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jaythes1mp · 4 months ago

Text

Here, Kitty.

Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH1

12609 words, 71519 characters, 719 sentences, 224 paragraphs, 50.4 pages Next chapter

You can't recall exactly when or how you first came into contact with the billionaire and his sons, but if you could, you would go back in time and prevent that meeting from ever taking place. In a heartbeat.

Sitting obediently on a glass table tucked in the center of a crowded Wayne Enterprises boardroom, you find yourself ensnared as Bruce Wayne diligently delivers a familiar presentation, each sentence having been painstakingly practiced during the car ride over. Having overheard his repeated rehearsal with Alfred, you find yourself unconsciously mouthing along to every word. The tight black and green collar around your neck only worsening your discomfort, its stiffness constricting your movements and snagging on your freshly groomed fur.

The man continues on with his presentation, his polished demeanour and authoritative tone captivating the attention of the surrounding investors and executives. However, you find it difficult to focus on his words, the ridiculous knitted Nightwing sweater pressing against your back causing an uncomfortable itch. You shift slightly, wincing as your freshly combed coat brushes against the stiff fabric.

The weight of Bruce's unwavering gaze lands on you like a furnace, and you can almost picture that infuriatingly fond smile plastering his face. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with disgust. Your tail swishing side to side in distaste.

He continues to drone on and on; and you find yourself struggling to stay still, the uncomfortable position, itchy sweater, and the heavy weight of Bruce's stare making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything he's saying. The only thing you want to do is scratch the infuriating itch, but the tight collar around your neck and Bruce's looming presence ensure that you remain obediently still. You know better than to cross them. How willing they are to punish you, so you stay still.

Your thoughts drift to a time when you were still unburdened by this enforced domestication. A pang of longing and bitterness settles in your chest as memories of your previous life come flooding back. You remember the simple freedom of being able to move about unmonitored, the comfort of lounging in the sun, unbothered by the Wayne families suffocating grasps.

Your paws effortlessly propel you across the icy rooftops, leaping and bounding with a careless grace. The cool night air brushes through your untamed, unhindered fur, the wind whistling past your ears. A bag is clenched between your sharp teeth, the fabric muffling your breathing slightly as you scale each building with purpose.

The city's neon glow stretches out beneath your paws, the distant lights casting a soft, surreal hue on the urban canvas. Free to go wherever you please. You could spend minutes, hours or even days just wandering under Gotham’s starry sky, with no one to tell you what to do or where to be.

You pause your journey and arrive at the edge of a dark alley, peering down at the scene below. A woman holds two teens hostage, a pistol pressed against their shivering frames. Your tail involuntarily fluffs up, matching the tension in your body as your slitted eyes dart to each potential escape route. A hiss escapes past your teeth, and you set the package down at your side before delicately pawing at a loose brick in the wall. You slide it from its position just enough to create a domino effect, the brick falling directly onto the woman's gun-holding hand.

A small, satisfied mewl leaves your throat as the woman wails in pain, her broken wrist cradled protectively in her grip. The two teens immediately seize the opportunity to make their escape, scrambling out of the alleyway. The gun slips from the woman's grasp, and she drops to her knees clutching her wounded hand. Your ears fold back and a low hiss escapes your lips at the sight, but you remain perched on the roof-top, unmoving. You slowly lower back down to take your package, then turn away. Your paws hitting the nearest rooftop with a small thump.

Your paws carry you further and further away from the robbery, the events replaying in your mind like a vivid, disjointed dream. You launch yourself from roof-to-roof in a series of quick dashes and leaps, your body seemingly on autopilot as you weave through the city's darkened backstreets. The silence of the rooftops envelops you like a comforting blanket, the city below finally at rest. A cool night breeze caresses your untamed fur, rustling its unkempt strands. Balancing the package carefully in your mouth, you bound toward your home’s familiarly cluttered balcony.

Your eyes scan over the cluttered balcony, taking in the random assortment of books, clothes, and trinkets strewn across the small space. Your padded paws land quietly on the rough wood, a subtle thump breaking the silence. Your muscles relax ever so slightly as the familiar surroundings wash over you. Without a second thought, you make your way to the edge of the balcony, lowering the package with your paws before curling up beside it, your ears folding back in an almost contented manner.

Your eyes had just shuttered closed as you basked in the soothing midnight breeze, when the sudden crash of metal yanks you from your reverie. Your ears perking up and pivoting towards the source of the disturbance. A low, frustrated huff escapes your snout. You stretch out your limbs, your tail flicking in annoyance as you lower yourself from the edge of the balcony and peer over the side.

Peering down from your perch on the balcony, your eyes widen in surprise. It’s...a boy? Wearing a skin-tight red and black bodysuit with a vibrant yellow cape. A flicker of familiarity sparks in your brain; you’ve seen this one before. Red Robin.

You observe him silently from your vantage point, tilting your head to the side as your eyes rove over his frame. He lets out an exaggerated groan, grappling awkwardly with an unfamiliar piece of gadgetry. A low, scoffing hum leaves your throat and your tail lightly thwaps against the wood, twitching in amusement. You had only seen him in pictures before, but damn, they didn’t lie. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

You lower yourself with a single, fluid motion onto the metal stairwell, feeling the rough surface scraping against your little paws. A small hiss of displeasure escapes your throat, but you brush it off and continue. You approach him curiously, taking a moment to inspect him. Your nose twitches as you sniff at his cape before finding a comfortable spot to sit and look up at him expectantly.

He doesn’t immediately notice your approach, his mind seemingly occupied by the malfunctioning gadget in his hands. You watch as he fiddles with the device for a few moments before his attention finally snaps to you. He visibly jumps, startled by your sudden proximity. He lets out a startled breath, eyes widening. You had gone to him.

You let out a snort of derision. Him, a vigilante? A detective? Unlikely. The thought of him trying to solve a case or outwit a criminal is absolutely absurd. You let your gaze wander over his costume once more, imagining how differently he would react if you were in your human form right now.

He slowly lowers the gadget, his eyes fixed upon you as you recline before him, behaving like an awaiting house cat. He observes you with quiet, analytical interest, his gaze roaming over your small form, taking in your twitching tail and reasonably-groomed fur. He seems to ponder the sight of you, weighing in on your not-quite stray, yet not-quite pampered appearance.

You gingerly shift closer, standing on your hind legs before pawing at his pants. A small indignant huff of disappointment escapes your lips as the material refuses to tear, the tightly-woven fabric holding firmly against your claws, unable to even tear the slightest thread, but you mask it with a small, almost cute "mew". Nevertheless, you are determined to make the most out of this situation. Planning on coaxing all the pets you possibly can out of this man.

He shoots you a curious look, tilting his head to the side. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. He then slowly reaches out a gloved hand, hovering it over your head hesitantly, waiting for your response.

The end of your tail gives a happy flick, betraying your eagerness for his touch. You press your cheek against his knuckles, enjoying the sensation of his fingers against your fur. Instinctively, your ears fold back, granting him better access to run his fingers further through your soft fur. Sucker.

A soft, delighted purring sound fills the air as your eyes flutter closed, your purrs becoming a constant, steady low rumble in your chest as he continues to gently stroke your head and down your neck. Oh, this is heavenly. Your tail swishes contentedly, and you lean into his touch, almost shamelessly seeking out more.

His gloved hand is much bigger than your entire head, the soft fabric of his suit brushing against your fur. Yet, his touch was gentle and deliberate, slowly tracing the outline of your ears and down your spine, causing a blissful shiver to run through your small body. Your eyelids droop further, nearly closing completely, your purring becoming louder as you relax into his touch. You don’t notice the pleased knowing grin that crosses his face.

The weight and warmth of his gloved hand was almost soothing, his fingers weaving between your fur with a sort of rhythmic motion. You let your body go limp, your head rolling back to further expose the underside of your chin, silently begging for more of those slow, careful caresses. Your eyes are almost completely closed now, a small rumble in your chest the only sound you remember how to make. God, you haven’t been pet in weeks.

His hand moves from your spine to the base of your tail, and a low sigh of pure contentment leaves your mouth. He seems to sense your delight and focuses his attention there, running his fingers through the base of your tail, causing you to involuntarily arch your body towards him, purring in approval.

He seems to know exactly what to do, his touch deliberate yet tender. A little too well. It's as if he's somehow mapped out each and every spot that you secretly adore and is now exploiting it to great effect. The constant caresses, pets, and scrabbles have worked you into a sort of euphoric, almost trancelike state, your mind becoming blissfully devoid of conscious thought. All you can focus on is the warm, firm touch of his gloved hand.

The moment is shattered, however, as deep voice from his comms shatters the sweet, blissful moment. Your little pointed ears perk up, instinctively responding to the sudden intrusion of sound. “Tim? Why does it say you’ve stood still?”

You pull yourself from your blissful state with a reluctant huff, the sound of the deep voice in his comm jarring you back to reality. Your ears flick back, annoyed at the interruption. Tim– Red Robin seems to tense up, his hand frozen in mid-pet. He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, looking down at you. "Sorry, I got…distracted."

Your tail lazily swishes against the stairwell, silently expressing your irritation at having been interrupted. You can practically hear his sheepish, nervous chuckle, can practically sense the tension in his frame. "Distracted?" The voice in the comm questions, but you huff, tuning out the conversation.

You let out a small, frustrated huff before turning your focus back onto Tim's still form. Ignoring the man's comm conversation, you push your little, fluffy face against his leg, letting out a needy demanding mewl to regain his attention. You're not done yet, damn it.

His eyes flick back over to you, a mix of apology and amusement evident in his gaze. He resumes his prior motions, sliding his hand down your spine with a soft, comforting caress, tracing the same path he'd followed before. All the while, his other hand is fiddling with the comms device, probably replying to the man on the other end. Good. As long as his hands are still touching you, you don't particularly care what he's doing. “You found them?”

You sigh and let yourself relax once again, the soothing motions of his fingers against your fur quickly working you back into blissful indifference. You let your eyelids flutter closed, sinking back into the soothing rhythm of his touch. The only sounds you can focus on are his breathing, the soothing rasp of his glove against your fur, and the low hum of the comm conversation. This is nice.

He continues this motion for what feels like an eternity, the blissful sensation of being pet taking over your senses and dulling your brain into a euphoric, mindless state. You find yourself leaning heavily against his leg, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the low rumble of his voice against the comms acting as an oddly soothing background noise. Damn, you could get used to this....

Gradually, you become aware of him shifting, his hand leaving your spine. A low whine escapes your throat, your eyes opening to look up at him with a mixture of annoyance and pleading. Come back. You meow, demanding.

You let out a low grumble of complaint as he stands and picks up the device once more. Irritated at the interruption of your moment, you bat at his leg with your small paw, then quickly scamper away, leaping back onto the balcony from before. Now alone, you let out a sigh and circle the small space multiple times. The wood scraping against your claws sharply.

With a quick shift, you transform back into your human form, the small package clutched delicately in your hands. Turning, you slide open the door to the balcony and step through, the cool night air rustling against your clothes.

Tossing the small package onto the countertop, you drag yourself over to the couch. Your limbs ache with exhaustion as you collapse into the cushions with a thud. You bring the well worn blanket with you, wrapping your tired body in its familiar comfort. Your muscles are screaming out for rest. Which you happily oblige.

You're wrenched out of a fitful sleep, eyes fluttering open as the familiar, infuriating sound of construction greets you. Fuck. A loud, frustrated groan escapes your chapped lips. You pull a nearby couch pillow over your head, desperately trying to muffle the noise. With bleary eyes, you squint at the digital clock reading 5:42. You want to die.

The relentless hammering, banging, and drilling outside the thin walls of the apartment pierce your eardrums. You swear you can feel each blow of the hammer, every screech of the drill, deep in your bones. Make it stop. You press the pillow more firmly against your ears, trying in vain to block out the incessant din. You silently promise yourself that if you ever meet the city planner responsible for approving this construction, you'll kick him square in the nuts... Or right in the vagina– whatever. Now is not the time to debate over this.

With a groan of irritation and an abundance of hissing, you force your tired body into a sitting position as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You take a moment to rub your temples for some relief from the dull ache forming behind your eyes.

You open your red rimmed eyes and swing your legs over the side of the couch. The exhaustion from last night feels ten times worse now after being woken up prematurely by the construction racket. You mentally curse whoever’s in charge here, and their entire bloodline. Silently wishing for the noise to stop. Maybe you can sleep in the bathtub later...

You brace one hand against the side of the couch as you use it as support to rise to your feet. A series of satisfying cracks and pops resonate down your spine. By the sound of it you’re a chiropractors wet dream.

You let out a low sigh of relief as you straighten, your back now less taut than it was a few moments ago. Small mercies, right?

With your hands clamped tightly over your tender, sensitive ears, you stumble into the kitchen. You begin searching through each cabinet with a desperation that borders on violent. Your mission? Find the strongest headache pills you have.

After hastily flinging open each cupboard and shelf, you finally find what you’re looking for. A small, white bottle filled half way with little white tabs. With a quick twist, you pop the lid open and pour two pills out into your palm, before downing them dry.

You lean against the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed shut as you press the heels of your hands firmly into your temples. Come on. Work already..

You wait in silence, only the buzzing of the refrigerator and occasional hammering outside filling the air. You press your palms against your temples, as if physically willing the pills to work faster. The tension between your shoulders tight as piano wire.

You let out a frustrated groan, turning the tap on, lowering your head under the rushing water. You gulp down a few mouthfuls, letting the water run over, through, and past your lips. The noise of the tap muffling the sounds of the construction. The coolness of the water temporarily soothes the ache behind your eyes.

You let the water slide past your lips, closing them to savor the cool sensation. Your mind grows blank as you lose track of time, lost in tranquility despite the racket outside. Then, with a shaky hand, you turn off the tap, stepping back as you reach for a tea towel to dry your face and neck. The cloth rough against your tender skin, but the motion is calming, and your shoulders loosen the slightest bit.

You lean back against the counter, the cold marble seeping through your shirt, almost numbing any sensation on your skin. You take another moment to towel dry your hair, the rough material scraping against your scalp, and sending a pleasant shiver down your back. The small action temporarily distracting you from the pounding in your head.

You drop the towel, letting it fall onto the counter behind you. A long exhale escapes your mouth, your shoulders dropping as you relax. For a moment, the water seems to have worked. Unfortunately, the relief is short lived as the headache slowly creeps back in. A low growl escapes your lips. Ugh.

You scan over the bottle, reading the small print. Only twenty minutes before the damn things start to kick in. Shit. You shove the container back inside the cupboard, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. You drag your body over to your room, every step a tedious task.

You stumble into the room and collapse onto your bed, face first. You let out a low groan as your body lands on the soft, fluffy mattress. It welcomes you with open arms. You let yourself go limp, letting the comfort and softness of your bed lull you into a quiet state of half numbness. You can’t tell if it’s the lack of rest, or the pills finally starting to work, but you’re suddenly feeling incredibly woozy.

With a sluggish effort, you shift your head up, wincing at the sharp, persistent thrum in your skull. Despite the throbbing, you slowly extend your arm to reach for the pair of shorts laying on the edge of the bed.

With a weary sigh, you shuck off yesterday’s cargo pants and pull the new shorts up your legs. The simple motion feels like climbing a mountain. Deciding that the headache pounding through your mind was too much to change your shirt, you collapse back onto your bed. The sheets cool against your overheated skin.

You lay there for a moment, letting the comfort of your bed take hold. Despite the headache still pounding through your head, exhaustion slowly starts to take hold of you. Your eye lids flutter as sleep slowly creeps in. But just as you’re about to doze off, your stomach lets out an obnoxious gurgle, the sound piercing the silence. Great.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you shift up from the bed, grimacing as you do so. Your untamed hair sticking up in random directions. You rub your temple, as your stomach lets out another loud grumble. You let out an annoyed whine as the realisation sinks in. You’re out of groceries.

With a disgruntled huff, you haul yourself up for the second time. Reaching for your jacket as you quickly make your way towards the front door. This time choosing to forego the balcony and just walk like a normal person. You swing open the front door and step out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzz annoyingly overhead.

You step into the hallway, your shoes slapping softly against the tiled floor. The sound of the construction is no longer muffled, the endless banging and grinding now clear as day. You wince as the onslaught suddenly becomes unbearable. You quickly make your way to the staircase instead of the elevator. You can’t handle being jammed into that tiny space with the sounds of hell right now.

You take the steps of the staircase two at a time, just wanting to get out of this damn building as soon as possible. Each step echoes with a rhythmic thudding against the cold concrete as you make your way to the ground floor. The headache pills have finally started to work, but the pounding construction outside is slowly undoing their efforts.

You stride past the workers, shooting each of them a murderous glare. It’s not their fault they’re just doing their job. But goddamn it, the headache is worsening and it’s all you can do to not snap at them. Instead, you settle for shooting them a glare that could rival Batman himself.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the angry words building within you. Just keep walking. It’s fine. They’re not at fault here. It’s stupid to be angry at them. You repeat the mantra in your head like a broken record as your legs carry you further down the street. Further away from that blasted construction noise.

You keep walking, your shoes thumping against the concrete as you go. The further away you get from the construction, the more the headache starts to abate. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath of relief as you glance around at your surroundings. Barely anyone was out at this hour, the streets still mostly asleep.

After walking another ten minutes or so, you pause in the middle of the street and let out a string of quiet curses under your breath. The stores won’t be open for at least another four hours, and your stomach is starting to demand sustenance again.

Frustration builds inside of you, your teeth clenched tight together as you shuffle in place. You can’t go back to your apartment because of that goddamn noise, and all the stores that aren’t run by mobsters are closed.

You sigh, resting your tired body against the graffiti-filled wall behind you. There was another option you could try. But whether or not you were desperate enough to do it was something else.

You chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. You hadn't eaten much more than a small yogurt cup yesterday, and your stomach was protesting it's emptiness in a loud, gurgling complaint. You release a long sigh, doing a quick glance around to ensure no one was nearby before shifting into a cat.

The transformation is swift and graceful as you shift into the form of a sleek cat. Your body shrinks, limbs elongating and changing shape as soft multicoloured fur sprouts from your body. You stand on four paws, tail swaying languidly. You give yourself a quick shake, licking your little paws for good measure before looking around again.

You take a moment to get used to the new body you’ve assumed. Everything felt a tad bit more sensitive in this form. Your ears swivel around at minuscule sounds as you sniff the air with your sensitive nose, picking up on the various scents floating through the street.

You decide to try your hand at pity first, before resorting to thievery if your first plan fails. You slink down the street, your paws silent against the pavement beneath you as you search for some poor unsuspecting soul to assist you.

You stalk down the street, ears pricked and head tilted as you listen for the sounds of anyone making their way through the quiet street. You make yourself as adorable as possible: wide, begging eyes and sticking out your chest. A pitiful meow leaving your little cat mouth every so often, just for good measure.

You make your way through the city, heading towards the more upscale side of Gotham. You sway your tail idly behind you, the appendage brushing against the concrete and gathering the dirt that sticks to your fur. You make sure to rub up against some objects, gathering enough dirt and debris to make yourself appear slightly disheveled, but not enough to set off your instincts to want to groom yourself immediately.

You reach a neighbourhood of opulent high rises and well manicured lawns, plush houses and gated communities starting to become more frequent, a stark contrast to the graffiti-filled blocks you had passed before. Your fur is dusted with enough dirt to look untidy without feeling uncomfortable, and you let out a small meow as you glance down the street, scouting for a likely target.

You spot a man of considerable height, around 6 foot tall, with an intimidatingly built physique. His shirt clings just slightly too tightly against his chest, leaving little to the imagination. A scar mars the side of his face, making him look even more menacing. But you’ve seen far scarier looking men loitering at the end of your street. Saying that, doesn’t mean you’re any less scared of his imposing figure. So you quickly duck under the nearest parked car, attempting to conceal yourself beneath it.

You watch in trepidation as the man begins strutting towards the vehicle you’ve hidden yourself beneath. He kneels down in an unhurried, smooth motion, and peers right under the car. His gaze instantly locks onto you, your eyes widening in response to his intense stare. For the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was a look of softness in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected to see you.

“A cat?” The man lets out a small huff, shaking his head in what seemed like disbelief. His gaze drifts to your disheveled appearance, taking in the dirt that clings to your fur. He lets out a low hum, continuing to watch you with a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His muscles slowly relax. A smirk appearing on his face as he studies you closer.

Your tail sways behind you, your ears perking up at his relaxed gaze. A sly little grin of satisfaction threatens to rise to your face, but you hold it back, instead letting out a pitiful meow as you slowly shuffle closer to him. He doesn’t move away, watching your every movement with unwavering eyes.

You lower your head, slowly moving towards his boots. You let your body press against the soles of his shoes, a soft purring sound escaping your little feline mouth. The dirt from your fur slowly coats the previously clean material of his boots, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess.

You continue to press your body against the hard leather of his boots, leaving behind a dusting of dirt. He crouches down, gently reaching out a big hand, careful not to scare you off. You can see the muscles in his arms flex with the action, the veins prominent on his knuckles. He gently runs a finger over your head, scratching just behind your ears.

The feel of his big hand against your head is gentle, his touch unexpectedly tender as he lightly scratches at the skin behind your ear. You let out a rumbling purr, unable to fight the comforting sensation that slowly starts to take over. Despite his intimidating appearance, he’s surprisingly sweet towards you.

He’s a hard-looking man, his appearance disheveled and weathered, a white streak through his jet black hair. His wide physique is almost intimidating, but you can see his heart already start to soften after a few moments. It seems even he isn’t immune to the charm of a pitiful stray cat begging for food and affection.

"What are you doing all the way out here, kid?" The man's deep, slightly grating voice calls out as he continues to gently scratch behind your ear. He's staring down at your small form with an odd expression of concern on his face, his eyes drifting over your disheveled fur.

Your ears perk up at the sound of his voice. Something suddenly seems terribly familiar about it. You tilt your head, glancing up to get a clearer look at the man’s face as you try and place where exactly you’ve heard his voice before.

You look closer at the man, studying his features with a furrowed brow. There’s no mistaking it now, you’ve definitely seen this guy somewhere before. You’re sure of it. But there’s no way you’d ever know anyone this big and intimidating before… right?

The man stands, gently scooping you up into his arms. He gives you a light pat on the head before he starts to move. “Come along then, I don’t need that little shit on my ass for leaving their little obsession stranded so far from home,” he mumbles, as if he’s talking to himself and not you.

You’re left blinking in surprise as you’re lifted from the ground, cradled in the man’s arms. You look up at him as he starts walking down the street with you, a bewildered look on your face. Obsession? Stranded? What the hell is this dude on?

The man continues walking, his stride even and unhurried. He glances down at you and scoffs, as if he’s amused by the sight of you. He mutters something under his breath as he walks, something that sounds like “God dammit, B.” He brings his hand up to give you a gentle scratch under your chin, the gesture almost affectionate.

Your stomach chooses the perfect moment to let out a loud grumble, the sound amplified by being so close to the man’s hand. You can feel his hand twitch against your belly slightly, and he lets out a low chuckle.

“Hungry, huh?” The man drawls out. He stops his stride for a moment, pulling out his phone as he keeps you cradled in one arm. You can’t see anything from this angle, but you can hear the sound of him making a phone call.

It’s only a few rings before someone picks up on the other end. You can faintly hear a voice chatting softly on the other line, even though you can’t make out what they’re saying. The man lets out a small huff of annoyance before holding the phone up to his ear, shifting you in his arms to keep you comfortably balanced against his chest.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker, his voice gruff but surprisingly soft. “Yeah, I’m out on the east side. I found something.” There’s a pause as the person on the other line responds, and you can faintly hear them say something, although it’s muffled and indistinct. The man snorts, his eyes drifting down to you for a moment before he continues.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m bringing ‘em back. Relax,” The man responds to the person on the other side of the line, rolling his eyes. You watch the side of his face as he talks, your ears pricked, ears catching snippets of the conversation. Relax? What do they mean by that? Are they talking about me?

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” the man says, shifting you around again as he begins to resume walking. “I’ll be back in an hour.” The person on the other end says a few more words before there’s a beep signifying the call’s been cut. He shoves his phone back into his pocket before bringing his hand back to keep you cradled against his chest.

You huff softly, feeling a strange mix of irritation and intrigue swirling inside of you. In an attempt to distract yourself, you reach your small paw up, lightly tapping it against the man’s cheek.

It’s a small action, intended to be nothing more than a curious little jab. But against the rough, scarred skin of the man’s cheek, your tiny little paw seems almost affectionate. He glances down at you at the contact, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

He studies you for a moment, a look of almost curiosity on his face. It’s a far cry from the gruff, hardened exterior he had been portraying up until now. He stops his stride for a moment, lifting you closer to his face to look at you more closely.

He seems almost… fascinated by you. His eyes rove over your soft fur and little face, taking in every detail. He lets out a low hum, slowly reaching out a hand and gently stroking your back. “The kid’s is gonna kill me for letting you get all dirty.”

The hand stroking gently down your back is surprisingly soft, despite the callouses and ridges of his fingertips. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, probably trying to deduce what to do. “You’re a mess,” he mutters, his gaze drifting over your disheveled coat.

You can feel the urge to roll your eyes at the man’s words, the comment practically begging for a sarcastic reaction. But you hold it back, reminding yourself of the delicious meal you’re hoping to get out of him. Better hold back on the sass, for now.

Instead, you let your tail flick idly, trying to appear as innocent and pitiful as possible. Come on, man. Have a heart. Feed me.

The dude glances down as your tail continues to flick against his arm, almost as if you’re trying to lure him into doing something for you. A light snort escapes his mouth, his fingers trailing down to give you a little scratch on the head. “You’re a sly little bastard, ain’t ya?”

His statement is more of an off-handed comment rather than an actual critique. He continues to scratch behind your ear, seemingly unable to resist giving you a little affection. His gaze drifts over your disheveled form, taking in the dirt-matted fur and slight exhaustion in your eyes.

He lets out a soft grunt, his touch gentle as he runs his hands through your fur. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, his eyes never leaving your disheveled appearance. “How long you been out here all alone, huh?” he mutters, his voice gruff but strangely sympathetic.

The man lets out a low huff, glancing down at you with an almost sympathetic look on his face. “It’s earlier than we planned,” the man mutters, a hint of regret coating his words. His hand still softly stroking through your fur. “But the renovations are nearly ready,” his eyes taking in your exhausted form. It’s hard to say if he’s talking to you or to himself, a note of assurance in his voice. “So soon, kid.”

You look up at him with a bewildered expression on your face, your little mind still trying to make sense of his words. What is he talking about? Renovations? Who’s he talking to? Who are the people he keeps mentioning? What is even happening right now? But you quickly cover it up and let out a tired-sounding meow, hoping he won’t notice the hint of confusion in your little feline face. He glances down at you, his hand slowly rubbing a soothing circle on your back.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he murmurs, his voice still gruff but the tone softer this time. “You’ll be safe soon enough.” He gives you a gentle pat on the head before resuming his stride. You can feel his arms cradling you against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost lulling you into a sense of security.

Even as your mind races with unanswered questions, the beat of the man’s heartbeat seems to soothe you, acting as a strange form of comfort. His warm arms keep you tucked against him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest steady and unhurried. It’s an almost reassuring presence.

The man carries you down the street, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps and steady rhythm of his heart slowly lulling you into a trance-like state. The exhaustion from the past few days is finally catching up to you, a small yawn escaping your little mouth before you can try to fight it.

You can feel your eyelids growing heavy, exhaustion taking over your small body. The steady rhythm of the man’s heart combined with the gentle rocking of his arms as he walks send a wave of fatigue through you. You try to fight back the overwhelming tiredness, but another small, squeaky yawn escapes your little mouth.

With a soft contented sigh, you stretch out your little paws, making yourself comfortable in his arms. The man lets out a low chuckle as he watches your little legs extend, giving you a gentle pat on the back.

It’s strangely comforting, being held in the man’s strong arms. The sound of his laughter rumbles through his chest, and you can almost hear a hint of affection in the gesture. You feel the weight of your fatigue start to increase, your eyes slowly blinking shut against your will.

You blearily blink your eyes open, suddenly finding yourself lying on a soft cushion. The fabric feels luxurious against your fur, the plush material enveloping you in a comfortable embrace. You dazedly look around, trying to recall how you ended up on this soft surface.

Your little ears fold back as you look around, slowly taking in your surroundings. A brief moment of confusion washes over you as you realize that you had fallen asleep in the man’s arms. But seeing him still here, you let out a relieved sigh, your entire fluffy body moving up and down in the process. Thank everything that he didn’t leave me on the side of the road.

He glances over at you, noticing that you’re now awake. “You finally back with the living?” he says gruffly, his voice tinged with amusement. You can see a hint of a smile on the man’s face, betraying his hard exterior.

You lift your chin up in a defiant huff, letting your tail flick against the soft cushion as an additional statement of irritation. The man lets out a snort, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter at your small act of feigned irritation.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he mutters, his voice taking on a slightly amused tone. He reaches a hand out to give you a small pat on the head, his rough fingers gently stroking your fur.

Your chest lets out a soft rumble, purring at the feeling of his hand stroking through your fur. Your gaze drifts around the room, your nose twitching as you pick up on a delicious scent. Food, your stomach rumbles. Please, be food.

The aroma is tantalizing, making your little stomach grumble loudly in response. You wonder if it's your imagination, or if the man actually has food nearby. The man lets out another amused huff as he notices your nose twitching and your stomach rumbling. “Impatient little thing, eh?” he mutters, lifting his hand from your head to look at you with a slightly entertained expression. Your little paws twitch slightly, as if you’re preparing to go searching for where the wonderful scent is coming from.

He chuckles at your eagerness, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Calm down, bud,” he says gruffly. “Food’s coming in a minute. Ain’t gonna starve ya.’” He gives you another gentle pat on the head, his hand large enough to practically cover your entire body.

You let out a dissatisfied huff, your gaze still darting around to try and find the source of the delicious scent. You want to rush out and find the food immediately, but the man's large hand keeps you pressed firmly on the soft cushion. You squirm a little impatiently, your tail flicking idly against the fabric. Your cat instincts taking over.

He lets out an amused laugh at your squirming, your restlessness making it hard for him to keep you in place. “Hold still,” he says gruffly. “You're making it hard to keep you in one place.” He reaches his hands out again and gently holds you down, preventing you from moving around any further.

You’re not a fan of this guy keeping you down, your instincts flaring up in defiance. Despite the delicious promise of food in the air, you’re tempted to lash out and scratch him just for holding you in one spot. Release me, your inner self growls.

You pause in your struggle, your little ears perking up and your whiskers twitching as the clink of dishes and the soft sound of footsteps approaching comes from nearby. Your nose twitches with anticipation, the delicious smells in the air becoming more concentrated. Food.

You crane your head to get a better look at the approaching figure, your little body shifting slightly on the cushion. The man holding you down also looks up, watching as someone walks into the room carrying a tray of food. Your little mouth starts to salivate, the enticing scents wafting over to you and making your stomach rumble loudly.

The guy releases his grip once you stop squirming, letting you move freely again. You can feel your instincts taking over your little body, your tail curling around your side as you focus your attention on the tray of food being presented in front of you. “Here you are, Master Jason.”

Your eyes are almost glued to the tray, filled with the most tantalizing smells that you've come across. The man– Jason watches you quietly, amused by your little display. The person holding the tray sets the food down in front of you, the various dishes arranged in an almost tempting manner.

You want to purr in delight as you look at the food laid before you. Thank god there’s none of that dreadful cat food in sight. You've had your fair share of people trying to feed you that horrible kibble in the past, and you're definitely not a fan. This food smells a million times better than anything that ever came out of a can. Meat.

You shoot him a glance of appreciation before hopping onto the table, greedily pouncing on the food in front of you. You dive right in, devouring the food with gusto, your little tongue lapping at the meat hungrily.

You pay no mind to him as you feast on the delicious meal laid out in front of you. The smells, the texture, the taste; it’s all absolutely heavenly. You eat like you've never eaten before, your little body almost shaking with contentment. This might just be the best meal you’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.

Meanwhile, Jason watches your little display with a slight smirk on his face. He doesn’t say anything, just watching as you devour the food on the plate in front of you with relish. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, quickly taking a picture of you digging into the food to send to the family in case they ask how you're doing. He lets out a soft huff of amusement at your behavior, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

You're so lost in the food, you don't even notice the older man taking a picture of you. All your focus is singular, eating as much as you can before it’s taken away. The man watches you with a mix of amusement and something else that you can’t quite place. Too absorbed in your meal to notice his reaction.

Once you’ve practically licked the plate clean, you finally feel a sense of fullness, your little belly pleasantly satisfying. You give yourself a little shake, a little bit of food still stuck to your whiskers. Jason chuckles slightly, watching your little satisfied display. He breaks the silence as you finish cleaning yourself off.

“Had enough?” he asks in a gruff voice. His words are gruff and blunt, but you can sense the touch of amusement within them. You let out a little huff, feeling satisfied but also a little bit embarrassed at how fast you had eaten. Too much food, you think, your little stomach feeling a bit bloated.

The next thirty minutes pass by in a blur, your mind fuzzy and filled with the sensation of being inside Jason’s leather jacket as he mounts his bike. He doesn't have a bag or carrier to keep you secure, so you cling onto his shirt for dear life, your little claws digging tightly into the fabric. The wind whips through your fur as the bike roars to life, the force of the breeze making you instinctively cling even harder.

You had assumed that Jason was simply taking you back to the spot where he had found you under the car. After all, there was no chance in hell that you were going to poke your head out of the top of his jacket to check yourself. However, as he stops the bike and unzips the jacket, revealing your familiar surroundings, your tail begins to fluff up in surprise. Your eyes widen as you realize you’re at home, as in, right outside your apartment. The fur on your back bristles, ears folding back. You’re quick to jump off of the vehicle, backing away. What the fuck?

You scramble off Jason's lap and onto the sidewalk, your little paws almost slipping in your haste. The moment you land on the pavement, you take a few stumbling steps back, your tail puffed up and your fur standing on end. How could he possibly know where you live? You hadn’t given away any indication that you lived here, or anywhere for that matter. You had been so careful to stay out of sight, blending into the shadows. There was no way he could have known. And yet… here you are, outside your home. You take a tentative step back, your little feet moving instinctively. Your instincts are screaming at you to run, to get away from this guy who seemingly knew too much about you.

Your eyes dart from the man to the building behind you, your mind racing. Everything inside you is telling you to run, to flee and go hide. You were supposed to be so careful, so cautious about keeping your identity a secret. And now this man standing in front of you, this guy you barely knew, had just pulled up right outside your home. How the hell did he know where you lived? Run, your instincts yell. Run, run, run.

You take another jerky step back, your little paws almost slipping on the rough pavement. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You almost trip over your own feet, your mind flooded with a mix of fear and confusion. How does he know? How the fuck does he know!? You’ve been so careful, covering your tracks, making sure no one followed you home. But here he is, standing in front of you, looking all too calm and collected. You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he knows where you live or how calm he seems about it.

You don't waste another second, your little feet moving as fast as they can. Your instincts are screaming at you to run and get away as fast as possible. So that's what you do. You take off like a shot, darting away from the bike, from the man, from everything. Your focus is on nothing except getting away, getting somewhere safe, somewhere away from this guy who apparently knew more than he should. You dart upstairs faster than you thought physically possible, breath coming out laboured as you panic, not bothering to check if anyone’s nearby as you shift back to human, unlocking your door and slamming it closed behind you.

Jason let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as he watches you scamper off. "Fuck…” he mutters under his breath, watching as your small form quickly disappears from sight. "I didn’t think that through." He scowls, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected you to panic quite that much.

Your knees suddenly give way, and you collapse to the floor with a thump. Your hand instinctively moves to press against your chest, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. Your mind is racing, your body shaking from the adrenaline and panic of the situation. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of your own breathing, your chest heaving as you gasp in sharp breaths.

You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, the adrenaline pumping through your veins making it feel like it’s about to explode. You can barely breathe, your gasps for air coming in quick, sharp pants. Your head is swimming, the world around you seeming to spin and tilt with each jerky movement. You can’t think straight, your mind filled with a swirling mix of panic and confusion. It feels like everything is closing in on you, the walls of your apartment suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

You try to focus on taking deep, calming breaths, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths come out ragged and uneven, each one feeling like a struggle. Your chest is heaving, your heart pounding against your ribcage so hard you’re starting to wonder if it’ll burst. You drop your head down, resting your forehead against your knees, trying to steady yourself. Your mind is racing, thoughts and questions and doubts swirling in a confusing mess.

You desperately try to calm down, to ease the frantic beating of your heart. But nothing seems to work, the panic and confusion making it nearly impossible to think straight. Your head spins as you struggle to take deep breaths, each one catching in your throat like a lump. You can feel your body trembling, your muscles tense and coiled like a spring about to snap. The thought of the man outside your door, the man that knew where you lived, makes your stomach twist in knots.

It feels like your privacy has been invaded, your safe sanctuary no longer feeling so safe. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a small, trapped animal. Your mind races, trying to come up with some kind of plan, some kind of solution to this messed up situation. But you’re too lost in your own head, too focused on calming your panicked breathing to come up with anything coherent.

You feel like you’re drowning, your body overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and the physical response. You need to get yourself under control, to get your thoughts sorted out and figure out what the hell to do. But it feels like your mind and your body are in a constant tug-of-war with each other, neither one willing to give in. It’s like being stuck in a nightmare that you can’t wake up from.

You’re suddenly aware of the silence in your apartment. It’s an eerie stillness that seems to echo the chaos in your mind. The only sound is the soft rush of your own breathing, the beat of your heart a steady drum in your ears. It’s too quiet, and yet it’s almost deafening at the same time. You stay slumped on the floor, your head still against your knees, too overwhelmed to even think about getting up. You can’t breathe.

Your lungs feel like they’re on fire, each breath a struggle against the tight feeling in your chest. Your body is shaking, the adrenaline and panic having physical effects that you’re powerless to stop. You try to focus on calming yourself down, to get your breathing under control, but it’s like trying to hold onto water. Your lungs seizing up with each gasping breath. You try to focus on your breathing, trying to steady the erratic rhythm. But it’s like your body won’t obey, each inhale sharp and uneven, each exhale ragged. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your temples, echoing the desperate rhythm of your heart. You need to get yourself together, to calm down. You need to calm down.

You try to mentally force yourself to calm, to slow down your breathing, but it’s like every part of your body is working against you. Your thoughts are a tangled mess, swirling around in your head like a storm. Your heart is still racing, the panic and fear making it almost impossible to concentrate. You try to focus on something, anything to try and control the chaotic mess that is your mind. But your thoughts keep slipping away, dancing just out of reach every time you try to grasp them. You can't think, you can't breathe, you can't move.

You’re trapped in your own mind, your own body. You feel so small, so helpless, so utterly alone. The silence in your apartment is deafening, adding to the feeling of isolation. You try to will yourself to move, but you’re stuck, paralyzed by your own fear and panic. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, the erratic beats echoing in your ears as you try to force your lungs to take slow, steady breaths. You need to calm down. You need to.

You force your shoulders to relax, your eyes fluttering open. Okay, okay… You can do this. You try to remember the steps you learned for managing panic attacks. Breathe in for four, hold for… You can’t think. Your brain is fuzzy, filled with a jumbled mess of thoughts and memories. You try to remember the proper way to do it but your mind refuses to cooperate. Four or seven? Or was it nine? Exhale for eight. Fuck, I can’t think.

Your mind is a blur, your thoughts chaotic and tangled. You can’t remember the step-by-step process. Something about breathing in for a certain number of seconds, holding it, and exhaling for another number of seconds. But the details are a hazy mess, your panic making it impossible to remember clearly. You try your best, sucking in a shaky breath and holding it for what you think is the right amount of time. But your heart is still racing, your hands still trembling. It’s not working. Why isn’t it working? Why the fuck isn’t it working?

Jason stands against his bike, his gaze fixed on the window of your apartment. He's on the phone with Bruce, his voice low and filled with frustration. "I know, I know…" he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. "I fucked up," he admits, grimacing at his own carelessness.

He listens as Bruce responds, his eyes never leaving the window. He can feel the weight of his mistake sitting heavily on his shoulders. He should have known that you'd react the way you did, and he should have stuck to the plan. But he didn’t. He just acted, without thinking. Just like always, his conscience needles him.

Jason sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly as Bruce continues to speak. He knows Bruce is right, he always is. He’s good at saying the things that are hard to hear but desperately needed to be said. It’s part of what makes him great, but it also makes him irritating sometimes. Like right now.

"I know," Jason replies, his voice slightly sharp. "I get it. But what am I supposed to do now?"

There’s a pause as Bruce replies, his voice muffled over the phone. Jason’s face tightens, his jaw clenching as he listens. Yeah, yeah. Be patient. Easy for you to say.

"I know,” he repeats, his voice strained. "But the kid bolted before I could even get a word in. Now they’re probably scared shitless in there."

There's another pause. Jason can hear the steady timbre of Bruce’s voice on the other end, his words blending in a stream of low, soothing murmurs. He rolls his eyes, bristling at the older man's calm, steady tone. It always makes him feel like a kid being lectured, even though a part of him knows it’s not entirely untrue.

He lets out another sigh, his body sagging against his bike. "I’m trying," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I messed up, alright? I’ll give ‘em time to cool off." He glances back at your apartment, a pang of something he can’t quite identify tugging at his chest.

He nods along to whatever Bruce is saying, his eyes flickering back to your apartment window. He wonders if you're watching him from behind those blinds, if you’re scared, angry, confused. Probably all three, his mind supplies.

He winces at the thought, his hand tightening around his phone. He hates the thought that he might have screwed this up before it even really started. Bruce is probably right, he should give you space. But the thought of just leaving you alone and confused chafes at him, makes him want to just go in there and fix things already. He knows Bruce can feel his tension, can sense the turmoil roiling beneath his stoic exterior. Damn Batman and his stupid emotional intuition.

"Yeah, I get it," he mutters into the phone, his voice tight. "I’ll back off, give them space. But I don’t like it." There's another pause as Bruce responds, his voice low and steady.

It soothes something in him, a part of him that still yearns for guidance and approval, even though he knows he’ll never admit it. It’s a part of him that he usually denies, pushes down, but moments like these have a way of bringing it to the surface.

He's silent for a moment, letting Bruce speak. The older man's voice is steady, a low, grounding murmur that somehow manages to both soothe and irritate him at the same time. He's always been good at that, somehow finding the exact words needed to either calm him down or piss him off even more.

Jason clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together in frustration. He’s torn. Part of him wants to just march up there, kick down the door and force you to talk to him. But he also knows that would just make things worse. He’s not good at the whole patience thing, but he knows that just charging in like a bull in a china shop is only going to make things more difficult. Damn it. He swings his leg over his bike, settling onto the seat. He takes one final look up at your window, his gaze lingering there for a moment. He can almost feel the weight of your fear and confusion from here, like a tangible thing. It makes his stomach twist into knots, his hands clenching on the grips.

But he knows he needs to let you be, to give you the space you clearly need. So, with a heavy sigh, he revs the engine and pulls away.

You wake up with a start, your body jerking out of a fitful sleep. Your body is covered in a cold sweat, your clothes sticking to your skin in an unpleasant way. You sit there in the darkness, your breathing heavy and your heart thumping hard in your chest.

Your room is still, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft sounds of the city outside your window.

Three long weeks have passed since you last saw Jason. The days have slipped by in a blur of routine and monotony. You go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. It's like you're living your life on autopilot, your thoughts often drifting to the man who showed up at your door that night.

Since that night, you haven’t shifted. Something deep inside you, some instinctual feeling, tells you that it’s not safe to do so. So you stay human, your animal form buried deep within you, a constant low hum of unease. The feeling of something bad happening if you shift is a constant nagging in the back of your mind, a feeling you can’t shake despite your attempts to dismiss it as paranoia.

The longer you stay human, the stronger your instincts become. You catch yourself acting cat-like in subtle ways: tilting your head to the side when you're listening, twitching at sharp noises, even finding yourself kneading at your shirt when you’re frustrated. It’s a constant internal struggle, your instincts demanding to be let out while your rational mind tells you to keep them contained. You know it’s not healthy, not sustainable, but you can’t shake the feeling that shifting is just too risky right now.

You’re acutely aware of how unhealthy this is. You can feel the tension building within you, the constant battle between your human side and your animal side wearing you down mentally and emotionally. Your thoughts are constantly consumed with the need to shift, the need to be in your animal form, the need to let your instincts take over. But something inside you is holding you back, some primal fear that won’t let you let go. It’s a constant struggle you can’t escape, a constant mental strain that's slowly but surely eating away at your sanity.

You groggily stumble out of bed, the cool night air hitting your skin like a refreshing splash of water. It’s late, the digital clock on your bedside table reading 2:47 AM. You shiver slightly, your muscles tight and cramped from your restless sleep. Despite the chill in the air, you can’t help the feeling of relief as you step out onto your balcony. The city is quiet at this hour, the usual bustle of the day replaced with a soothing, almost eerie calm.

In a moment of clarity, you realize you’re being ridiculous. You’re tired, you’re frustrated, and damn it you’re tired of living in constant fear. You’ve been tormenting yourself for weeks over this, letting your instincts fester and your body ache from the strain. And for what? What's going to happen in the middle of the night on a Wednesday? Nothing, that’s what. And you’re not going to keep making yourself ill over some bastard stalker.

With a rush of determination, you finally give in. You let your instincts take over, your body shifting and contorting into your animal form. The relief is immediate, the tension in your body melting away as you shed your human skin. The cool night air is even more refreshing in this form, your senses heightened as you take in the night around you. Finally, you feel like you can breathe again, the weight of your human anxieties falling away like a heavy coat. You felt free.

The world looks different through your animal eyes, the details sharper and more defined. Your ears twitch, picking up sounds you'd never notice in your human form. Your muscles twitch as your animal instincts kick in, a low purring sound rumbling through your chest. It's been so long since you've let yourself be like this, since you've just been. It's exhilarating, freeing, like coming up for air after being stranded underwater for too long.

You pad over to the edge of the balcony, your paws making almost no sound on the wood. You look out at the city, the glittering lights and silent streets a stark contrast to the chaotic hum during the day. It’s quieter, calmer, a sense of peace that you haven’t felt in ages. You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs and making your fur stand on end. You feel more alive here, more yourself, than you have in weeks.

Your muscles ripple under your fur as you stretch, arching your back and tilting your head back. A low, rumbling purr vibrates in your chest, the contentment filling you almost overwhelming. You close your eyes, letting the sounds and smells of the city wash over you. You’ll deal with everything else in the morning. For now, you’re going to stay like this and enjoy the freedom.

You sit there for a while, enjoying the cool night air and the sensation of being so deeply in tune with your instincts. The city sounds become a soothing background noise, a comforting hum in the air. You roll onto your back, stretching out your body and letting your limbs go limp. Your tail swishes lazily back and forth.

You roll onto your stomach, your muscles coiling as you prepare to spring. With a powerful leap, you propel yourself onto the nearby roof. Your paws touch down silently, the soft pads muting any sound. Your heart is racing now, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you break into a run. Running as an animal is different than running as a human. It’s more instinctual, more right. You can feel the ground underneath your paws, the muscles in your legs bunching and releasing with every step. You tear across the rooftops, feeling more alive than you have in weeks. The night air whistles in your ears, the city passing by in a blur.

Your stride is effortless, muscles straining as you push yourself faster, the wind ruffling your fur and making your tail fan out behind you. You leap effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, your body a blur of motion. You’re not even thinking about where you’re going, your only focus is on the sensation of speed, the feeling of freedom. Gotham flashes past you in a dizzying array of lights and shadows, your world narrowing down to your heartbeat and the rhythm of your paws hitting the roof.

Time seems to blur together as you run, the hours flying by like seconds. The city blurs past you in a wash of colors and sounds, the lights of Gotham like stars in a night sky. You don’t focus on how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, or even where you’re going. For once, none of that matters. All that matters is the wind in your fur and the feeling of freedom coursing through your veins. Your body is sore and your heart is racing, but you feel alive.

You're so focused on the run that you don't notice the black boots in your path until you're upon them. You slam on the brakes, your body slipping and sliding as you come to an undignified halt in front of a pair of long, outstretched legs. You hiss in surprise and frustration, your heart racing from the sudden stop. You glare up at the figure towering above you, tail lashing.

Nightwing chuckles, a soft, amused sound that you can hear clearly even over the pounding of your heart. He lowers his eskrima sticks, holding them loosely by his side as he kneels down to your level. The hero's eyes are sparkling with mirth, his smile slightly crooked.

"Well, hello there." he says, his voice smooth and rich.

He tilts his head to the side, studying you with a curious gaze. You're still panting from your run, your body tense and braced for a fight. Nightwing's smile widens at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.

"You're pretty fast," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice. He extends his hand towards you, the black, latex covering his fingers gleaming in the low light. He stops just millimeters from your face, allowing you to sniff and inspect him for a moment. His scent is clean and crisp, a hint of something sweet mixed in.

After a few seconds, he starts gently petting you, his gloved hand scratching behind your ears in a soothing motion. “You’re even prettier in person, kitten.”

A wave of unexpected pleasure washes over you as he starts petting you. His touch is firm yet gentle, just the right amount of pressure to soothe the tension in your body. His hand moves from behind your ears to scratching behind your chin, the soft hiss of latex against your fur the only sound in the quiet night. The petting feels ten times better after not shifting after such a long time. You lean heavily into his palm.

“You’re a runner, huh?” Nightwing murmurs, his voice a soft rumble. “Bruce isn’t gonna like that.”

His words are casual, almost conversational, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness to them. He continues to pet you, his hand moving in a slow, soothing rhythm.

“Running around Gotham like this,” he continues, his tone dropping lower. “It’s dangerous. You should stick to the rooftops, little one. Makes it harder for the baddies to get to you.”

As your attention is occupied with looking up at Nightwing, you don’t recognise the second pair of boots that approach. You’re jolted out of your thoughts as another pair of warm hands suddenly scoop you up, grabbing your stomach and lifting you off the ground. The sensation is so sudden and unexpected that you don’t even have time to react. A startled yowl escapes you as you’re lifted off the roof and held against a broad chest.

Your body stiffens in surprise, a low hiss escaping your clenched teeth. Your instincts are screaming at you to flee, to lash out, to fight, but the hands have you in an unbreakable grip.

Nightwing straightens up, sliding his eskrima sticks into their holsters with a practiced flick of his wrists. He casts you a glance, his eyes softened with concern as he looks at your tense form in Robin’s arms.

"Careful, Little D," he says, a slight edge to his voice. "The kitty hasn’t been out in a long time."

Damian just scoffs in response, his grip on you tightening. His body is tense, his hands clenching in your fur, but there’s a gleam of curiosity in his eyes that betrays his indifference. His voice is as haughty as ever, a touch of impatience in his tone. "I know that, Grayson. I'm not a child."

Nightwing hums at Robin’s attitude, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against a nearby AC unit with a slight sigh.

"Sure you're not,” he responds back to Robin with a playful tone of annoyance.

Damian just huffs, tightening his grip on you, causing you to let out a surprised, muffled meow in response. His eyes dart down to you, a slight flicker of fascination in his cold, calculated gaze. He loosens his hold subconsciously. Petting your head in a silent apology.

The younger boy doesn’t respond to Dick’s remark, motioning for him to hurry up already.

With a grin, Dick holds his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. He reaches into his utility belt and procures a small, emerald green and black collar. A symbol you can’t recognise embroidered onto the back where the latch is.

This isn't any average collar that you can find at a pet store. This is high-tech, bordering extravagant. There's a small, golden bell hanging from the front, jingling softly with every little movement made, and there’s a silver, gold-edged tag already attached with some information you can't see yet. But what catches your eye, and fills you with a sense of dread, is the blinking red light on the centre, where it latches onto your neck. With these hook-like latches all around the inside that look all too much like they’ll pierce into you.

Before you can even think to react, Nightwing's already moving. He's faster than you can even register, the collar snatching around your neck in the blink of an eye. It tightens automatically, locking into place with a soft click. You can feel the hooks pierce into your fur and you let out a strangled whine.

As the collar locks into place, the bell on the front gleams in the low light, a soft jingle sounding as you jerk your head back in surprise.

Nightwing steps back, taking in the sight of you in the collar with a critical eye. He reaches forward and gives the bell a couple of light taps, the sound chiming softly in the night air.

"Looks good," he comments, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Tim did good."

Damian hums in agreeance with a slight nod, his grip on you still firm and unrelenting. He casts a scrutinising glance over your form, his eyes lingering on the collar for a moment before moving back to you. He brings his thumb to the latch, pushing into the embroidered symbol. “What was the cast?”

As Damian brings his thumb to the latch, pressing into the embroidered symbol, you hear a soft click, followed by a low chime. You feel the collar loosen around your neck, but it still stays in place. For a moment, you consider trying to tear it off, but a warning tug from the collar's hooks and a glare from Damian stop you short.

Dick grins. “It’s our kittens name, D.”

Damian scowls, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his eyes studying your form intently. It's almost unnerving, the intensity of his gaze.

He presses his thumb against the seal harder, his voice a murmur as he utters your name. When you feel the collar tighten around your neck, you try to jerk your head back out of the way, but the collar holds fast, the hooks attaching themselves deeper into your fur. You try to resist, but the more you struggle, the more your mind grows fuzzy. An intense drowsiness rushes over you, your eyelids growing impossibly heavy. Your vision starts to swim, the world around you growing dark at the edges. As the collar locks into place, the hooks latching more snugly into you, you suddenly feel trapped. Your legs buckle underneath you, sending you sprawling into Damian's arms. The latch on the collar is gone, replaced by a solid, unbreakable ring. There is no way to take it off.

The collar appears deceptively normal, made of a thick dark green leather-like material with a simple golden buckle to secure it. The only thing that gives away its high-tech design is the absence of a latch to clip it open. Most people would overlook it, mistaking it for a regular, ordinary collar.

As you black out and lay heavily in Damian's arms, Dick coos softly, bringing a hand out to rub along your fur. His touch is gentle, his tone affectionate.

"Aren't they so cute asleep?" he whispers, his gaze softening as he looks at your unconscious form.

Damian nods silently in response, his embrace around you tightening just slightly, tugging you closer against his chest. He brings his face down, gently nuzzling his chin into your soft, multicoloured fur, hiding the hint of a smile on his lips.

Dick steps forward, a smile on his face as he watches his younger brother hold you close. He reaches out to ruffle Damian's hair affectionately, before speaking up.

"Let's go home."

Guess who spent three days working on this

Anyway, it’s finally out! Send a comment or msg if you would like to be @ in chapter two and for any anon answers that I do for the fic

I had milk and warm cookies while making this, like a child.

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yandere-writer-momo · 8 months ago

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Yandere Short Stories:

Let Me In

Yandere Francis Mosses (Doppelgänger) x GN Reader

Swish. Swish.

You leaned back as your foot steadily rocked the cushioned seat of your desk chair from side to side. It was yet another boring day of being the doorman for this apartment complex. Yet you couldn’t help the shudder run down your spine from time to time since you constantly felt under surveillance. Then again, perhaps you were going slightly insane from working such long hours in such a narrow space? There was no way someone would stalk you of all people… right?

You let out a low chuckle at your thoughts. You recently felt as if your days melt together. It was the same routine every single day. Stop the doppelgängers from entering the apartment complex. Check their IDs and entry requests. Call their room. You were tired of this consistent repetitive pattern! You wanted some excitement for once-

“Hello.” You jumped to attention when a handsome man stood before you. Your eyes nearly shot out of your head at the blood that stained his face. Was it macabre of you to find that attractive. “I just got off work and I’d like to call it a day in my apartment.”

“Y-you have a little.” Your breath hitched when he wiped the blood off with his thumb and gave you the faintest of smiles.

“Ah. I hadn’t realized I made a mess earlier. Thank you.” The man then handed you his ID and entry request. Francis Mosses was it? He was indeed a looker and his ID checked out… but he wasn’t on today’s list.

“I’m sorry, Francis. You’re not on the list today-“ you scream when he slammed his hands on the window. His half-lidded eyes now wide open and bloodshot. This man no longer looked like an angel, but rather a demon. A demon that would no doubt rip you apart and swallow you whole.

“I’m not on the list? I’m sure you could let me in.” You quickly push the emergency button but his large hands grab the metal doors before you can shut them completely. You gulp when you spot the veins bulging from his gray hands. “Haven’t you been bored lately? You always look so lonely at your desk… I’m sure I could show you a good time.”

Well, Francis wasn’t wrong- no! You can’t endanger the residents! You dialed the D.D.D’s number with haste which made the doppelgänger sigh.

“Fine! Have it your way.” Francis casted you one last look. “But I will be back. And you will let me in. Remember, I’m always watching.”

You deflated like a ballon and sunk back into your chair. Your body felt as if your bones had completely melted from how scared you were… you’ve never encountered such an aggressive doppelgänger before…

“You have contacted the D.D.D. A group of agents has been sent to your building.” The garbled voice on the other end of the line brought you back down to reality.

You sighed and leaned forward to put your face in your palms. What on earth did Francis mean that he would always be watching?

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year ago

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♡︎ 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖 ♡︎

characters: priest!sub!blade x demon lord!nb!dom!reader

warnings: breeding, creampie, eating out, fingering, squirting, monsterfucking, non-verbal ask of consent, dirty talk, feminization (like literally), lactating, nipple stimulation, overstimulation, dacryphilia, size kink, belly bulge, cervix kissing, blade is a demon hunting priest, reader is a demon lord so they can choose whether to have a cock or pussy so basically genderfluid reader???? also reader changes blade’s anatomy to have a pussy and womb — it’s so messy okay😭😭

word count: 4.4K

notes: you KNOW shit is getting real when nobu starts word count. never thought i would be writing a bit of a dark-ish content yet here we are. the power of the horny😔 also inspired by my chat with one of ririshizu’s bots

special thank you to @theblades and @yenaakwyl for proofreading a whole damn 14 pages of filth

being a priest is no laughing matter. especially when you’re the type of priest that hunts and gets rid of demons who somehow ended up with a demon lord clinging to you, who’s constantly at your side, asking you questions about the human realm.

what was up with you, anyways? a literal demon lord, one of the lords of a deadly sin and yet here you were, dragging him around the streets, pointing at random things, wanting to sample every street food there were. sure, your human form was incredibly deceiving. a short, sweet human, clinging to his arm, excitedly pointing at the many different things that caught your attention. it would be hard for anyone to think of you as a demon lord in disguise.

except for blade. he’s been in this field of work for such a long time. constantly vanquishing demons who either were too annoying or possessed a poor, curious soul. the sharp edge of his shard sword is no laughing matter.

but you didn’t seem to mind. this demon lord, acting like a curious puppy, pulling him to each sides of the streets — ignoring the loud angry shouts of the car drivers and the constantly thinning of his wallet of course. not that blade had much to worry when it came to financial freedom. putting his life on the line and vanquishing demons from the human realm pays a generous amount.

it felt wrong to allow you to cling to him. you, a demon lord, no matter what your disguises meant or whatever pathetic excuse you came up with of wanting to sample human food. he should have gotten rid of you sooner yet no matter how much his hands twitch to unsheathe his shard sword, he just can’t seem to do it. no matter what his threats may seem or be heard of, the priest just can’t bring himself to harm you. if anything, he finds himself doing the absolute opposite, to his blatant horror.

“wait, no, don’t do that. the water just boiled so it’s hot, it could burn your tongue”

“you do realize that ice isn’t meant to be eaten, right? no, i don’t care how much of a pretty shape it’s in or if it still has the aftertaste of the coffee”

“if you eat too much raw red pepper, you could have a heart stroke. 14 is enough on one sitting. give it here”

yes, you get the point. a priest vanquishing demon, living together with a demon lord and even protecting them. hypocritical, right?

one night, as you two were cuddling on the couch and absentmindedly watching cliche horror movies that has demons with red skin and horns and a tail, that reminded something to blade. demons have unique demon forms depending on their sins and ‘birth’. but you never once showed an ounce of your demon form. not even a single slip-up.

“hmm? why do you ask? curious?” you hum softly, taking another fistful of the popcorn in the bowl. not that blade minded. if anything, he unconsciously pushed the bowl of popcorn closer to you.

��i guess so. you never even spoke of your demon form whether it has a tail or not” the priest mumbles, his husky voice turning softer just for a moment. or maybe he was just sleepy, judging by his dark eye-bags and little yawns.

oh right, you never did. but then again, blade never asked of your demon form before so, it’s to be expected after all.

just as blade had shrugged off your silence and turned his attention back to the tv, he felt something slithering around his waist. swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he briefly looks down at what was wrapping around his waist. there, snug around his hips was a long, pale white, scaled, snake-like tail. it seemed incredibly long, judging by how it easily wrapped around his hips few times and the rest was just dangling off of the side of the couch.

was this…?

he could feel his hand twitch. itching, something under his skin itching of wanting to reach down and run his hand over the smooth looking scales of the tail.

pat! pat pat!

before blade could even make sense of what the fuck he just did, his hand had unconsciously unraveled from it’s former crossed position. one hand going down, flattening his palm over the smooth, large tail before giving it a few pats. at the same time, he could hear another low pat pat! sounds coming from the side of the couch. must be your tail ends flicking and hitting against the couch, he deducted.

briefly, blade steals a glance at your face. still watching the movie on the TV, seemingly paying no mind to the feeling of his human hand resting over your tail. it was oddly warm to the touch. from the look of it resembling a snake like tail, he expected it to be cold.

slowly, he runs his hand over the scales. soft, smooth and easily gliding over them as if it was nothing. sure, some bumps are felt on the palm of his hand but other than the occasional little ridges, it was completely smooth. how… soothing.

blade doesn’t know how or when but over the course of time you spent at his apartment, these little moments of playing with your tail had become a normal occurrence. little moments of “affection” if you will. fridays had become the weekly movie nights. blade would put on some random horror movie that you chose to be the most interesting based on the summary of the movie. half an hour or so into the movie and blade would feel the familiar scales of your tail wrap around his hips.

the priest would sometimes toy with your tail in hopes of getting you to show your true color of being a demon lord. to make you angry. to make you snap and finally show your true colors. if anything, it had the complete opposite effect as your tail only tightened around him. low, deep rumbling sounds akin to a purr coming from the depths of your chest.

briefly, the priest would catch himself wondering how it would feel to lay his head on your chest as you purr. cats have de-stressing and soothing qualities to their purrs. would demons be the same? sometimes, he would even catch himself thinking of… sacrilegious things. like how your tail would feel wrapped around his legs, opening him up for you. how your form could shapeshift and could have a human male’s anatomy. would you purposefully make it big? would you force it past his twitching rim, uncaring of his whines and pleads to wait?

ah, but that sounded so unlike you. despite being a demon lord, you have been nothing but calm and peaceful with blade. soft hums, nods of agreement, always needing his help and inquiring him of his thoughts on something.

then, would you coax him? whispering soft reassurances in the shell of his ear as you softly push your cock inch by inch inside him. a large, clawed, inhuman hand running over his stomach, talking about all sorts of things, promising to breed him full of your seeds as he cries. opening his legs wide with your tail wrapped around his thighs, wiping away his tears as he cries so prettily?

“f-fuck…” unknowingly, blade found himself with a little problem. another movie night, another time spent together ‘cuddling’. yet due to his own thoughts, blade finds himself embarrassingly hard. shit, he needed to find a way to leave the room and take care of his problem. but your tail way starting to curl around him in loops, just like how a snake would wrap itself around it’s prey.

did you know? know of his raging hard on and was just teasing him now? no. taking a brief glance at your face caused blade to come to a conclusion that you didn’t know. yet. that was the biggest part. or maybe you did considering just how your tail was moving around his waist. slipping under the hem of his shirt, slipping up, curling around his body under his shirt. scale coming in contact with skin. blade almost let out a moan at the feeling if it weren’t for him biting down on his lips.

“[n-name], get your tail off. i need to use the bathroom” internally cursing himself out for stuttering, blade can only hope that you would oblige. gods, just the way you let out a soft “hmm?” while playing innocent, smiling at him and blinking like nothing happened while your tail curls around his skin.

fuck, he was done for. you knew. you fucking knew.

“are you sure? your body seems to react positively from the amount of human interaction that i’ve had until now, blade” the end of your tail circles around his peck. slowly trailing the end as if you were going to squeeze—

“n-ngaah?!” a surprised noise comes from the priest’s mouth before he clenches his jaws shut, brows furrowing together as he tries to ignore the feeling on his chest. soft and slow circles. the end of your tail was wrapped around his nipple, pulling and rolling it between as if it was nothing. shit, when did his chest get so sensitive?

“oh that was a cute sound. do it again” you hum, turning away from the TV and looking at him now. curse you for looking so damn interested and curious as your tail fondles his nubs. blade can feel his pants starting to form a wet patch as his breathing becomes more labored.

“t-take… your goddamn tail off. i swear, i’ll ghh—! chop it into pieces…!” despite his best efforts, his words had no bite. just weak mumblings of a pathetic excuse of a priest being turned on as a literal demon lord tugs at his nipple. he was even starting to quietly whine in place as he tries to swallow down his moans.

“say, blade. i read from somewhere that human chest can lactate when stimulated enough. can you lactate?” blade almost shrieked at your words. lactating? him? while it was true that human women can lactate if they gave birth, he was unsure about men being able to lactate.

“n-no! can’t! i’m a man, it’s impossible for my chest to produce mi—ungh!” his words die quickly in his throat when your tail clenched around his nipple tightly. pulling on it, familiar to a pinching motion. since when did his body get so sensitive like this? or was this all your doing? did you secretly put a spell on him to make him sensitive?

“stop..! [n-name] stop ooungh! please, stop! i’m telling you, i’m a man. i can’t lactate like a woman!” his pleads fall on deaf ears as you slip his shirt off over his head. instead this time, using your hands to knead and fondle his pecks. squeezing, rolling his sensitive nubs between your fingers, even tugging on them. it all got blade letting out uncharacteristic high pitched noises like a cat in heat.

“p-please… stop this, [name]..” blade trails off, red in the face, shame, embarrassment and arousal swirling in his stomach like a hot bubbling lava as he admits defeat and whines helplessly.

“then wriggle yourself out of my tail. it’s loose around you, bladie” you briefly retort as you suckle on his nipple. mouth latched to his chest, biting and planting wet kisses all around his soft pink areola. as weak as his whimpers and pathetic his begging were, he really wasn’t making a single attempt to pull back. you have given him enough chances even now as your tail stays loose around him. yet he still tries to act like he hates it.

switching between giving attention to his two nipples with blade not even thinking of pulling himself out of your tail, the movie plays in the background, long forgotten. you were determined to make this weird human of yours lactate. you can make him!

it didn’t took much longer until blade let out a yelp as a warm liquid drops in your mouth. the taste oddly sweet and a bit thick in texture. realizing that his chest was feeling much more heavier and nipples felt more wetter than before, the priest’s eyes widen in horror and arousal. did you really managed to stimulate him enough to make him lactate?

“oh? so, i was right! humans can lactate regardless of their gender” you let out a soft giggle, internally cheering as a bright smile comes across your face. the sheer amount of exuberance you showed in his lactation had caused blade to feebly attempt to cover his chest.

“don’t! don’t look… it’s embarrassing…” the man whines, shaking hands covering up his leaking nubs. but that proves to be futile as his hands covering his chest had caused him to twitch. everything felt so much and so little at the same time. his poor cock was neglected and weeping, staining his pants as you stimulate his nipples as he whines.

this wasn’t supposed to happen! he wasn’t supposed to be this sensitive to your touches.

but the leaking of his milk had seemed to cause something to stir in your chest. an odd sense of possessiveness and need to claim him growing in your heart, tugging at it. laying your palm flat against his stomach, you rub slow circles onto it. somehow, it had helped to lessen blade’s embarrassment.

“bladie, how would you feel if i were to make you my baby momma?” your voice cuts him out of the trance like state he was in. blinking his eyes a few times with a weak “huh?” as if he hadn’t heard you. with a quiet chuckle, you ask again. repeating the question to him slowly in case he was too pleasure driven.

baby momma? but that’s something that people refer to when women get pregnant right? were you referring to making him pregnant? but that was impossible! he was a man and men had different anatomy compared to women’s!

“i can use a few spells. you would have a female anatomy. but only if you wish to be my baby momma. i would take good care of you and the kids, we’d be together as a cute family. don’t you think we’d be a cute family, blade?” he could briefly hear you hum. but the rest of your words flew over his head since the female anatomy part.

a female anatomy. blade would have a pussy, a womb, cervix the perfect anatomy to get pregnant. he would be a cute baby momma. your baby momma. and he would carry your kids. a child who was half you and half him, a cute bundle of sunshine.

“please… please do. make me your baby momma. i wanna be your b-baby momma..!” blade nods frantically, not even bothering to think over the consequences too deeply. but the prospect of having your kids, of having you inside him got blade rubbing his thighs together, head spinning with all sorts of thoughts as his breathing becomes labored. you said you would take good care of him and the kids! he’ll be in good hands.

although a part of his brain was screaming at him, telling him to withdraw from the touch of your palm running over his stomach, changing his insides, blade could only sit there dumbly. a baby. a cute baby that you two made together. it would be so sweet, so cute. blade couldn’t wait any longer as he silences the logical part of his brain. all he wanted was you now. just you and nothing else.

the process didn’t take long. a few strokes of your hand and soothing whispers to his ear and it was done. or at least, from what you said. and oh fuck, was it true. when you tugged his pants and boxers off, what greeted both of your eyes was a slick pussy, dripping with arousal. seeing how you had successfully changed him, the priest lets out a weak whine, closing his legs to hide himself.

you didn’t seem to like that. clicking your teeth as your tail wraps around his leg, pulling his legs apart and allowing your hungry eyes to feast on his dripping cunt. blade couldn’t help his whine as the feeling of being so empty took place in his head. or was it inside his womb that he felt so empty?

“so sweet. you would look so cute with my cum dripping out of you” you mutter, running a finger up his wet pussy. the action got his hips twitching, trying to make you push your finger inside himself. tutting softly, reminding him to be patient, you slowly ease a finger in. oh gods, the stretch felt so good. so full and filled already despite it being just a single finger that was now slowly massaging his plush walls.

the soft whines and gasps coming out of blade turns into a moan as he throws his head back on the couch. long, navy hair spreading over the mattress as your fingers scissor him open. you would have expected him to be more… reclusive considering his usual act. perhaps you were wrong. the way that blade was throwing his head back, moaning without shame as his warm walls suck your fingers in greedily caused you to almost mistaken him for a virgin. or maybe he was just touch starved. poor thing.

cooing words of how he was doing good, how his gushy cunt was sucking in your fingers so prettily, you lean down to pepper kisses on his clit. long, forked tongue coming out momentarily to slip inside him with your fingers, constantly flicking his clit. the action caused to have made him oversensitive. strong, scarred thighs coming up to wrap around your head, a hand fisting at your locks as loud, pathetic whines of “c-can’t! feelss sho weird! [n-name], can’t—gyuuck! aanh aah♡︎!!” trails off into a high pitched whines as his hips jerk. legs clamping around your head in a vice grip, fisting at your locks tightly as his back arches off of the couch so prettily as he squirts in your mouth. ah right, in your own haze, you’ve forgotten and accidentally pushed your tongue in too far, hitting his g-spot.

well, that was fine. the cold priest sounded so cute and tasted delicious as he twitches under you. it would be fine to fuck him open with your tongue and prepare him thoroughly.

blade doesn’t know what to think anymore. was he even able to think? all he could do was to moan and shriek, trashing about on the bed as something deep and long slithers inside him. his cunt was being fucked open, wet sounds coming out as he gushes all over your mouth, tongue and chin. fluids dribbling down to your chin as you continue to force his legs open with your tail, arms wrapped around his waist and pulling him back into your mouth and fingers.

by the time you thought of him as prepped enough and pull your tongue and fingers out, blade could only weakly whine at the feeling of something pulling out of his warm insides. legs shaking, face flushed as dried tear stains cover his cheeks. his pretty red eyes looked so hazy, mind filled with cotton and statics. you haven’t even gotten to the main part yet!

blade feels something wrap around him. something bigger, warmer and gentle. clawed hands wrapping around his slender waist, pulling him against a massive frame. was this… was he on your real form right now?

tilting his head back to look at you, his hunch proves to be correct. no longer were you in your small human disguise. large, pale white figure with horns, tail and claw holding him in a safe cocoon in it’s embrace. despite having deep hatred against your kin, the priest couldn’t bring himself to hate you. instead, he oddly found your real form beautiful.

“huh…?” his thought gets cut off short when he feels something poke at his entrance. looking down, a sharp gasp escapes him. by the gods were you huge. girthy and long, thick with need and ready to fill him to the brim with your seeds. blade wasn’t sure if he could take such a large thing inside himself as he instinctively shut his legs close.

almost as if sensing his inner worries, you place a hand over his stomach, other hand spreading his legs wider to make it easier for you to slip in.

“don’t worry, pet. i’ll make sure it fits” your deeper, almost inhuman voice hums right beside his ear, sending shivers down his spine. although your words were soothing, the large tip of your cock pushing past his walls, opening his cunt wider was definitely not comforting. fuck, just the tip inside and blade was already thrashing about, shaking his head and stuttering out how he can’t fit it inside him.

“w-wait! w-won’t hhgh fit! ish too big! too bigtoobigtoobig—! m-my lo—oough! aanh! ish t-too fu-uck! big♡︎♡︎” the human squeals, cries, sobs and moans. loud lecherous noises coming from both his mouth and cunt. wet noises flooding the room alongside the low grunts and deep growls. you sounded inhumane, you felt inhumane but blade loved it all the more. the priest loved being spread open by your large cock, pushing past his hole, feeling his plushy walls and insides. ah, he could die happily filled to the brim like this.

finally, after long minutes of slowly easing yourself inside, you managed to fit your cock inside him. snug to the brim, tip kissing his cervix and making blade squeal. legs shaking and twitching, he came on your cock again at the feeling of your tip kissing his cervix. he saw that you were big but not this big! gods, he felt so damn full.

“so pretty, my mate. so full of me and i haven’t even fucked you properly yet” you grunt, deep, inhumane voice breathing by his ear and making him shake and twitch in your grasp like a sweet fawn. blade wouldn’t mind being a sacrificial lamb to you.

through tear stained eyes and blurry vision, he could make out the faint outline of your cock in his stomach. you were too big to the point your were causing a bulge inside him by just slipping your cock inside. how full would he feel after you have properly made him a baby momma? cunt weeping out a mixture of your cum, belly bulging so cutely. just the imagination of such action made blade buck his hips weakly. too fucked out to even utter a word.

feeling the pathetic excuse of movement of your cock, you let out a low laugh. tail wrapped around one of his legs, the other held open by your hand as you finally bounce him on your cock. slowly, slipping yourself in and out and yet the priest in your hand was sobbing as he blabbers deliriously about being fucked dumb on your cock. of having your babies inside his own womb. of being your sweet mate.

blade was a big guy. in human terms and physique wise, he was big. and yet in your lap, held open by your hands, back to your chest as he allows himself to be dumbed down on your girth made blade realize just how damn small he was compared to you. sure, he was big in human terms but compared to you, he was absolutely nothing. just a small hole for you to use. a fleshlight to be filled with your cum until you were satisfied. your baby momma to have his chest fondled and squeezed until his chest grows sore and heavy. milk leaking out it small globs from his sensitive pink nipples.

“my pet. my cute mate. my sweet other half. my adorable breeding bitch uhng… so fucking tight. so warm and tight like the cute little thing you are” blade could briefly hear you groan, heavy breaths falling on his neck, making him shiver at each breaths. making him cry and moan in a shrill voice like a girl each time your cock slid inside him. plunging deeper into parts he never knew before, grazing that one soft spot that made him shriek, tip hitting his cervix at each thrust. blade was so sure that it was bruised now. not that he minded it, the pain felt good to him.

“y-yours—! yours yours yours! your c-cute ma—aaanhg! aaanh haagh gyaaamf♡︎ y-your mate. your oouungh other half. y-your adorable♡︎ breeding bitch—!” blade’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, head throwing back to your shoulder when he felt your hand press on the bulge in his stomach. it felt good. so good that he immediately squirted on your cock again at the sheer pleasure the pressure brought.

but of course you wouldn’t stop. you would keep going, forcing his small body to bounce on your cock, occasionally tweaking his nipples, rolling his clit between your fingers. you were damn adamant on making him pregnant, breed him until you were damn sure he was knocked up.

he was yours. your human. your mate. your fated other half. your cute breeding bitch and you would be damned all over again if he ends up not getting pregnant by the time you’re done. blade was yours. no one else would ever take him away from you. no one. no one no one no one, no one else—

“AAANGH! M-MY LORD♡︎ c-cock giick! sho full…” the human shrieks and twitches in your grasp, legs weakly thrashing around as you finally cum deep inside him. the warmth of your seed spurting inside his gummy walls, painting his insides white causing blade to cum again. blade felt so full, the skin of his stomach stretching a bit to accommodate to the great amount of cum that was inside him. it felt so warm and sticky. messy, as it dribbles down your shaft, his small human body unfit to keep it all inside himself.

“my cute mate…” you purr softly, arms wrapping around your mate as he twitches and shakes. cheeks stained with old and new tears, jaws slack with drool dribbling down with his face as red as his eyes. he was yours now. blade was your human now. the weird priest was yours and no one would ever take him away from you.

“mine” with that final declaration, you placed a soft kiss to the crown of his head. he seemed to relax at the kiss, sinking against your chest as he black out. that was fine. you’ll make sure to breed him again once he wakes up.

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lilacxquartz · 18 days ago

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part 17 of 19 of kinktober: trapped

pyramid head x gn!reader

plot: while exploring the town, you find yourself incapacitated in the worst possible position — themes: warning for non con, dark smut, gender neutral reader, size difference, monster fucking, horror, gender neutral smut — w.c: 700ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

You were incapacitated.

Trapped in between the barely pried open iron bars, providing just big enough of a gap for your upper body to squeeze through and then… stall. In a way, it was humiliating, but in another sense, it was also terrifying because existing within the town as a whole was a death sentence in its own right. From one little miscalculation—you had potentially doomed yourself.

You tried to dislodge yourself again but the bars were too narrowly placed and you couldn’t push or pull yourself neither back nor forth and in doing so, you only found yourself more stuck than before. Panic quickly swept through your being in violent waves, abandoning all sense of rationality in favour of a hurried escape but nothing was working—but then finally, you heard it—the all too familiar scrape of metal, the thud of staggering footsteps—oh no, no, no… he was here.

You turned your head slightly back to just about catch a glimpse of him filling out the doorway, blocking all gaps of light that otherwise cut into the cell. In an attempt to avoid your flesh likely meeting the blade, you strove to push yourself forward, to at least nullify his efforts to strike you down… but then something else followed suit.

You froze as you felt his calloused hands brush around the soft contours of your exposed flesh; his fingers breaching the torn fabric and tearing away the cloth from the skin, readily exposing you to him. You remained statued in place as you feared for the worst, unable to quite comprehend what he was actually doing to you; almost delicately feeling you up—pushing—spreading your legs apart, ripping away at anything that acted as a barrier between you and him.

You tensed as you quickly understood what was following suit; feeling the tip of something very obvious poke against your most vulnerable parts. You writhed around and squirmed under his grip like a fish out of water, only to remain caught and hooked in his presence, feeling him drive into you in a near hungry pursuit. You gritted your teeth as you felt him force himself inside of you, feeling overwhelmed by his monstrous length that completely filled you out to the brim.

With shuddering, quaking cries, you softly wept as he continued to take in his brutal girth, feeling his cock slide in and out of your insides and stretch you out beyond a recoverable limit. With an unforgiving pace, Pyramid Head continued to hilt himself into your core, feverishly bucking into your body as a radiating, almost scalding pain akin to searing agony settled within the confines of your form. Of course however, he showed you no mercy, pounding into you with a near primal fervour; his hips slamming against your behind with each sawing motion.

Somehow, he grew needier as he continued to violate you—his fingernails digging bleeding crescents into the soft peaks of your ass, kneading against the cushioned skin and spreading you open as far as you could physically handle. It was as if he was trying to force you to accommodate the entire capacity of his impossible length, taking advantage of the limiting position, knowing that you couldn’t just pull yourself away.

Nearing his impending climax; his movements soon became more erratic and maybe even sloppy. He leaned his towering form closer wherever he could press against your bare back—causing the iron bars to crack open further—growling out heated breaths that rolled hot down your spine. Each passing thrust caused for you to shake, prompting you to involuntarily roll your eyes to the back of your head and perhaps even see stars from just how overwhelming it all truly was.

Just as you were about to pass out however, the monster finally came undone with one final violent rut of his stuttering hips. You gasped as you felt a stream of hot oozing warmth fill your senses to such an extent that your stomach nearly bulged from his pent up release.

Thinking it was all over, you tried to close your eyes to recover—but then you were promptly taken out of the cell, readily carried around like a rag doll, to be used and paraded around per each of his passing whims.

In a way you were thankful that he wasn’t going to end you outright.

But then you realised what your life was about to become and that much had otherwise terrified you.

Not quite a mercy after all and worse yet, rather a sentence in the hell you found yourself in.

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nothomegal · 9 months ago

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HIII I MISS YOU :(( straight to the point, I need a yandere pyramid head fic!!

I´m sorry for the disappearance ;v; Can't post much due my studies.

Anyways, I ADORE your suggestion! And boy if our little (Y/N) is going to have a rough time with a yandere creature like Pyramid Head ._.)

Welp, let's start the story!

"Innocent lamb"

(Yandere!Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Summary: the entity's realm was hell for some, heaven for others, and an inconvenience for the rest... But when one of the creatures encountered you, he made it everyone's problem, even the entity's that brough him there in the first place. But he meant no harm to you. He likes you. He wants you. He needs you. And he wͦ̀ͯi̸ll̩ͩ have Y̛̗̰͇͚͓͈̣͕̰͓̗͛ͤ̀̇̍ͥ͒̓͝Ơ̵̔_̰̅U̵̷̡̧̡̨͖̟̹͙̙͓̥̗̫̣̙͉͕͉̣̬̇ͭ͗̉͂̅̍͗̇̇́́̈͟͞

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, violence and violent acts, quite angst(y) mood in general, (understandably) terrified reader darling :(.

Word count: 4.2k

The moment they entered the trial, all four survivors knew right away who the killer was. Either its the dread they all felt as soon as their feet made contact with the ground that gave it away, or the fact that the entity had placed all of them in the same spot next to two generators just to have any chances to make it out alive.

But they know it's in vain, they know they're doomed for a long long death by bleeding out.

They know it... Because (Y/N) is with them.

Said survivor had to bite their lip to avoid crying, as guilt and terror embraced them. Just because the monster had this unholy obsession with them it didn't mean they were okay with it, if anything it scared them more.

He, Pyramid Head, the Executioner... Or however you want to nickname him, is said to be one of the most powerful creatures the entity had the pleasure to bring, so powerful in fact that the spider-like being had to make a deal to bring him.

So it's not surprising that they are absolutely horrified, but who wouldn't? This monster, an embodiment of pain and punishment, almost a god, has been hunting them relentlessly ever since he laid his gaze or... Helmet? On them.

At first it was all jokes and gags;

'Aww look, (Y/N) has a boyfriend!'

'Watch out, here comes your crush (Y/N)!'

'Uh-oh, the triangle man seems jealous, look how pissed he is at Nea for healing you!'.

But the jokes stopped when it got clear how truly messed up and sinister said 'crush' is.

They still remember it, it was a regular match against that one masked knife wielding guy that runs a lot, he's called 'Legion' they think. The trial was going relatively well, just like many previous ones. Until it suddenly got an 180° turn when one of the walls to the realm was literally destroyed by a hulking mass of muscle and a giant knife. To say both (Y/N) and the killer nearly had a cardiac arrest was an understatement, things got so ugly that the entity had to intervene and cut the trial short.

That incident could be a fuel for a new wave of jokes, could... If it didn't happen again. And that next time was even worse, the beast nearly made his way into the survivor side of the realm, somehow bursting through the barrier the entity had created to keep the survivors separated from the killers to avoid any pity fights after trials.

Ever since that event, Pyramid Head was strictly kept in 'his' realm, aka Midwich Elementary School.

Sometimes, after escaping through the gates and running back into the camp through the fog, (Y/N) could swear they can hear the monster roar in the distance. Loud, distorted and fierce howls resonating somewhere behind the dense fog, as if the creature was desperately trying to yell out their name. Either to let them know how badly he wants them or a promise to break free and get them... Both possibilities giving them chills.

The entity of course wasn't okay with this, it was pissed! But it also could do so little... The great deal now had turned into a major curse. If the deal is broken, the Executioner won't hesitate to damage the realm to get what he wants. But if it remains, the monster will find new ways to bend the rules and make it everyone's problem.

Why the entity doesn't just give (Y/N) to the beast or gets rid of them ones for all? No one really has the answer. Some think it's due the entity's pride, or the possibility of the executioner going ballistic. For now, it's more of a silent (and petty) battle between two stubborn beings, each of them refusing to back away from their goal.

Goal. The entity's goal, though still confusing, is more or less clear; force people and creatures to play these twisted games and feed on those who get sacrificed. But the executioner's goal? It's straight up a mystery. (Y/N) know it has something to do with them, but... Why them exactly? Why not Cheryl? Didn't she come from the same place as that beast? What the monster even wants them for?

What will he do when he finally gets his hands on them? Wh-

A rough shake snapped (Y/N) out of their internal break down.

They blink a couple of times, tears of fear nearly sliding down their cheeks as their body shivers. They were scared, more than the other three survivors combined.

The survivor holding them by their shoulders, David, sighs when he finally notices them react.

—"Look, I know you're scared..."— he starts talking, his voice surprisingly calm.

—"I'm-... I- I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry-..."— you choke out in a weak wobbly voice, guilt eating you from inside.

—"No no. Just listen for a sec. I... Well, we all can tell that you aren't enjoying it neither. So, let's not break down into a soap opera, okay? Don’t think of this as hopeless match, but as another chance to woop that asshole's ass and escape."—

—"And also leave him empty handed!"— Feng announces from her place while already working on a generator.

—"Yeah, screw that triangular piece of shit! Let's try out Dwight's strategy this time. You remember it, do you?"— he asks you, not letting go of your shoulders yet.

The surprisingly positive and reassuring words of their teammates towards them really soothed and even cheered (Y/N) a bit. With a small smile they quickly wipe their eyes before nodding.

—"Good, see? We're already starting on a good note!"— he lets go to then pat your back, basically pushing you forward. —"Now go help with a gen before putting the 'plan' into work."—

Though the push hurt a bit, (Y/N) didn't care at all about the pain, too focused on keepings all the negative and pessimistic thoughts away.

For the first minute and a half everything was going well, (Y/N) and Feng were working on one generator while David and Jonah were working on the other one. The four of them were dead silent, straining their ears for any of the sounds the creature makes, such as heavy footsteps, the scraping of his gigantic knife or their own heartbeat. Weirdly enough, everything was calm... Too calm.

(Y/N) nearly choked with air when a cold chill ran through their spine.

Spine Chill. The beast... Is watching them.

They attempt to subtly alert Feng by carefully tapping her leg, but as soon as their fingertips touched the other girl’s skin, their heartbeat started to get louder and louder, until…

—“WATCH OUT!”—

(Y/N) exclaimed as they pushed Feng, just in time to dodge a bunch of sharp and rusted metal pieces coming out the ground.

—“Holy-...”— she mutters.

Now that the monster is here, the four survivors decided to put in action the mentioned strategy.

They all let go of the generators and run away in different directions, (Y/N) being the most desperate while running since they know exactly who the beast is targeting.

His pattern is always the same; chase after until sending them into a cage to then down all of their teammates and then come straight back to all caged and helpless (Y/N) and then… Stare or touch them until the others bleed out or the entity has enough.

The difference in the current case, is that (Y/N) is not playing just cat and mouse. In fact, chasing them is the worst the killer can do. All of their abilities are chase oriented, another teammate lurking around has all the boon ones, while the last two have all is needed to rush through the generators. If everything works out, the monster will get himself in a situation where he's be forced to leave (Y/N) alone.

The chase was intense, at least for (Y/N). Despite never catching a clear view of the Executioner, they could feel him close behind, following them methodically like a wild animal on a hunt, waiting for the right moment to strike while keeping up the tension.

It was hard to maintain the focus, every single hallways in The Game looked the exact same. Did they vaulted that window already? Didn't they pre-dropped that palled over there? Did Feng placed it up again? Are the other two working on the generators? Have they taken this left path before?

So many questions where swarming their mind as their legs kept carrying them on, only momentarily relaxing when two generators finally made that distinguish noise.

Two done! Tree left.

A breathless laugh escaped from them. Great! This is already going better than all of their previous encounters with the Executioner, which would always end with the first generator barely reaching 30%.

However, their smile was quickly swept when they realized they no longer hear their heartbeat or thundering footsteps tailing behind. It was silent, dead silent, with no other sounds that their own breathing.

A wave of anxiety flushed through (Y/N) like a tsunami wave and started to drag and drown them deeper into their own worries.

What the?... Okay, this was not part of the plan. The Executioner had never left the chase with them, never. So the fact that he finally did, and apparently a while ago, made them shake.

With nothing else to do, they gather the courage to start moving again. Where? Somewhere! Anywhere but to stay in place and be an easy target to the beast that so desperately wants them.

They keep running, stopping only for a brief moment before turning a corner, making sure they don't hear any muffled breathing that at times resembled growls. They learned the hard way with the Shape that some killers like to wait around corners, and they don't want to commit the same mistake right now.

Their heart jerked when they heard a scream resonate from their left, and a faint reddish aura in the shape of a human gleamed for a second before disappearing.

David is down.

And it seems like he's not getting picked up, which could either mean that the monster is setting up a trap or chasing someone else. Whichever the case is, they shouldn't go-

They hear a bunch of footsteps come their way, and in a set of panic they crouch behind a bunch of boxes, silently praying that their disguise is mildly good.

They can't see much from their spot, but they can clearly recognize the shape of Jonah running away from something massive.

As soon as the two figures passed by, (Y/N) gets up and takes off running towards David to check on him.

After some wondering around the labyrinth-like place, they finally reach their injured teammate, who was still on the ground and groaning from pain.

—"{David!}"— you whisper-yell as you start running towards him.

He weakly lifts his head just enough to see them. When he recognized who it is, he starts to frantically shake his head.

—"NO! GET THE FUCK OUT!"—

Huh? What-

As (Y/N) is about to reach David, a path of sharp metal pieces and razor wires had emerged right in front of them, just when they're about to make contact with the floor again, making in impossible to dodge.

The second their leg got tangled into the sharp metallic mess, everything went too fast. They don't even have time to pull away as something sliced them on their side, sending them directly on the ground.

They send a guilty and ashamed glance to David, who had an frustrated expression.

—"{Sorry...}"— you mouth.

(Y/N) has no chance to see David's answer as a massive hand suddenly curled around their throat and forced them to look away from the other man.

Their eyes wide at the sight of the beast menacingly hovering over their helpless form, holding their body in place between him and the ground. The muscles of his extended arm were tense, his breathing heavy, almost like he's holding back the anger and displeasure caused by them giving attention to someone else.

Their heart skipped beats, their breath uneven, their eyes watered as they tightly closed them, not wanting to witness whatever this thing was about to do. They can feel the warmth coming from his body, his breathing slowly stabilizing, as if staring at them and watching them slowly submit was enough to calm the monster. Ironically, it did the complete opposite to (Y/N), as their own heartbeat raised from the anxiety of having to face the unknown, attempt to predict the unpredictable and prepare to witness another massacre unfold around them at any second... Just to then end up caged and at the mercy of this-

—"LEAVE THEM ALONE ASSHOLE!"— David angrily yells from his place, struggling and trying to stand up. —"You're fucking terrifying, of course they don't want to look at you!"—

They can feel Pyramid Head's hand tense and start shaking, his fingers twitching and pressing further into their skin. (Y/N) was beyond terrified now, just a little bit of pressure and the creature could crush their throat like a cardboard tube.

David, though clearly using all of his strength, ended up falling back on the ground, as if some invisible weigh is actively pushing him down.

—“You freak! Absolute sick fuck! Let them go already!”—

As the waterfall of profanities continues, (Y/N) slowly places their hands around the monster’s wrist to attempt to push his hand away, unfortunately he didn’t budge at all.

Suddenly, David’s stops screaming and the very next second (Y/N) feels something warm and slippery press against their cheek.

They jerk in place at the uncanny sensation and shoot open their eyes, a breathless gasp escaping them at the sight of a… Wh-What even is that? A freaking tentacle? A tongue?…

The dark pink muscle wiggles in front of their face for a moment before licking another stride, wiping some of their tears and blood in the process, making (Y/N) shiver in discomfort.

They shoot a confused glance to David, desperately wanting to know if he’s witnessing this too. The man had an expression of pure ‘what the fuck’; eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and mouth slightly gaping.

This eye contact was brief though. (Y/N) got startled for a loud growl that reverbed from the beast's chest and helmet. The hand finally leaves their throat as the beast stands up to his full height and starts making his way to David, leaving them alone, as well as his knife?

(Y/N) throws their teammate a scared look, but David responds with a forced smirk.

—"Ah, now you decide to drag your big ass towards me."— he mutters through gritted teeth.

The monster seem to not react to his taunts. With each step that he takes towards David, his mask of confidence seems to crack.

Nevertheless, the man didn’t back out from his insults, he never does.

—“What’s wrong? Why so pissy, huh?! Jealous that (Y/N) prefers us?!”—

Saying their name was a sore spot to hit, and the way Pyramid Head reacted confirmed that.

The monster roughly grabs David by the neck, completely ignoring the fact that he’s not even holding his weapon. Instead he uses his bare hands to silence him.

Nasty, wet and crunchy sounds resonated through the room and hallways as the creature began to tear the man’s body limb by limb, piece by peace, unbothered by the pained screams of his victim or the low groan of displeasure that resonated from above for again not playing by the rules.

(Y/N) froze in horror at the sight in front of them. Blood, chunks of flesh and bone pieces where flying everywhere, never before they’ve witnessed this type of gore, not even during the ‘mori’.

Though it felt like the massacre lasted hours, it was actually second. The monster threw the whatever remaining he had in his hands and slowly turned back to (Y/N), who was still frozen and unable to look away from what was left from David. They know they will meet again in the fire camp, in one piece and alive, but god they felt sick...

Their shock breaks only when the thundering footsteps began to resonate again, shaking the ground underneath them with each the creature took. He grew closer, and closer, with them being able to do absolutely nothing aside from attempting to crawl away.

But that pity attempt was stopped when the same sharp wires and rusty metal pieces emerged from the ground and wrapped around their body, pulling them slowly underneath and sinking them further into the ground. And before they realize it, their body is already trapped in that rotten metallic cage.

Cold metal spikes just inches away from their flesh, so close to penetrate their skin, a wrong move and they would undoubtedly get hurt. But even if they wanted to move, they couldn't really. The space in the structure was small, claustrophobic even, each spike perfectly adjusted to keep their form in place. In some twisted way, it felt like a hug, a very cold, unwelcoming and unnerving hug.

They flinch when they hear a scream resonate from somewhere, which was cut by a loud slam.

Feng was caught.

It seems like the Executioner didn't bother to down her, rather getting rid of her directly, most likely because he's aware that Jonah is not keen of going for rescues...

And speaking of the man, there is his aura flashing before (Y/N)'s eyes as his body fell on the floor.

He's down... Which means that-

Before they even finish their conclusion, the tall figure of the monster appeared. Just by looking at them his behavior seemed to change; movements more erratic and pace uneven, almost like he's hypnotized.

He makes his way to them, slowly, as if purposely building up the tension.

(Y/N) wanted to look away or close their eyes, but whenever they did so the cage felt painfully small. It hurt, literally, so they stare at that beast grow closer with wide shaky eyes that struggled to keep their focus on him. This is something Pyramid Head was always good at, he could always make you fear, even the toughest bravest ones would inevitably succumb to the terror his presence brings.

Ones in front of them, the creature stops in place and simply stares, like he always did.

(Y/N), though still scared, was a tiny bit relieved that this is what the rest of the trial would be; them being pinned like a butterfly with the monster observing.

It would be just that.

Just this bizarre staring contest.

...Right?

WRONG.

The creature suddenly let go of his weapon and grabs the edges of the cage with both hands quite violently.

Now the little hope and comfort (Y/N) had was thrown out the window, as now they realize they no longer have any idea of what will happen next.

And by what it looks like, the entity is not planning to intervene, as if curious itself to see what will happen next.

Pyramid Head remains like this, his big hands tightly squeezing the imperfect metal bars, bending them slightly and making the already miserable looking material groan from the pressure he was applying.

It looked like he wanted to destroy that cage, rip it apart and get to them, but didn't do it by holding himself back... Why? What's even the point of this build up? What's even the point in wanting them?!

—"{Wh-...Why?...}"— you choke out in a very quiet voice. —"{Why a-are you d-... doing this?...}"—

(Y/N) knows is stupid to ask, Pyramid Head can't even speak! But they can't help themselves, they're too scared, their anxiety is unbearable and their thoughts are too out of control. They need answers, anything that could even hint for a possible explanation of the killer's intentions.

They began to second guess their decision to speak when the creature froze in place, even his breath was now inaudible. This was the first time (Y/N) spoke directly to the monster, but they didn't expect him to react at this fact, not like this, or at all.

But he did, he did acknowledged that little detail, and he will make sure they acknowledge it too.

The creature soon moves again, by slowly leaning closer and slightly tilting his head to the side, almost like trying to get a better look at them.

His breathing got heavier, low huffs and growls resonating from that metallic helmet of his. It really looked like he was actively holding back some major urge or desire, but what it is?

(Y/N) wanted to ask again, but decided against it as there is little Pyramid Head could do to answer, and even if he could, why should he? Maybe it's more amusing to him to see them helplessly wondering in the dark and unable to comprehend what's going on.

Or maybe, there is simply nothing to explain?... Maybe he does what he does just because? Human mind is way too used to seek for reasons and explanations for anything and everything, often forgetting that sometimes the answer is way too simple or straight up null, could that be the case?

The same groan coming from the cage bars pulled (Y/N) out of their thoughts. They forget how to breathe at the sight of the structure slowly collapsing as the monster starts to rip the bars with his raw strength.

A scared yelp escaped them as they try to back further into the cage as much as they can, ignoring the sharp edges that scratched or pierced their body. They barely felt pain, none at all actually, the adrenaline and basic survival instincts keeping their body resilient and ready to run. The sad part is, is that there is nowhere to run, nothing to do. It's sweet that their body tries so desperately to keep their hopes up and reassure their survival, but their mind is more than aware of the cold desolated reality...

The front part of the cage was eventually ripped off and thrown against the floor violently. (Y/N) can only cover their eyes with their hands and quietly sob as they wait for whatever the monster had planned to do next.

Even when no further actions are made, they refuse to look. They no longer want to face this thing, they no longer want to suffer this torment. Regardless if they believed in any religion or no, they mutter silent prayers under their breath, but not no save them, but to make it end and to know how sorry they are for any evil or harm they've did in their life that leaded to such tragic conclusion.

But this is where the catch is... They've committed none. At least from the Executioner's perspective.

Despite their whispers being so silent to a non-existent point, Pyramid Head heard them loud and clear. And the more he heard their voice, the more he felt the inside of his chest burn and the desire for them grow even more. (Y/N) is not perfect, they're human after all, and all humans have their fair share of flaws and defects... But unlike the rest, (Y/N) has the ability to acknowledge said imperfections and genuinely try to make up for them, to fix them... Regardless if they get something in return or not.

This, this is the true purity in a human being. An innocence and kindness so genuine that it would be a sin not to worship and protect... And who is a best fit to take care of it other than the fearsome Pyramid Head?

(Y/N)... So pure... So innocent... So kind... He must keep them save.

He must keep them...

He wants them...

W̴͕̳͈͔̭̝͠ͅ a̶̩̰̲̎̓͊̈̓̕ ǹ̴̢͇̬̘̗̯̜̍̋͊͠͝͠ ṭ̶͇̃̔͝ s̶̭̩͔̹̝̼̅̍̆̉͌͝

As the monster is about to reach them, a spider like legs burst out through the floor and wrap themselves around (Y/N).

The trial... Is over.

And while the absolutely livid roar gets overshadowed by the groans of the entity as the black fog surrounds the whole place. (Y/N) only keeps quietly sobbing as they cling to the spider leg sticking out of their chest. And though they knew the entity is the main responsible of their current torment, they were too overwhelmed with emotions to properly process their actions.

Surprisingly, the spider-like being didn't disappear right away, probably feeling pity for their situation and allowing them to cry for a brief moment, most likely to compensate this unplanned mess they have to deal with.

To everyone's surprise in the camp, when (Y/N) finally arrived they where unconscious, either passed out after such emotional roller coaster or the entity wants them take some genuine rest. Whatever the case it, it didn't matter, what matters is that their fellow friend is back save and sound, right?

As one of the survivors decided to take them closer to the bonfire for warmth and comfort, they could swear they heard some weird noises from afar.

It resembled a demonic cry filler with rage, so distant yet menacing. Everyone instinctively shivered.

And though (Y/N) successfully 'survived' yet another trial with the executioner, almost everyone had the gut feeling that the next encounter they have with the beast, it will not end good...

They all take a glance at their still unconscious form.

Poor (Y/N)...

#nothomegal ask reply #nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #pyramid head #pyramid head fic #pyramid head x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #gn reader #dbd fanfic #dark romance #dbd x reader

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deadghosy · 4 months ago

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DARK VAMPIRE! TOM RIDDLE X HUMAN! READER

Vampire! Tom who grabs you, pinning you down so he can bite his fangs into your neck.

Vampire! Tom who would absolutely rubs his cold hands up underneath your shirt while biting you. He loves the smell of arouse from you.

Vampire! Tom who does nothing but stalk you in the dark. Watching you closely as he trails you down like predator to their prey.

Vampire! Tom who drinks your blood but stops when you hit his bicep hard.

Vampire! Tom who licks your neck if some of the blood drips.

Vampire! Tom who would kidnap and hide you from the world if you dare disobey him once.

Vampire! Tom who stands by the quote “if I can’t have you, no one else can.”

Vampire! Tom who does everything in his power to wait for you to say yourself you want to be a vampire with him. But his patience is running thin my love.

Vampire! Tom who understands you have human needs, you don’t feed off of blood. You need water and food. So expect for him to hilariously have a plate of your favorite food and drink in his hands when you wake up.

Vampire! Tom who grips you away from anyone he deems as competition. His eyes burning holes into the person’s brain. Whispering in your ear that he will kill that person if you don’t start avoiding them. He honestly will make sure you learn your lesson.

Vampire! Tom who whispers in your ear of how he will be your lord, how you will beg for him to give you mercy when he takes control.

Vampire! Tom who goes crazy when he can’t seem to find or spend a little time with the love for the rest of his life. He goes absolute batshit crazy. Hexing people for the knowledge of where you’ve been.

Vampire! Tom who did one time kill a student in Hogwarts for trying to date you when clearly you were taken.

Vampire! Tom whose word is know to be kept. So please be aware when he says you’re his. Cause you are.

Vampire! Tom who is genuinely a good husband for the future for you. But please control your vampire before he kills anyone else.

Vampire! Tom who sometimes show you his soft side. But not enough.

Vampire! Tom who will marry you before graduation. Making you his fiancé/fiancée so everyone knows you will be the dark lord’s spouse for the future.

#dark vampire! Tom riddle #tom riddle #tom riddle x male reader #Tom riddle x female reader #Tom riddle x gn reader #tom riddle x reader #dark lord #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys headcanons #gn reader #fluff #vampire! tom #vampire x reader #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #slytherin x reader

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

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♡ — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐑𝐄 | 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃!𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑

— TW: smut, praise, dark themes, age gap, light yandere, age gap, friend of your farher!albert wesker, v!sex, manipulation, nsfw, distorted mind, oral, afab anatomy, blackmail, recorded sex, daddykink, no pronouns used besides 'you'.

♡—Wesker was a sick man, he knew that, but Albert's darkest desires could not be ignored for long. He was your dad's co-worker, and to tell the truth, he hated the man, however, there was something about your father that interested him... You.

♡— Wesker, unfortunately for you, laid eyes on you, it was just small glances behind the dark lenses of his glasses, but soon after, you were already in the scientist's darkest thoughts. He thought you were a precious thing, a little pearl that needed to be protected by him, so he decided to get even closer to your dad, it was so easy to manipulate the man and infiltrate your family that Albert found it pathetic, but he needed you... Being close to you, you were eating away at his mind with every bitter second that passed in the older man's abjacent solitude.

♡— Wesker could just get rid of anyone in the worst way possible and lock you up in a place isolated from everything and everyone, make you his untouched little doll, lock you in a glass dome and watch you all day — he could force you to loving him, worshiping him like a god, he wanted to make you walk on the ground he walks on and see your tongue lick every drop of his seed, things escalated very quickly for him, but he didn't care, in the blonde's head, he was a superior being, and could do anything he wanted.

♡— Wesker researched every strong and weak point of your personality, in a few days he had a folder and raw files of hours and hours of recordings of you, either with the wiretap he secretly placed on your cell phone, or with the cameras hidden behind home — which he put it when he went to your house, to drink some wine and hand over some papers from the umbrella to your dad — or for the hours he spent stalking every post of yours on the internet. He knew everything about you... Absolutely everything, you were his obsession, you were his property and his alone... It didn't take long for you to realize that.

♡— Wesker began with calm touches, as if he were watering a flower, wetting your petals of desire with the nectar of hot, forbidden touches. He would pay you so much attention, wearing the best smile behind his serious and cold face, his lips would always have an expression of comfort for you — He would always shower you with sweet nicknames, telling you how proud he is of you always giving your best to you. college grades, or how good you were. He would divert your father's attention just to visit you in your room, giving you expensive gifts that you had wanted for a long time. "— I just remembered you baby, it suits your eyes, don't worry about the value sweetheart." Albert would speak in a hoarse tone, placing the emerald necklace around your neck, brushing his fingers for too long on your skin and leaving soon after, leaving you with a confused feeling in your chest and a heat in your core.

♡— Wesker has been mentally writing down the best nicknames he can think of. "— My Prince/Princess, My doll, My baby boy/baby girl, My little gem, My good boy/girl, honey, darling, dear, sweet little thing." And all of them are accompanied by mischievous phrases and smiles. " — Good job prince/princess, you did well... Keep it up." " — you really are a cute little thing, aren't you? Making Daddy happy." The scientist would purr in your ear, away from your father's eyes... Not that he cares much, but he loves the feeling of adrenaline, seeing your face blush, you would be a mess for a simple compliment or word of affirmation... It was so cute to him, like a stalking prey, a deer lost and beautiful in the snow.

♡— Wesker knew that resisting his charm was never an option, and it wouldn't be. He is a man who knows how to play his cards right, and it wouldn't take long for him to trap you in his web of manipulation and possession, he would make you his body, mind and soul, break you to the breaking point.

♡— Wesker would have luxurious dinners at his penthouse, calling his family, an excuse to see you again. He would get your dad drunk enough to pull you to some corner of the house and pull down your clothes, slapping your ass hard as he knelt kissing your clit, forcing you to lean against the cold wall while he fucked you out. "— Fuck imagine if your father comes in here and sees his sweet son/daughter like that? Fucking his friend?" Albert smiled mischievously, as he inserted two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you to the sides, leaving you well prepared for him. He would hold you with his strong arms, taking you to the table where your father slept drunk, fucking you in front of the man's sleepy body. " — Fucking h-hell Mmm- imagine if he wakes up? Seeing you like this? Seeing that you're nothing but a fucking slut." He babbled, pushing the base of his dick into your cunt, while you covered your moans with your hand, feeling your eyes roll back into your head with pleasure.

♡— Wesker will fuck you in your own house, making an excuse for your father who needs to recommend some colleges to you, while he aggressively beats you on the mattress, tying your ankles with his tie, while overstimulating your pussy, inserting his shaft repeatedly into your uterus, he'll just take out even the tip and put it all in at once with a sadistic smile on his thin lips. "—I could fuck you like this all day."

♡— Wesker would say such dirty and sweet things to you while turning you into a dumb mess. " — Your sweet little pussy is made for my cock, isn't it?" His free hand reaches down to caress your breasts, pinching and pinching your sensitive nipples, eliciting more moans from your lips. He continues to tease and torment you, pushing you closer to the edge of orgasm before pulling back, prolonging your agony - and his, you could beg and whimper, as he takes a cell phone out of his pocket, focusing on your wet, abused hole. " — Oh, you little slut," he grows. " —I love the way you look when my cock stretches you out like this Ah- Fuck sweetheart-" And just as you're about to fall, he slows down once again, prolonging your ecstasy, the buildup almost unbearable. "—Not yet, my dear," he whispers in your ear, his voice filled with wicked delight. "—You will come when I say so. Only when I give you permission."

♡— Wesker will take several photos of your body covered in semen, in compromising positions and with his dick in your mouth, videos, gifs or any digital media available, he will manipulate and chat you so that you are always his, always stay on his side.

" — You will never run away from me, my little pet... Or else... Your father and all your family, friends... They will know what a whore you are, so just be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boys/girls don't think."

©𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙇 2023

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livelaughlovesubs · 1 month ago

Text

~ 06.10 - Boothill ~

Dom!reader x sub!boothill - reader is gender neutral

Warning: a little dark, dubcon, sadistic (?) reader, first time (doing smt sexual), finger sucking, gun play, teasing, dacryphilia, dry orgasm, cumming untouched, hair pulling, use of chemicals, choking, violence, vomiting, kidnapping

~ Word count: 7k ~

Nini!rant: went for a slightly different vibe this time~ how is it?

Kinktober list 2024

“Hah, another fake galaxy ranger? Who’s tryna impersonating us this time?” Boothill lowered his hat to hide his face while he stared at a wanted poster. Still clean, it must be a new commission. At first, he only wanted to check his own bounty, when he noticed another one right next to his.

‘Galaxy ranger […….], wanted, dead or alive, bounty [1.380.000]’

Consider him surprised when he didn’t recognize the name or the face. Him, the one who owns a data bank to support his memories. It could only mean that it’s an imposter. Having a fake ranger’s wanted poster hung right next to his is pretty humiliating, are they looking down on him? “This might be interesting.” The cowboy smirked to himself, yanking off the poster from the wall while he continued his pursuit.

This was going to be a side job, to yearn some cash for his good ol’ alcohol: Asdana’s white oak, about 6% alcohol and fragrant like the fields after rain. A classic among the malts. Pair that with a bullet to match and consider yourself drinking the holy water from the garden of Eve. The bass and gunpowder will bring an exquisite taste only folks with fine tongues can taste. If he had to give a deeper description, the word mellowness would match mighty fine.

Just thinking about the taste raised his spirits. Since he was going to catch you soon and get compensated big, it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate like this once in a while. Don't get him wrong, this isn't indulging, it's enjoying life. Which is why he was standing in front of a bustling bar, his favorite one. The minute he walked in, he felt his mind be at ease, like a ship with smooth sailing. Everything stayed as cozily as he remembered, the same old barkeeper, music, and seats. As if this was his second home, he popped down right next to the counter and put his arm up onto the bar table.

“Boss, here! The usual for me, you know, the lit stuff.” Boothill smirked, his other hand was tapping his knee slowly. “It’s you again, one Asdana without ice?” The man behind the counter seems to remember that very cowboy, as well as his usual order. To that boothill answered, “Of course, I take my Asdana neat.” Then the barkeeper nodded, as if to acknowledge it, commenting, "You are as lively as ever, sir." Before walking off to get the bottle.

Lively? Huh, it's not a word he'd use to describe himself, but it isn't bad. No, not bad at all. In the meantime the cyborg looked around the establishment, seeing many new and old faces that bring back memories. Among those, there was a single shadow that intrigued him. It was the person sitting next to him.

You were there already when he came, sipping away at your drink as your eyes darted around aimlessly. A cocktail of some kind, fading from black to red. If he had to guess, probably hangman’s blood? One of the specialties of this bar, he knows the owner is proud of that drink. It’s pretty strong, you must be good at dealing with alcohol. Maybe you'd be a splendid drinking buddy, he thought to himself, grinning from ear to ear. Meeting new people and making connections never hurts anyone.

Suddenly he moved his chair closer to yours, opening his mouth and attempting to strike up a conversation with you. “Hey, you there, I haven’t seen ya’ around here. This your first time here?” He tried his best to give you a gentle smile, that ended up with him showing off his sharp teeth. For some, he might have appeared threatening even. “...Yeah, it is. I heard that the drinks here are excellent, which is why they have so many regulars.” You stirred around in your glass, mixing the two colors.

“That’s right, you see, I consider myself a regular too.” Boothill chuckled, by the looks of it, he was quite proud of that title. “Oh right, name’s boothill, you can call me that. How ‘bout we drink a lil’ together?” He smirked, it was still a rather awkward smile. Though luckily you didn’t seem to mind. “Boothill huh? I’ve heard that name around, you are notorious for your misdeeds against the IPC.” You turned around to face him, returning his gesture by smiling as well.

At least he thinks you did, since he saw your face twitch. However, he couldn’t see it clearly due to the effects of the lighting. That was why you looked like a shadow from afar. The cyborg scoffed a bit, appearing amused by your words, “misdeeds you say? Cutie, my actions may not be innocent but I only do honest work.” A low chuckle reached his ears, followed by your response to his rather playful comment, “Of course, I understand. You galaxy rangers are brimming with righteousness after all.”

For some reason, your voice was as clear as day, despite the bustling noises emerging from the background. Many people were talking among themselves, so despite you not speaking especially loud, he still heard you perfectly. It was almost as if he filtered the other sounds out for yours only. At first glance, you seemed friendly, kind even. Yet there was this strange feeling surrounding you, he couldn’t get rid of the lingering suspicions. How did you know his occupation? Sure, his name was pretty infamous, though was it normal to know this much?

“…I guess the number on my bounty isn’t just for show.” He joked, before letting out some breathy laughs. Instead of paying attention to his words, you stared at his hand, each finger was out of metal. A artificial arm, or to be precise, a cyborg. Nothing you didn’t know. Suddenly you raised your finger, pointing in his direction. Boothill frowned a little, taken aback by it. “Your drink, it’s coming.” After a moment you explained, and he turned his head around.

Who would have guessed, you were right, the bartender was just putting down the liquor as he chirped, “One Asdana?” Before winking at the male and leaving the two of you alone. “Ah, yeah, that's for me.” The cowboy mumbled, about to take the old-fashioned glass when you stopped him. “Wait a second, I have something for you.” The moment your sentence ended, you began fumbling with your bag, apparently searching for something.

He was a bit irritated but listened to you anyway, taking his hand back. Waiting like this was a tiny bit annoying, but he put up with it. About a minute later, you were holding a shiny object in your hand. Without giving him any warnings, you dropped the said object into his drink. The beverage splashed against the glass due to the impact, only a single drop landed outside before the liquid calmed down.

Now, a bullet was slowly sinking to the bottom of the glass. Its color matched his drink, it had a golden gleam. “Holy forkeroni…” He gasped, this bullet, it was- “9 millimeters caliber, 147 grain, and the bottom's round as a pie. An eternal classical, am I right?” After explaining something obvious to him, you finally showed your face by leaning forward. The lightbulb brightened your features, exposing your identity to the cowboy. A daring move, a risky gamble with cards not everyone would have played. You stared right into his black pupils without a hint of fear, and his response to your boldness was as expected. “This information, you are...!” Immediately, the cyborg grabbed you by your collar and yelled, “Son of a nice lady- you are the one from that wanted poster! The fake galaxy ranger!” He shook his head, then demanded, “Fudge me… don’t fork around and answer, how do you know so much about me?” What a serious tone he had, he must be feeling threatened.

Your eyes darted down to his metallic hand, the same one you were eyeing up and down earlier was now clenching your shirt. Instead of taking him seriously, you were calm and collected, taking one step after another. Seeing you so relaxed, he felt a hint of anger building within him and used more force. It was almost enough to lift you off your seat. Gosh, look how much contempt he suddenly has for you when he was so nice to you mere moments ago.

“Please don’t cause a scene, sir boothill, I was only being nice by catering your drink to your taste. What's the problem?” You cooed at him like he was a child throwing a tantrum, playing the naive card. This playful tone of yours reminded him awfully of his own, yet at that moment it annoyed him. “You are dodging my question.” He stressed his words, furrowing his brows and tightening his grip. But he jerked a little when you clasped your hand over his, your touch was warm in comparison to his.

Then you spoke in a calm tone, “Shall we take this outside? There are many watching eyes here. I believe you wouldn’t want to get banned from your favorite bar.” The way you talked suggested you knew much more, a lot more than what he does about you. After all, you knew some private details about his preferences and hobbies. In conclusion, you must have been waiting for him here, at this very bar.

Boothill still hesitated for a moment, before eventually letting go of you. He clicked his tongue as if he regretted your meeting today. In truth, he wasn't in the mood for a fight, despite everything he came here to have fun. Your clothes were now wrinkled and slightly messy, disheveled would also be a fitting term, but you didn’t really bother with straightening them out, rather, you were amused by his hot temper. The boy thought about the situation and the problem he was facing. He couldn't read you at all, what a tough nut to crack.

It would be smart to sort out his thoughts, so first things first, he has to find out how you obtained all this information about him. What was your deal and reason? Then he should think about how to clean up this chaos in case it becomes messy. Even so, startling the other guests wouldn’t be good, that’s why he should contain himself for now. “Fine, lead the way, and don’t try to pull any funny business with me.” He clasped his arms in front of his chest, glaring at you with nothing but contempt. To be honest he looked like a cheeky cat instead of a dangerous lion.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of criminal~” You jest, grinning from ear to ear as you sipped at your cocktail. “Oh yeah? Why do you have quite the sum on your head then.” The cowboy countered your statement, squinting his eyes a little. To think you lost his trust this fast, he was a cautious fellow. “Haha, you hurt me. Don’t you have a bounty on your head as well? If so, why can’t I be righteous too?” He shuddered a little at your words, by the looks of it, you could also be a crazy stalker who invaded his privacy. Heck, he would almost bet on you knowing his head's value in and out.

At this point your voice alone was enough to scratch him the wrong way, you were really testing his patience. Boothill dismissed your statement with a groan, “Don’t compare us, I’m not a motherfudgin' fake ranger like you.” You blinked a few times at his words, before laughing out loud. He didn't like how you reacted. “Ahaha~ yes yes, of course, I’m the bad guy in your story, how did I forget this detail?” You blabbered, and he didn't really understand what you meant.

Then, without giving him any time to process what you said, you sprang up from your seat but made sure to take your cocktail with you. “Come now, cowboy. Take your drink with you, can’t leave that to waste right? Let’s continue drinking outside, like real drinking buddies.” That last sentence, he hasn't asked you yet, that means you guessed by his actions alone. Was it that obvious? It almost felt like you were taunting him or making fun of his previous idea of befriending you.

To save some of his pride, he decided to entertain your little chitchat. “Take it with me? I don’t think I’ll need that long to deal with the likes of you.” He sneered, a cheeky expression was plastered on his face now. You scanned him up and down a few times, then said, “If I can give you one advice: you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Shortly after, you walked out of the store, not giving a damn if he followed you or not. It was because you knew he wouldn’t let you escape so easily, and as you predicted, he followed you to the back of the bar. His footsteps were rather silent for a cyborg, he must not want to involve other guests.

The environment was filthy and dark, as well as out of the sight of innocent civilians. Perfect for an ambush or to have a private talk. You took another sip of your drink and complimented it, “Heavens, have I told you already? This tastes great. Wanna try some?” This sudden courtesy didn't seem fitting at all, considering he already lost all trust he had for you. His eyes pointed to your hand, the hand holding the glass in front of him. Instead of taking it, he clanked his own glass against yours, saying “No need, and cheers. Now that we are drinking, it’s time for you to start talking.” After finishing his speech, he drank his much-anticipated beverage.

This was what he missed, the sweet taste of paradise. No matter how he hated to admit it, the bullet you put in was just the stuff he needed. The faint taste of brass and gunpowder partnered up with the overwhelming sweetness of the malt juice was simply magnificent. “Ehem.. now,” He began, putting the drink onto the staircase next to him. It was the emergency staircase in case of a fire, yet it looked rusty as hell. Still, it won’t crash down because of one measly drink, will it?

This was something he had noticed for a while, somehow, he always found your gaze on his hands. The same applied here when he was putting his malt juice away. Was it worth being careful about? Boothill sighed, before continuing, “Tell me, what is your purpose? You were looking for me, weren’t ya?” Straight to the point, as expected of an ill-mannered cowboy like him, but you didn’t dislike it. “If I told you, this won’t be fun anymore. The villain always shares their plan when the hero is subdued.” You gurgled down the last bits of your ‘hangman’s blood’, then put the glass on the ground, unlike him. Would you look at that, who has no manners now?

Afterward, you walked up to the man, and his response to it was taking a few steps back. It wasn’t until his back hit the wall that the two of you stopped in your tracks. “Shirtbag… do you want to imitate a cartoon villain that bad?” He scoffed, crossing his arms once again. “Hehe, maybe.” You smiled at him providing him with a vague answer. Fork it, he was definitely going to wipe that insolent grin of yours from your face. “Anyway, before things escalate and you hit me, how about a quick introduction? My name is y/n.” The ranger didn’t look happy at all at your suggestion, and so he snapped, “I know, I saw on the poster. Can you stop wasting my free time now?”

“Whoa, easy there. And hey! Don’t pull your gun out!” You said and raised your hands as if to testify to your cooperation, then spouted “Well, I don’t know what information I own that could possibly satisfy you.” Now you were really wasting his time, chatting with no end in sight. Obviously, you were playing dumb with him. This caused Boothill to shout almost angrily, “Just tell me what business you have with me, fudgehead!” His rather funny way of talking didn't shock you, which means this was another piece of information you had access to beforehand. Who was feeding you with all that info?

He reached out for your collar again, but to his surprise, he couldn't move his arm anymore. “What the fork?!” His eyes turned to look up at you, his soft lips were parted due to disbelief. “Thankfully it worked~ otherwise I’d be cheese by now!” You joked, taking another step forwards him. “Holy wubabboo- is this your doing?” A confused expression spread on your face and you questioned, “Did what?” What the- what was happening, he couldn't comprehend this darned situation.

“How did you pull this off-? UrGhh!!” Out of nowhere, he dropped down to his knees, hovering and kneeling on the ground while sweating furiously. There was no strength left in his legs, or he lost control of his limbs somehow. On the outside he looked like a robot out of power, arms dangling next to him all lifeless. “Fudge! Tell me! What did you do?!” This has to be your doing, the timing is too perfect. You scanned his body again, smirking to yourself. "I had to prepare a lot for this, you know."

His ears perked at your confession, were you finally getting bored of that clueless act? Your face was barely visible since the alley wasn’t very bright, there was only one dimly lit street lamp around the corner. “You were easier to catch than I thought.” You then uttered. What the hell is this! That was supposed to be his line, so how did things end up this way? He is a motherfudging cyborg, what could you have possibly done to him?

The word confusion was basically written all over his face, he couldn’t even curse at you because he was so baffled, so perplexed about basically everything. Then, you raised your foot and stepped down on his shoulder. He turned his head to the side just to be faced with your shoe, the soles dirtied his cropped jacket.

“Get off me, you son of a nice fugin' lady.” Boothill gritted his teeth, trying to push you away. But the word in capital letter and underlined was 'trying', since he couldn’t move at all. He felt as helpless as the day he lost his home, unable to do anything but watch from the sidelines. “I like that feisty look in your eyes, cowboy.” You teased, those stinging words hurting his ego. Suddenly you leaned down, all so you could meet his gaze more easily.

Your hands reached for the glass of malt juice standing on the staircase and held it above his face. It shone in a golden light, almost akin to a disco ball. His eyes were glued to that glass, partly because he wondered what you planned to do. “Here, as I said before, this shouldn’t go to waste.” You told him and grabbed his chin. It happened so suddenly that he couldn’t react to it, not like he could have done anything in self-defense anyway. “Ugh, let go you mother- fuuHHMM!!”

When he opened his mouth to curse and to let out a shocked yelp, you forcefully poured the drink down his throat. It streamed down his oesophagus. You had to admit, he had good reflexes for reacting to this so quickly. Some of the liquid landed on his lips or cheeks, but he drank most of the juice. You watched the remains that weren't swallowed drip down his chin, soiling his clothes further and creating a darker spot on the fabric. It also covered his metallic chest in a golden shine, one could easily confuse it with oil.

The cyborg closed his eyes to avoid the liquor getting in places it shouldn’t, he choked a little since you were pouring so fast he couldn’t keep up with the swallowing. This didn’t stop until the glass was empty, even the bullet you gifted him earlier ended up in his mouth. He let it rest on his tongue for a while, before gulping it down as well. “Mmmh, guhh- cough cough!”

Boothill gasped, the bullet didn’t roll in as easily as the malt juice, it remained stuck in his throat. He had to cough a few times for it to slide down, after that he instantly complained, “Fu-fudge... why did you do that? I wanted to enjoy my drink slowly!” But he stopped mid-track when your familiar laugh echoed in his ears, and your fingertips stroked his chin. Shivers ran down his spine at your touch, he didn't know why.

“Dear ranger~ did your mommy not teach you not to take things from a stranger?” His eyes twitched and widened, you couldn’t really grasp the expression he pulled, though he looked devastated. It seems a light switch clicked inside his thick skull. Did you mess with his drink? Boothill just couldn't keep calm anymore at the realization, glaring at you with a nasty attitude. “Oh my, did I hit a sore spot there? You look like you want to kill me.” Yet his threatening, imposing body language didn’t scare you off, which is why you continued ridiculing him.

“I’ll ask you a last time, what the fork did you do to me?" Despite all these misfortunes, he didn't give up his insolent side, he was planning on giving you a hard time until the very end. Boothill was showing his sharp teeth once again, but this time he wasn’t smiling. “Are you familiar with Sulfuric acid?” You uttered, tapping his lips with your thumb. That word was foreign to him, was it something he would know? He wanted to bite down on his bottom lip, but you stopped him. This feeling, it was latex, you were wearing gloves.

“You see, it’s potent enough to melt metal.” The expression that followed after you enlightened him of its importance was simply amazing, you were curious about what he felt in that moment. Shock? Anger? Frustration? Maybe even self-hatred? “Then, how did you-” “Hey, I wasn’t done talking. Anyway, to answer your question, I hid it inside the bullet. Then I just had to wait for it to melt through the brass and voila, need me to say more?” What a talent you have for spouting such horrendous things with an innocent tone.

“Everything’s going according to your plan, huh, explaining everything when the hero’s subdued.” He repeated your words, then coughed again because his throat was burning. Actually, it hurt and itched. His face also felt like it was on fire, or to be precise, his skin did. It was so painful he had to clench his teeth to suppress the pain. You laughed under your breath, laughing at him, mocking him. “Right, if it’s potent enough to inflict wounds on a cyborg, then of course it irritates the skin as well.” Well, that should explain why his skin was hurting. “Now, boothill, may I give you another advice?”

Your hand caressed his cheeks as you asked him that, face only millimetres away from his. The way you touched him was surprisingly gentle, it made him sick. “What do you want.” He scorned, shaking his head to brush off your hand. “I’m sure you have extra protection around the more important components inside your system, though you should still get rid of the acid.” You looked unfazed when he avoided your touch, instead you closed the already nonexistent distance between you two and whispered into his ear.

The male looked mad, really damn angry. He yelled into your face, “Well fudge me I guess?! I can’t forking move my body!” That caught you off guard, you blinked a few times at his aggressive behavior. Don't get you wrong, it's not that you didn’t understand his point of view. On the contrary, it's good to see him still so energetic. “Ah~ my bad, I didn’t think the acid would break your control Center first. Why is it located right next to your stomach anyway?” You admitted, scratching your head a little.

This was so easy that it was almost boring, you expected him to put up more of a fight. But you can't blame him when he's basically a cripple right now. “In other words, I’m fudged? Fork this, dying so dishonorable tsk tsk.” Boothill snarled, rolling his eyes, he didn’t consider himself a living man before, but now he was dead-dead if you knew what he meant.

You glanced at his face, he was sweating and his complexion didn’t look all that good. He acted as if he didn't mind it, but he was hanging onto life so dearly it almost moved you. In the end, you proposed in a tender tone, “Want me to help you?” The ranger was still glaring at you, though his gaze bore more skeptic than fury. “You caused this first- fine, I don’t have any choice but to accept do I?”

No matter how he despised you, he can't carry out revenge when he's dead. It's not that he trusted you to 'save' him, but rather, this is his last resort. As soon as he finished his sentence, you yanked on his chin to make him look up at you. The tips of his hair were wet due to the alcohol, and his skin also reddened due to the acid. Your thumb pressed on his bottom lip, almost pulling at it. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks at the intimate touch. Adorable.

When he parted his lips a little, you took that opportunity to stuff your index and middle finger into his mouth. “What- Mhm..!?” The male groaned, finding himself in a pretty bizarre situation. God how embarrassing, he was falling into a shameful abyss he couldn't crawl out anymore. Truth be told, he had a pretty accurate guess on what you wanted to do, though he really didn’t want to actually carry it out. Was this the only way?

You stuck your digits deeper inside, already at the second knuckle, causing him to flinch and twitch. His eyes were tightly shut, brows furrowed while a growing blush covered his features. Damn it, this is worse than any nightmares, this feels the worst. So what was this bubbling and tingly sensation he felt? It was messing with him, causing him to shudder. He could feel your fingers pressing down on his tongue, as well as you trying to not cut yourself on his teeth. This was weird, it was so strange, why was he getting lightheaded?

“Don’t act so surprised now, I’m helping you as you wanted.” After watching his helpless face for a while, you commented on it, obviously not planning on stopping the teasing anytime soon. It seems you caught on to the growing tension between the two of you, so you chuckled, “Hey... what’s this I'm seeing? Why is your face getting red?” His once half-lidded eyes were yanked wide open at the thought that he got exposed.

Don't tell him he was enjoying this perverted act. “Hmm! Sho-shou ap..!” Boothill tried to speak despite the difficulties, feeling your digits reaching deeper and deeper. With each poke, the tingly feeling also increased. Was this perhaps what they called sexual pleasure? If so, why did he have to experience it for the first time at your hands?

A few seconds later, you were knuckles-deep inside him, fingertips already rubbing the walls of his throat. It was wet and hot in his mouth, and his face seemed to be gradually heating as well. That process was speeding up quite rapidly. His cheeks quickly turned red, a foggy blush tainting the skin. He was blushing so much just from sucking on your fingers a little? You simply couldn’t miss out on ridiculing him yet again, purring into his ear once more, “Does this turn you on? How cute.”

His pupils shrank at your comment, probably at the disbelief that you’d say something this audacious. Him? Turned on by you? What a joke- this can’t be real. He was just having a hard time breathing, and that’s why he was getting red. Really. Though deep down, he knew he couldn't sugarcoat it, the truth will always be the truth, no matter how he denies its existence. “MhMm, guhNn, hmm-nggHh..!” The cowboy tried to argue with you, though his protests were muffled by you, only inaudible noises could be made out.

There were also sneaky moans mixed among his protests or little gasps. The vibrations of his voice tickled your skin, it felt pretty funny actually. “What was that? I can't understand you~” You admitted cheerfully, watching the emotion on his face rotate from shock, and anger to frustration. What a shameless person you were, and not to forget heartless.

Then you pressed down on his wet muscle once again, and he gagged around you. “Ughhh..!” That one single gag soon turned into a series of chokes, and tears began collecting in his eye sockets. So he still had his gag reflex, excellent, it was exactly what you needed. More coughs and chokes continuously spilled from the male while you mercilessly ravished his throat.

He could feel you poking his throat so deep it almost hurt, yet that wasn't the only thing he felt. No. Far from it, his body was burning up from the inside, though it was a different kind of heat than the effects of the acid. His mind felt so foggy and weakened, was it alright for him to let his guard down in times like this? When he still hasn't discovered your purpose? But he couldn't hang on anymore, it was as if his brain was melting. Never ever was it this challenging for him to hang on to his reason and logic, to what makes him human.

"Dahmmmm it..! S-stouu! GuhHGG..!!" He choked again, but this time, it felt like something was coming out... no, it was- "hmHHh, fooouukk!! Ugh-guUH!" This familiar sensation and taste, he couldn't move his tongue but he could still taste it faintly. Not to mention the burdensome smell, this familiar smell that stayed around his nostrils. The Asdana he just gurgled down was coming up again, he was on the verge of vomiting. It was as if his body rejected the drink, and he couldn't stop gagging.

At least his insides won't get messed up any longer, that must be the only positive thing in all this. Even so, to do something that shameful in front of you, damn it, he wants to spit at you if he could. You noticed how his throat tightened, or how his Adam's apple moved around. With that, you took your fingers out as fast as how you stuck them inside him. Strings of saliva connected your fingertips with his mouth, and his tongue hung outside for a while. "Ugh, fu-gUhg, UhmM!!"

Right afterward, he puked on the ground, head hanging low while more gaging sounds left him. His pupils shrunk as the contents spilled onto the filthy ground. Those embarrassing noises didn't cease until he choked up the bullet he had previously swallowed. Then, he whimpered at the taste, it had become sour now due to the chemical. "There you go, you should be fixed now." You reported, but he couldn't bring himself to be joyful about it.

Rather, he was sweating furiously, eyes widened and almost dried up. If he could cry, he definitely would have. Oh how thankful he was in that moment that he physically couldn't sob. He wouldn't have been able to live with the shame of breaking down in tears and weeping in front of you. "Uhhhhg, da-mHnn it... fu-uGGhh!!" The taste of the alcohol wasn't as pleasant as before, probably due to it getting corrupted by the acid you mentioned. Such a waste, and to think it landed on the floor now. A place like that wasn't worth a drink this exquisite.

His eyelids and brows twitched, and now that he was done, he clenched his teeth again and insulted you, "You muddlefudger..." That rebellious look in his gaze didn't vanish, he glared at you once more. You were almost impressed if you didn't notice a small glimmer of falter within his tough facade. Despite it being a normal bodily reaction, he seems to be holding it against you. "And here I thought I helped you out, how ungrateful." You clicked your tongue, and his face became redder. Was it because of the humiliation or anger?

Your shoe was still on his shoulder, pressing down on him, reminding him of his vulnerable position. The Cowboy snapped at you, spitting through gritted teeth, "What do ya' got planned now?" You took off your gloves, they were covered in his saliva. Then you revealed, "I'm not sure." He only got more annoyed by that nonchalant answer and demanded, "If you're going to kill me make it quick." Weirdly enough, your eyes glimmered, as if you were inspired by his suggestion. "If that's what you want, I don't mind it." You smirked, patting his head, stroking his long hair as your other hand sneakily pulled out the gun around his waist.

He almost lost himself in that small gesture of comfort you gave him, if it wasn't for him seeing you with his gun in your hand. "Hah.. with my own weapon? Fudge, you want to humiliate me to the end huh." How resentful he sounded, you almost pitied this guy. "Maybe I do." After saying that irritatingly proud, you pressed his revolver against his forehead, pushing his bangs to the side. "But this is a little boring, don't you think?"

As if you were truly interested in his opinion, he found it quite difficult to believe that. "Why do you ask me?" Boothill gnarled, but to his surprise, you moved the revolver away. Instead, the barrel was pressed flat against his chest, the muzzle facing his chin. "What are you..?" The male mumbled, twisting his expression at this damned play you organized for him. For you, all this must be a game, a stage you laid out for him, where he was a mindless puppet playing right into your hand.

He thought he couldn't be surprised anymore, yet your actions kept going beyond anything he could ever imagine. You moved the revolver upwards so that the muzzle was touching the underside of his chin. At the same time, the gun was going underneath his short jacket. "Y-you..!" The cyborg couldn't help but blush a little. His face was hot, overheating even compared to the cold weapon you held in your hands. "Do you still want to die? If you beg, I might spar you?" Your tone didn't sound that serious, it was almost said in a joking manner.

“Fork you, never." Boothill snarled again, acting disobedient even though his life was at stake. He had a strong spirit since he was still so cocky after all the things he went through. You wiped off the smile from your face, now staring down at him with a cold-blooded expression, "I'll count down from three then. Three..." Wha- no, this can't be the end, he still has to find Oswaldo. His artificial heart pounded against his chest, causing his mind to fall into chaos. "Two."

You were so cruel, counting down like this without remorse, a fudging monster! Adrenaline was being pumped through his body, or should he rather say every wire he owned? "One-" Without thinking, since he lost that privilege the moment you began counting, he yelled as fast as he could and closed his eyes, "Fudge! Fine! If m'gonna die lemme at least curse at you! You- er, muddlefudging clocksucker!!" Right now, he kind of wished he could cry, just to let out some steam. You couldn't help but giggle, before uttering the word, "Zero." Suddenly, he blanked out.

For a split second, time appeared to have stopped. What followed after was a loud, ear-splitting sound that echoed through the alley. To be expected, it definitely alarmed other people. Then, absolute silence emerged. Not even the faint music from the bar could be heard anymore. "Ah... hu-huh..?" "Oh? Seems like your gun wasn't loaded!" You giggled, you knew this from the start, didn't you? Pants along with a few choked-out whines escaped him. Shivers traveled through him and electricity was being sent to his brain, stimulating the euphoric parts.

A moment later, a slap sound reached his ears, and a sting that felt strangely pleasant originated from his cheek. His face turned to the side, and his cheek throbbed. "uh-urghh..! Ah, wha-what?" Did you just... slap him? Boothill groaned, shaking a little as drool rolled down his chin because his mouth remained open for too long. His spit also defiled the gun, wetting the revolver. Then, the unimaginable happened, and he let out an unrestrained moan, "ahhhHHHNngg..!?" It was high-pitched and whorish, he wore such a confused but slutty expression that it surprised both of you.

Reality crushed down on him too hard, and he couldn't help but gasp and whimper underneath his ragged inhales. "Ugh..ngh- wha-what's this fe-feeling..? W-why.. ha-hmnHg..♡♥︎?" Oh dear, this is not what you think just happened, right? "Boothill, did you just cum?" You said his name after a long while, and he groaned again, "guHhh... s-stop, that's nonsense! How can I e-even.. I-" The boy stumbled over his words, stuttering as a deep blush was painted over his entire face. He was such a twitchy mess now, totally different than his previous self.

“Are you a masochist?” You asked him randomly, it was so out of pocket that it killed the mood. "...are you crazy?" Boothill replied with scorn, his pride was pretty hurt by that statement. As if to test your speculation, you grabbed the back of his hair and yanked on it, making him yelp. "Arghh..! L-let go- fudge!" Then you squeezed his cheeks and stuck out your tongue. He stared at you hesitantly, his own tongue also hanging outside. Mere moments later, your spit was dripping down and landing in his mouth.

That action rendered him speechless, causing him to freeze. Your saliva tasted a little like alcohol. Darn it, this was so disgusting. Once you were done, you let go of the cowboy again, before teasing him, "I was right, you are a masochistic dog~" You knew because of his flushed cheeks, they became redder at your lewd antics. "Are you satisfied now? The fork do you want from me?!" Boothill scoffed, he could only bear this much until his breaking point. "What do I want?" You repeated his sentence, and put a finger on your chin as if you were thinking hard about something.

In the meantime, boothill impatiently waited, he desperately wanted to know your intentions, to see if it justified your actions. When you moved your finger away, you grinned before responding, "I think the answer is you." "...huh?" The cyborg was stunned, staring up at you with spirals in his pupils as you suddenly embraced him. "You heard me, boothill." Your voice and your hug were so warm, he didn't know you could be this gentle.

No, this was no good, it was troubling, to say the least. "Y/n? You- shirt, what do you mean?" For the first time, you heard your name come out of his mouth. His voice trembled as he voiced out your name, the way he said it had a nice ring to it. Then he glared at you once again, but this time he looked like a small animal, eyes glistening while a heavy blush formed on his face. Wait, why was he even blushing? Maybe, because he was wanted for the first time after centuries?

"I hate you." He said after returning to his senses, he got caught up in his emotions there for a moment. These little bits of comfort aren't enough to make up for the mess you caused, and he didn't feel the same. On the other hand, you couldn't stop smirking, and he knew by the looks of it that it wasn't an innocent smile by length. "Let's get out of here, I'll help you move." You then told him and helped him get up, pulling him by his arms.

This was immediately met with angry protests from the male, "Don't touch me- hey, ugh! Where the fudge are you taking me?" The second he let his guard down, you stuffed your gloves into his mouth to muffle his voice, "hMHh?! MmhhGFFF!!!" After that, to satisfy his curiosity, you whispered quietly, "To a place where I can have you."

"Finally, the guards are here." One of the guests said, to which another one answered, "Thank god because no one dared to go see what was going on." Maybe people we in disarray due to the mysterious sound they all heard. It was probably a gunshot, which means, someone might have died. Yet no one dared to go into the alley, out of fear that they might be the next victim. After the guards arrived, a rather large group of people followed them and ran over to the scene.

They all wanted to know what that gunshot was, standing on the sidelines and observing the investigation. 'What the hell happened here?!' Everyone wondered, eyes searching around for evidence. The only hints they found were two glasses standing on the staircase with some credits, as well as a pool of what seems to be malt juice lying on the ground along with a single golden bullet in the midst of it.

The guard in charge of this operation reached out for the bullet and said, "...someone must have been shot." Then he eyed the bullet up and down, in hopes of finding more clues. That's when he noticed a weird detail, "Why are there holes in the bullet?"

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Based on my findings, concentrated sulfuric acid can melt many metals, like aluminium, iron and steel. (Boothill isn’t safe hehe) It’s enough if it’s moderately concentrated, so it’s alright if a bit of water mixes into it as well. It also reacts to brass - the copper aspect of it, I dunno if it reacts to zink as well. Some sources say yes, some denied it.

Anyway, the Formular for the melting process or chemical reaction would be: Cu + h2So4 -> CuSo4 + h2 or Fe + h2So4 -> FeSo4 h2

So it also creates hydrogen gas at the same time, which also melts iron and is poison for the human body. Annnnd copper Sulfid, which is weak and easily breakable, that means it can weaken the brass.

My plan to poison him: his favourite drink is malt juice with a 9mm calliber bullet that’s out of brass. And malt juice is out of ca. 25-30% water. So, I was thinking of drilling a hole into the bottom of the bullet and use a needle to shoot concentrated sulfuric acid inside the capsule. Then drop that in the malt juice. Now we just gotta wait for the acid to melt through the bullet, and mix with the water of the alcohol, then it’d become moderately concentrated. Btw sulfuric acid can absorb water from everywhere, even from the air.

Then if he drinks it, bam, his insides will melt. It might take a bit, so we gotta entertain him and stretch out the time. Even if he doesn’t drink it, he eats bullets, so he’ll get the acid inside his body anyway. With that, we successfully ‘poisoned’ him. It takes a bit of fantasy but oh well.

Now, take this hangman’s blood recipe:

- 1¾ parts gin.

- 1¾ parts white rum.

- 1¾ parts whiskey.

- 1¾ parts brandy.

- 7½ parts stout beer.

- 6 parts champagne.

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ameliaenya707 · 5 months ago

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Wanna make out?

Keigos laying in bed with you at 2 am still awake. Unable to sleep he turns to his side to look at you laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

"...wanna make out?"

He watches as your brow furrows before relaxing and turning to the side and propping yourself up on your elbow, which he mirrored.

"We gotta get to bed kei,"

He looks at your pretty face with stars in his eyes, not even bothering to pay much attention to your retort.

"We should make out,"

He watches in adoration as you roll your eyes before pushing him down and straddling his hips. Dipping your head down to press a kiss to his lips which he eagerly returned. Chaste turned into hot and sloppy, drool dripping down his chin as you shove your tongue down his throat and he does the same.

You guys should really make out more

#💕 mel's dark content #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #hawks x you #bnha #mha x you #hawks x reader #gn!reader #mha x gn!reader #bnha x gender neutral reader

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depravitymoon · 1 year ago

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Laidback Yandere headcanons

Laidback Yandere doesn't seem yandere at all and is even calmer than you.

Laidback Yandere tells you to stop worrying so much. Just enjoy the simple joys in life. If you got a problem, he can fix it.

Laidback Yandere thinks kidnapping and isolation are a hassle. He has a life. How is he going to spoiled you if he’s spending all day stalking you?

Laidback Yandere lets you have friends and lets you see your family. He even acts like he's part of your family.

Laidback Yandere even lets you go clubbing! He knows you're just hanging out with your friends and dancing, so why would he stop that?!

What a supportive healthy relationship you two must be in!

....

WRONG!

Laidback Yandere has people watching you when he's not. Work smarter, not harder.

Laidback Yandere has enough blackmail material on you to keep you complacent.

Laidback Yandere tells you that life is more simple you dont know his methods of keeping you with him.

Laidback Yandere is calm, disturbingly calm. About everything.

Laidback Yandere calmly punishes you without warning. He's been so patient with you, communicated what you need to do, yet you still act out. You deserve this and deserve no mercy.

Laidback Yandere calmly tells you how he disposed of the ones that were helping you leave him.

Laidback Yandere knows all your loved ones' addresses.

Laidback Yandere doesn't even chase you when you flee. He merely takes pictures of himself with your family and sends it to you with a text saying "I hope nothing bad happens to them".

#yandere #yandere x darling #yandere types #yandere x reader #yandere x you #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #gn y/n #gn reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #tw dark content

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glossysoap · 5 months ago

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bun ; kyle garrick

18+, stalking, plus size reader, hints at future gazprice sharing, gender neutral i believe, this is just a concept that may turn into a full fic, if the bed part came across weird pls let me know as that’s not my intention, i’m fat myself (i can prove it if need be lol) so i’m using my own experience.

gaz coming across a plus size reader on instagram and immediately he becomes infatuated with them. enraptured even.

hi there, bun.

a million dollar smile would play on his lips as his warm eyes drink in every detail in every photo. every curve, roll, and stretch mark. every wrinkle, every scar, and freckle.

the way your plump lips puckered, filling his mind with images of them pressed against his, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and pulling whines from your mouth. then his head was filled with images of your lips wrapped around his cock, drooling around him and your hands planted on his hairy thighs.

the way your eyes crinkled at the edges with a smile, all bright and shiny — filling his mind with images of him holding you in his arms, making you laugh. and then his mind was filled with images of your eyes glossed over and lust blown as he fucks you stupid into your mattress.

fuck, he just yearns to feel your plush thighs under his calloused grip as he thrusts into you.

speaking of your mattress, the bed he saw in one of your posts just wouldn’t do. it’s just big enough for one, it was good enough for right now.

but just ‘good enough’ wasn’t really good enough for his bun.

he’d have to spring for a better, more spacious bed once he’s wormed his way into your home and your heart.

he wants ample room to pull you apart and put you back together, in whatever position he wishes. it couldn’t hurt to have extra room for his captain either. one look at you and he knew john would be on his knees.

with these thoughts in mind, he decided that it was time to find you.

he snoops in the background of your photos, determined to pinpoint your location. he studies the signs of the shops you frequent, he memorizes the landmarks in your stories, he skims through your following list to find any local companies or colleges you happen to frequent.

if you weren’t in the united kingdom, that’s fine. just another roadblock, another obstacle he can bulldoze through.

of course, he knows he could just have laswell get your IP address but he’s not interested in the inevitable can of worms that would be opened with her questions.

but the search, the chase, was far more thrilling.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

#mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #cod x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #gaz x y/n #gaz x gn!reader #kyle x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick smut #tw stalking #tw dark content

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jaythes1mp · 3 months ago

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Here, Kitty.

Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH2

14925 words, 84394 characters, 792 sentences, 338 paragraphs, 59.7 pages. Previous chapter

As you come back to consciousness, you find yourself nestled comfortably on a luxurious cat bed that feels almost too extravagant to be real. The surroundings are lavish and comfortable, the room itself enormous, with almost too much space to take in all at once.

You're not sure where you are, but one thing you know for certain – is that it is definitely not your apartment.

You push yourself up from the plush bed, your paws sinking into the decadent fabric as you take a moment to survey your surroundings. The room is a mix of modern and traditional, with a hint of something distinctly Wayne Manor-esque. The furnishings are plush and expensive, and the entire room is immaculate, every surface spotlessly clean.

You can see a large window at the far end of the room, offering a view of Gotham City’s skyline.

You take another moment to look around, taking everything in as you process your new surroundings. It seems you're in a large living room of sorts, furnished with rich, high-end furniture and expensive-looking decor. Tall bookshelves line the walls, filled with all manner of books and trinkets. The most striking feature, however, is the excessive number of cat trees and wall climbers scattered throughout the room.

Confusion overtakes you for a moment, your mind still fuzzy from sleep as you try to figure out what the hell happened to lead you here.

As you shift up, adjusting your position on the plush bed, a small, bell-like sound rings through the air. In that moment, the memories flood back to you all at once. Nightwing, Robin, the strange collar.

The sudden, restrictive feeling around your neck is a stark reminder of your current predicament.

As the memories come flooding back to you, you instinctively try to raise a paw to rub at the collar around your neck, only to find that it's fastened on tight, the hooks holding it in place digging into your fur. Your movements are still a little sluggish from your previous unconscious state, making you feel more vulnerable than usual, trapped, in a place you don’t recognise.

As your gaze drifts downwards, you suddenly notice the subtle aching in your leg and near the base of your spine. Upon a more thorough inspection, you realise that there are small, almost imperceptible stitches in your fur, between the muscles on your left thigh. Panic rises within you, the realisation that something has been done to your body sending a wave of nausea through you, making you feel sick to your very core.

The fear washes over you in full force as you register the sight of the stitches on your body. It's not just the knowledge that someone has tampered with your body, but the thought that you were unconscious and vulnerable when it happened. Your heart races with a sickening anxiety, the fear coursing through you making your senses hyper-aware.

You quickly scramble up from the cat bed, your body a whirlwind of motion, you leap off the plush fabric, landing on the soft, carpeted floor with a thump. Your body is tense, nerves on edge, as you instinctively try to take in your surroundings. Your pupils have narrowed into slits, tail whipping around wildly, betraying your anxiety.

You start moving across the room, treading softly on the plush carpet beneath your paws, every muscle in your body tense and poised, ready to flee or fight at a moment's notice. Prepared for any surprise.

As you move through the room with tentative, calculated steps, your mind is on high-alert, taking in every single detail. From the placement of the furniture, to the large window at the far end, to the faint sound of a clock ticking on the wall, everything registers in your heightened senses.

There's a strange sense of being both trapped and exposed, in this grand space that is simultaneously familiar and foreign. The uncertainty of what might come next hangs over you like a dark cloud.

You go completely still, your fur standing on end, your ears perking up and shifting in the direction of the hallway. Your entire body tenses in anticipation as you listen to the loud, precise footsteps approaching you.

Every instinct in you screams danger, so you quickly ready yourself to either flee or fight.

A tall, slender butler emerges from the hallway, his pale blue eyes scanning the room before his gaze lands on your bristled, tense form. A single grey eyebrow raises slightly in surprise as he continues to look at you.

"You're up earlier than planned, young master," he remarks, his voice calm and even. A hint of curiosity laced within his tone.

The butler's casual demeanour is a stark contrast to the tenseness of your own body. His eyes linger on you with a sort of cool curiosity, taking in your fluffed up form. He looks unfazed by your reaction, his calm composure making it feel like this is a completely normal, everyday occurrence.

Your heart races as the words sink in, your mind racing with confused fear. What the fuck. Why is he calling me 'young master'? Where the hell am I, and what the hell is happening.

The situation feels entirely surreal, and more than a little bit terrifying. You just want to go back to the safety and familiarity of your own home, but instead you're here, trapped in this lavish living room, with a strange butler calling you by some title you've never even dreamed of being addressed by before.

The butler watches you closely, his cool blue eyes scanning over every little detail of your tense form, noting your bristled fur, your tail that's whipping around wildly, and the panicked look in your wide, dilated eyes. A hint of intrigue flashes through his expression as he takes in your state.

Then, he speaks again, his calm and steady voice betraying his thoughts.

"It seems the sedative is wearing off a little faster than expected," he says, taking a few steps closer to you. His voice sends a new wave of unease through you.

The calm, casual vibe the butler is giving off, coupled with the little almost-smile on his face, makes your already overdriven senses go into a frenzy. Every fibre of your being is screaming danger, and you instinctively take a step back, hackles raised further, your body tensed and ready to bolt.

Your fear and panic have heightened every one of your senses, and you're on edge, ready to react to any sudden movement or sound. You're poised to run, or if need be, fight. You try to keep your breathing steady, but the anxiety is bubbling up inside of you, making it difficult to stay still.

The butler's observant gaze is on you, studying your every move as you take a step back, your body tense in a flight-ready stance. He notices the panic etched into your form, and for a moment, he doesn't approach. Instead, he stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, his form composed and relaxed.

After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice soft and apologetic.

"I apologise for the state you woke up in," he says, that almost imperceptible smile still playing on his lips.

The man’s apology catches you off guard, a tiny flicker of surprise in your wide, dilated eyes. The politeness of his tone combined with that smile makes him seem almost eerily calm, given the situation you're currently in. Even though his words are apologetic, there's a subtle undercurrent of something else in his tone that you can't quite place.

The older man continues to watch you, his cool, observant gaze tracking every little movement you make, from the twitching of your whiskers to the rise and fall of your fluffy chest as your anxiety makes your breaths a little more laboured.

He takes a few steps closer toward you, his movements slow and deliberate. He's treating you like a wild beast, trying not to startle you further.

"It was necessary for the procedure to ensure your safe arrival, young master," he continues, his voice still soft but firm. It's as if he's trying to reassure you, despite the fact that his words do nothing but the opposite.

You shiver as the butler moves closer to you, your body tensing even further as you try to assess the potential threat he may pose. The apology and the explanation for your current state do little to ease the fear and confusion swirling within you. The dubbed name young master is foreign and bizarre and does nothing to help the situation.

You're on edge, your muscles coiled tight like a spring, ready to dart away the moment you sense any danger. But the butler isn't making any sudden moves, his calm demeanour and soft, even tone sending a confusing message.

The butler's eyes are observant, taking in every single twitch and jerk of your tensed body. He seems to recognise your anxiety, your coiled form ready to dart away given the opportunity. Yet he isn't visibly phased, his composed demeanour and soft, almost soothing voice unfazed by your obvious distress.

He takes another slow step toward you, his movements deliberate and careful.

"I understand your fear and confusion," he repeats, as if he was trying to reason with a frightened animal. Which in this case, wouldn’t be entirely wrong. However, beneath the soft, reassuring tone of his voice, there's still something else present, something you can't quite identify. “But you have nothing to be afraid of here.”

You swear that you could hear a hint of warning in his carefully crafted speech.

He's close enough now to reach out a pale hand toward you, his fingers outstretched. From this angle, the butler seems considerably taller, more imposing, and more dangerous than he appeared before, his gaze calm and calculating.

The tension in the room is palpable, and the clock on the wall seems to be the only other source of sound, beating in tune with your fast, panicked heart. He is entirely calm, his gaze cool and calculating, studying you carefully, like a hunter watching its prey.

"Come here, young master." He says in that soft, smooth, insistent tone.

You feel frozen in place, your mind racing with panic and despair. The options before you seem limited, the need to flee battling against the growing realisation that escape might not be a feasible option, especially with the butler's hand inching closer. Your body trembles slightly, your wide, alarmed eyes fixated on his approaching hand, the subtle threat underlying his words making it clear that the consequences of running away might be dire.

His voice, though soft and controlled, leaves no room for debate or refusal. The command in his words is clear.

He expects you to come to him.

You feel as if time stands still, your fear and tension making everything around you seem heightened, as if every fibre of your body was hyper-aware. The butler's hand is still gently moving closer, as if he was simply going to reach out and scoop you up, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

Your mind is swirling with fear and confusion, your thoughts chaotic and jumbled. You can't think clearly, and yet the old man exudes an air that somehow compels your trembling little paws to move forward, into his extended hand. Your every instinct is screaming at you that this man is dangerous, that getting any closer is a bad idea, but the mixture of fear, feeling of dizziness, and the authoritative atmosphere around him seems to overpower your logic. You don’t want to find out what would happen if you went against him.

A subtle victorious smile plays on the corner of the butler's lips as you begin to move forward, stepping into the range of his hand. He can practically feel your internal conflict and fear, and yet he shows no visible sign of it bothering him. His eyes remain steadfast, his expression and demeanour calm and composed.

"That's it," he murmurs, a hint of satisfaction in his tone, his hand closing around your small form, carefully but firmly holding you in his grasp, just tight enough to keep you from bolting.

You find yourself held against the butler's chest as he carefully lifts you off the ground, cradling you against him, his hold on you surprisingly gentle yet unyielding. The warmth of his body against your small form is an odd, almost confusing contrast to the fear and confusion you're currently feeling.

He begins walking across the living room, carrying you as if he was holding a fine piece of art. Every one of your senses is on high-alert, and you can feel the steady, calm beat of the butler's heart against your small form.

His steps are sure and controlled, his pace steady. He says nothing, his eyes looking ahead as he carries you through the lavish living room. Every step he takes seems to bring more and more confusion, the whole scene seeming like some sort of surreal fever dream.

The living room is large and open, with high ceilings and several plush couches and armchairs arranged around a grand, stone fireplace. The rich decor, the tall bookshelves, and the numerous cat trees and climbing structures give the room a distinct 'manor' vibe.

Everything in the room seems to scream 'wealth' and 'luxury', the opulence of Wayne Manor perfectly represented in this single, large room.

Despite the grandeur of the room, the butler's attention seems to be solely on you, his eyes focused on your small form he's cradling.

He speaks up, his tone is matter-of-fact and business-like, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Master Dick has requested your immediate presence.” He speaks softly, as if his words would clear everything up. You don't know who this Master Dick is, but the urgency in the butler's voice tells you that it's probably someone important.

His words linger in your mind like a heavy weight. You have no idea who they are, but the way the butler addresses them and the air that surrounds him leaves no room for doubt that the person is someone important, someone powerful.

He walks out of the living room, and a wave of cold, stark realisation washes over you, a sense of hopelessness that comes with the knowledge that you have absolutely no say in this. You are at these people’s mercy.

The halls of the manor that you find yourself in are long and wide, the floor carpeted and the walls lined with expensive and elaborate paintings and decorations. The place itself is beautiful, but you're unable to appreciate any of it, your mind racing and your heart beating rapidly. A fuzzy feeling basked over the back of your mind.

The butler carries you down the halls, his steps long and unhurried, making you acutely aware of how small and helpless you are in this unknown, vast, and intimidating place.

As you're brought through the seemingly endless halls, your mind is bombarded with a barrage of thoughts, all of them chaotic and confused. You try to look for a way to escape, but everything here is unknown and unfamiliar, and you have no idea which doors might lead outside, or if there are any windows you might be able to jump out of.

Your small form cradled almost carefully against his chest, his grip strong and unyielding. There's a sense of detachment with which he carries you, handling you like an object, a thing to be used and given.

The halls continue to pass by in a blur of rich colours and patterns, the only sounds being the steady thud of the butler's footsteps and your ragged, stressed breathing.

After what feels like an eternity, the man stops his movements. You find yourself standing before a large, grand-looking door, it's dark wood carved with elaborate designs and patterns. It looks like it’s been freshly cleaned, as if it used to home someone and they’ve only now started using it again. The door radiates a sense of importance, and you feel the pit of your stomach clench in fear.

He adjusts his grip on you, positioning you to be more presentable as he reaches with one hand to knock three times on the door. He looks down at you, a slight flicker of something in his eyes, and then he waits.

Your ears involuntarily fold back upon hearing the heavy, fast footsteps approaching. The door is practically wrenched open with a thud, and a tall male stands in the doorway. He’s grinning widely, his eyes almost shimmering in the light, and his gaze immediately settles on you.

The man’s presence is imposing, and you feel yourself involuntarily shrinking back against the butler, not knowing what to expect. He looks at you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, his grin widening as he takes in your small form.

The man who stands before you is tall, and broad-shouldered. He's dressed in casual wear, a light, well-fitted hoodie stretched over his wide chest tucked into dark jeans. His face holds an almost boyish charm, framed by dark, wild hair that tumbles over his forehead.

His eyes are a bright, intense blue, and right now they're fixed directly on you. There's a hint of both curiosity and amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

His demeanour changes almost instantly at the sight of you, his intense gaze softens as he takes you from the older man’s grasp by the scruff. He holds you up in the air, and you don't even have time to react before he's speaking.

"There's our baby." He coos, and there's a hint of something affectionate in his tone. The nickname baby is weird and confusing, but the man acts as if it's something perfectly normal. You’re not sure how to act. Everything’s happening too fast and you’re barely able to think, mind still hazed with sleep.

He doesn’t hold you forcefully, his grip not harsh but not soft either. You can almost feel the possessiveness in the touch, the way he looks at you, the sense of almost casual possessiveness. It’s like he believes that he has every right to be touching you, holding you, like you belonged to him. As if you were something he owned.

"Look at you…" he murmurs, his eyes taking in your form as he holds you up. "So pretty in person…"

There's a sense of satisfaction in his tone, as if you're better than what he had expected, and he's pleased by what he sees.

You can’t stop yourself from the deep, guttering hiss that escapes you as the man speaks, a mixture of fear, irritation and helplessness rolling through you. You hate how vulnerable you feel in his grasp, being held up in the air by this stranger, unable to break free.

The man chuckles, the sound loud and booming to your sensitive ears.

"Aww…" he coos. "I’m sorry, am I frightening you, little one?”

He holds you up to his eye-level, observing you with an amused yet soft grin, his eyes dancing with both curiosity and something else.

Your tail instinctively lashes around, thrashing in the air, trying to find a way to defend yourself, to break free of the strangers grip. But your body is slacking, the instinct to go limp when a predator has your scruff almost overpowering.

The position you’re in is uncomfortable and vulnerable and you’ve never been handled like this before. You’re finding it hard to move your limbs, breathing fast and overwhelmingly stressed. The helplessness of being carried like this is overwhelming. You want to scream and cry and run as far and fast as possible.

But you don’t. You forcibly stop yourself from letting the helplessness get to you. You refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing you scared, of seeing you so exposed.

I’m better than that, you tell yourself. Better than them. You’re stronger than that. You might be small right now, but you’re also stubborn as hell, and you’ll be damned if they get the satisfaction of seeing you scared.

He studies you intently, his eyes taking in every little detail of your form, from the twitching of your ears to the frantic movement of your tail. He’s still holding you up, his hold on your scruff not slacking in the slightest. His gaze fond and amused.

He lets out another small, amused chuckle at your reaction, his lips tugged into a small smile. “Don’t worry, kitten. You’re safe with me..”

His attention shifts back to the other man for a moment, giving him a nod of thanks. “Thanks, Alfred.”

The older man, Alfred apparently, gives him a small nod, his gaze is still set on you. "Of course, sir.” A slight frown on his face as he looks at the man holding you, Master Dick apparently, a mix of concern and knowing in his eyes. “Be careful. The sedative is still in their system.” The man gives a small hum in response, seemingly not bothered by the warning.

Alfred lingers there for a moment, looking at you, then looking at the man, a silent exchange between the two of them. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

And then, without another word, he turns and walks away, disappearing back down the hallway.

"Alfred is a worrier," The man mutters as he watches the butler walk away. He gives you a small, almost sheepish smile. "Sorry ‘bout that."

He turns back to you and continues scanning your form, his gaze thoughtful and curious. He speaks to you like one might speak to a child. Softly and reassuringly.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" he says, voice low and quiet. "Such a pretty little thing..”

He looks over you with an almost adoring look in his eyes, his thumb gently stroking the fur on the top of your head. You want to recoil from his touch, but you’re unable to do anything but stay paralysed in his grasp.

He seems to find your lack of reaction amusing.

"Not very talkative, huh?" he murmurs, tilting his head slightly to the side, watching your expression closely. "That’s alright. You don’t have to be."

He continues caressing your small form with his free hand, the stroking gentle and almost caring. His eyes flicker down to your ears and he grins. “You’re just a ball of attitude, aren’t you?” he notes, amusement in his tone. “The way your ears fold back every time I talk. So defensive.. Seems my youngest siblings are similar in that respect” He grins softly, pressing a kiss to your fluffy coat.

You freeze up, caught off guard by the unexpected and strange gesture. For a moment you’re too surprised to react, your body going limp before stiffening quickly again.

Your mind is reeling, trying to process this unexpected level of intimacy, from a complete stranger, no less. What the hell is up with this guy? He’s acting like I’m a pet. The thought is both angering and demeaning, you watch him with a mix of confusion and wariness in your eyes.

He brings you close to his chest, cradling your small form against him. His fingers run through your soft fur in a way that almost tickles, the feeling making your skin crawl a bit. The doors close behind him with an audible snap, the sound a little too loud to your sensitive ears.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the ridiculous amounts of cat-related objects that are placed everywhere. Drawers filled with little outfits, toys littered around, cat cushions, scratch pads, catnip balls stuck to the walls, and more. You almost grimace at the sight.

The room is a cat’s dream, filled to the brim with cat toys and decorations. A large, king-size bed dominates the centre of the room, covered with different patterns of soft blankets, a pile of various pillows and cushions scattered around it. It’s like a cat paradise, and an absolute nightmare for you.

The man carries you further in, taking a seat on the bed and making himself comfortable. He continues to hold you close, rubbing the nape of your neck, his touch too soft. Like he was silently apologising for handling your scruff so roughly.

He plops down on the bed unceremoniously, the springs creaking under his weight. He adjusts his hold on you to make you more comfortable, his grip a bit more lax now, but still firm enough to keep you pressed against him.

His eyes run over your form, looking you up and down, like he’s mentally checking you over. He’s studying me. He takes in every little detail. Every twitch of your ear, every lash of your tail, the way you instinctively hunch in on yourself. “... Damian’s not going to be happy with the state of your fur, little one..”

He reaches out to pet you, not expecting the swift response as you quickly smack his hand away, your claws drawing lines of bright red across the back of his hand.

He jerks backwards, yowling softly, his expression going momentarily shocked as he looks at the deep thin red lines across his skin.

He stares at you for a moment, surprised and probably pained, but also...almost impressed?

"That hurt you know..” he grumbles, more amused than mad.

"...But that’s okay. Siblings fight all the time." He mutters, still looking at his hand, the long red lines standing out against his tan skin. He sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to you.

His gaze then moves to look at you, and his expression is mildly entertained. He gives you a small teasing smile.

"Just wait until the others find out how feral you are. They'll have a field day with you.." The way he speaks is as if he’s joking, but his words make your fur stand on edge. He’s calling any person's natural reaction to getting kidnapped feral.

As you replay his words in your head you freeze. Others? You repeat in your mind, a sickening feeling settling in your gut. Just how many of them are there?

He seems to notice your reaction to his words, noticing your stiffened form and the look of dread on your face. He gives a small hum, his fingers running through your fur gently, a look of feigned innocence on his face.

"Is something wrong?" he asks softly, his tone almost patronising. He keeps his voice gentle, like a big brother speaking to his smaller child sibling.

"Did the mention of our siblings scare you?"

He continues to run his fingers through your fur as he talks, his tone still soft. "I'm sure you'll come to love them.. They're a bit rough around the edges, but they're good kids. Once they warm up to you, that is. And you, lovely, are already in their good graces.” He’s doing it again, speaking to you like you’re a dimwitted animal, something cute and small and incapable of understanding him. It’s demeaning and agitating. It makes me feel pathetic.

Tim's sitting on the kitchen chair, his feet propped up on the marble counter, leaning back casually. His attention was focused on the tablet in his hand. Or at least it was, too occupied with secretly watching as Damian meticulously rearranged the fridge, his brother moving items around to ‘make it look perfect’ for his older sibling’s new arrival.

Tim lets out a soft sigh. Of course. His little brother is almost as obsessive about organisation as Batman himself. He’s not surprised, more amused.

Damian looks over in Tim’s direction for a moment, his eyes catching the sight of Tim’s feet on the table. He rolls his eyes, a small scoff of displeasure escaping him.

"Feet off the table, Drake." Damian says dryly, his focus returning to the fridge and its contents.

"Oh relax, Dames. The table's clean." Tim counters, his tone almost mocking. He knows it annoys Damian to no end, calling him by the childish nickname.

He props his chin up on his hand, watching as his younger brother systematically re-arranges everything in the fridge, his movements quick and precise.

He hums softly, his gaze shifting downward for a moment, before he raises a brow. “Looks like the kitty’s awake.”

His eyes flick over to the live feed on the tablet, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk as he sees you. You look uncomfortable and wary, bristled and defensive. The sight causes him to let out a small amused huff of air.

Damian pauses mid-action, a container of fluffy cooked rice held in his hands. He turns to face Tim, a curious look in his green eyes. "Give me the tablet," he demands, holding out his hand expectantly.

Tim raises an eyebrow sceptically, "Why? You wanna spy on em?" He teases.

Damian huffs, crossing his arms in irritation, "I don't spy. I observe." He scoffs.

Tim just rolls his eyes, but relents, handing over the tablet. "Fine. But don't do anything stupid, Demon."

Damian glares at the nickname, but grabs the tablet from Tim's hands without comment. Looking down at the screen, watching the feed intently, his expression contemplative as he observes you. His gaze is sharp and calculating. Scanning over every detail, noticing the way you look around the room, the way you hunch nervously, your ears pinned back and swivelling as you listen for movement.

He tilts his head slightly, studying your form with intense concentration, taking in every little detail. "How long have they been awake?" he asks, not looking away from the screen.

Tim leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table again and folding his arms across his chest. He glances at his watch, thinking for a moment.

"Five, ten minutes, I think." Tim responds, leaning back against the chair. He watches as Damian's expression shifts thoughtfully as he studies the screen. Drake can't help but feel a pang of curiosity as well, but he keeps it in check.

There's a beat of silence as Damian continues to watch you, his expression thoughtful. Tim can practically see the wheels turning in his younger brother’s head.

"Hasn’t tried to bolt yet..” Damian notes, his voice quiet as he watches you, studying your movements. “That's... interesting.”

Tim lets out a hum, watching as Damian's expression becomes almost intrigued, like he's analysing your every move.

Silence settles over the room again, only the sound of the open fridges soft buzzing filling the air. Tim notices the way Damian's expression darkens a bit. "They look scared." He mutters, almost disappointed by the observation.

Tim raises an eyebrow at Damian’s observation, watching as the younger Robin frowns a bit.

"They’re probably terrified, to be fair. Would you not be scared, if someone kidnapped you?” Tim points out, his tone a bit sarcastic.

Damian scowls, a small pout forming on his face, the expression making him seem childish.

“I’d be angry, first and foremost.” He counters, his hands clenching slightly. “Not scared.”

He turns back to the fridge, placing the container in its rightful spot. He steps back, taking a moment to observe his work with a critical eye, before glancing back at Tim over his shoulder.

“And we haven’t kidnapped them. We’ve simply brought our little kitten home." He corrects, his tone matter of fact. Like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

Tim just groans exasperatedly, dropping his head forward against the table. He shakes his head in disbelief, rubbing his hand down his face.

"You say it like it's the most normal thing in the world." He mumbles into the table top, his voice slightly muffled.

Damian rolls his eyes, like Tim’s comment is beyond unnecessary and ridiculous.

"It is normal." He says, like he’s explaining something obvious to an idiot.

Tim lifts his head from the table, giving Damian a withering glare. "Abducting people is not normal, Dames." He sighs.

Damian huffs, returning Tim's glare with an equally intense one. "It is to us." He counters, his voice hard and unsympathetic.

Tim just stares at him for a moment. "And that doesn't strike you as concerning at all? The fact that kidnapping is so normal to us?"

Damian’s entire expression hardens, his features going from annoyed to cold and stoic in a matter of seconds. He pivots back to face Tim, his gaze steely and icy.

“Are you implying,” he begins, his voice low and dangerous, “that we return our sibling to the filth they were wallowing in?”

Tim's expression drops, a scowl pulling at his features. "I would never joke about that." He says firmly, his voice taking on a dark edge. "They're ours."

He then turns his attention back to the tablet, watching the screen intently. "I'm simply stating the fact that abduction isn't exactly the most common practice, not that I would ever dream of letting them go."

Damian hums in agreement, his expression still stoic, but his eyes flicker with a possessive light. He watches the tablet as well, the look in his eyes almost wild.

Tim notices the look in the younger boy’s eyes, and he lets out a small huff. "Calm down, Dames." He mutters, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Damian simply rolls his eyes, "I am calm." He says dryly, but his eyes never leave the screen, his gaze fixed on your form. He raises a brow as Alfred approaches you over the cams.

Tim just rolls his eyes at Damian's response, not fully believing him.

As the elderly butler steps closer, the tension in your form becomes almost visibly apparent. You stiffen, your body going rigid, ears pinned back against your head, tail bristling like a pincushion.

Damian watches intently, his gaze fixed on the live feed, eyebrows pinching together in something close to disappointment.

“Look at them. They’re terrified by Pennyworth.” He says, his voice low and frustrated.

Tim glances over at Damian, seeing the disapproving look on his face, and smirks a bit. “Of course they are. They don’t know that he’s harmless.”

Damian huffs, his irritation growing. "It’s not about being harmless or not. They should just know that they don’t have anything to fear here."

He keeps his gaze fixed on the screen, his expression one of annoyance and annoyance at your clear fear of the elderly butler, the way you’re bristling like a porcupine. His brows pinching even further at the state of your fur. A disapproving scowl crossing his features.

“Not everyone is like us, Dames.” Tim points out, his tone a mixture of amused and sarcastic. “Not everyone is damaged.”

Damian glares at him, “I am not damaged.” He mutters, his voice a mixture of irritation and defensiveness.

Tim just rolls his eyes. “Of course you are, you’re a Wayne.” He says dryly.

Damian bristles a little bit, his irritation growing a bit more, but he doesn’t take the bait. He continues watching the live feed, watching as Alfred reaches out to grab you, your tense and wary form flinching away as he scoops you up.

He lets out a small sigh of annoyance, his expression still irritated and frustrated. “This is ridiculous.” He mutters, his voice quiet, but clearly annoyed.

“Relax, Dames.” Tim says, a note of amusement in his voice. “You can’t expect them to stop being afraid immediately. They need time to adjust, to get used to us.”

Damian lets out an exasperated huff, his tone sharp. “They shouldn’t have to adjust to us.” He snaps, still glaring at the screen, watching as Alfred holds you carefully, in a way where you can’t hurt him while also like you're a fragile and precious thing.

Tim raises an eyebrow, looking at Damian with a mix of curiosity and understanding. “You want them to just...accept us? Just like that?”

Damian's expression darkens, his expression almost pained for a moment, his eyes never leaving the screen as he watches the way Alfred’s handling you.

“Yes, exactly like that.” He says, his tone firm and underlyingly desperate.

Tim's expression softens a bit, realising how much Damian truly wants you to accept them, that you don’t fear them. His expression becomes almost sympathetic as he watches Damian’s reaction.

"Dames…" he says gently, his voice soft, but firm. “It doesn’t work like that, bud. It’s gonna take time for them to actually warm up to us. They’ve been on the streets for far too long, they’ve been alone for a while.”

His gaze shifts down for a moment. “For now we’ll just have to result to the sedatives to keep them docile.”

Damian's expression pinches, his features shifting into a mix of agitation and discontent. While he loathes the thought of drugging you, he knows that the rest of the family has already made up their minds.

He lets out a quiet sigh, taking in a deep breath through his nose. Closing the fridge door with more force than necessary, his jaw clenching.

Tim notices the look on his brother's face, seeing the clear irritation and disapproval, and rolls his eyes a bit. “I don’t like this.” The youngest Wayne mutters, his tone tight and disapproving.

“It’s necessary.” Tim counters, his tone matter of fact, though there’s a hint of discomfort in his voice.

Damian shoots him a glare, clearly not satisfied with the explanation. He crosses his arms, his expression hardening, his eyes filled with a mixture of irritation and reluctance.

“Is it really necessary?” He snaps, his voice taking an almost bitter edge.

Tim’s expression hardens a bit, not appreciating the attitude. He takes a step forward, his eyes meeting Damian’s in a steady glare. “Yes, it is.” He says firmly. “It’s the most practical solution. We need to keep ‘em under control. You know the others won’t be happy if we let the kitty run wild. Or god forbid they throw a tantrum and hurt one of us. We can handle it, but can Alfred?”

His jaw clenches, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides. He knows Tim’s right, but he doesn’t enjoy that fact. He lets out a frustrated huff, his voice tight and strained.

“I know.” He snaps back. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Tim sighs, his expression softening a notch. He understands Damian’s reluctance, sharing a bit of the same sentiment. But he’s also pragmatic, and right now their needs are priority, not yours.

“I’m not saying you have to like it, Dames. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.” He says, his tone is gentle compared to before. “It’s just what needs to be done. It’s what’s practical. Effective."

Damian’s shoulders sag slightly, his expression shifting into one of reluctant acceptance. He knows that Tim’s right, that practicality should be their primary concern. But it doesn’t sit right with him, treating you like some sort of prisoner. You’re family.

He lets out a soft sigh, his hands uncurling from their tight fists. “Fine.” He mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tim notices the shift in Damian’s demeanour, the reluctant acceptance showing in his expression. He gives his brother a sympathetic look, knowing how hard this is for him. They’re all used to dealing with criminals, dealing with bad people, but using these methods on you feels wrong. Unnatural.

He nods in acknowledgment, giving Damian a small, relieved smile. “It’ll be alright, Dames.” He says genuinely. “You know it’s for the best.”

Damian nods, his features a mixture of reluctance and resignation. He knows that Tim’s right, that this is the best course of action for the situation. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Yes, I know.” He says, his voice quiet, but resigned. “It’s for the safety of the rest of us. For their safety.” He adds, his tone taking on a bitter edge again, as if the words taste rancid on his tongue. “But I still don’t agree with it. I hate that you agree with it.”

Tim lets out a slow, drawn-out sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He takes a deep breath before looking back at Damian. “I’m the one who concluded that we needed to sedate them. It’s the safest solution.” He admits quietly, his voice taking on a note of resignation. “It may not be the best option, but it’s the practical one.” His voice started to take on a more tired note. He hates having to repeat himself.

Damian’s expression darkens again, his irritation flaring up once more as he glares at Tim. “You suggested this?” He snaps, his voice tense.

Tim tosses his tablet down onto the counter at Damian's outburst, his expression becoming more guarded. "Yes, I did." He says, his tone firm and unapologetic. "And if you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it." His voice takes on a challenge, a daring note as he glares back at Damian.

The younger Wayne grows irritated at Tim's challenging tone, his eyes narrowing. He opens his mouth, about to shoot back at Tim, the argument on the tip of his tongue. But then he notices the hint of exhaustion in his brother’s eyes, the weary lines etched into his expression. He catches the frustration in Tim's tone, the tiredness seeping through. He closes his mouth, the argument dying on his tongue. He’s painfully aware of the older boy's self destructive habits.

He lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sag, and he drops his gaze to the floor. “No. I don’t.” He mutters bitterly.

Their attention is immediately snapped and drawn to the kitchen’s entrance as Alfred appears, a questioning eyebrow raised as he glances between them, seeming to take note of their tense exchange.

Tim’s expression shifts into one of slight relief, glad for the distraction from the argument and the heavy atmosphere of the kitchen.

Damian’s jaw clenches, his features shifting into a tight frown. He glances over at Alfred, his expression impatient and expectant.

“Where are they?” He snaps, his voice taking on a firm, demanding edge.

The butler glances between the two, his eyes lingering on Damian and his irritated expression. “The young master has been taken to Master Dick.” He says calmly, an air of mild reproach in his tone.

Damian’s scowl deepens as he processes Alfred’s words. The thought of you being alone with Dick makes his stomach twist with unease. He knows how overbearing and excessive his eldest brother can be, and he’s not exactly confident in Dick’s ability to handle the situation without causing some sort of incident. Plus, he wanted to be the first person you saw once you had woken up.

Tim, on the other hand, only looks only mildly concerned. He has a bit more faith in Dick’s ability to keep the situation under control, but he’s also not blind to his brother’s tendency to smother and overwhelm. But he has the cameras to watch over just in case the situation turns sour. So he’s not worried.

Damian’s face twists in irritation, and he’s about to demand to know where exactly Dick took you, but Alfred clears his throat before he can speak.

“I’m certain the young master is in safe hands, Master Damian.” Alfred says, his voice calm and gentle, a silent plea for him to hold his tongue.

Damian’s jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tensing further. He hesitates for a moment, wrestling with the urge to argue, but ultimately he swallows the words and just gives a tense nod.

Tim watches the silent interaction between Damian and Alfred, his expression still mostly neutral. He’s silently amused by Damian’s irritation, knowing how the youngest Wayne has very little patience with these kinds of things. But he knows that arguing with Alfred is usually pointless, the old butler’s word usually final.

So he just watches quietly, his gaze drifting towards the live feed fed from the cameras.

You’re curled up under Dick’s bed, body coiled into a small, tense ball. Your fur is bristled and your ears are pinned back, pressed flat against your skull. You’re tense and on edge, waiting silently for any sound from above, listening keenly to the movements of the man sitting on the bed above you who can’t stop giggling.

Grayson is sitting on the edge of his bed, a wide smile on his face as he looks down at the space under his bed. He’s trying to keep his voice relatively quiet, not wanting to startle you further, but he’s too amused to keep his voice completely level. He keeps chuckling to himself, he can’t help it. You were just so adorable. Even when you were angry, all fluffed up and hissing.

“Come on out, little thing.” He coos, his tone gentle and sweet. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He reaches a hand down, his fingers gently patting the carpet beneath the bed, coaxing you out from your meagre hiding place.

Your tail lashes out, thwacking against the underside of the bed. You roll your eyes at his coaxing, annoyed at the way he’s trying to get you out. As if you’re going to give him the satisfaction of coming out just because he keeps saying he won’t hurt you. How stupid does he think I am?

Dick huffs a quiet, exasperated laugh, clearly amused by your stubbornness. He continues to gently pat the carpet, his voice still gentle and coaxing. “Come on, come out, baby. I just want to talk to you.”

He shifts a bit, trying to get a better view of you under the bed, but he can only see a glimpse of your fluffy rump and tail.

You shift away from his hand, pressing yourself closer to the wall, your eyes locked on his fingers as they continue to pat the carpet. Yeah, right. You think bitterly, your tail whipping around irritably. Like I’m going to fall for that. A guttural hiss leaves your throat. As if I’d come out just because he ‘asked nicely.’ No fucking chance.

Dick can tell that you’re not budging anytime soon. He lets out an amused huff, still smiling down at the space under his bed. “Alright then.” He says with a small laugh, clearly not too bothered by your stubbornness.

“I’m not going to force you out. I can just sit here all day, sweetheart. All day and all night.” He says sweetly, his tone taking on a singsong edge.

Your ears go back, flattening against your head at the mention of him sitting there all day. You shoot a withering glare at his fingers. No way you’re going to let him get the better of you. You’ve dealt with humans trying to coax you out from hiding by pretending to be nice before. Never once has it worked. Not once.

My mother taught me better than that.

Dick watches your ears flatten against your head, his smile growing slightly at your defiant glare. He can practically feel the resistance radiating off of you. He knows that he’ll have to use a different tactic to make you come out. He’ll make sure to remember to get rid of the bed’s legs so you can’t hide under it again.

“Come on, little spitfire, you can’t stay under there forever.” He tries, his tone slightly softer. “I bet it’s cramped and uncomfortable under there. You gotta be getting tired.”

Your ears prick up slightly at his words, but you quickly ignore them. He’s right of course, it is cramped and uncomfortable under here. But you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. You keep your gaze locked on his hand. It may be a little claustrophobic, but the carpet laid under your little belly and small paws is softer than any material you’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling before. It’s more comfortable than the worn-out stained mattress you use as a bed. Everything here is, really. So you can deal with a little claustrophobia.

Dick can see the way your ears prick up at his words, and he can see the way your eyes drift around the carpet under the bed, taking in the soft material.

He can tell how much more comfortable this is compared to how you usually live. But he keeps that observation to himself.

He just continues quietly coaxing you, his voice never losing its sweetness.

“Yeah, I bet you’re cramped and uncomfortable, baby. It's awfully warm under there...” He coos, his hand continuing to pat the carpet lightly. “And you must be hungry by now, right?” He asks softly, his voice taking on a more sympathetic edge.

Your ears twitch a bit at his words, the mention of food making your stomach rumble quietly. He’s right, you are hungry. Famished, even. It’s been a few days since your last full meal.

You try to push down the ache of hunger in your stomach, your tail flicking irritably. You’re not going to give in just because he mentioned food. Even if a part of you is tempted, you’re not that desperate.

Dick’s lips twitch as he notices the way your ears flick, and he hears your stomach give an almost painful-sounding grumble. He’s silently satisfied that he’s at least getting some sort of reaction; a sure sign that he’s wearing you down.

“Aww…” he coos sympathetically, his voice sickenly sympathetic. “Are you hungry? Your tummy’s all grumbly.. I can hear it from here, kitten.” He leans forward, resting his chin on his folded hands. The position gives him a clearer view of you.

Your ears twitch again, but that’s the only reaction you give. On the inside, your stomach is practically clawing at itself, begging for some sort of meal. Your body is silently aching from how starved you are, the feeling only getting worse with each passing moment. Why the fuck did he have to say something? You hadn’t even noticed a few seconds ago.

But you keep your glare firmly fixed on his hand, refusing to acknowledge the pain. You’re determined to show him that you’re not going to give in that easily.

Dick hums thoughtfully, his gaze gliding over to the hidden camera in the corner of the room, his eyes locking on it knowingly. He casts the device a glance, his expression speaking volumes. He’s letting Tim know that he’s got this situation under control, but still mouths for him to send food.

He glances back down at the space under his bed, addressing you again, his tone still gentle and coaxing. “Come on out, baby…”

A soft growl rumbles in your chest, your mind still stubbornly set on refusing to budge. His soft tone and gentle way of speaking isn’t going to get the better of you.

You dig your claws into the carpet, a low, grumpy snarl working its way out of your throat. No. You think irritably, your tail twitching from behind, thumping against the wall in silent protest.

Dick hears the growl that rumbles out of your chest, and he can tell that you’re still holding out. You’re a stubborn little thing, he’ll give you that. It makes him almost proud. He’s proud to be your brother.

“Come on, kitty. Why don’t you come out from under there and let me see you?”

Your fur sticks up more at his words, your tail lashing even more furiously. He’s getting awfully demanding, which only serves to anger you more. You flatten your ears back against your head, letting out another low growl. Your glare locks intensely on his fingers, which are still lightly patting the carpet. Does this idiot honestly think I’d come out just because he’s saying please?

Dick tries to keep his calm demeanour, despite your visible irritation with him. He knows that you’re feeling claustrophobic under there, but he also knows that you’re too stubborn to come out just because he asks nicely. He silently notes the way your back rises and falls a little too quickly, a sign of how stressed you are in the confined environment.

He tries another approach. “Don’t make me come under there and get you…” he says lowly, his voice taking on a slightly darker edge.

Your ears twitch at the darker undertone in his voice, your body tensing further. You know that he means it, and the thought of him coming under there gets your claws digging deeper into the carpet.

You let out a guttural snarl, low and threatening. Try and get me out. Go ahead and try. I bet your big back can’t even fit under here.

Dick huffs a quiet laugh as he hears your warning snarl, but he’s not intimidated in the slightest. He knows that you’re just trying to sound intimidating, to scare him into leaving you alone. But he can see past the fierce demeanour you’re putting on, he can see the way your body is shaking with tension, the way you’re practically clawing the carpet to pieces.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before standing. His hand reaching down and hooking under the frame of the bed, lifting it up with little effort.

Your body jerks back in shock as he suddenly lifts the entire bed into the air, the sound of the bed’s feet scraping loudly across the floor.

Your tail goes wild at the unexpected situation you’re suddenly in, waving uncontrollably behind you. Your eyes are as big as saucers, the sight of the bed being lifted up completely taking you by surprise. Fuck– how is he so strong?

Your heart is practically slamming against your ribcage, your adrenaline spiking. You’re suddenly feeling very exposed, pressed against the rich wooden frame of the underside of the bed with nowhere to go. You can see him peering under the bed, that smug smile on his face making your blood boil.

“Come out before I’m forced to grab you, spitfire.” He repeats.

A guttural snarl rumbles out of your chest, your legs bunching up as if you’re preparing to pounce. Your heart is racing uncomfortably. His tone is playful, but you can see the subtle hint of darkness in his eyes.

Dick chuckles as he watches your body tense up, the look in your eyes almost murderous. But despite your fierce demeanour, he can see the way your muscles are trembling beneath your fur.

He knows that you’re just scared. You like to put on a strong front, but your shaking body gives you away. He doubts that you’re even aware of it.

His arm is starting to strain a little, the bed is heavier than it looks, but he keeps holding it up with one arm, leaning forward slightly to peer at you.

A low hiss escapes your throat as you slowly begin to edge out from under the bed, your body practically scraping against the ground. You keep yourself as low to the floor as possible, as if you’re still trying to be undetected.

Then, you suddenly dart across the room, scrambling as fast as your legs will allow to the other side, putting as much distance between you and the dude. Once you’ve reached the far side of the room, your body immediately collides with a wall, your tail whipping around as you press yourself against the surface.

Dick sighs as he watches you scramble away from him, practically diving to the other side of the room and immediately slamming yourself against the wall. He lowers the bed back to the ground, letting it thump loudly against the carpet.

His eyes watch you closely, taking in how you’re almost vibrating with tension. He can see the way your eyes are wide, how your back is hunched against the wall, and your little ears are folded back against your head.

You’re ready to go at any second.

Your tail is lashing wildly behind you, your entire being screaming at you to bolt for the door. Get out. Go. Run. Leave. Now. Get out while you still can.

Your little legs carry you as fast as they can, the sound of the door clicking open ringing in your ears. The sound was as loud as a gunshot to your ears. It’s the only noise you need to hear before you bolt. The thought of escaping is a driving force, urging you to run as fast as possible. Darting as fast as your paws will carry you towards the door.

But your escape gets instantly interrupted as you suddenly crash into a pair of long legs, covered in posh looking suit pants. A startled hiss escapes your throat as you stumble back, your head bumping against the man’s legs.

You skid to a halt, your paws screeching against the floor as you collide with them. Your head snaps up, a hiss escaping you as you pull away and stumble back, trying to gain some distance. The rich black fabric now adorns a few of your fur's stray hairs.

A soft chuckle escapes the man just moments after your little stunt, the sound catching your attention. You look up at the man, his face calm and collected as he simply stares down at you.

He speaks in a light tone, addressing you. “Careful there, little one” His eyes are still locked on your small frame. His gaze then shifts back to Dick, holding out a tray to the man.

Dick huffs in amusement as he sees you bolt straight into Alfred, your legs carrying you so quickly that you don’t realise his entrance until it’s too late. He almost laughs out loud as he watches you scurry back awkwardly, your eyes darting back and forth between the two men.

He takes the tray from Alfred with a grateful smile, placing it on the rich wooden desk nearby. “Thanks, Alfie.” He says, his gaze shifting back to you, watching you closely.

Alfred hums softly in response, his eyes still locked on you, his gaze studying your every movement. You feel uncomfortably scrutinised as he looks you over, taking in your every feature. Jesus, he’s staring at me like I’m a bloody zoo attraction.

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes are studying your every move, as if you’re something of extreme curiosity to him. His intense interest in you is making you shift uncomfortably.

He didn’t do that earlier, did he? You think to yourself, your mind struggling to recall earlier events. But for some reason, your memories are just a big jumbled blur.

You can faintly remember waking up on a soft, plush material. Your mind struggles to recall the events. All you can remember are vague, blurry images, like watching a video through a rain-drenched window. One of those images is an unfocused picture of the butler walking, holding you in his arms as he moves. It’s anything but clear. You wouldn’t have believed that it had even happened if it weren’t for the fact that you are in the ‘Master Dick’s room.

Which, now that you’re thinking about it, sounds oddly familiar to you.

However, they don’t spare you much time to ponder over it as you’re forcefully pulled out of your thoughts when the door clicks closed behind the old butler as he leaves once more, your ears twitching in response to the sound.

Dick watches you silently as he places the tray in front of you, the aroma of cooked meat wafting towards your nostrils almost instantly, making your stomach rumble loudly, as if on a cue.

You silently berate your stomach in your mind, before glaring up at Grayson. He probably poisoned it, or something.

Your stomach lets out another loud gurgle as the meat fragrance hits your sensitive nose, the sound making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You quickly try to silence the sound of your rumbling belly by internally scolding and cussing out the organ, but your silent tantrum is cut short as you glare up at Dick, eyeing him suspiciously.

Your mind instantly accuses him of tainting the food. He probably poisoned it. Or something. You think bitterly.

Dick notices the way you’re eyeing the food suspiciously, a small chuckle escapes him in response. He can tell that you’re silently accusing him of doing something to the food, and he can’t help but find the way your face scrunches up in a tiny little frown as you glare.

He leans down to sit opposite you, keeping a safe distance before he speaks, his tone gentle. He tells you. “The food is fine. It’s made so you can eat it in both forms.”

Your ears immediately perk up in surprise, your tail freezing in its agitated movements. You can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, making your body tense up. He knows I'm a hybrid.

A thousand thoughts run through your mind as the realisation strikes you. He knows. How the hell does he know?

Your heart begins to race even more as your mind instantly connects the dots, linking the events together like a piece of an unsolved puzzle. You recall the other man, the man who knew where you lived. You had no idea who he was, but he clearly knew who you were.

And now, Dick somehow knows about your unique condition.

Your mind quickly makes the connection. Are they working together? Is he with Jason?

You can already feel the adrenaline pumping through your system, your heartbeat sounding like a drumbeat in your chest. Your body is tense, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Dick doesn’t seem to notice your inner thoughts, or if he does, he’s not showing it. He sits calmly across from you, that annoying little grin still plastered on his face, his eyes studying your every move.

Your mind is racing, your body feeling like it’s ready to explode. You can’t help yourself, the thought of staying small and powerless while being in the presence of such a man is making you heave. Bile shooting up your throat at the mere thought.

You quickly shift forms, transforming into a human form. You’re still tense, on edge, but somehow you feel less vulnerable this way.

A large red and black hoodie hangs off of your form, the oversized material reaching the middle of your thighs. A pair of shorts hugging your legs, clinging to the skin tightly. You’re painfully aware that this is not what you had on before you were knocked out. And somehow, by the tight restricting feeling that adorns your neck, the collar has adapted itself onto your human form too. The sight confuses you and leaves you with a thousand questions, but you don’t dare ask any of them.

Your mind is too occupied with the dull ache that had been building into a painful burn in the muscles of your body, making it harder to concentrate. The intense pain has gone from an irritating dull ache to a stinging, burning feeling. It feels as if someone has dug into your skin, left something deep inside you, and stitched it into your flesh.

Your muscles tense, the overwhelming feeling making you nauseous. The pain is far worse in your human form.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow as he notices the way you suddenly curl in on yourself, your body flinching as if in pain. His heart clenches at the sight. He immediately rushes over to your side, stopping and kneeling down right next to you. His deep ocean eyes filled with concern.

He watches you carefully, his gaze studying every muscle twitch, every subtle movement. Something's wrong. His heart clenches at the sight of you in pain, a protective instinct stirring within him that he can't ignore.

His body is itching to reach out to you, to comfort you, but he holds himself back. Don’t make it worse. He thinks to himself.

He speaks your name gently, his voice filled with worry. “Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes locked onto you. “What hurts? Tell me, kitten.”

You’re curled up into a tight ball, your body tense and in pain. Dick’s voice is gentle, filled with concern as he asks you what’s wrong. But the sound of him calling you kitten makes you wince in annoyance, a slight hiss escaping you before you can stop it.

You’re about to answer him when a wave of intense pain shoots through your spine, making your body jerk involuntarily.

The sound that escapes your throat is something between a hiss and a whimper. Which does nothing to calm Dick, his face growing more concerned as he watches you writhe in pain, his mind practically screaming at him to do something to help you.

Dick is about to reach out and touch you, to comfort you, but before his hand can touch your shoulder, the bedroom door slams open violently. Damian’s face, uncharacteristically filled with fear, is suddenly in the room. Tim is next, rushing past the boy and to your side with a syringe in his hand. You don’t have any time nor energy to evade him. The sedative administered quickly.

Your body is tense from the pain, but you feel yourself start to relax as the sedative takes effect. Your mind is slowing down, the world around you becoming hazy. Your breathing is growing slower, your body slowly going limp as the drug starts to take over your senses. Falling backwards into Dick's readied arms.

Dick grits his teeth, looking up at his younger brothers with a deep frown. “Someone explain." he orders firmly, cradling you protectively in his arms as you begin to fall unconscious.

“We need to get them to Bruce.” Damian responds instead of answering. Your mind is barely registering the words before everything starts to go black and it feels like you’re drowning. The sedative completely takes effect as you slowly fall unconscious.

You feel yourself slowly awakening, your long kitten limbs stretching out as your paws curl in on themselves. A soft yawn escapes your lips as you blissfully blink your sleepy eyes open, you can’t remember transforming, but you don’t dwell much on it, feeling somewhat satisfied and at ease. A soft, satisfied purr escaping your lips.

You’re almost about to lull yourself back to sleep when the surface you’re laying on shifts under you.

Your ears twitch in response, your eyes widening with alertness as the soft, fuzzy feeling of comfort is instantly replaced with confusion. You quickly realise that the surface you’re sleeping on is actually moving under you, and that the slight thump thump sound underneath you is not your own pulse.

Your mind quickly processes the new information, realising that you’re not laying on a soft surface, but on someone’s lap. Your body immediately reacts, your ears flicking back as you try to scramble out of whoever’s lap you’re on, startled.

A deep, rumbling chuckle resonates from behind you, a large hand patting your fur gently. Your tail flicks in response to the touch, your mind registering how easy it is to move, how the pain is gone. You take this opportunity to leap up onto the large office desk, your eyes darting around to take in your surroundings – completely ignoring the large figure behind you.

Your tail instantly goes rigid as your eyes fall on the framed photo on the desk, your eyes instantly widening as you recognize the people in the picture. Your heart sinks deep in your chest. It’s a family. A large and happy-looking family. One that you are all too familiar with.

Your mind connects the dots instantly, the realisation hitting you like a truck. The familiar manor. The butler, Alfred. Master Dick. Those people. You're suddenly afraid of looking at the man behind you. They were the Waynes.

Your heart starts pumping furiously in your chest, your breathing becoming rapid and shallow. You can feel a wave of nausea overcome you, your stomach clenching and your head spinning from the force of it all. How exactly have you landed yourself right in the laps of the Wayne's, of all people?

You’re afraid to look back, afraid of who is sitting right behind you. The urge to flee and run as far as possible from this place is almost overwhelming.

The man’s voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts, making you realise that you’re far too deep in your own head. A shiver runs down your spine at the nickname. Sunshine. You haven’t heard that nickname in years.

"You gave us quite the fright there yesterday, sunshine."

You finally gain the courage to look back, your body tense and your breathing heavy. You meet the man’s eyes, and the sight of the soft, concerned gaze makes your breath hitch in your throat. His voice was both soft and firm, almost... paternal.

His deep ocean eyes were looking at you with a mixture of concern and worry. There was no malice, no ill-intent. Only concern that made your heart clench in your chest. His expression is soft, like a parent seeing their child in pain.

He's sitting in a large armchair, his tall frame slouched slightly as he looks at you intently. His suit looks expensive, but slightly rumpled, as if he hadn't changed in quite a while. His tired eyes never leave you.

Your mind instantly goes into a panic, your multi-coloured chest heaving as if you just got the wind knocked out of you. Fur going up and down at each breath.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Your thoughts are screaming at you, practically begging you to run. To hide. Everything in you is telling you to flee. You can’t go through this again. You were not going through this- not with Bruce fucking Wayne. One deadbeat mother was enough.

Your body is tense, your tail flicking quickly from one side to the other. You’re terrified, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through your body like a wildfire. You’re on the verge of bolting, of escaping as fast as your little legs can carry you. Your heart is pumping, your muscles tense and ready to jump.

But you can’t. You’re frozen in place, your body refusing to cooperate. Stuck there, looking directly into the eyes of one of the most powerful men in Gotham.

Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, your muscles flexing. You can barely even register that you’re being scooped up until you’re already in his arms, his large hands gently holding you close as he begins to scratch behind your soft little ears. His voice is low as he leans down and whispers in a soothing almost comforting tone, his warm breath on your fur making you shiver involuntarily. You almost don’t register his words, the soothing, deep baritone trying to reassure and coax you to relax. To calm down. He’s telling you that it was alright that you had nothing to fear. That you were safe.

“Breathe.”

You’re tense in his arms, your body fighting between the urge to stay and run away, to escape from this situation. But the soothing voice and the gentle fingers scratching behind your ears are starting to have a calming effect on you, despite yourself. His deep voice somehow helps soothe your inner cat, the instincts in your half-wild brain slowly calming down.

He tells you to breathe, to calm down, and you realise that you are holding your breath. You take in a gasping lungful of air, feeling your body sag slightly.

His large hands are holding you close, keeping you still and comfortable in his arms. He continues to run the back of his thumb soothingly behind your ears, the comforting gesture making your eyes flutter with pleasure as a soft, involuntary purr-like sound escapes you. He chuckles quietly at the sound, looking down at you with those deep ocean eyes of his.

“Good,” he says aloud, his voice deep and soothing. “Just like that… Easy, sunshine.”

Your body relaxes against his larger form as he continues to talk softly, his warm breath hitting you with every word he speaks. You find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to, his strong hands and familiar scent comforting your inner feline instincts. The deep and soothing rumbling of his voice is a strange comfort to your nervous system, bringing an unfamiliar sense of safety.

“That's it... you're doing so well…”

His hands never leave your body, his touch still soothing and tender, like a parent comforting a scared child. His voice is gentle and calm, like a soft, warm blanket, wrapping itself around you and muffling your senses.

You find your body relaxing further, your muscles no longer as tense as before as you lean heavily into him, almost melting. His scent is warm and musky, bringing a strange sense of familiarity and comfort along with it. He chuckles softly as you let your eyes flutter closed, feeling yourself giving in to the comforting presence. You can barely think, just basking.

His large hands never stop their comforting motions, continuing to gently rake through your soft, fluffy fur. The sound of his low voice and the feeling of his warm breath on your fur are both soothing you further, making your inner cat feel safe and protected.

He continues to murmur soft words to you, saying that you're good and that you're doing so well. You feel yourself nodding in a haze, the praise making your half-wild brain feel satisfied and at ease for the first time in a very long time. Your entire body soaking in all the praise and affection. He continues to talk softly to you, his deep voice almost lulling you to complete and utter contentment. You almost don't register his words, still feeling all fuzzy from the sedatives.

He lets his voice die out for a moment, just watching intently as you curl into him. Then he speaks up once more, his low voice filled with genuine remorse and sadness this time as he speaks to you, his large hands subconsciously tracing carefully over the newly bandaged areas on your small form. He murmurs softly about metal allergies and implantation tests.

“We hadn't run nearly enough tests...” he says, his voice full of regret. “We would never have been so careless if we had known you were going to react badly to the metal we used… I apologise.” His large figure is still holding you tight against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. His voice is soft and apologetic. As if it was his fault that you were allergic to the metal. As if it was normal for someone to put things like trackers inside of you.

Your entire body tenses as you suddenly remember exactly where you are and who you're with. It's as if a switch flips inside of you. You can feel anger and fear rising up in your chest as your ears automatically lay back flat against your head. You suddenly find yourself not feeling safe in his arms anymore, instead feeling panicked. What the fuck did he just say? Trackers?

This time you don't even think, your natural instincts kicking in full force. Your pupils shrink into deep slits as your teeth bare in a feral expression, the fear and anger from before making your claws extend and dig into the billionaire's skin.

He barely has time to react before you're lunging at his wrist, your sharp claws digging deep into his expensive suit, creating deep red gashes on his skin. You're not backing down, not this time.

He lets out a surprised hiss of pain, his grip around you relaxing just enough for you to slip out of his arms. You land on the edge of the desk, your body already crouched low, ready to flee. You can see the Billionaire's shocked expression, his eyes darting quickly between you and the deep red gashes on his skin. He quickly applies pressure on the wound, the gashes deep. He doesn't look angry however, more concerned than anything.

He looks up at you, his expression shifting from shock to concern, making your anger flare up again. He's looking at you like a concerned parent looks at their child when it has hurt itself. He’s the hurt one. It's making you livid.

He speaks your name softly, his voice filled with worry and concern. His expression and tone remaining gentle. Loving. “Are you alright?”

The question makes you twitch in anger, your eyes flashing in irritation. You just mauled the man's arm and he has the nerve to ask you if you're alright?

He slowly reaches out towards you, his expression unchanged, still concerned. "Come back here." he says, his voice gentle and coaxing. "You shouldn't be moving around too fast yet."

You hiss at him, your anger flaring at his patronising tone. The idea of getting closer to the man is making your heart pound wildly in your chest. His expression only softens in response, like he's used to temperamental creatures. "It's alright," he soothes, his voice staying level and even. "Just come back here and let me check if you’re hurt."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assures gently. "I just want to make sure you're okay. The sedatives should be just about out of your system now, but you really shouldn't be walking around yet." He's still slowly reaching out to you, his voice soft and soothing. "You need to rest, sunshine. You just got a big shock. Come back here. It's alright." His voice is still full of that same paternal concern. Like he's worried for his own child. Like you're some frightened kitten that needs to be comforted. It makes you want to claw out his eyeballs.

You tense, your entire body shaking from the adrenaline and fury coursing through you. The nickname Sunshine from earlier only serves to fuel your anger further. Bringing back memories from your early childhood that you've tried so hard to squash down. You can feel anger and fear mixing into a potent cocktail inside your body, making you feel like you're about to burst from the conflicting emotions. You hiss aloud at him in reply, your body tensing further as he still reaches out.

He pauses as you bare your teeth at him, your tail lashing around wildly. He sighs, his expression turning to one of resignation. "You really are a feral little thing, aren't you?" he comments aloud, his tone holding unfiltered amusement. But his eyes are still concerned, watching your every move intently.

He slowly lowers his arm, seeing that you're not reacting well to his attempts at coaxing you back. He leans back in his chair, seemingly giving you a safe distance to calm down. His gaze stays fixed on you, his large eyes watching your every move, like a hawk watching its prey. He's still watching you with concern, like he's worried you're going to do something reckless.

"Just take a breath," he instructs, his voice still gentle. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep going like this." He's still watching you intently, like he's waiting for you to snap and attack him again.

The urge to transform back into your human form is strong, your emotions are a tumultuous storm inside of you. Wanting to cuss the old man out. But you resist the urge out of pure stubbornness, the part of you that still wants to claw him to shreds still in full control of your thoughts. But you want to scream at him, to say something cutting and hateful.

You have so many things you want to say to the Billionaire, so many insults and scathing remarks that are just on the tip of your tongue. But the feral part of you is not letting you shift to speak. You're stuck between wanting to transform into your human form and shout at him, and staying like this to claw his eyes out.

The elder man tries once more to reach out and grab you, seemingly sensing that you're not quite done with your outbursts yet. But you react quickly, your body moving before your mind can stop you, your paw coming up and swiping at his arm. Claws out and extended. However, this time he's prepared for your reaction. He's quick to grab your extended limb, gripping you firmly by the arm. Before you know it, you're hoisted up into the air, dangling by your arm as you hold back a whine.

He doesn't let go, his grip firm and unyielding. You can feel your arm stinging unpleasantly from where his fingers are wrapped around it, your feet waving in the air as you dangle helplessly. Your inner self hates being so exposed, your body hanging there like a limp doll. You despise being held like this, having no control of the situation. Your ears fold back and pin down against your head.

His pale blue irises focus intently on your outstretched limb, eyes narrowing as he takes note of your claws, which are bared and extended. Noticing how they're not as dull as they would be if they had been cut regularly. You can see his brow furrowing in deep concentration, taking in the length and sharpness. You can also see his jaw clench when he notices just how untouched they look, like they've never been cut before. He lets out a low hum as he studies you, looking down into your eyes, his gaze hardening as he clearly puts two and two together. Thinking to himself for a moment, not phased by your violent squirming.

His mind races at a million miles a minute as he looks down at you, studying your body and your reaction. He can already picture all of the damage you'll do to his furniture, his expression growing more and more stern as his thoughts linger on the possibilities. But as the thoughts of the damage you'll do to the property fades away, another one rises, even darker. One that has him clenching his jaw.

His expression turns grim as he mentally pictures the damage you could do to your other siblings, his eyes flashing with anger. He can see the scenarios clearly, the thought of you harming them making deep, cold anger spread through his veins. His jaw clenches tightly at the thought, his hand gripping your limb a little bit tighter. But there's something else in his eyes as he pictures the damage you could do. Something possessive that shows on his face as he imagines you hurting your brothers.

His eyes remain fixed on your claws as his mind works, contemplating the idea of having one of the boys trim them as soon as possible. But a part of him is also considering a way to prevent them from being used as weapons. A way to keep them from being able to do damage in the future. His jaw tenses again as he mulls over the idea of some sort of restraints, his gaze still on your claws as he plans the next move.

As his mind ponders the options, he thinks back to the scene that just happened, the violent outburst and the way you swiped your claws at him, clearly upset. He's trying to think of a way to keep you from reacting so wildly, and the thought of restraints seems like a good solution. But there's a part of him that doesn't like the idea, not wanting to use something so final on you. Especially when you're still so young.

Yet his mind is also thinking of the danger that your claws represent, especially to yourself and your siblings. He thinks of all of the dangerous things that you could do, the things that you could accidentally hurt. The damage you could cause, the damage you could do to yourself and those around you. His mind is wrestling over the best choice to make, between his protectiveness and his need to keep you safe.

You writhe violently in his hold, using every ounce of strength you can muster to try and tug yourself free. With as much force as you can manage, you tug yourself up to deliver a solid bite to the Wayne's first knuckle, trying to dislodge his grip on your small paw.

Your teeth dig deep into his skin, your sharp canines breaking through the skin like it's butter, drawing a small trickle of blood. With all of your strength you yank against his hold. He lets out a guttural growl of pain as your teeth dig into his flesh, trying to yank his hand away on reflex. He wasn't expecting the sudden attack, the pain of your little fangs burying into his skin making his eyes widened. His fingers immediately loosen around your limb, as he pulls away his injured hand to inspect the bite.

He holds his hand to his face, inspecting the fresh bite mark you left behind, a trickle of blood sliding down his pale finger. You're able to tug your limb out of his loosened grip, landing on the desk with a soft thump. He looks at you with surprised eyes, taking in your feral appearance, your teeth bared and eyes flashing, your pupils small and slitted.

The knock on the office door interrupts the Billionaire's thoughts, his head snapping up to see Damian walking in. "Father, the enclosure has been set u-." the young boy says, but his words die out as his eyes land on you, his expression going soft at first, but then hardening at the sight of the injuries on his fathers hands.

There's a beat of silence, Damian's gaze flitting between you and his father, taking in the scene of you and the older man. The clear evidence of your outburst still present in his bloodied hands.

"What happened?" he finally says, his voice filled with anger and worry. His eyes are hard as he looks at his father's injuries, his own expression hardening further. But his next glance at you is softer, more concerned, seeing your small and feral form hunched up on the desk.

He slowly walks into the office, moving into the room and approaching the desk, his expression still a mix of anger and worry. But his eyes soften as they land on you again, seeing your small fluffy form curled up on top of the desk. His gaze flicks back to his father, waiting for an explanation.

"It's nothing, son," the eldest Wayne responds, his voice calm and reassuring, but his expression is tense as he meets his son's gaze, attempting to downplay the injuries on his hand. But Damian's eyes flick back to the injuries once more, clearly not accepting his father's explanation.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Damian retorts, his voice slightly heated as he glares at the injuries on his father's hand. "You're bleeding." he says, raising an eyebrow in scepticism. His eyes narrow at the obvious lie.

"It's just a scratch," the older man responds, his tone still calm but with an undercurrent of tension beneath it. He can feel the anger rolling off of his son in waves, seeing the glare directed at the small bite mark on his hand.

You don't bother waiting around for the confrontation, swiftly leaping off of the desk and landing near Damian's feet, your small form making a light thump against the ground. You can feel the tension in the air, wanting to get away from the arguing voices and this entire situation

Damian's attention is immediately drawn down to you as you land at his feet, his expression shifting from anger to surprise at your sudden appearance. He looks down at you, his expression still hard but softening at the sight of you, his eyes taking in your small and fierce form.

He bends down to your level, a hint of worry showing in his eyes at your unexpected action. He seems torn between staying focused on his father and his apparent injuries or looking further at you and your current state. His gaze is flickering between you and his father, not sure where to put his focus.

You'd heard tidbits about the youngest Wayne boy before, the press often calling him the "youngest Wayne" whenever he made public appearances, and you remember hearing that he was around fifteen or sixteen. He has a well defined face, but there's still a youthful innocence about him, his features still holding a boyish charm. Your gaze doesn't linger on him for too long, your legs quickly darting towards the exit, your mind focused on escaping.

As you make a beeline for the exit, you can feel his eyes following you as you move. There's a hint of surprise in his expression at your sudden escape attempt, his gaze still flickering between you and his father. He stands there for a moment, torn between stopping you and letting you attempt. Then, the reminder that you're still recovering from the surgery rings through his mind.

With minimal effort, he quickly pulls something from his pocket, sending it flying directly at the door. The object hits the door's hard wood with a loud thump, causing the door to slam shut, the door's hinges groaning loudly in protest. Your heart skips a beat as you're suddenly blocked from the exit, trapped in the room with the two of them. What the hell was that??

kind of abrupt ending, but I was rushing to get this out. So... See you in part three?

All reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated and encouraged!

If I begged would anyone create me some fanart? Please…

A special thanks to @zenychwan , @143637-hrrm , @goddessofalltrash ,@amisupposedtomakesenserightnow ,@redeemingmygloryintopurgatory , @yune1337 , @busenxr , @probabydeadbynow , @imaginarydreams , @cyberwears and @tagzi with the friggin prettiest kitties n puppies ever who definitely helped me write this chapter by sending in pics of their pets!💚

Guess who can no longer get the one thing that I’ve been saving up for for my birthday because my pay got cut 🤗 I’m officially fucking broke now. I’m actually really upset. Probably gonna be forced to not do anything for the big 20th now.

On a happier note, the chapter is finally out! I thank all the people who've waited so patiently for this to come out, you're hella appreciated💚

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mvndfvelds · 9 months ago

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☆ dating spencer reid but make it mlm !!

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid moodboard #spencer reid mlm #spencer reid x m!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #mlm #dark academia

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paperdice · 5 months ago

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Hi can I’m have a platonic request of the ancients cookies x child reader who posses the soul jam it called the light of innocence reader it a huge cheerful adorable ball of sunshine that see the all positive in earthbread reader cuteness it so much not even the monsters have courage to attack them istead they protect reader from the cookies of darkness and dark enchantress cookie too they smile bright anyone day anytime at all headcanons please

𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐦 (𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬)

"The impact this child has on everyone needs to seriously be studied.."

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• There was only five soul jams, the five that did more than enough to protect earthbread and the cookies that lived within it. Yet, the secret of another lying around in an unknown cookies possession was exposed.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla was one of the few who was anxious at the thought of a cookie that they didn't know was holding a soul jam. The possibility of it being used for evil was the biggest worry, though the name "Light of Innocence" sounds heroic. If placed in the wrong hands, it could lead to terrifying dangers.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Though that was the past, now pure vanilla is babysitting the soul jams holder. The Light of Innocence landed on the brightest child there is, pure vanilla was the first to be smittened by the ball of sunshine. You radiated this positivity around yourself that affected everyone near by, or at least that's what it felt like.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• The fact that nothing is willing to hurt you is very shocking. He gets it of course but even animals and cookies of darkness such as dark enchantress cookie herself wouldn't dare to touch you with any negative attachments in mind. His reaction to seeing you, a small wee child, hugging and petting a huge beast like it was a house pet for the first time. He almost had a heart attack

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla would open his eyes often when around you due to knowing that you like his heterochromia eyes. He loves seeing you giggle at his pretty eyes, he doesn't understand why you laugh but as long as you're happy he doesn't mind. You're such a ray of hope in pure vanillas perspective, always looking in the good in times of fear and danger.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Loves to take you to his garden, he swears that every time you walk past the flowers, they begin to rise and glow at your presence. At times it looks like the flowers are trying to reach you with the way they lean towards the direction you're in. When you're in the garden the plants look their best, the most alive they've ever looked.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• As if pure vanilla didn't shine his own light, when the two of you are together its like a second sun on earth. It's even joked by other cookies that nobody can look directly at you both because it's too bright! Cookies know if the duo are making their way towards them because the infamous glow gradually gets larger. It's so cute!

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• He protects you with everything hes got, though pure vanilla is a healer and never fights, he still will use every bit of his dough to shield you from any risks. Which means check ups are fairly common, of course he knows you're okay every time since nothing ever wants to hurt you. But it's better to be safe than sorry!

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Walks with pure vanilla are common too, he likes to do a quick stroll in the kingdom with you to lighten the air. The flowers stand at your attendance, the grass's green pops, clouds that hid the sun backs off and the wind refreshes all in a hitch. Pure vanillas walks are always made the better when having you by his side. You can also save the trouble of everyone dealing with your morning hyper by having the walk cooling you off.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla cookie takes great care of you, he protects you, looks out for you plus spoils you in every way he can whilst teaching you important life lessons and morals. This grandpa's heart is big enough to fit you in it, but sometimes it feels as if you took up too much space with how worrisome he can be when he knows nothing happens. He's your main babysitter for a reason! He loves you!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Brace yourself for a hug cause it's coming in hot! Hollyberry cookie is very affectionate towards you, how could she not?? Just look at your cute lil face! The holder of the unseen soul jam was like family in holleyberrys eyes. Unlike pure vanilla cookie who was more in the role of your babysitter, she was like a mother figure to you. As she was to all cookies

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Mother hollyberry cookie here laughed her head off when she saw a small lamb being a soul jam holder! Oh how the worries of it being in the wrong hands was nothing but a joke now, a frail fresh cookie was protecting the gem with their newly baked life. Hollyberry cookie applauses your bravery,, you've been under her protection ever since.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She likes to tell you her stories with extra exaggeration to see your reactions, she'll even give you sweets and a warm drink to go along with these tales. Of course she's a busy cookie herself so she can't always spend every moment with you, but that's why she always has to treat it with specialty being with you.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She tells wildberry cookie to keep an eye on you whenever he gets the chance, he too is as much as your guard as he is hollyberry cookies. He's an observer for your soul jam, making sure it's always in your possession in case you get too distracted with fun. Hollyberry cookie can't help but smile at the sight of "big scary wildberry" towering over the happy go lucky child for safety measures.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She thinks your wonderful for anyone to be around! You can be a shield yourself you know, with how loving everyone automatically gets when it comes to you, nothing can get passed you. Oh how she loves to pick you up and show your glimmer self to her kingdom, making any stops you wish to make then meeting all kinds of faces.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Hollyberry cookie likes to hand you popular children's drinks from her kingdom, if you like a specific type expect her to toss mountains of it on you to drink no not literally ouch. The same goes for sweet delights, she'll suggest her personal favorites when she was your age!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° This queen can read you like a book! You think she's not paying attention when you're off picking some berries when she's conversating with another cookie, till one day she hands you a basket filled with berries. Remarking when she saw you trying to gather berries but due to your size you couldn't get many. Next time just ask her for some berries!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Being with hollyberry cookie is basically you doing whatever you want, she's so laid back and free spirited if anything she'd support your ideas and actions. However that doesn't stop how she can get protective of you. Yes she knows even the wildest of beast will roll over for your touch, but she will hold you back if you start feeling obliviously bold.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She shields you from many things, always making sure you don't have your mind cluttered up with any negativity. Her words of encouragement are always smoothing, you don't understand it now due to age but soon you'll realize why she always wanted you to just be yourself.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ His face never showed how truly worried he was to knowing there was a secret soul jam, as well as how shocked he was to know who you were. You were in the very last of his expectations, dark cacao sighed away whatever thoughts he had before meeting you and introduced himself along with his friends.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Seeing such an optimistic holder that felt nothing but positivity and was so free of doubt, to be fair yes you are a child but even children are aware of the evil creeping up on earthbread. He's not complaining, not anymore no.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Before all the ancient cookies decided to protect you, dark cacao had a heartwarming moment with you. Or that's what his heart felt like, he was watching you pick at the buttercup flowers since nobody was around to do it instead. Making sure your safe from any soul jam robbers.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ You called over to him and asked a question that made him show no reaction but he had little interest, "you know if you put a buttercup under your chin it'll glow? But,, it only works on some cookies!" No he didn't know, so when he saw you call him down to your level he followed. He knelt down and you hovered the flower under his chin, it didn't work, the small cookie laughed then showed him how it works on them not in a teasing way

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ While you were speaking he noticed how his soul jam started glowing, the purple illuminating in a way he's only seen once before. You noticed it too, so you went closer with curiosity til you noticed how bright it got when you did. Dark cacao cookie looked vaguely surprised, however when he saw you getting all giggly he finally noticed that you had this radiation of positivity, a glow. No wonder the soul jam beamed at your presence, he couldn't help but smile.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Pure vanilla the babysitter, hollyberry the mother figure and now dark cacao the personal guard. He clearly has a soft spot for you, when the ancient cookies were thinking of protecting you instead, the others could tell you were already working on dark cacao. He was all agree than disagree which was not the way he was before.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ You seem to have grown an interest in what dark cacao thinks of things before you act upon it. You know how kids get when they look up to you and wanna see if you like something they like as a form of confirmation? Same with the new holder and dark cacao cookie, of course he knows this. He could be peacefully walking behind you then you point out how pretty the sky is later turning to him and ask what he thinks.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ He'll either agree with you or just quietly say whatever he thinks, he knows you care about what he thinks, even so, dark cacao is a humble man. He feels a bit idolized that you look up to him and in a way he sometimes cares about what you think too. He doesn't wanna scare you off or seem crude, he lays off his stoic face a bit and tries to be careful with his words to not sound harsh.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ If you take interest in his hair, wishing to play with it, he probably won't know what to do. Will he allow it? Just for a bit, if it gets too much he'll softly end hair play. If you take interest in his kingdoms snacks/foods he'll give you a warning to its bitterness or lack of taste before you choose to take a bite.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ He truly does care about you, you just need to be a bit patient with the old man, he's not good with showing emotions. He's a kind man at heart, we all know it, towards you he'll especially try his best to be more forward as well as safeguard you. Whether beasts protect you or not he's on standby for anything that comes your way.

ִ ࣪𖤐 What could one of the things be missing.. Hmm.. Oh duh, the rich aunt! When she saw you she laughed alongside hollyberry cookie, the kinda laugh, if done to a child, couldn't tell if they were being made fun of or they really were just joking around. Rest assured you found out very quickly that's just how her radiance is.

ִ ࣪𖤐 When your tiny eyes followed up and down her appearance, you paid extra attention to her wings. Your eyes are in awe at its beauty that you hadn't realized you just grabbed it with no announcement! She turned a bit offended but mostly shocked with how brash you were. But when she saw you smiling in admiration, she knew, she was going to love you.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Have all the cheese your little heart desires, she'll give you finest she has in store. The face you made when you took your first bite fills golden cheese cookie with pride and joy, well of course she knows it good I mean cmon now, what really sold her was your eagerness for wanting more. You were so stuffy by the end, pure vanilla had to remind her that sometimes too much care can be, well,, too much..

ִ ࣪𖤐 Fancy her gold? If you stare too long wanting a closer look at the gleaming golds and treasures she holds, she'll let you take a closer look. Like the shining necklace in that shop? Well lets go in she'll let you observe and take in all the bling! Though she will keep an eye out if she spots any fakes around, your eyes deserve the finest, realest jewels there is! Greed is a good thing in her kingdom after all.

ִ ࣪𖤐 A secret that the both of you share, is one nobody can find out, not like she cares, she just doesn't wanna deal with defending herself in future disagreements. The secret being golden cheese cookie flights! It started off small for awhile, tosses in the air slowly getting higher and higher. Slowly beginning to fly off land a bit further, till of course cookies told her not to for safety reasons, that broke your little heart.

ִ ࣪𖤐 But why would it be a secret if you guys stopped? Because you didn't, sure you were sad for like a second till you found good within it like always and yet she remembered how much you laughed. It's not like shes not careful no, your treasure to her, that's why she trusts both herself and you to keep flying, just keep it under wraps yeah?

ִ ࣪𖤐 She knows whenever it gets too hot out cookies feel discomfort, melting under the sun ain't exactly the most pleasant experience. That's why when she knows it's feeling a bit much out, she'll shade you using her wings, no way is some heat going to disrupt your enjoyment.

ִ ࣪𖤐 The cheesebirds love you too! Sometimes you find yourself carried away accompanying them rather than golden cheese cookie, they're just too cute not to talk to. Birds your size that can talk, bonus being that they love talking to you, sometimes golden cheese cookie has to remind you that you're hanging with your aunt today.

ִ ࣪𖤐 I have a sneaky feeling shes not as chill as the other ancients (aside from pv) when it comes to beasts getting close to you. Pure vanilla tries to avoid beast interactions, hollyberry cookie laughs knowing nothing will happen and dark cacao is always on standby. Golden cheese cookie,, she either does one or two things, tries to get your own beast army as a joke or tells you to stay away.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Golden cheese cookie loves your innocence, you have no idea how much power you hold in your mini hands, but she will teach you how to rule the cookies. How to be a monarch yourself in the future, till then, she has a lot of playtime with you before you reach that age.

⋆˚✿˖° Her shock to you wasn't really much of a shock, it was more like a long pause. The repeated question flooded her head like a broken record, "how did you find the soul jam?". She also questioned if you ever knew how to use it, these thoughts were never her doubting you, okay but who wouldn't.. from what it seemed to look like, you knew what it could do.

⋆˚✿˖° The soul jam fitted you perfectly in her mind, the light of innocence held by the personification of light with a mind of innocence. It seemed like fate in her eyes, so if it was, she has nothing to worry about. Her body mellowed while she softy and ever so quietly laughs along with hollyberry cookie and golden cheese cookie.

⋆˚✿˖° You were just the cutest surprise, after the decision was made to look over you, white lily cookie was like an older sister. Shes always quiet and determined to find any peace left in earthbread. Because of this, in your childs mind, she's a little scary. Not in the intimidating way no, you looked up to her.

⋆˚✿˖° She was like your older sister in a way because of this if you ignore the sibling fights n all that stuff, you were the little sibling that wanted to have your big sis's attention and her love. Though she didn't push you away, she always caught you staring at her at times in a shy way. She really wanted to talk to you, the way the other ancients did.

⋆˚✿˖° Yes you're the cookie that sees good in everything, not a single negative trait was in your heart or dough. So why was it you felt shy towards her? Cause you loved her! The whole time while she was thinking of reasons for your actions, you were secretly planning the perfect first impression! No where near shy as she thought you were no, you were just hoping to make less appearances to make "the first meeting" perfect!

⋆˚✿˖° You surprised her by having other cookies your age pretend to attack her, of course she didn't feel threatened, they were using toys as weapons and their acting was goofy. It didn't take long to find out why the cookies were messing around with her, you jumped in with dramatic flare, showing off your soul jam to the "evil cookies" and warning them to back off.

⋆˚✿˖° Ever since you "saved" white lily cookie the two of you have been the cutest duo! You love to try and braid her hair the way she does it, she taught you how to braid hair when you caught her doing her own hair. It was a bit tricky for your youthful brain, although, once you got a hang of it, you never let go. Always asking white lily to let you braid her hair when it's already been braided. It warms her heart.

⋆˚✿˖° If white lily cookie noticed you liked her staff, you can get the privilege of holding it for a bit. She admires your innocence, how was it not even once did you ponder knowing more? It was like you were living life on easy mode, no thought behind those eyes unless it's joyful thinking.

⋆˚✿˖° One day, a cookie taught you how to make flower crowns, so you asked white lily cookie to let you into her garden. You told her your plan of making her a white lily flower crown, it did hurt a little seeing the flowers getting picked but she was happy with the end result. She wore it for a bit after that.

⋆˚✿˖° White lily cookie can't do much but she tries to keep an eye out on you, her heart would break into millions of pieces if she were to ever find out something bad happened to you. She'll give you loads of words of wisdom so nothing like that can come of sort.

I hope you enjoyed these, I think I passed out like two times while writing but I'm glad it turned out just fine. If you're thinking of rolling again you're welcomed back anytime!

#cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #hollyberry cookie x reader #dark cacao cookie x reader #golden cheese cookie x reader #white lily cookie x reader #headcanons #fluff #I keep overdoing thingsaaaahhhhh #gn reader

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