leaking tip digging its way into your pussy. your legs fly in the air as you feel him stretch your walls unbelievably wide.

“fuck! mammon!”

“your pussy’s sucking me in, baby,” he grunts with each thrust. “i knew ya wanted my cock this bad.”

with each rock of his hips, your body drags against the ground and he pins you down in place again, arms at your side and body spread wide for him. his eyes latch onto your tits bouncing with every thrust.

they mesmerise him, the way they knock up and down with each hard thrust acting as hypnosis for the demon and he grows desperate for release.

“fuck, sugar tits,” you clench at the pet name. it’s so humiliating but it feels so fucking good, as good as his cock battering your insides. “such a fucking slut enjoying my cock like this.”

he spits insult after insult, mocking you for your weakness against him. “nothin’ but a dirty little human desperate for some demon cock, huh? bet that’s why ya let me fuck around with ya for so long, because ya wanted this to happen, wanted me to fill your tiny little hole with my cum. isn’t that right?”

“no,” you shake your head, but you’re quickly met with his hands gripping your face harshly. “i mean, yes! yes i wanted this!”

“keep going….” he ruts harder, knocking your insides in the right way.

“i wanted this for so long, mammon!” you cry. “wanted your cock so bad i let you treat me like dirt all this time!”

“that’s right,” mammon groans. “i’m always fucking right about ya. nothin’ but a slutty little hole for me. gonna fucking breed ya with all of my cum, and no one’s ever gonna touch ya but me.”

“oh!” you moan, relishing in the words spilling from his lips. you know he doesn’t mean anything special by it, but you’re so blissed out from his cock that for a moment, it feels real. you’re his and his only in the empty classroom and you feel….special. “mammon, it’s so good!”

“yeah? my cock’s making ya feel good?”

“yes!”

“fucking hell, sugar tits loves my cock,” he yells for the whole school to hear, laughing at your the way your pussy tightens when he says it. “go on, you say it too.”

“huh?” you whine.

“fucking say it, scream it. need the whole fucking devildom to here ya being a slut for me.”

“but—”

“say it, angel. or ya don’t get to cum,” he grins seeing the desperation in your eyes, so obedient to him just for an orgasm. how much more pathetic can you get? “go on, be a good girl and say it.”

“i….i love mammon’s cock….”

“louder.”

“i love mammon’s cock,” you repeat but he still isn’t satisfied. he thrusts into you particularly harshly, a yelp escaping your lips and you hear his message loud and clear, screaming, “i love the great mammon’s cock!”

“that’s right, sugar tits,” he leans down. “ya gonna cum now?”

you nod fervently, desperate for release. his cock drags along your clenching walls, awakening the hidden sweet spots as your nectar leaks around him. “wanna cum! please!”

“go ahead, baby,” he ruts with a deep groan, coming close to the edge himself. “i’m gonna finish inside your filthy little pussy.”

“hhm,” you moan. “you shouldn’t!”

“but i’m gonna anyway.”

all it takes as one more thrust to feel ropes of mammon’s hot cum spurting out into your pussy. his thumb finds your clit and pinches it, pulls it, then circles it roughly while pushing his cum deeper inside you with his cock. seconds later, ecstasy washes over you and your body loses control, spasming against his cock as you arch deeper into it. your walls are painted white with his cum and his cocks remains sheathed in your pussy as you writhe through your prolonged orgasm.

“fuck!” you squeal. “it feels so fucking good!”

“holy shit,” mammon groans, hissing when he finally pulls out from your hot mess of a pussy. “that was fucking amazing, huh?”

he falls back, watching your body twitch and tremble and his cum pours out from between your legs, giving him the perfect idea. he reaches for his ddd and opens the camera, facing it towards your blissed the fuck out body.

“hey, sugar tits,” you look at him, haunted by the sick grin on his face. “smile for the camera.”

“wait, mammon—”

“shaddup,” he mumbles and seconds later, several snaps of his camera sound. you yelp, covering your chest and closing your legs in a weak attempt. but mammon’s strength is far to superior to yours and he yanks your legs back open. “i gotcha now, angel.”

“what…?”

he snaps several more pictures and even a short film of his cum gushing out of your pussy. “fuck, i could sell these for some real grimm.”

the way his eyes light up terrifies you and you want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cease to exist. if he did, your life in the devildom would truly be over. you’d have no dignity remaining from what little of it was left anyway.

“you said you’s stop!” you cry. “you promised you wouldn’t mess with me anymore if i let you fuck me!”

“ya didn’t actually believe that, did ya?”

the world comes crashing down on your heavy, aching body and you’re overcome with violent sobbing. all hope is lost; there’s nothing good left for you now. mammon has made sure of that.

“why? why are you doing this to me?”

“because you’re nothing but a worthless slut. but you’re fun to play with, i’ll give ya that.”

every nerve on your body aches with humiliation. and what’s worse is knowing mammon gets off to it every single time.

how could you ever think you would mean something to him? you know your place full and well yet you still strived to be something more to him, when in reality, all you are is a toy for him to play with, a pathetic human designed for him to ruin in every way.

“p-please….” you sob. “please don’t tell anyone.

“that’s right, angel. you better do everything i say from now on, or else the entire fucking devildom is gonna know how much of a greedy slut ya are. fuck, ya were so fucking desperate for me to breed ya.”

your heart collapses into your stomach; you were a fool to ever believe him. his words and his touches twisted their way into your core and you gave into your sickly attraction to him. but what’s done is done and the best you can do now is some damage control.

“y–you won’t show the pictures to anyone….right?”

mammon scoffs with his devilish grin refusing to leave his face. your skin tingles as he glares at you. despite his terrible attention span and low grades, mammon is smart when he wants to be and smart he is by hacking away at all of your strength, leaving you with nothing but weakness and in the position he’s been wanting you in since the beginning.

“i won’t….for a price,” he grins. “what are ya willing to do to stop me from showing ‘em?”

with one question spilling from his lips, your mind shatters upon the realisation that your existence is now in his hands. you swallow, giving up on all of your pride and courage and hoping desperation will help you. and you really hope it will because that’s all you have left.

“anything. i’ll do anything.”

“good,” his eyes are dark like deep water as he leans over you again, engulfing your pitiful body in his scent. your heart races, tears soaking your eyes as you officially sign away your life to him. “because from now on, you’re the great mammon’s personal slut.”

[xjulixred45x]

Can I request a like one shot of yandere evil invincible with gn younger sibling reader

YEEEEES THANKS ANON

Yandere! Evil! Mark Grayson/Invincible x Little Sibiling! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: gender neutral

Warnings: PLATONIC YANDERE, GENERAL YANDERE BEHAVIOR, OBSESIVE BEHAVIOR, OVERPROTECTION, MASS MURDER, MANIPULATION, SPOILERS FROM THE SERIES AND FROM THE ARC "INVINCIBLE WAR"!!

OKEY, Taking as a reference what we saw of the majority of evil Marks in the Invincible War arc, it is most likely that sibiling reader does not have much age difference with Mark.

maybe 5 years or 6 at most.

If we go for a more similar evil Mark to the normal/Mohak Mark, then probably the relationship between these two wouldn't be so bad...at first.

let me explain myself.

It is left to be understood that for the alternate Marks to become evil they must have had a more unstable childhood than the main Mark had. which made them more perverse.

that would probably also affect his relationship with his little sibiling.

Let's say the Evil Mark we use in this situation is the Sinister Mark.

He not only grew up with an Omni Man who did not care for humanity, but also murdered his and sibiling reader mother.

causing quite severe trauma on him and to sibiling reader. It's just that they brought it out in different ways.

Sinister Mark probably even if he was considerably more evil than his other counterparts, this trauma was probably what generated his protective instinct towards his younger sibiling, being in a way his only source of sincere affection(whatever if he wants to admit it or not).

and we could say that he justified these thoughts with the fact that since they were both Viltrumites, his sibiling was the only one who deserved his protection, his love.

and at the same time he has a certain sense of entitlement to his sibiling's love, because after all he only wants "the best for them" when conquering the earth, the fact that they doesn't understand it is something else.

Sinister Mark learned to see his Sibiling as a small, weak being who doesn't know what they doing and needs his guidance. so to speak.

And so they both grew, they are the trauma that made one crazy and the other could have been turned into someone considerably more reserved.

since of course, sibiling reader was smaller, weaker, easier to defeat when fighting against their father.

Although I think that sibiling reader definitely awakened their powers before Mark, to the astonishment and even displeasure of the aforementioned.

Yes, it has its positive side. Now that they has powers so young they could be stronger and they could even be on the same level, they could rule the earth together without problems.

but it would also mean that sibiling reader wouldn't be as dependent on Mark as he would have been before he had his powers. Before that, reader would ask Mark for help with various things, whether it be giving them a ride, lifting something heavy, getting rid of someone, etc.

or even they will no longer need his protections, his angle rock in their relationship.

Now Sibiling reader has a new independence that Mark doesn't like.

but at the same time he can use the situation to his advantage so that brother reader has the same way of thinking as him.

We could say that it is from here that the obsession begins.

Of course, Sinister Mark is a horrible person from the beginning, but as I said, he and the reader had, as far as possible, a "good" relationship where although there was a HUGE power imbalance, Mark acted as their "protector" when he felt that It was his "duty"

as if it were an imitation of a normal relationship between siblings.

but most importantly, we could say that before the reader got their powers, Mark let them have more independence (somehow).

since the reader really couldn't do anything against Mark or his father at that moment after all.

but with reader having powers, it changes everything.

Sinister Mark, despite everything, is willing to teach the reader the bases of their powers, but he also never misses the opportunity to scare them with all the enemies they will have to face if they decides to use them.

I don't think this Mark is above orchestrating incidents in which the reader ends up in a bad situation (get the shit kicked out of them) and he comes to the "rescue."

It's like something similar to Mother Gothel but without magical hair, just obsession.

Also this Mark is great at making reader think that they are less capable than they really are, just because he has the advantage of being stronger and older.

If the reader wants to go somewhere on their own, Mark will be frantically telling them about all the villains in that area, about how they have no training, about how naive they are, that the world will beat them up and spit them out alive, etc.

He infantilizes/idiotizes them, basically.

This way it makes 1- reader see him in a positive light (no, he's not a good influence honey, stay away from him--) and 2- reader becomes afraid of going out or interacting with the outside world.

In that case Mark showers them with love and can even be nice, it's like being normal human sibilings to a certain point when he's not, well, conquering the earth.

Probably he and the reader have the same taste for comics, so he lends them his to entertain themself. Not to mention the ancestral custom of siblings giving them his old toys.

He's also VERY prankster, the kind of prankster who appears out of nowhere to scare you and then laugh in your face. That's Sinister Mark.

It makes him more funny if the reader throws something at him or even hits him. He says it's like hitting him with a pillow.

but it's definitely not a good idea to make him angry. in the least.

This is a completely deranged Mark, so if the reader tries, for example, to go with the other side (e.g. Anstrong), Mark would not only go after the people the reader ran away with, but reader would also have repercussions.

Using the above as a reference, if Mark found the reader with Anstrong and his son, he would kill them both in front of the reader, forcing them to watch, letting them know that THEY caused this.

I think he could also physically incapacitate the reader so that he does not escape if he is not cooperative, either by chaining them, putting a crawler on them (although he has probably already done this), or even breaking an arm or a leg, at least he has the decency to take care of them, but it will definitely be rough if they act rudely.

He becomes a bully, in a nutshell.

I think that the only way in which the reader can have all kinds of freedoms is if they wanted to be Invincible's sidekick, that changes the game a lot.

since of course! They would do it because 1- they have a similar ideology and 2- they would spend a lot of time with Mark

Mark would take it as a compliment, a bust to his ego, so he would happily accept his little sibilings as his sidekick.

I think that in this case the reader would be more similar to The Collector from TOH, that is, a super powerful child who would not really understand the concept of mortality since they are super invulmerable.

Maybe even if this reader doesn't really kill as much as their brother, they does like to keep humans under their "command" as servants or to do their things.

even "playmates" that if they break, they'll simply replace them.

This reader would definitely be a spoiled child, not only because he is practically a Mark 2.0, but because even if he is sadistic and brutal, he still acts like a little child.

You can bribe them with comics or food.

calls you silly names when they doesn't like you.

plays with toys.

They hides behind their older brother when things scare them or get out of control.

but all in a corrupted and dark version.

and Mark couldn't be happier in this case, his little sibiling came to their senses! They finally understand their purpose and duty to Viltrum, Mark would be overjoyed.

is probably the biggest cause of this reader's spoiled personality, precisely because by already having the mentality that this Mark wanted, he gives him everything they wants, and it really doesn't bother him that the reader is rude or homicidal to others, it amuses him. .

It makes his Yandere tendencies go unnoticed most of the time, if Mark finds out that someone from the empire is plotting against him using his sibiling, it's an insta kill (this in all cases).

We could even say that his yandere side is considerably reduced in this scenario, after all his little sibiling can kill anyone who gets into their relationship or if he asks them to.

They end up having a similar dynamic to Android 17 and Android 18, but with the ages reversed, Mark is the much more chaotic and homicidal older brother and Reader is the more calculating brother who worries about more superficial things.

and they would love to create bonds by destroying entire cities :)

They could even be at the same power level, which would give Mark a bittersweet feeling because on the one hand his sibiling is super happy to be able to be around him (which is even cute) but he misses the old days of when they was the little one-weakling who expected him to take care of them.

They still have some codependency.

God forbid the reader dies or successfully escapes, Mark would go CRAZY with sadness and rage for allowing this to happen.

Perhaps even, during the events of Invincible War, he was willing to take the reader from another dimension, some other Evil Mark, or the good Mark himself, just to replace the original he lost.

Either way, he's screwed without a reader.

Overall, I would say that depending on the scenario you choose and the advantages you have, having this type of brother and YANDERE can be a bloody walk in the park or your worst nightmare. you choose.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Publishing slowly, but in My way!

The Evil Marks are SUPER interesting, maybe i will do a Drabble about one of the Invincible War.

[danikamariewrites]

Could I request part 2 for Inventor, where reader gets kidnapped by Baron so that they can make things exclusively for him. And the motiv behind this is that the reader refused to share one of there inventions with him because they knew he would use it for himself and not share it with his people 🙄

Hope this isn't too big of an ask, happy writing!!

Myth

Azriel x reader

A/n: you can read Inventor here! Also this is a long one lol

Warnings: kidnapping, mentions of torture, injuries, some violence, and some typos bc I don’t think I got them all sorry

A guard ripped off your blindfold violently, almost taking a fistful of your hair with it. You blinked rapidly adjusting to your surroundings.

You sat tied to an old wooden chair in an ornate office decorated in the colors of autumn.

Well shit. If you knew mouthing off in the last High Lords meeting would land you here you would’ve kept your mouth shut.

No you wouldn’t have.

Beron clearly wanted something from you. And you had a feeling you knew what it was. Azriel’s spies had gathered intel that Beron had been keeping what was found in the mines a secret. The guesses had been anything from rare metals to ancient fae weapons.

Footsteps from the hall grew closer until the door creaked open. You counted eight people, seven guards and Beron. Two guards approach you, lifting your chair to bring you face to face with Autumn’s High Lord.

He was casually leaning against his desk, flipping through a file on his desk you were sure had your name on it. “If it isn’t little miss know-it-all. I’m so glad you could join us.” His tone was sickly sweet and each word dripped with a sick sarcasm. It made your stomach do flips before tying your intestines in a knot.

You didn’t know how long you’d be able to hold out. You’re not trained like Azriel. You can’t fight and you definitely won’t do well under torture. But you’d do your best for him, for your court.

“Let’s see here,” he drawls, flipping open the file. “Multiple awards since the start of your university days, graduated the top of your class, and come highly suggested from three out of seven High Lords. You’ve been around the world and co-discovered countless new technologies.” You knew where this was going.

You had been backed into this corner before by powerful men. They were less powerful than Beron and you had never been tired up before, but that’s beside the point. You wanted to snip back at him but now seemed like a good time to hold your tongue.

When Beron looked at you he had a raised brow and a confused scowl on his lips. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath, pulled your lips super tight, and were holding your eyes open really wide. You’re not the greatest in social situations. Letting out a huff you try to relax into the rickety wood chair. “What do you want from me?”

An evil smirk slowly pulled at his lips. “I need you to…reinvent an old weapon for me.” His spies were right in their guesses. Cauldron, you didn’t even want to think about what this weapon could do. “And if I refuse?” You couldn’t help the tremble in your voice or the slight wobble of your lip. “You have two hours to decide. If you don’t we’ll make sure the shadowsinger gets your body back.” His tone told you it would be in pieces.

Beron adjusted his jacket rousing his desk to sit. Two more guards appeared in front of you as they untied you, switching out the ropes for metal shackles. As the ushered you out into the hall you saw Eris waiting for you. The tall male looked calm and composed. You knew on the inside he was panicking due to the rash decision his father made. Eris roughly grabbed your upper arm dragging you to his side. “I will escort her.”

“We were commanded by the High Lord to take her.” The guard that shackled you said. Eris raised a brow, wearing a similar expression to his father’s. “Then you can accompany us.” You began the long trek down to the dungeons of the Forest House. You kept your head down the whole way knowing that if you looked up at Eris you’d give everything away. All the secrets you’ve kept all the meticulous planning your mate and brother-in-laws have accomplished would be for nothing with a single pleading look.

A guard opened the bared cell door as Eris kept your arm in his firm grip. Shoving you onto the cold stone to keep up the facade Eris slammed the door shut behind you.

You held your hands out to break your fall. As your knees hit the floor your hands skid across the stone floor. You suck in a breath, pushing yourself to sit against a wall to inspect your hands. Your palms are red and fresh cuts litter your skin. You press them against your pants to stop the stinging pain.

Eris scoffs at you. “Pathetic. I’ll be back in an hour to see if you’ve made your decision. Think fast little tinkerer.” He teases, turning away on his heel without giving you a second look he and the guards leave you.

You are not going to cry, you say to yourself. I am going to be smarter than Beron. I’m going to get out of this and Az and the rest of the group will come for me.

——

Rhys, Azriel, Cassian land on the balcony of the House of Wind entry way, returning home from Illyria. All three were hoping to find their mates waiting to embrace them. Instead they were greeted with silence. The brothers look to each other in confusion as Azriel sends out his shadows to search the house.

Taking a few more steps into the house they tensed at the sound of little footsteps rushing toward them. Nyx appeared, launching himself at his father, a little frown on his face. “Daddy!” Rhys scoops the little boy to his chest kissing the top of his head. Rhys could sense his little boy’s distress. “What’s wrong buddy?”

“They’ve been looking all day, but no one can find Auntie y/n.” Azriel’s eyes went wide. His heart stopped for a moment as he pulled on the bond, but nothing. Your side was dark. How could he not have felt that you were gone.

Gwyn and Elain came rushing in next followed by Lucien and two of Azriel’s shadows. “I found something!” The priestess exclaimed, waving a piece of paper in the air. Lucien immediately recognized it as stationary from Eris’s desk. He snatched it from Gwyn’s hand, his eyes moving quickly over the note as he took in each word. His face grew grim.

Finishing the note he looked to Azriel. A frown pulling at the males lips. “What!” The word came out loud and agitated. Lucien hesitantly handed the note to Azriel as he began to explain. “It’s from Eris. Y/n has been taken to Autumn. He’s not sure what Beron wants with her.”

Azriel’s hands were shaking with rage. Gwyn noticed, quickly taking Nyx from his father’s arms and rushing out before something drastic happened. With a look from Lucien Elain nodded her head, turning to follow Gwyn.

Azriel’s shadows began to swarm in a violent pattern. In and out, whispering in his ears as they pass by, threatening to plunge the foyer into darkness. Cassian gripped his shoulders tight. Forcing his brother to look at him. “We will get her Az. But you need a level head.” Azriel’s face was stuck in an angry scowl. His brows pinched and his hazel eyes darkened with rage. Azriel turned his head to look at Rhys. Giving the High Lord a look that said he would go to Autumn without permission if he had to.

Rhys pushed the males apart. “We can’t go in alone. We need more than us.” He looked to Lucien who shook his head. “I’m sorry. But I can’t go back there, not until he’s gone.” Rhys nodded in understanding. “We need the Valkyries with us then.”

“I won’t be subtle.” Azriel gritted out through clenched teeth. “I don’t expect you to be brother. Beron will answer for his crime of taking your mate, I swear it.” Some of the tension let up in Azriel’s body at the promise of Beron suffering. “Let’s get everyone together and head out.”

——

You had been staring at the wall willing yourself to feel nothing for the Mother knows how long. The stinging in your hands had subsided but your knees ached. They were definitely bruised but you couldn’t bring yourself to check. A door at the end of the hall opened, footsteps echoed down the narrow hall as they got closer to your cell. You prayed it was Eris returning alone.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the lordling staring at you. Eris leaned casually against the bars, like this was a casual meeting between friends. “So, what is it? He won’t tell anyone but the guards.” You blink rapidly to keep your tears away as you spoke. “It’s a weapon. I don’t what kind. He just wants me to rebuild it or fix it or whatever.” Your voice came out monotone. Truthfully you couldn’t be bothered with this conversation. You just want to be out of your cell. Eris let out a huff leaning back from the bars. He paced in a small circle before facing you again.

“I sent word to Lucien who has no doubt told your mate and the other two.” Your heart rate picked up at the mention of Azriel. You had tried to pull on the bond but no luck. When you were taken you were hit with a heavy dose of fae bane. It must still be in your system. Azriel and the others would be on their way soon.

“Tell him yes.” Eris froze, staring at you with wide eyes. “What?” He whisper yelled. You stood, slowly making your way to the cell door. “I’ll work on it. Take me to Beron.” Eris looked like he was torn. If he took you to Beron Azriel would make sure his death was slow and painful. “If you don’t take me I’ll just start yelling for the guards.” An uncomfortable pause fell between the two of you.

Opening your mouth as if to yell for a guard Eris shushed you. “Fine, fine I’ll take you.” The punishment his father would bestow upon him would be worse than Azriel if Beron found out Eris was with you when you made up your mind. Snapping on his mask of cruel heir Eris called for a guard. You were surrounded by the same group of guards as Eris brought you back up to the main house.

Beron met you at the entrance to the house looking smug. Like he’d already won this little game. “I’m glad you’ve made the right decision.” He leads you past his office to a room with two more guards posted at the door. They stand aside to let you, Beron, and the others through but not Eris. You don’t look at him in case your emotions betray you.

Beron gestured for you to sit at the work bench. He left the cuffs on you as a reminder that you are still a prisoner. Beron carefully removes the cloth hiding the weapon from you. You sucked in a harsh breath at the broken sword in front of you. This thing was supposed to be a myth. But here was the sword of the first High Lord of the Day court sitting in front of you. “The last known name for it was Claíomh Solais.”

You nodded along at Beron’s words. “The myth is that the first High Lord of Day received it as a gift from the Mother herself. He had kept the sun rising and as a thank you the Mother gave him Claíomh Solais so he could protect the day from his enemies who wanted eternal darkness.”

“Correct. My miners found it like this. Cut clean in two. Fix it, but add something more.” What else could Beron possibly want this thing to do? Even if you could fix it, the sword was powerful enough. You nod in agreement and he leaves without a word, keeping two guards inside and the two outside.

——

Azriel was vibrating with anticipation. They were right outside the house. You were in there and Beron was doing Cauldron knows what to you. Rhys laid a reassuring hand on Azriel’s shoulder. He felt Rhys tapping on his mental shields and opened them enough for Rhys to say, “Soon, we are just waiting on Eris.”

The doors to the Forest House swung open and Eris stepped out onto the landing. He strode back and forth until his eyes landed on where Azriel was keeping the six of them hidden with his shadows. Eris whistled as if he were calling his hounds telling Rhys to make his move. He reached out to the minds of the guards at the front of the house. Making sure none of them would be bothered by the presence of the Night Court.

Clearing the front garden and massive stone steps Eris lead them into the house. Azriel let his shadows loose to look for you. They had been restless since Azriel found out you were missing and they were eager to bring you back to their master.

Rhys kept his hold on the guards they passed while making sure the ones ahead stayed where they were as well. “This is over kill you know. I got him go back out to the mines for another look.” Nesta scoffed at him. “You think we’d risk y/n’s life on your word?” Eris rolled his eyes and kept walking fast. Coming up on the room where you were being kept Azriel threw out his arm, hitting Eris square in the chest and bringing the group to a halt. Shadows come flying back down the hall whispering their findings to Azriel about the guards and your wellbeing.

“Two in, two out. I’ll go, the rest of you guard Rhys.” Eris tried to get him to wait but Azriel stared running down the hall, a dagger in each hand. Azriel threw the daggers. Each finding their mark flawlessly in the throat a of the guards. Shadows caught the bodies from thudding to the floor, keeping them pressed against the wall as they continued to struggle for air. Azriel quickly rapped his knuckles on the door and stood to the side.

The door opened a crack for the guard to see. He squinted, cautiously opening the door he looked to one side. Before he was able to find Azriel he grabbed the guard by the back of his neck and twisted until he was lifeless in his arms. Azriel threw the male down on the floor entering the room. When his eyes landed on you the bond hummed to life in his chest. His protective instincts to get you to safety practically blinding him with rage. The last guard would be the one to unfortunately take the brunt of that anger.

Azriel punched, and punched, and punched until the sound of you crying out his name brought him back to his conscious self. Unable to hold your tears back you broke down. Azriel made his way over to you, picking you up bridal style. “It’s ok. It’s ok baby, I got you. We’re gunna get these off you when we get home, ok.” You nod vigorously against his chest as you were unable to get a word out thanks to your hysterical tears.

Before he could leave you pulled on his leathers for him to wait. With renewed adrenaline rushing through your body you fumbled your way around the work table. Your hands messily picking up a leather strap, the cloth, and stacked the two pieces of the sword on the cloth. You wrapped them up tight and clutched it to your chest. You turn to Azriel waiting for him to pick you up again.

Grabbing you he hurries back down the hall. You toss the wrapped up sword to Cassian for safe keeping as you all fled from the Forest House. Eris was no where in sight. You assumed he went to stall his father before he noticed you were missing.

Sunlight blinded you. Before your eyes could adjust darkness surrounded you and the world fell away. The salty air blowing off the Sidra pierced your nostrils, the sound of wings flapping calmed you as they slowly brought you to the house of wind.

Azriel fell to his knees on the marble floor. His warm scarred hands cradling your face as he rested his forehead against yours. He apologized over and over for not knowing you were gone. For leaving you as Beron’s prisoner for so long.

Rhys gently removed the cuffs from your wrist. You flung your arms around Azriel, telling him it was ok. That you’re safe with him now. Pulling away from him slightly you looked into his tear filled eyes. “I’m ok Az. You got me.” Your mate gives you a tight lipped smile, closing his eyes to force the last of his tears out. “I got you.” He whispered back.

[dannyphantom1234]

Reborn as Dan Phantom.

A fan of the show is reborn as Dan, the evil version of Danny just as he was created— but what no one knew was a fangirl had taken over the body and knew just what to do to help her family that would suffer what she just went through unless she did something to help. So— she creeped towards Clockwork, stole the time medallion, went to the timeline of the original, and immediately took over as big brother figure to help these poor children from suffering the future they would have to endure alone without adult supervision.

She— now he— didn’t care for gender, and just wanted to help and protect his new(ish) family from bad people. What he didn’t know was he was also thrown alongside the dc universe, which was an awesome discovery on his part later on.

Dan— or Dante— as he wished to be called, came to the group with sorrow in his heart as he explained what would happen in the future if Danny cheated on his test, not that it was anyone’s fault but fates. He explained how no one was at fault and it could all be avoided if he could help it.

He took over the ghost fights, and had a long talk with Clockwork about what would happen and his real purpose for being there.

His original timeline was obviously erased, and the only reason he survived was because of the medallion, so later he had to go through ghost magic and make himself his own person, gained a whole butt load of tattoos intertwined with ghost time magic and becomes the next king of the infinite realms after defeating the old guy easily after seeing him beat up his little bro.

Dante became king instead of Danny and took over all the overloaded paperwork along the way.

What he didn’t know, was that he would be summoned because of his status. He really thought the fan fictions were just exaggerating what would happen if he was ever given the position and power. Well, it was all true from what he read.

(I’m making this a Dante/King Phantom x Jason Todd/Red Hood).

He made an actual legal identity for himself with the help of Technus and Tucker, who became better pals after they set aside the fact that they attacked each other at some point or another.

Danny became a little brother to him, Jazz became his little sister who likes to treat him as if he were still Danny at times, and Danielle became his daughter.

Dante legally adopted Dani after they got his papers in order, and made her an identity as well. Elle was much younger than he remembered, but then again, she was deaged recently and just came back into contact with the group, who couldn’t take care of her because they were still children as well.

Vlad was still a little evil but leveled out after a huge diabolical involving Maddie, their so called mother.

Madeline Fenton had thought her son and daughter conspired with the ghosts and attacked them in their own home, Danny was greatly injured with multiple blast wounds and Jazz suffered a concussion while trying to push him out of the target zones.

Jack had football tackled Madeline and the rest was history.

Vlad had fallen out of love with her after seeing what she did to her own children, and instead got his head out of his butt and realized he was in love with Jack all along.

Jack divorced Madeline, took custody of his kids and decided they should move, all while Vlad made plans to take down GIW with Team Phantom.

Jack and Vlad met him and decided to emotionally adopt Dante as well in their messed up family.

Dante got a job as a mechanic and started his own business in Gotham. Very cliche from all the fanfics he read in his past life but he wanted to do something he knew and loved. He loved fixing things and his side job as the king of the infinite realms was basically being like a father to ghost children while scolding those who thought it was a good idea to attack innocent mortals.

He mainly spent his time raising Danielle. Giving her everything she deserves and making her happy now that his family was safe.

He was randomly summoned by the Justice League who were ready to full on attack him until they saw him reading to his child, not realizing he was summoned until someone cleared their throat. He was literally in his own little bubble, reading his two year old daughter a storybook while holding her against his chest as he floated above the ground, laid back in a relaxed position.

How it would go:

I looked up from the book after feeling a sudden shift in my surroundings, seeing multiple very brightly dressed people in front of me. I glared, shifting completely into my ghost king form while holding my daughter close to my chest. The storybook I was reading had disappeared into a pocket dimension for later, as I had to deal with this madness.

“Who in their right minds would summon the Ghost King? I literally burnt all those summoning books to ash.” I grumbled, and looked down to see Elle had slightly woken up at the sound of my deep voice.

“Dada?” She mumbled, rubbing her right eye as she sat up from my chest.

“It’s alright, Elle,” I rumbled, kissing her forehead as she plopped back down to take her nap again at my reassurance. “We can finish reading time later today.” I murmured to her as she went back to snoozing.

“What do you want, mortals?” I asked nonchalantly.

“Why does the ghost king have a child? And how in the hell are you not attacking us as the books state?” Zatanna asked, looking on at me in shock.

“You willingly want to be attacked after summoning me? That’s idiotic. “ I state, looking bored with their conversation. I still held Elle close, not answering their questions about my child just yet.

“No, a bloody idiot summoned you just as we defeated him as a last defense!” Constantine spat out, looking hysterical.

“Well, sorry to break the news, coward, but the last king was defeated by me after trying to take over the world, he is now locked away in forever sleep until we can find a way to get rid of him completely.” I explained to the coward looking at me in shock on the ground, bruises across his face and the usual weird looking villain costume on him.

I looked around for a quick second before stopping at the Batfam. Who were all here in a more relaxed formation seeing a child in my arms. My favorite fandom family in my last life.

I looked them over before spotting the Red Hood, my celebrity crush I had on him was no secret to my family, but they had no room to judge for themselves.

His aura admitted contaminated ectoplasm, and I knew I had to heal him sometime in the future.

“May I ask what your goals are? And who is this child?” Superman spoke up after a moment of digesting my information about my new position.

“I protect both living and the undead. I don’t have a world ending goal in mind, just to raise my daughter and give her the life she deserves.” I said, looking down at my daughter with a small smile that would be unnoticeable to most.

I looked back up to see the large group had softened at my words and I was about to ask a question about Red Hood, when my daughter suddenly decided this was taking too long and too much noise for her to take a nap.

“Dada! Where puppy?” She demanded answers, smacking the side of my face with her chubby hands, as I floated there, unmoving with an emotionless face towards the group.

“Cujo is with the twerp, remember? He will come by later for playtime.” I answered, which was slightly muffled as she squished my cheeks together and smiled at me happily.

“Dada! Fishh—“ she squealed out, looking happy with herself as she giggled at my face.

“You gremlin—“ I muttered out, tickling her sides as she squeaked, her flying out of my arms and turning into her young ghost form, looking ready to play.

“Playtime?” She asked, bouncing a little in the air, clapping her hands a little.

“Not yet, blob ghost. We need to head back home for snack time.” I explained, crossing my arms as she pouted, my arm muscles bulged a bit as I crossed them, and I still always forget the fact that I’m taller than most, alongside bigger. In my past life, I was a stick of a girl that had spaghetti arms, much different for sure.

Her pouting turned into the famous puppy eyes, and I turned back to the group to avoid them, only to see amused faces all around.

“Do you guys need anything before we head back? I’m sure you don’t want to deal with a Princess tantrum.” I rumbled out, looking on in disinterest as Elle decided to hug the side of my face like an octopus. She probably still had the puppy eyes on.

“You have an adorable daughter!” Princess Diana exclaimed soon after I was finished speaking. “How old is she?” She asked, looking at me curiously as I lowered myself to the ground, Elle now floating behind my head as she played with my low ponytail.

“She is now two years old.” I answered, swiftly nabbing Elle from behind me while reaching the back of my head. I lowered my arms to see I had her upside down now, her hanging like a sack of potatoes as she giggled.

“Dada!” Elle exclaimed, waving her arms around her in glee as she looked up at me.

“You don’t feel like a ghost completely… neither does she, what are you exactly?” Constantine asked, waving his hand at me in confusion.

“I don’t know if I can trust you with that information, Constantine.” I growled a little, glaring at him as he stepped forward while Elle hid behind me.

“Hey now! Let’s calm down, no one needs to start anything!” Nightwing stepped in front of the glaring Constantine who looked more and more like a bug the longer I looked at him.

“There isn’t anything to start, really. His soul is in shreds at the moment, not very powerful compared to my kind anyway.” I stated, crossing my arms once again as Elle peaked out from over my shoulder.

“Now, I need to speak with a Mr. Red Hood.” I said, looking on at the Batfam who tensed at my words.

“Why?” Batman growled out, stepping in front of the confused Red Hood.

“To heal him, of course.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I heard sounds of confusion from everyone else.

“His ectoplasm is very corrupted. He has the ghost flu, in which case makes my kind very moody and in need of pure ectoplasm to filter it and his emotions.” I briefly explained, unpinching my nose as I looked up from the ground. Willing my headache away for now.

“So his pit madness is basically the ghost flu?” Red Robin murmurs out hysterically, almost giggling in disbelief.

“Yes, I have heard of his haunt, Crime Alley, that being under his protection, I have never stepped foot on his property because I didn’t want to seem like a threat to a sick person who can’t control themselves completely with such a sickness.” I explained myself a bit nervously, rubbing the back of my neck a little with my right hand as Elle now sat on my left shoulder, swinging her legs.

“Wow, the ghost king is a dork…” I heard Spoiler mutter to Orphan, who nodded in agreement.

I huffed, crossing my arms and floated once again. “I can come back another time. I just wished to help a little. My doctor can probably fix him quicker than I, but I know what to do as I have studied under him for more than over a year now.” I informed them.

“So the pit madness can go away…?” Red Hood asked, stepping from around Batman to speak to me clearly.

“I’m unsure of what this “Pit Madness” is, but yes, I can heal you and make sure you properly get the help you need from your emotional roller coaster sickness.” I said, looking down at him as he took a few more steps to me, his family following behind him.

“Well, when can you fix me?” He asked, his voice modifier cutting all emotions from his voice, but I can clearly feel his emotions bursting from his almost formed core. It seems this sickness had stopped him from forming his core completely and left him sick for many years.

I could feel his hope, his rage and especially his bursts of want for some reason.

“I can fix you right now, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted privacy or not. It’s very…. Intimate. I can take you somewhere private if you would like?” I rumbled out, the burst of want came out more clearly, and I could tell Red Hood was clearly not expecting that word choice.

“Take me anytime—“ I could clearly hear his muttered out answer behind his helmet with my enhanced hearing, but I don’t know if I was supposed to hear that.

“Nope! Little Wing— you are not going with the ghost king—“ Nightwing suddenly yelled out, the whites of his mask bigger as Spoiler, Red Robin, and Signal burst into loud laughter. Batman sighed loudly in disappointment. Robin just “Tt” and sighed alongside his father, looking like a mini bat. Orphan just smiled at me.

“By intimate, I mean having a look at your soul, I will essentially have to take a closer look at that and cure you.” I fixed my words, making it seem as if I didn’t hear anything and I could feel a little disappointment coming from Red Hood but he nodded at my explanation.

[inlovewithpandora]

- Let Me In -

Pairing: Hobie x fem!Spider!reader

Request: [ 🎸 anon ] Hello! I have a request for a Hobie x reader:) | If you are okay with it (it's ok if not!) can you do a comfort fic where reader is struggling with suicidal thoughts + self harm and they haven't really been taking care of themselves properly and is just always thinking they shouldn't be alive ect. Then one day Hobie comes to their house through their bedroom window (who needs doors?) but he finds them in their bathroom abt to self harm and comforts them.

Synopsis: Being Spiderwoman hasn't been an easy task for you. The sacrifice, dedication, and having to turn your life upside down to accommodate your powers was making living day to day difficult for you so you begin to wonder if you should take matters into your own hands and end your suffering.

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, act of self-harm (and lightly descriptive) mention of blood, mention of scars and wounds, crying, reader struggling with depression/illness, Hobie comforting reader and being there for her

If any of the content above makes you uncomfortable please DNI!!!

Author’s Note: Thank you for sending this req in! I hope you enjoy and that it meets your expectations! This was a really good request and I enjoyed writing it even though my heart was breaking for reader. Let me know what you think by sending an anonymous ask or comment if you feel comfortable!

Word Count: 1.1k

Extra: Requests are open! Please read rules before requesting! || Likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated❤️! Links: Navigation || Atsv Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

As you sit on the rim of your bathtub, you couldn’t help but look at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was scattered across your head, your eyes were sunken and puffy, and your body was covered with old battle wounds from fighting different evils of the universe, but the most fresh scars were the ones that adorned your arms.

Being Spiderwoman hasn't been an easy task for you. The sacrifice, dedication, and having to turn your life upside down to accommodate your powers were making living day to day difficult for you. Coming home with fresh wounds every night began to take a physical and mental toll on your health. The stress and pressure of protecting the city of Brooklyn was starting to become too much. You wanted to talk to Hobie, but you didn’t want to worry him with your problems, so you decided to keep your feelings bottled up which made you resort to self-harm, hoping to release some of your tension and finally feel a sense of relief.

The more you began to cut, the more you distanced yourself from the world. You haven’t been to HQ, spending time with your friends, and most importantly you haven’t talked to Hobie in almost a week. Your new way of spending your time was cooped up in your apartment, drowning in your sorrows.

It has gotten to the point where your pain became so insufferable that you began to think if living was worthwhile anymore. You couldn’t go on like this, dealing with the weight of being Spiderwoman on your shoulders. Thinking about putting yourself in the face of danger and praying that you didn’t get severely injured or even worse: ending up plummeting to your death.

You felt like if you were going to do that, you might as well leave the world on your own terms, the way you thought would be appropriate. Were you currently thinking clearly? No. This was the illness talking. The older, happier version of yourself would never even let thoughts like this cross her mind, but now… now it was too late. This was the only way to make that dark cloud that hung over your head move away.

Hobie has been worried about you. The only time he talks to you now is through text and when he finds a way to get a hold of you, the conversations were dry, so he can’t even get a true feeling to see how you’re doing.

When he finishes his patrol duties, he decides to swing by your apartment, just to make sure you’re okay. Once he’s outside your window, he opens it slowly and climbs inside. When his feet hit the floor, he turns around and closes the window behind him, then tries to figure out where you are.

As his eyes scan the room, he locates the sound of sobs from the bathroom which alerted him, thinking you got hurt from slipping in the shower or something of that sort. When he reaches the bathroom door, he peeps his head inside, which reveals you with tears pouring down your cheeks while you run a razor across your skin. As Hobie watches the blood trickle down your arm and drip onto your marble floor, his stomach churns and his heart breaks at the scene unraveling in from him.

As you raise the sharp object again, almost pressing it deep into your arm, Hobie barges in, not being able to watch you hurt yourself any longer. When the door widens and you see him looking at you with a concerned and worried expression, you drop the razor, pull your jacket sleeves down, and rush over to the other side of the bathroom.

“Leave, Hobie.” You turn your back towards him, not wanting him to see how you’ve completely let yourself go. This isn’t how you wanted your reunion with him to go, you cutting and him bearing witness, having to see you in such a distraught state, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

Hobie walks up to you, attempting to wrap his arms around, but you swat them away as more tears fill your eyes. “Hobie, I said leave! I don’t want you here! I-I don’t want you to see me!” As you attempt to raise your voice, it begins to crack due to the sob trying to make an appearance.

“Love, please,” Hobie's heart gets so heavy with each moment. He didn’t know you were doing this, he never knew that you had a burden so heavy that you had to resort to this method to find a sense of peace. At this moment, all he wants to do is be here for you and help as much as he can provide.

He gently places his arm on your shoulder, hoping you would turn around and face him. “Let me in, allow me to help you. I promise I won’t judge. I-I just want to help you, please.” The sincerity in his voice soothes you enough to turn around and face him. Without wasting another second, you run into his arms and begin to cry into his chest. Hobie immediately embraces you, wrapping his arms around you to make you feel secure and comfortable, to let you know that he is here specifically to comfort you.

“It’s okay love, let it all out. I’m here for you now. I’m gonna help you through this.” He kisses your head softly as he rubs your back, continuing to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, letting you know that he’ll never leave your side no matter what.

Once your cries begin to lessen and you begin to calm down, you and Hobie sit down together. “I know you probably don’t wanna talk right now and that’s fine. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but I want to let you know that you don’t have to go through this alone. I will forever stand by your side through thick and thin, good and bad. No matter what, I will always love you and that’ll never change.” At this moment, you are so thankful for Hobie. He didn’t freak out on you, shame you, or force you to do anything which you appreciated. Knowing that Hobie saw you at your lowest and still accepted you meant the world to you.

“Thank you, Hobie.” You speak softly as you look up at him with glistening eyes, new tears ready to be shed, but this time they are tears of joy that you had someone like Hobie to lean on.

“Of course, now let’s clean up these cuts and then for the rest of the day, it’s just me and you.”

I hope you enjoyed❤️!

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[theredofoctober]

Runt Part 2: an Omni-Man x Gender Neutral Reader Darkfic

TW: noncon, violence, blood, humiliation/verbal degredation, master/pet

Synopsis: After being attacked by Omni-Man, a traumatised Reader attempts to seek comfort. Then he returns, and Reader's suffering is far from over...

Reader after the cut

✂️ ✂️ ✂️ ✂️

“Shit. What happened here?”

Cecil Stedman stands amidst the mess of your house, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in a mode of sympathetic awe.

“It was some villain,” you mutter as you shrug deeper into the cowl of the hooded jacket you’ve donned to swaddle yourself against his scrutiny. “He broke in. I... didn’t recognise him.”

This aside is true enough, being that Nolan is no longer the heroic Omni-Man you once believed would defend the planet against what evils would otherwise lay siege.

That he had been that very evil longer than you’ve been alive still feels closer to fiction than the reality you now know it well to be.

Still you feel the shade of his hands like a clasp on your throat, the fork lightning of a blow to the face as though he’s still in the room with you, an oppressive force of lust and control.

“He was... strong,” you continue, avoiding Cecil’s searching gaze. “I couldn’t fight him off. He said he was looking for my mom— she must've known he was coming. She’s gone into hiding. Didn’t say where.”

“Well, she didn’t get any help from me,” says Cecil. “I had no idea about any of this. I’ve been trying to contact her. That’s why I came over.”

He scrutinises a dent in the wall, his pale brows kneaded.

“So you’re saying you don’t know where Ellen is? She didn’t leave any kind of note?”

You shake your head.

Cecil pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Shit,” he says, again. “This isn’t like her.”

His scarred face becomes ponderous, attempting to piece the situation together with what scant intel you’ve released to him.

“I’ll get my team on clean up duty. We’d better put you under surveillance, kid. We can’t risk the asshole that attacked you coming back to finish the job.”

“No thanks,” you say, wrenching your sleeve cuff down over one swollen wrist. “I just want to be left alone. My Dad has a summer house I can go to; I still have the keys somewhere.

“Nobody knows where it is, and Dad barely uses it— we don’t talk much, but what I do know is that he’s never around. I can stay there for a while. I’ll be okay.”

There is a beat of unpleasant silence before Cecil says, “You sure you don’t know who attacked you?”

“No,” you say, again. “It was a total stranger.”

Unconvinced, Cecil paces a length of the room.

“Has there been a fire here?” he asks, suddenly. “Smells like burning.”

You’re glad he hasn’t yet ventured the stairs to take stock of your bed, singed and broken beneath the torturous struggle of bodies upon it.

“It’s my powers,” you say. “It turns out I have some. But they’re really weak.”

You demonstrate with a faint spark in the palm of your hand, which goes out almost at once.

“I see,” says Cecil. “But the good news is you might get some rapid healing abilities as a result. Still, I’d rather you come in and let a doctor take a look at you. You look pretty banged up.”

His stare seeks out your black eye, and you flinch away, twisting your face into a frond of shadow.

“I don’t need a doctor,” you mumble. “I’ll heal, like you said.”

Better to allow the slow process of recovery to take its course than have some sympathetic white coat uncover your savaged vulnerability.

“I’m not clueless, you know,” says Cecil, gently. “There’s more going on here than you’ve told me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say. “I just want it all to blow over and go away.”

Cecil runs a weary hand across his face and sighs.

“I know. But if you need to, you’ve got me. Or if you’d rather work it out with a professional—”

“I just want to get some rest, Cecil. Please.”

“Alright,” he says. “You win. But call me if anything changes, okay?”

It’s after he’s teleported from the premises, leaving you alone in the tainted house, that you burst into tears, curled up under the black swathes of your hoodie as though beneath a shroud.

You may as well be dead, you suppose; Nolan surely won’t allow you to live for much longer.

*

You arrive at your father’s summer house in a forest out of state, trundling your suitcase despondently through the front door with little expectation of safety there.

The property is vast, a clumsy blend of rustic and modern design. A photograph of your father hangs, grinning, over an artificial fireplace; he is young in it, only twenty-five, dressed in the white and silver suit he’d donned as Ice Box, a ridiculous name he’d thought himself clever to have chosen.

Once he’d been a formidable hero, wielding the ability to freeze entire cities, when disciplined. But fame had rapidly absorbed him, and it seemed that now he preferred women and drink to his original purpose of aiding his fellow beings.

Had your father ever loved you? You cannot say with any definitive certainty. He'd scarcely been present even when still married to your mother, and now only ever texts when you’ve been in contact first, and then only briefly, as though addressing an acquaintance he doesn’t much enjoy.

If you were to tell your father what’s been done to you you’d expect a telling silence, the awkward unwillingness to unlatch himself from a comfortable life to do something good.

Depression spills like a noose about your neck, another phantasmal reminder of your walking state of death. Crossing to the wall, you take down your father’s portrait and put it away into a cupboard, feeling afterwards somewhat relieved.

You hadn’t anticipated the effect this house would have on you with its sprawling rooms and French windows looking out into shaggy woods. How small and cowed you are by their dominion, as you’d felt in the wicked arms of Omni-Man, a mite and pointless thing.

You cannot understand why he took the time to brutalise you in such a way. That you are so insignificant to him makes the rape feel rather worse, the afterthought of a warring god.

A moment of Earth time means nothing to him, a man so quick in the air as to be near impossible to vanquish. A moment, and to you a fracture in your short life that, unlike your tender flesh, may never re-join even should you live long enough for it to do so.

Shaking your head, you ascend the stairs and shower quickly, repulsed by your own touch, your hands—though smaller, softer than Nolan’s—enough like his to trick your senses into response as you soap your nudity.

Disturbed, you quickly dry and change into another shapeless hoodie and a clean pair of sweatpants, your makeshift uniform since the incident.

The thickness and coverage of the fabric allows you to pretend that you have no body beneath it, being that you cannot glimpse your shape in any surface, nor be perceived by any voyeuristic eye.

You sit with a mug of herbal tea on the living room couch and watch the forest through the French doors, too wary of Omni-Man’s face or mention of his deeds to switch on the television.

You reflect on your mother, alone underground, of how deeply she will grieve when you’re gone. Of the love you once harboured for Omni-Man, jumped from you as though from some high cliff.

In time you drift into a shallow slumber, towed out to it by unhappy exhaustion.

You’re awoken by the back door being opened with such force that the lock shatters in a snow of steel fragments. Omni-Man appears like a devil come forth from the forest, his glare fixed upon your huddled figure with the same acidity as before.

“Nolan,” you whisper as he shuts the broken door behind him. “You’re here...”

Your enemy crosses the room at a glacial hover, his mouth like a groove of stone.

“If you were trying to hide from me you failed miserably. Did you really believe that I wouldn’t find you?”

You stare up at him, at his folded arms, such pylons of deathly capability.

“Cecil asked me to check up on you after ‘the incident’," says Omni-Man. "I’m surprised that you managed to stay silent. That suggests you value your life, and I didn’t get that impression when you repeatedly lied to me about your mother.”

Cowering against the sofa cushions you attempt for the sake of your sole loving parent to be brave in the face of such cosmic terror.

“I can’t tell you where she is,” you insist. “I don’t know, and I can’t find out. I’m not lying. Nothing you do to me will change my answer. You’ll be torturing me for nothing.”

You had, in fact, thrown away the communication device your mother had given you the night Omni-Man had assaulted you, jumping with boot-clad feet upon it till the wiring sprung out from within, rendering it useless should it ever be found.

The truth of this must reflect in your eyes, for a silence falls over Omni-Man, one of brutal portent.

“In that case,” he says, “I want Firebright to see what will happen to everyone she loves if she and all humanity refuse to kneel to Viltrumite rule.”

Nolan closes in on you, his blue eyes reflecting the room’s tungsten light as though bearing some exiled ring of Hell.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, faintly. “Viltrumite rule?”

“Soon this planet will by invaded by my people and totally dominated. Your species will either accept its place or be forcefully enslaved, and I intend to make an example of the resistance.”

Omni-Man smiles, and your extremities become beams of ice under numb resignation to your fate.

“Oh god,” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No,” says Nolan. “That would be far too close to mercy. The turn our last meeting took gave me some inspiration.”

Opening a fist, he drops something to the floor with a sinister jingle of metal.

“Here,” he says. “I’ve brought something for you. Pick it up.”

Scarcely daring to move your eyes from his callous face you slip off the couch to retrieve the object. Your fingers shut over a leather collar, the pad of your thumb touching a bone-shaped tag.

Glancing at it, you read the engraving aloud.

“‘Pet?’”

Omni-Man’s lips become a sickle of grim mocking.

“Yes. Because that’s all you are to me: a cringing pup, tame and panting readily to serve me.”

You drop the collar as though singed by it.

“No,” you say. “I’m not a dog. I’m a person, not your... pet.”

“Of course you are,” says Nolan, and darts so close to you that you feel the warmth of his powerful body upon yours. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how easily I got a reaction out of you.”

He puts his hand between your legs, squeezing until you gasp and stiffen in hurt and heat alike.

“Why do you want me?” you ask. “I’m nothing, nobody, like you said—”

“Which is why you should be thankful that I’m keeping you.”

You despair at your instinct to grind against his kneading hand, whether to divert his wrath or give yourself up to a quasar of ecstasy you cannot decide.

“From now on I expect you to do exactly as I say,” Omni-Man tells you, “or I’ll enjoy making you suffer. It’s the punishment you deserve for your misguided attempts to stand in my way.”

He gestures to the discarded collar with one forefinger, that sole digit imbued with the strength to slaughter.

“Put it on and take off your clothes. Don’t make me repeat myself or you’ll live to regret it.”

A tear creeps from the rim of your eye, and Nolan jerks his chin in arrogant judgement.

“Please,” you mumble. “I can’t go through this again. I—"

Omni-Man’s fist, belting your throat, truncates your protest.

“Maybe one black eye isn’t enough for you,” he sneers. “I’m more than willing to give you another.”

With a shuddering gasp you rush to undress, training your stare to the pine floorboards so as not to glimpse the look in Omni-Man’s eyes. When you struggle with the catch on the ridiculous collar he sighs with emphatic derision.

“Turn around,” he says. “I’ll do it myself.”

You feel him already hard against you as he fastens the buckle, incited by your fumbling weakness. When you attempt to squirm away he pulls the collar tight against your throat with a choking yelp.

“Every sound out of your mouth is as pathetic as you are,” sneers Nolan. “Keep it shut until I ask you to open it again.”

A lie: he enjoys your noises, is aroused by their helplessness completely. Perhaps if you were not so weak you wouldn’t have survived, preserved only for the attractive contrast of your frailty to him.

You close your fists, wondering if you dare summon fire in a final retaliation.

Gloved hands clench your upper arms like links of iron, and you go limp in Omni-Man’s embrace.

“You’d better learn obedience quickly, runt,” he says. “Vicious animals get put down.”

He shoves you onto all fours, bruising your knees on the pine. The collar jangles sweetly at your throat, and as Nolan bends to trail a finger down your spine you jump against his touch, unable to prevent yourself from considering the liberty with which he might tug out that cord like a root.

“This is an improvement,” he comments. “Now you’re exactly where you belong.”

His fingers part the trembling spheres of your buttocks, exposing you to his scathing examination. You bite your lip, knowing even before they pass into your depth that he will, as the last time, hurt you, that all sex dealt by him will be injurious in some regard.

“Nolan,” you whisper. “You used to be so nice to me. Don’t do this again.”

For a moment Omni-Man pauses, and you sense an unease in him you cannot quite describe. Then it passes, and when he speaks he is only harsh again.

“Pets don’t talk.”

His fingers descend in you to the topmost knuckle, and suddenly your chest is so tight with sobs that you fear you’re in cardiac arrest. Your face, glimpsed in the dark-pressed glass of the backdoor panels, is strained with agony and grief.

Nolan’s own—stark above the bloody snow of his white and red suit—is set like the mask of some fearsome warrior, unmoving as he kneels behind you. You’re sore from the first time he took you, burning, a reopened wound; as he snatches you by the collar and spears his swollen cock into that very ache you yelp, the vision of you both in glass all fog through falling tears.

The strangling leather about your neck is a sibling in pain to the metre of Omni-Man’s fucking, coming up quick and deep to a veil of flesh which he beats like the skin of a drum.

You know that he relents from his true power, that he could paralyse you, make scrap of you at the peak of his monstrous pleasure.

This, to him, is a kindness, if an entirely self-serving one.

“When my people seize control of Earth I’ll spare you,” says Omni-Man, his lips grazing your neck with every thrust. “Keep you on a leash where the world will see that I own a renegade’s child.”

You twist your head aside, shocked by this escalation in threats against you.

“What about Debbie?” you ask, as you did through the last attack. “And your son, Mark— they love you. How can you do this to them?”

Omni-Man shunts your head down against a bear skin rug, suffocating you in tacky lengths of fur.

“They’ll stand at my side and rule with me,” he says. “They’ll come to understand why my kind keep the spoils of war.”

With effort you turn your head on its side, spitting synthetic hair from your tongue.

"Have you hurt other people like this?”

“This is ordinary for my kind. Viltrumite mating is violent. Competitive. It’s how we separate the strong from the weak. Easy to see which you are.”

That he neither affirms nor denies his previous experience is telling, startlingly so.

“You don’t have to be like them,” you say, panting between each word. “You’re not, you never were! You don’t have to prove anything to them—”

Nolan tears you across the floor in a burst of enraged flight, wrestling you onto your back to fuck you with your legs crushed painfully beneath him. His sneer pours down upon you, his eyes frightful, wide and unblinking in their sockets.

It’s a mistake to attempt reason, to scratch at that vulnerable truth you’ve come upon by chance; if this is only his second rape then it is merely one in a continuing line.

Nolan snatches your chin, forcing you to look up into the blue wickedness of his gaze.

“You think because I lay low all these years that’s who I am?” he taunts. “I was biding my time until Mark’s powers came in to take control of this planet. And for almost two decades all I thought about was how puerile you short-lived humans are.”

He gropes your chest, smiling grimly as you whimper at his touch. The collar rings at your neck, the hideous tag clapping against you.

You’ve never felt less like a person, made base and primitive by his handling.

How had this been the man to speak so fondly to you as a youth, to pat your shoulder when he greeted you, or draw you into a bracing hug? There had been nothing of violent sex in his view of you then; only your gentle defiance has altered this, triggering a natural disdain in him that you, a mere animal, had dared.

It’s no longer about your mother at all: it’s about you, and what you represent of a life so soon to be left behind. For Nolan has loved tenderly in the past, has enjoyed the spare, quiet moments of domesticity in the home he’s made on this planet.

Now that is to be taken away by war, and you pity him for that he would so willingly partake in its destruction.

Nolan’s harsh eyes narrow, glimpsing something of the thought in your tearful face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He’s fucking you so roughly that the sound of his hips against your crumpled body is like a bar fight in the echoing house, the beat of flesh on flesh.

“Answer me!” snaps Nolan, and he clips your face with a backhand, opening a fresh cut upon it. “Or your jaw will pay the price for your insolence!”

“Fine, okay, it's just I don’t believe you,” you say, in a panicked rush. “I don’t believe that you just pretended to like me. You really did. Why are you lying? Why are you making yourself be this way?”

You instantly regret the outburst as Omni-Man withdraws from you to kneel with his thighs on either side of your face, his heavy cock laid upon your lips.

“Would someone that liked you do this?” he asks, and as you open your mouth to answer he thrusts in until you retch around his girth.

Your hands scratch in a feckless attempt to liberate yourself from him, drool stringing from either side of your lips, pinkish with blood.

“I see I’ll have to train you this way as well,” says Nolan, looking down at you with haughty satisfaction. “Don’t you know how to do anything, runt?”

He cups either side of your skull in his hands and hammers your throat until you convulse with the urge to vomit. Only then does his pace slow again, and you feel from the tightening of him in your gullet that he is brought close by your struggling.

“You’d better swallow,” says Omni-Man, coolly. “Viltrumite seed is too valuable to waste.”

Then, with a low groan, he unleashes his crisis within you, his grip like a door closed upon your head until you gulp him down.

“That was almost good,” says Nolan, rearranging his suit as you collapse, sputtering, on your side. “Maybe you’re not entirely talentless after all.”

Striding into the kitchen, he returns with a bowl filled with water and dumps it on the ground before you. You crawl forward to drink and rid your mouth of your shame’s flavour, fingers outstretched to bring it to your lips.

“That’s not how pets drink,” says Nolan, and his foot comes down on the nape of your neck, his booted sole bidding you to bathe your face in the water.

Trembling with fearful humiliation you accede, lapping at the cool liquid until Nolan allows you to rise again.

“You can expect to see me a lot more from now own,” he says, cruelly nonchalant. “I’ll tell Cecil that I killed the man that attacked you, and that I’ll protect you from any others that come your way.”

Nolan pauses, watching you lean your dripping face into one hand to weep.

“That, you’ll be relieved to know, is true,” he says. “I defend the people that belong to me. That’s always been my duty.”

You say nothing, made silent by the sullying of his abuse and the implication that it will not end.

“Tell no one what I’ve done here,” says Nolan, “or what I’ve told you, or you’ll die swiftly. Don’t try to run away, or seek help from anyone else. This is who and what you are now. Do you understand me?”

When you still don’t reply Omni-Man seizes you by the collar, hauling you into the air as he enters flight, near hanging you by it.

“Speak!” he snaps, as you kick and wheeze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, and Nolan visibly relaxes, his free arm going possessively about your back to press you to him.

“Tell me what you are to me.”

“A... pet,” you mumble, weakly. “Your pet.”

Omni-Man lowers you both to the ground again, a smile appearing under his moustache.

“Well remembered.”

He turns to leave, and a shock of depression spills in an eddy about you.

“Nolan...” you say, almost under your breath.

He swivels back towards you in impatience.

“What do you want now?”

You do not know, are lost in all that has been ripped away from you by life even before Omni-Man’s efforts. Lowering your head, you sniffle pitifully, the pet tag tinkling with every shudder.

Nolan looks at you, half amazed, then scoffs with a mean amusement.

“I see,” he says. “After everything I’ve done you still have those embarrassing human feelings for me.”

“Yes,” you say, and clutch your hands together in abjection. “I could never hate you. I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you, Nolan. Please, please, I—”

Your mouth is closed by another as Nolan rips from you a tongue-filled kiss, his left hand cradling the back of your head in a mockery of tenderness.

A shameful pleasure veins you, stained through with the arsenic of guilt.

“What’s wrong?” asks Nolan as you jitter away, a nervous palm at your swollen lips. “Isn’t this what you wanted? What you’ve dreamt of for all your short life?”

“I, uh, yes,” you say limply, reflecting on a thousand nights of sticky hands beneath your coverlet, thinking of being made love to, afloat in the air under starlight.

“Then stop being so emotional,” says Nolan. “You’re so delicate. Don’t remind me how easily I could damage you, Pet.”

But you read from his diabolical eyes that he sees clearly the many pieces of you, irreversibly broken to his will. That you are owned beyond the leather at your throat.