#duct tape makes you smart

[aspenned]

@maybeitsmay555

[aspenned]

pov: your friend, who's been on tumblr as long as you, doesn't know about dashcon

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Reacting To Your Tattoos

A/N: I have so many ideas for The Boys cast! Be sure to look out for more posts! I'm updating my request list to include them 😊 I'm sorry I've been a little MIA! I'll be getting back to requests asap! Hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher loves them. This is not the moment to say something, to react, but he definitely takes notice. You got hurt, really hurt, and the only way to save you was for Annie cauterizing your wounds, buying you a little more time. Butcher didn't need to hold you down, you'd already gone limp, losing all color in your face. He begs you to wake up, to stay with them. There was so much blood. So much red. He was covered in it, seeping through his shirt. Your jacket was thrown off, the collar of your shirt torn, ripped, for easier access to your shoulder and they both discovered the tattoos. Your chest, your arm, neck, you were covered. He had a feeling there were far more, wondering why you never showed any of them. You were always so bundled up, he never even questioned it. He warned you this was going to hurt, though he wasn't even sure you could hear him. Still, as Annie's hands grew bright, he cringes, hoping you were too out of it to feel anything, hoping this would all seem like a far away dream. Hoping you won't mind the large scar that will warp your ink.

Hughie is pretty intimidated by them. The Boys are already a scary looking group, but meeting you, he thought you were going to bite off his head. Your body was pretty covered. After getting to know you, he realizes how wrong he was. You're snarky and stubborn, but you're also thoughtful and funny. If it were up to you, you'd never hurt a fly, just Vought. Still, every so often you'll do or say something that reminds him of that first impression, especially when you feel threatened or your friends are threatened. You'll show up with a few new ones, filling in the gaps. When it comes to open wounds you're ready to treat it with a strong drink and duct tape. When it comes to your tattoos, you're meticulous in your aftercare. He's never seen you so serene looking as when you're taking care of them, so gentle. Something about that makes him feel like he shouldn't be witnessing it, but he's grateful that he is. When they're in tricky spots, he's the first to offer to help. He works with nervous hands, afraid he'll do something to ruin it. You just laugh, walking him through it.

Annie knows all about your tattoos. They are, after all, linked to the V in your blood. You didn't start developing them until your late teens, your parents assuming the V they injected was a dud. Images started appearing and with them, your powers. By the time she met you, you were covered. You didn't like showing off to The Boys. You still had a long way to go to gaining their trust. Parading around the fact that you were a Supe wasn't going to help. Still, when it was just you and Annie you were less reluctant to show her. All kinds of images adorned your skin: weapons, insects, animals. You liked the weapons the best. The thing could project itself from your skin as if it were real. In seconds, you had a sword in each hand, as real and sharp as if you'd physically gotten one. The best part? Your skin was indestructible. Every few months, maybe years, a new tattoo would appear, giving you a leg up in the fight against Vought. She thinks you have by far the most interesting powers of any Supe she's met.

M.M. hates them. Because they're linked to the V you got as a baby, he sees them more of a warning than anything else, the way brightly colored animals are poisonous. He hadn't realized the first time you met, what they were from, and you were smart enough not to tell him. It was only when you were fighting for your life did you use your abilities: the circles on the back of your neck, layered, you let out a sonic scream that shattered windows, set off car alarms, and drew blood. The group that had attacked you were coughing it up, it was running down their necks from their ears. M.M. was far enough away not to be affected, but the way he tells it, he was *this* close to having his insides turned to goo. Some were safe enough to run away. The ones who were closer dropped dead with a wet squelch. He trusts you even less for not telling him. When he breaks the news to everyone else, he's shocked to find out that they either knew (like Annie) or they were unfazed, more impressed than anything else, like you'd become this great asset. You apologize profusely, but you know it'll be a long time before he can even look you in the eyes.

Frenchie thinks they're so cool. He went with you once and got one of his own: while you were getting a rather large piece finished, he wants to get a smiley face on his ass cheek. Despite the discomfort, Frenchie's all giggles. He's more than excited to show this off to everyone he decides to moon. You try to tell him how to take care of it, but he waves you off. He's eager to show The Boys. He's lucky it heals properly and by the end of the week, everyone he comes into contact with has seen it. Besides that, his favorite thing is to study the ones you have. They're intricate and beautiful and some of them are pretty silly. You never understood the sentiment that there had to be some grand kind of meaning behind them. If you like it, you get it tattooed. He asks questions about them, most done all over the world or, a couple, in prison. He thinks you look badass, especially when you shed the bulky layers and show off what they normally don't get to see. Your back piece is his favorite. When you're wearing something with a low back, or disregard a shirt completely, he can't help but watch you. You're careful, covering them with clothes or makeup so that whatever illegal thing you're doing can't be traced.

Kimiko asks a lot of questions. Did it hurt? Why that image? What does it mean? How long did it take? You never mind, in fact you like talking about them. You spent enough time getting stabbed, you wanted someone to ask. She especially loves the ones on your hands. They look beautiful as you sign back to her. Some are still a little raised despite how well you took care of them, those are her favorite. She touches them delicately, afraid it might hurt, but you assure her they're all healed. She watches when you're getting changed together, how they move with your skin and muscles. They make her smile knowing you feel so much more at home in your body because of them, something you admitted to her late one night after a few drinks. They help you like yourself, covering up insecurities, making you feel cuter/cooler than you would without them. She's always the first to notice when you get a new one, making a point regardless of the situation to tell you how nice it looks and that she likes it a lot.

Bonus! Homelander thinks they're horrendous. Disgusting. Just another way you've defiled your body. He can't stand to look at them and made sure you understand that. Around him, you keep them covered, either by clothing or makeup. You know better than to draw attention towards them. Regardless of how you acquired them (Compound V or just an aesthetic choice) you know not to bring them up or let anyone else bring them up. A-Train noticed the one of the back of your neck and that put Homelander over the edge. You were both thrown out of the room. You consider yourself more than lucky. He could have killed you, both of you, but he was feeling generous. He had bigger things on his mind. You knew working for Vought would lead to sacrifices, uncomfortable situations, but being interrogated by Homelander about your tattoos was never something you ever considered. He thinks about using his lasers every time he sees them poking out from your sleeve or pants. But he needs you. As long as he needs you, you're safe. The moment you stop being useful, he's going to cut off every individual image until there's nothing left. Until you look normal again.

[bruciemilf]

It’s been exactly fifteen years, two days, 4 minutes, and 33.5 seconds since the Wayne murder. Bruce can feel time crawling under his skin, like filth under fingernail, like it’s a breathing, screaming thing.

It’s an endless, infinite supply. And yet, he feels like he’s running out of it.

The details are carved deep; Alfred’s cologne lingering on both his mother’s Stefano Cabbana fur coat, Snow White and fluffy, and his father’s sharp-looking leather jacket.

The gunsmoke. The pearls bleeding on the pavement.

“Your mother wore Armani, actually.”

The Waynes are known to cheat Death, but this is getting ridiculous.

“You’re not here.”

The Riddler, — Edward. His name is Edward Nashton, 29-years-old, forsenic accountant, Bruce’s former classmate at Gotham University.

He’s just a man, not a monster, — gasps, wide eyes confused, “Who are you talking to?”

Thomas watches Bruce’s, — Batman’s hands tighten around the swamp green jacket with mildly tamed amusement. Almost like Bruce is an infant again, shaking on his first steps.

“Pretty sure I am, chum. Also, you might wanna move Eddie here to a coffee table. That shit looks sturdy. YOU were made on one, I think,—“

He cringes, but does as he’s told. Edward’s coffee screeches when Batman slams him across it like loose change, “I’d rather not think about that.”

“Honey, it’s a very romantic story, and I resent Alfred for not talking to you about it. Now go grab a drill and some duct tape. Oh, don’t make that face, — His adrenaline levels are higher than a fucking drop head.”

Bruce doesn’t want to do it. Something just compels him to. Thomas scoffs but Bruce is too focused on the drill biting through bone to notice. Edward doesn’t feel any pain. He’s just under the illusion of it, which seems much crueler.

“You would’ve KNOWN that if you stayed in school. “

“Why are you here?”

“Now that,” His father’s smile is a serpentine, alluring and full thoothed and stained with Maverick cigarettes. His hair is slicked, crowned by red lensed sunglasses.

He looked for a dead man. “Is a smart guy question.”

—

He doesn’t sleep. He can’t.

“Your father was a hundred different things, “ Alfred sighs at him, stitching up his wounds in a tight, secure pattern. Thomas’. The ghost of the hour. “And I never understood any of them.”

Bruce is about to ask more, expand a stream of curiosity, when footsteps bang against the cave’s massive interior.

He knows each child by foot, by volume, by rhythm.

He’d know Jason dead or alive.

He’s about to greet him, choosing to ignore his father’s ghost flirting with an unsuspecting Alfred, when his baby bird beats him to it.

“Why the fuck is your dead mom following me?”

[aspenned]

@maybeitsmay555

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Criminal ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Kidnapping.

Little gift for the New Year! Hope you guys like it :)

--

◾ Yandere!Criminal whose specialty is small robberies of convenience stores and bodegas, nothing that goes beyond that.

That also means that money is tight, it’s hard enough to cover for the insanely high rent, let alone cover for monthly groceries, water and electricity bills.

◾ Yandere!Criminal who’s fucking tired of sitting in his dark shitty apartment, smoking a blunt in hopes of deceiving the hunger that rumbles in his stomach. 

He lays back on his second-hand couch, eyes following the gray ropes of smoke that ascend from his lips, mind racing on every possible way of making money fast.

His rent is due in a week and his fridge is desolately empty, aside from a bottle of water. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal who gets restless and in the spur of the moment, decides to head out on a walk around his block. Maybe that’ll give him some ideas or distract him from the ache in his stomach. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal barely takes a few steps into the street when he sees you. 

A pretty girl walking down the street, eyes nervously darting towards every shadow that moves. 

What are you doing out in the dark street at such hours?

It’s way past midnight, as the old watch in his wrist tells him. That’s not time for a girl like you to be out, especially not his neighborhood at least.

You’re lucky that no one has approached you yet or you wouldn’t be looking so damn cute right now. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal whose interest is spiked when he notices the clothes you’re wearing under the dim moonlight.

The short dress only long enough to cover your ass, the high stiletto heels clicking on the dirty floor at each step you take. 

You’re looking like a serious sex-bomb in those clothes, despite the scaredy expression covering your dolled-up face. 

But a second look at your body has him squinting his eyes, brain engines rolling as he examines your outfit.

Is that a fucking Prada cocktail dress? And the heels that you’re wearing Louboutins? The fancy purse, a Channel limited edition? It’s got to be daddy’s money, cause that face of yours isn’t giving smart vibes.

◾ Yandere!Criminal who instantly knows this is destiny.

You were sent to him for a reason. And the reason is that you’re his new bank account. 

You have to be, otherwise it would’ve been some disgusting scumbag to find you first. 

He wastes no time in reaching out for you. He knows he’s not bad looking, high-cheekbones and lustrous dark hair. Hopefully that works in his favor. 

And it certainly does, a kind expression on his face as he offers you help. You immediately accept - so fucking naive, you poor dumb thing - immediately blabbering that your phone lost battery and that you’re sooo late to his super-chick party whose address you’re not entirely sure of. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal who nods, pretending to understand all your issues. Slapping his face as he remembers that - oh, yeah, he kinda forgot his phone in his apartment. Maybe you’d want to come with him while he grabs it?

It’s not safe for you to be out here, on your own. Dangerous neighborhood and all of that.

And you follow him right away, like a lost duckling. It’s so easy, a smirk creeping on his face when you enter his apartment.  

◾ Yandere!Criminal who instantly pounces on you, dragging you by the hair to his bedroom, a new found adrenaline running down his body.

You shriek and cry out loudly so he’s forced to push some old cloths on your mouth, using duct tape.

Honestly, he’s not even that worried about you getting away cause you’re barely able to put any fight. You’re a weak little thing, aren’t you?

◾ Yandere!Criminal who only waits a day before contacting mommy and daddy, demanding a good amount of green for them to be able to retrieve you.

He thinks a lot about how’s it gonna play out, creating a plan that sounds pretty much bullet-proof.

He gets easily distracted by you, eyes greedily running over your body. The dress doing even less to cover you in the daytime light, the make-up smudged and half-disappearing, revealing a younger – cuter – face.

You’re relatively obedient too, toning down your hysterical cries after he harshly yelled at you. He could bet that if he put on a mean face and threatened you, you’d probably suck him off. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal who finally gets his money, a large grin opening up in his face as he receives the cash. More than enough for him to move into a fancy mansion on a private neighborhood and retire for the rest of his days. 

No more stealing, no more spending his days worried about rent or food. Now he can finally sip on a freshly-made margarita and relax by the infinity-pool of his new house, the sunny rays hitting his toned skin. 

Maybe after he’s done with his drink, he’ll go pay you a visit. You’re still adapting to your new house - and him, hence why he’s keeping you in a tight leash (literally). 

Now you’re all his. His little ATM.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Turmoil

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst

Trigger warning: The reader is attacked, tied up, and given Scarecrow's fear toxin, thoughts of dead loved ones, blood - Damian is vengeful and goes after her attackers.

For the past couple of weeks, you'd been trying to explore your new relationship with Nikolas. He was everything a boyfriend should be - kind, considerate, fun to be around. You'd gone on the typical dates: dinner and a movie, a casual walk through the city, lazy afternoons hanging out in your dorm. It was easy. But there was one problem.

Every time you studied his face for too long, the same sad realization crept in. You weren't as attracted to him as you were... to Damian. Fine. You admit it.

Nick was the sweet, sunshine type. The kind of guy who would make you laugh and take care of you. But Damian... Damian was bad. Brooding. Sharp edges and quiet intensity. The kind of man who made your pulse race and your mind wander to places. You could picture Nikolas holding your hand, but with Damian, you saw someone who would take control. There was a thrill in the idea of letting go, handing the reins over to him, not having to think for once.

For days, you'd been teetering between the smart choice - Nick - and the one that made your heart beat faster, the one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how much you tried. Especially at night.

It didn't help that the three of you came across each other on campus often. There were many times when Nick came to meet you after class and walk you to your research lab, and you would catch Damian glaring at the two of you, his arms cross and his eyes narrowed. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed when you caught him looking - ironically, you were the one who redirected their gaze to the floor in shame. It was all backward.

Meanwhile, Damian had buried himself in his routine. His training, his classes, his late-night patrols, and of course, his fellow elites; heiresses, models, and children of Gotham's 1%, who he was always captured with at night clubs, as your roommate helpfully showed you on her twitter reccomended.

In reality, Damian tried anything to drown out the thoughts of you in his head, the memory of you looking up at him with your soft, vulnerable eyes. The moment he rejected you replayed more times than he wanted to admit.

He didn’t need distractions right now. Not while you were off with Nikolas Hill, laughing at his jokes and letting him kiss you, hold you, touch you whenever he pleased. Damian scoffed at the idea. Hill was a decent guy, sure, but nowhere near your match. But if you wanted to waste your time, that was your right.

He was in the middle of his evening workout when his earpiece beeped, drawing him from his train of thought.

"Robin?" Oracle’s voice filtered through.

"Hm?" he responded, still lost in his own head as he lowered down and pushed up with one hand.

"Are you on campus right now?"

Damian stilled, suddenly alert. "No. Why?"

"There’s been an attack."

His blood ran cold. "Where?"

"Maddison Hall."

His mind flashed to you. Maddison Hall was where you spent most of your time working with Professor Kace and the other researchers. Before he even had time to process the rest of her words, Damian was on his feet, every nerve alight with tension.

"I’m on it," he said, already moving.

"Wait, Robin, I don’t have all the -"

Her voice cut off as Damian turned off his earpiece, barely taking time to grab his gear before he was out the door.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

The sight before him nearly made Damian drop his father’s "no-kill" rule on the spot.

You lay crumpled on the cold floor of the lab, hands bound behind your back, duct tape muffling any scream for help you tried to make. You were shaking as if trapped in some nightmare. Your eyes, which he was used to always being filled with curiosity about the world, were wide with terror, streaks of black mascara ran down your cheeks. It wasn’t just the sight of you restrained that twisted his insides but also the fear he saw on your face. A look he never wanted to see again.

His instincts screamed to go to you, to comfort you, to pull you into his arms and shield you from whatever horrors had been forced into your mind. But a darker instinct also conflicted within him the instinct to find whoever did this and end them along with their entire bloodline.

He freed your wrists and removed the tape from your mouth, but his gaze was already scanning the room, searching for the coward who had done this to you.

"Oracle," he growled into his comm, barely containing his fury. "Do you have any visual on the perp?"

"Damn it! Nothing yet. They must have disguised themselves as a student," Oracle’s frustrated voice crackled in his ear. "Damian, is she -"

"Yes," Damian cut her off, pulling a syringe from his belt. "It’s Fear Toxin."

You whimpered, still lost in the hellscape the toxin had built in your mind. Damian injected the antidote into your shoulder. Watching you writhe in pain made his blood freeze. He lifted you into his arms as gently as he could and moved toward the door, but the growing crowd of students outside only irritated him further.

"Move," he barked, his voice low and dangerous. "She needs a hospital."

Halfway to the nearest emergency center, he changed his mind. He wasn’t taking you somewhere filled with people who would ask questions, who could poke and prod at your fragile state. Instead, he shot a grappling hook to a nearby rooftop, pulling both of you up and away from the crowd.

As your vision started to clear, you groaned, your body trembling in his hold. "R-Robin…" Your voice cracked, laced with panic. "My parents... they z please, you have to save them."

"It’s not real," he said softly, kneeling and holding you as close to him as he dared, providing a warmth that helped ground you. "The toxin made you see things that weren’t real. Is that what you saw? Your parents?"

You nodded, tears filling your eyes once again. "I saw them die. Please, you have to - " You fumbled with your pockets, desperately trying to find your phone, anything that could help you reach them.

Damian’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. His white lenses stared down at you, and for a moment, you wished you could see his eyes, see the real person beneath the mask. "Your parents are fine."

His voice, deep and calm. There was something about the way he spoke - so sure, so steady - that made you believe him.

"It’s not real?" you asked, voice trembling, trying to keep yourself from breaking down completely.

He nodded. "Call them. You’ll see."

Your hands shook as you fumbled with your phone, which was now cracked. You dialed the number, waiting for what seemed like forever for each each ring. Then she finally picked up.

"Honey, thank God!" Your mom’s voice came through. "Are you okay? I’ve been watching the news - what’s going on over there?"

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to sound normal. "I’m fine, Mom. I’m just… in my room. Is everyone okay?"

"We’re fine, sweetie. Just worried sick about you."

“I’ll visit tomorrow,” you blurted out, tears stinging your eyes. "I’ll come home tomorrow."

Your mom’s voice lifted in relief. "That’s great! Be safe, honey."

After hanging up, your body gave out. Your knees buckled, and a sob you’d been holding in finally broke free. You fell onto the ground, unable to stop the tears. He caught you, lowering both of you to the ground until you were sitting in his lap.

In his hold, you didn’t feel the fear you expected from someone like him. You’d heard stories, read articles about this Robin. How he wasn’t like the others - scarier, more brutal, more dangerous. But here, in his arms, you felt safe.

The tears wouldn’t stop. Your mind kept replaying those awful images, the sound of your parents’ screams still echoing in your ears.

"I thought I lost them," you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.

Damian’s heart clenched. He had seen people cry before - mostly because he caused them to. But seeing you like this, broken and terrified, was something else entirely.

Damian’s first instinct was to say, "I thought I lost you," but he bit back the words, instead holding you close, his gloved hands cupping your cheeks gently. "I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, barely audible over the city's noise. "I'm sorry."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You were not the same after that night. Trauma clung to you with every thought. What happened in that lab left you scarred, destroying your sense of safety.

The last time Damian had seen you, he was still in his Robin suit. You’d been shaking, eyes glassy with the aftereffects of the fear toxin, but you insisted on going home to your dorm. Damian’s instincts screamed at him to take you somewhere safe, to keep you in his apartment where he could protect you, but he complied with your needs.

And as much as it killed him, he had to let you go.

What stung worse was the sight that awaited him at your dorm. Nikolas was already there, pacing anxiously by the entrance, his hair still wet from his swim meet. The moment he saw you, he rushed over, pulling you into his arms as though you were fragile enough to break. Damian’s fists clenched as he watched Nikolas cradle your face in his hands, checking you over with concern.

The sight of Nick’s resting possessively staying on the small of your back as he led you up the stairs twisted something deep inside Damian, but he pushed it down. He had no right to feel that way - not after he had pushed you away first.

You didn’t show up to physics the next day. Or the day after. A week passed, and still nothing.

He wanted to reach out - every part of him screamed to check on you - but that wasn't his job anymore.

Then, one day, his phone buzzed.

Nikolas Hill: Damian, hey. It's Nick Hill.

Nikolas Hill:Just thought you should know, y/n broke up with me. Got me flowers and chocolates. It was... pretty sweet, actually 😅. It's the nicest way I've ever been dumped for sure.

Nikolas Hill: Anyway, I’ve seen the way you look at her, man. You should go for it. Really.

Nikolas Hill: And you might wanna check on her... she dropped out of Kace's research project. Not answering anyone’s calls or messages. We’re worried.

Damian stared at the message, his stomach tightening. You dropped the project? And now you weren’t talking to anyone?

He didn’t wait. The next day, he was at your parents’ house, knocking on the door. A middle-aged woman half his size answered, her eyes widening as she took took him in - her gaze flickering between him and the sleek, black Camaro parked outside.

"Hello?" She said.

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Damian... Wayne." He flashed her the best smile he could summon, as his gaze flickered between her and the home behind her, searching for you.

Her eyes widened further. "Wayne, as in...?"

"Yes, Bruce Wayne’s son."

"Oh my!" She nodded, her eyes still studying him. "How can I help you?"

"I’m a friend of y/n’s." Damian explained. "She hasn’t been to class for the past couple of weeks, and I wanted to check on her. Is she alright?"

Her surprise grew, her lips parting slightly. "She never told us she had... a friend like you." There was a slight note of disbelief, as if the idea of you being close to someone like Damian Wayne didn’t quite compute.

Damian raised a brow. Why wouldn’t you tell them about him? Were you... ashamed?

Before he could respond, she stepped aside, inviting him in. "Please, come in. I was just finishing up dinner. Would you like to join us?"

"Is your daughter home?" Damian asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an urgency behind his words he couldn’t hide.

Your mother nodded, turning around and calling you downstairs. "Honey, you have a visitor!"

Just then, you appeared at the top of the small staircase, and the breath caught in his throat. You were a ghost of the person he remembered. Dark circles rimmed your eyes, your cheeks hollow and your body frail. The t-shirt you were in drowned you as it slipped off your shoulder, revealing how think your collarbone had become. Have you been skipping your meals?

Your usual spark of curiosity was replaced with something far darker—sadness.

You froze when you saw him before forcing yourself to recover and quickly make your way down the stairs, grateful for the 5 minute shower you decided to take just before you were called down. Damian may see you in a bad state, but at least hell be smelling 'coconut sunshine' bodywash. As you came to stand in front of him, barefoot, and without your high heels, you were even shorter and had to look up at a less comfortable angle. Your hand came up to rub the opposite arm, Damian's heart ached when he saw the bruises circling your wrists from the rope that was used to restrain you.

"Hi." You spoke softly.

"Hi," he replied, voice dripping with what seemed like disappointment. "You haven’t been to class. I wanted to check on you."

"I’m alright," you lied, your voice weak and shaky. "Just... spending some time with my family."

Damian tool a quick sweep over the room, the small, homey space that felt miles apart from the opulence of Wayne Manor or his apartment. It was cozy, filled with the scent of warm food, a stark contrast to the sterile, minimalist world he was used to.

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. He couldn’t stop staring at you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the one he knew.

“Do you want to go out? Get some air?" Damian asked.

"No," you answered quickly, then paused. "I mean... you can stay for dinner, if you want."

Damian tucked his hands into his pockets, fighting the growing frustration inside him. He didn’t want dinner. He wanted answers. “I was hoping for some privacy.”

You eyed him warily, a look of distrust flashing across your face, and it hit him like an insult. You didn’t trust him anymore? You ungrateful brat. If you only knew who was under the mask that day you were rescued. It enraged him, though he didn’t show it.

“Nikolas told me you broke up with him,” Damian said, lowering his voice. “And dropped Kace’s project.”

You shrugged weakly, your shirt dropping lower down your shoulder, which you didnt notice as you avoided his gaze. "Yeah. I did."

Damian’s arms itched to touch your bare skin. He took in a deep breath. "You’re also about to lose your scholarship," he pressed, his tone more insistent now.

Your brow furrowed. "How do you know that?"

“It’s a research scholarship. They won’t keep paying you if you’re not involved in research.”

There was a flicker in your eyes. Either anger, maybe annoyance. But it wasn’t indifference. And that’s all Damian needed. You were still there under this facade. He wasn’t going to leave. Not without you.

"Damian, thank you for visiting. But right nows not a good time." Before you could open the front door for him, his hand shot out, stopping it in its tracks.

“That’s not very nice,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Your mother invited me for dinner, and I accepted.”

"Damian - " you started, but your mother’s voice interrupted.

"That’s wonderful!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the tension. "I was just finishing up the potatoes."

The scent of dinner filled the air, but Damian couldn’t focus on anything except you. You were trying to slip away, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

After dinner, when your parents went to bed, Damian asked you again to walk with him. You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper when you spoke.

“I’ve tried,” you confessed. “I can’t get past the door. Every time I do, I... panic. I shut down."

The vulnerability in your voice was enough to shatter whatever resolve he had left. You were hurting, deeply, and it killed him to see it.

He stepped closer, his voice restrained. “I'll help you.”

But you just shook your head, pulling away. "I'm tired."

“It’s late,” Damian agreed, his voice soft but commanding. “You should go to sleep.” He nodded toward the stairs.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. "Thats not what I meant. I dont what to sleep."

But your body betrayed you, and before you could say anything else, you yawned. A small, defeated sound that you tried to hide but failed miserably.

Damian grinned, raising a brow as he looked down at you. “You sure about that?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. "I... I can't go to sleep," you admitted quietly, the words trembling on your lips. "The nightmare comes back when I do."

Damian sighed, his expression softening, though the fire in his eyes never wavered. He understood - he had his own problem with nightmares, demons that lurked in the dark corners of his mind. “Try again now,” he said gently, leading you to your livingroom couch. “I’ll wake you up if it happens.”

You shook your head, the fear bubbling up inside you. But his unyielding gaze stopped you.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something raw, “you need to rest. I can’t stand seeing you this tired anymore.”

His words hung in the air, the concern behind them tightening something in your chest. You hesitated, searching his face for reassurance. "You'll wake me up?"

“Yes.”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue with him. Not when his eyes held so much insistence. Slowly, you lay down on the couch, your head sinking into the cushion. The moment your eyes closed, sleep washed over you.

But it didn’t last long.

Within minutes, you were tossing and turning, whimpering softly as the nightmares clawed their way back into your mind. Damian watched as you struggled even in your sleep. Then, gently, he reached for you, pulling you into his lap with ease. You felt so small in his arms as your back came to rest against his chest, his lips brushing your hair.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, “Youre okay, your alright.”

Your eyes fluttered open, wide and panicked as you gasped for breath. You looked around frantically before your gaze landed on Damian. “Damian, my parents - they’re - ”

“Upstairs, sleeping,” he said, his voice firm. “They’re okay.”

You blinked, your eyes darting toward the stairs as if you needed the reassurance for yourself. You made to get up to go check on them, but his grip stopped you, pulling you back against him.

“Yes.” Damian spoke quietly but with intent. “I’m right here. Nothing will happen to either of you."

You nodded slowly, the tension draining from your body as you rested your head against him. The warmth of his presence was enough to lull you back into sleep, though it didn’t last. The nightmare came back, and so did Damian’s voice, pulling you out of it every time.

It happened a few more times throughout the night. Each time, you would whimper, trapped in your dreams, and he would wake you, then hold you until you fell asleep again. Halfway through the night you began clinging to him, your arms snaking around him to hold him closer, sensing the safety he provided even in your sleep.

Not minding one bit, he could still see the toll it was taking on you, the way you couldn’t even get through one night without being haunted by what Scarecrow had done. It made his blood boil. It fueled a dark, vengeful fire that burned hotter with each of your nightmares.

He swore to himself, as he watched you sleep restlessly, that he would make Scarecrow pay for this - for the pain, the fear, and the nightmares that took you from him.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

On his third night of patroll, Robin cornered the man in the Scarecrow mask, ripping it from his face with such force the strap snapped. The man trembled, backing into the alley wall, his eyes wide in fear.

"I'm not him! Please!" The man’s hands shot up in surrender, sweat pouring down his face as he eyed the rest of his team, who were knocked unconscious. He hoped.

"Where is he?" Damian’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I-I don’t know!" the man stammered. "I swear! A different one of us is made to wear that thing every night in case you show up!"

Robin’s jaw tightened. His eyes were cold and merciless. He didn't care if this man knew or not. He wanted an outlet, something to absorb the endless rage boiling in his chest. He sighed, cracking his knuckles slowly, deliberately, like a predator preparing for the kill. "Then you'll have to do."

The thug whimpered. "No, no, no-"

The Red Hood arrived on the rooftop, surveying the scene below. His eyes narrowed as he saw Robin beating the life out of the cowering henchman. The tension in his youngest brother's posture was unmistakable. Jason eyed the rest of the henchman team, laid out and bleeding in different spots on the ground.

"Uh, I’m gonna need backup here," Jason said into his comm.

"Why? Too much for you to handle?" came Dick’s teasing voice over the line.

"Nah, but someone’s gotta protect these poor bastards from Robin."

There was a pause. Then Bruce spoke up. "...on my way."

Damian couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in his skull, his vision narrowing to the terrified man in front of him.

"Robin!"

The first punch landed hard in the guy’s gut, causing him to double over, gasping for air. Then the fists came, rapid and unrelenting, from left to right. Each blow was calculated - not enough to kill, but enough to inflict the kind of pain that lingers, that leaves a mark deep under the skin.

The man’s blood splattered against the wall, his groans turning to pitiful whimpers as he weakly tried to shield himself. But Damian was relentless, his fury a tidal wave, drowning out any sense of restraint. This was for you. The helplessness he felt when he couldn’t save you, the guilt for letting you go, for not being there when you needed him most. Every punch was a punishment, a way to exorcize his own demons.

"Robin!"

By the time he stopped, the henchman was barely conscious, slumped against the wall, gasping for breath through cracked ribs and bloodied lips. Robin stood over him, panting, his chest heaving. His hands, covered in the man's blood, twitched. He wanted to keep going. Needed to keep going.

"FUCK!" Robin roared, the sound reverberating off the brick walls.

"ROBIN!" He was grabbed by a pair of strong arms, slamming him against the wall. "Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?" Jason's voice chastised him behind his mask.

"Back off!" Damian shoved Jason hard, his eyes wild, untamed.

"How about fuck no?" Jason growled, pressing his forearm against Damian’s throat, forcing him to stay still. Over the years, Damian grew taller than Tim, matching Dick in height, but Jason still had maybe an inch on him. The elder stuggled to hold his brother back. "I need you to calm the hell down!"

Before Damian could retaliate, Batman arrived, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "What the hell happened?"

Jason shot a look over his shoulder. "Your kid happened."

Batman’s eyes fell on the battered man, then on Damian, still shaking with fury, fists clenched, ready for more. "Damian," Bruce said quietly.

"Its what he deserves." Damian’s voice was low, venomous, each word dripping with barely contained rage. "He hurt her. He broke her."

Batman’s expression shifted as he understood. You. The girl who Damian was bringing home from school. The one who’d been ripped apart by what happened to her.

"And how is killing this nobody helping her?" Bruce asked, his voice steady but firm.

Damian’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "It's not." His eyes glinted with a dark amusement as he stared into his father’s unflinching gaze. "But it sure as hell makes me feel better."

Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew this wasn’t about justice. This was about catharsis. Damian was unraveling, and if Bruce didn’t stop it now, there’d be no pulling him back. "You’re off patrol," Batman ordered, stepping toward him.

Damian sneered, shoving him back. "Like hell."

"It’s not up for debate."

Damian’s glare intensified. "I’m not stopping until he’s dead. I’ll bury him - "

"Robin." Batman’s voice was calm, controlled. "You’re going home."

Before Damian could react, he felt a sudden sharp pinch on the side of his neck. He staggered, his vision blurring as his hand flew to the dart embedded in his skin. "Wha - " His legs gave out beneath him, and darkness closed in before he could reach for the antidote.

Batman caught him as he slumped forward, unconscious. "Get him home," Bruce said to Jason, his voice heavy with regret. "Ill take care of this mess."

Jason nodded. "You know he's not gonna forgive you for that."

Bruce glanced at Damian’s unconscious form. "I know."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian woke up groggy, his vision blurry as he blinked against the harsh lights of the Batcave. His arms were strapped down to something cold and unyielding. "Damn it. Let me go!" His voice was a snarl, filled with rage and frustration.

"Negative," Bruce's calm, gravelly voice responded. He approached from the shadows, no longer in his suit but in a sweater and jeans, the cowl replaced by the face of a father. "You killed someone tonight. Did you know that?"

Damian gritted his teeth, pulling against his restraints in fury. "Who gives a shit?" He thrashed, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "Let me go, now! She's alone - "

"She's fine," Bruce interrupted firmly. "Oracle is monitoring."

Before Damian could spit back another response, the Batcave’s voice system activated with Oracle’s voice. "I have visual on her right now. She's at home, watching TV with her family. Safe."

Damian's chest heaved, but the confirmation did little to ease the burning tension in his veins. He didn’t care that she was safe. He needed to be there with you. Protect you.

"How long are you going to keep me like this?" Damian glared at Bruce, eyes flashing with anger.

"You're too worked up to be set free," Bruce said, his tone unwavering. "I don't want you making decisions you’ll inevitably regret."

"I won't regret jack shit!" Damian roared. "Scarecrow's overdue for a visit to hell!"

"'Overdue for a visit to hell,'" Jason's voice echoed from somewhere in the batcave, but Damian couldn't see him. "Goddamn, this kid's more dramatic than you, bats." Jasons chuckle echoed alongside his footsteps as he entered the batcave.

"Thank you, Jason." Bruce said sarcastically.

"Youre welcome."

"Damian," Bruce's tone was deadly serious. "I don't think you heard me clearly. You are a murderer."

Damian's jaw clenched before he spat, "Bruce, do you even understand what 'League of Assassins' means? I've been a murderer. Since I was ten." His voice cracked slightly, the anger mingling with something deeper - something broken.

The tired lines of his fathers face grew more pronounced. "And when I took you in, I made both you and myself a promise to end that cycle." His voice was softer now, but no less firm. He stepped closer, his presence towering over Damian, not as Batman, but as a father. "You were a child, Damian. You didn’t know any better. But you do now. You don’t get to decide the outcome of human lives. When you do, you become the very thing we fight against. The very thing she fears."

Those words landed hard, and Damian stopped struggling.

The very thing she fears.

He pictured your face, pale with terror, your haunted eyes. Damian swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "Fuck."

He hated it. Hated that the old man was right. His whole life had been about violence, about using pain to solve problems.

He glanced up at Bruce, anger creeping out of his voice. "I don't know what to do."

Bruce’s expression softened, the hard edge of Batman fading away as his fatherly concern surfaced. He sighed, his own guilt simmering beneath the surface. "Be there for her. That will be enough."

Damian stared up at him, resisting the urge to punch him for that unhelpful advicr. He didn’t know how to be that. How to be anything but the weapon he was trained to be.

"I don’t... want her to fear me," Damian whispered, his voice barely audible. At least he didn't think he did.

Bruce reached out, his hand resting on Damian’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "You can't solve this one as Robin. Nor the League’s heir. Just Damian."

For a moment, Damian closed his eyes, letting his father’s words sink in. His breath slowed, and the fury that had been burning inside of him all night began to fade into something else - epiphany. He had to fix you himself. He had no qualm playing therapist, whether you wanted him to or not.

When he opened his eyes again, he met Bruce’s gaze, still defiant but quieter now. "I know what I have to do."

"You do," Bruce said with a firm nod.

Damian had a new goal in his mind now, bringing you back. His jaw was tight, but his breathing was steady now. "Untie me," he said quietly. "I’m calm."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and then he slowly unstrapped his son’s hands. Damian sat up, rubbing his wrists, though his mind was far away - thinking of you and the promises he had made to himself.

"Not so fast." Bruce spoke up. "You're still in trouble. Tomorrow, you will bring in... 10 juvenile delinquents into the station -" Bruce knew Damian especially hated dealing with kids - he had to hold back with them - "to make up for the shithead you killed tonight. And you'll do two hundred push-ups now."

Damian scoffed at the easy challenge. "Fine,"

"Jason, sit on his back."

"What?!" Damian spat out in protest as Jason rolled his head back in laughter.

The next morning, Damian barely made his way to your doorstep, limping over sore limbs. He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

[deadghosy]

THIS DUO AS READERS X HAZBIN HOTEL GANG

prompt: two gen z twins fall into the grasp of hell and the hotel crew as they cause such an entertaining impression.

These two cause so much trouble in one go. Like literally you guys plopped into hell just causing chaos as the pink twin started to set hospitals and buildings on fire as the green twin was just scamming sinners😭.

The twins died looking like their favorite colors, green and pink as the smart one was green and the slight dumb one was wearing pink. The twins even have matching bracelets that have the other’s color. They also died as Gen z’s.

Oddly enough, the pink twin can go into the wrath and pride ring as the green twin and can stay in the pride ring and go into the envy ring.

You two can’t even BE LEFT ALONE HOLY SHIT- LITERALLY CHARLIE HAD YOU TAKE CHARGE IN THE HOTEL ONLY FOR THE BAR TO BE BURNT DOWN AND A HOLE IN THE WALL 😭😭

Alastor found the green twin amusing as they are very quick and smart. Hell they were the one to figure out that Alastor was in a leash when they first met him. So alastor made it his goal to try to trap the green! reader. He also found the pink one amusing, but they were just a nuisance at times 

Pink reader and Angel dust is such a funny duo as he seems to look after you since you aren’t good at taking care of your own self which is sad but at least someone cares for you.

“You’re not ascending to godhood. You’re just dehydrated….” “OUT OF MY WAY GAYBOY!” *few minutes later* the pink twin was breathing heavy on the floor. “Hopital..”

I feel like Lucifer would definitely try to adopt the twins as he find them adorable. Like Lucifer had most definitely made a pink and green duck with a magnet that makes the two ducks hold feathers.😭💗

Niffy love the twins equally as they like to hang around with the hotel maid as she shows them how to clean.

Sir Pentious find you two amazing as literally green! Reader overthinks a lot but pink! Reader doesn’t think and just acts head on. So he gets green! Reader to help with his building as pink! Reader just decorates.

The egg boiz love hanging out with the twins as they just walk around and cause havoc inside the hotel and to residents.

Headcannon on pink! Reader knowing how to use and gun and accidentally shooting themselves only to regenerate themselves as everyone panics except their own twin.

I imagine Cherri trying to bring the twins to a club and the green one is like “if you’re bring us, prepare for shit to go down.” And Cherri didn’t believe it until the club is ablaze as pink! Reader just smiled with their sharp teeth showing with their twin beside them having a tired face like. “I told you so.” Cherri’s face was so traumatized at how you did it.

Vaggie most definitely has some rules for you, even a bed time for pink as they are so adhd core 💀 so she need to drain their energy before they set anyone on fire.

It was a dark hellish night as the green twin walked into their shared room for the big dinner. “Hey just double checking, you cleared your calendar for dinner tomorrow night with the staff right? I’m dying to go to that new place like I can’t-” the green twin stops seeing their own twin spacing out. “Oh sorry, dinner, tomorrow, me.” “YAYYY” the pink reader starts to clap excitedly

Husk hates pink! Reader as they are so damn energetic and have no filter. Yeah husk has no filter as well, but pink! Reader has the worst filter ever to the point husk wants to duct tape their mouth.

STOP IMAGINE PINK! READER DRIVING LIKE SPONGEBOB AS GREEN! READER IS READING OFF A MAP SO CALMLY😭😭

“IM DRIVIN THIS HOOEEE” pink yells as green just calmly looks up and point to an exit turn as pink swerves the car as if this shit was Tokyo drift.

The combat the twins is so strange but destructive, like literally green’s combat is martial arts and poison as pink is street fighting but also just weapons like guns and bombs.

The Vee’s fucking hate the twins with a passion as those two are just bad luck for them.

lol I can see pink just bursting into the Vee’s tower on accident as green just waves at the three overlords.

Velvette finds the twins worthy of being models for her, but the thing is when she finally got the twins to meet her. They both accidentally ruined her studio as there was fire on the floor and curtains. HELL EVEN THE FIRE IS ON FIRE?! HOW TF-

Vox had found green amusing at how smart you are with calculations. He thought he could trick you with his hypnotizing power, but nah you poked that bitch’s eyes. He yelled falling to the floor just screaming at green being a bitch and a whole lot of degrading words. 

Valentino likes pink..for some reason . It’s because you are pink like Angel dust… but like then his admiration fell so quick when you glitter bombed his whole porn studio.

Pink! Reader was arguing with Vox as green! Reader has a needle ready to drain blood from the tv overlord. “Fuck you, YOU BITCH” “ya mama.” “YA MAMA, with cha bald headed ass.” “Ahh you mad.”

Yeah pink has a restraining order from the Vee’s as green just gets a warning 😭

Pink is a pyro maniac as green is a mad scientist type shit. 🦆

Yeah so the twins lore is that they were in a bad household with a mom who was a stay at home mom and an alcoholic dad that cheats. The parents were very verbal and physically abusive. So the twins only had their self.

I can imagine that green! reader had told pink! Reader a joke and was going to tell another resident only for the pink twin to fuck it up cause they found it so funny.

“Did you know, that 1981 was the year that-” “AAAAaaaAAAAaaAA-”

Tbh green is the reason why Alastor is sometimes scared to talk to them about his plans. Like green would stare at Alastor and Alastor would just sped walk away. 😭😭

The twins troupe is also “calm friend x chaotic friend” cause of course it fits them but really green is also a psycho in a making

Green was the type of kid to burn ants and dissect frogs and animals. As pink also burnt ants but thrown rocks at houses and cars. But they most definitely burnt old houses and thrown hot honey buns at people 😭

“I FEEEL LIKE A FEM QUEEN! I FEEL LIKE FEM QUEEN! I FEEL SO CUNTY!” Is how pink! Reader felt when Angel dust did their makeup as they watched RuPaul‘s drag race series.

Imagine the sibling fights just being so chaotic as they literally have to wear a “get along” shirt lmao 😭

The two siblings literally was playing rock paper scissors when all of a sudden a bomb was heard off in the distance making green immediately looks at pink who just nervously laughs and runs off.

There was a time when pink awakened their hell powers on a Thursday as green was so confused. “Pinkie, how are you doing that?” The green reader says pushing their glasses to their face seeing their twin floating. “I-I-I- I don’t know broccoli, I’m scared.” “Well come down.” “I can’t. I-I-I- I can’t. Get help.” The pink twin says to the green twin as they are floating to the ceiling.

Yeah Lucifer had to take them down as he put a spell on pink! Reader for it to never happen again.

Below the cut I show I imagine then personally💗

Their personalities:

Green! Reader- calm, secretly crazy inside, smart, protective, over thinking, sometimes snappy, just wants to be loved.

Pink! Reader- cunty😘, crazy, starve touched, hyperactive, not focused much, under thinking, destructive.

Their appearance:

Green! Reader- looks like a teen and an adult. Has straight hair with glasses. Possibly have a mole by their cheek or lip but definitely has freckles. They are skinny but curvy as they don’t gain weight much.

Pink! Reader- looks like a young adult and a teen at the same time. Has curly hair with glasses but eye sight isn’t as bad. Has a mole by their eye and has freckled skin. They are slight chubby but more on the thicc side with the right thickness in their body.

Their specific pronouns:

Green! Reader- any, but people usually call them a he/him & she/her

Pink! Reader- she/they and them/her.

[aspenned]

@maybeitsmay555

how i thought i would feel walking out of the theater:

how i actually felt:

[hysteria-things]

Punishing sub bratty Chris bu forcing him not to look at you are touch you while you fuck him

blabbers from chris’ mouth sugarcoat the slapping of your ass on his pelvis. you’re straddling him, his cock shoved deep into your pussy as you rock your hips. “i’m sorry… i’m sorry” he keeps repeating, your hands running down his bare chest over the marks you left.

chris was none other than a brat today, and he knows better than that… doesn’t help that you blindfolded him and tied his hands behind his back. he continues to tug at the restraints, but it’s no use. you retrained him up well.

he whines as he keeps thrusting up into you, but you always hold his sides back down when he does so. he doesn’t deserve that power.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry!” he apologizes once again, chest heaving. sweat glistens on his skin, some strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

you glide your thumb over his spit-coated bottom lip before shoving it into his mouth. he gags a little, but at least it shuts him up. “shush, chris.” you tsk. “don’t make me duct tape that smart mouth, too.”

[mattsturniolosmuse]

You're Like Me

Young Dexter Morgan x Reader

Summary: You are also a serial killer, for the same reason as Dexter. You only kill people who deserve to be killed. When Dexter gets bullied, you stick up for him, starting a friendship.

Warnings: SMUT, oral male receiving, p in v, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex)

"Look! It's Dreadful Dexter!" Someone says, pointing to Dexter and laughing.

You looked over. Dexter was sitting at a picnic table, picking at his lunch. You felt bad for him. He was always a target for being picked on. He was just so much different from everybody else.

"Hey, leave him alone, won't you?" You call towards the bully. He looks at you and chuckles.

"What're you going to do about it, Miss Prissy?" He asked, crossing his arms.

You could do lots of things. Usually involving a roll of duct tape and a chainsaw.

"If only you knew." You say. He laughs and walks away, picking up a basketball off of the court.

You approach Dexter.

"Hey, Dex." You say. He smiles shyly.

"Hi. And... thanks." He says, packing up his lunch.

"No problem. Want to walk to class together?" You ask. He nods. He was in your biology class, and he was really smart. Right now, you were doing dissections, which you and him seem to be the only ones who enjoy it.

The walk to class was pretty much silent. You looked at him. His long hair was brushing over his face, and he was biting his lips.

You had to admit, he was pretty cute.

"You want to hang out after school today?" You ask to break the silence.

He shakes his head. "Sorry, I have... something to do."

You nod.

"Tomorrow after school?" He says instead. You smile and nod. You got to class, and you find your desk, and he finds his.

>>>><<<<

You were in the forest just outside Miami, looking for some new spots to take your victims. After an hour, you had found an old shack.

Perfect. You thought to yourself.

But when you entered the front, you heard voices coming from inside. You froze.

"What about her? Remember her?" A familiar voice said.

"No- no! I swear!" Another voice said, trembling. Then it started screaming.

You went further into the shack. Layers of plastic sheet covered the walls. And then you see him.

Dexter standing over the naked body of an older man, who was duct taped to a table. A saw was slicing through the mans arm.

Dexter jumps when he sees you.

"Y/N? I-i can explain!" He says, looking at you with fear in his eyes.

You just smile.

"Dex, you're doing it wrong." You say, taking the saw from him.

"You have to cut in a smooth motion, tip to blade. It helps make a cleaner cut and takes out less blood." You say, demonstrating.

Dexter looks at you.

"You're like me." He says, lips barely parting to say the words. You nod and blush, looking down.

He takes a step closer to you, and your bodies are touching. You look up into his bright blue eyes. But they aren't bright anymore.

Soon enough his lips are on yours. You freeze, not knowing what to do or how to do it. But soon enough, you're kissing back, your hands in his hair.

Dexter tilts his head, so you do the same, the opposite way. His hands trail down your sides and rest on your waist. He squeezes gently and you gasp. Dexter takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. He spins you around and pushes you against the wooden wall behind him.

"Jump." He says, his voice deep. You obey, jumping. He catches you and wraps your legs around his waist, still pushing you up against the wall.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good, baby." He says, his lips moving to your neck. He leaves a few love bites across your throat and jaw. You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he pauses to lift it over his head and off of his body.

His lips attack yours again, his tongue forcing its way past your lips. You trail your hands down his stomach. He doesn't have abs, but he's still in good shape.

Dexter's hands fumble with the strings of your sweatpants. He finally gets them off, and his hand rubs circles through the fabric of your underwear. You moan slightly and throw your head back.

"W-wait, Dex." You say, looking him in the eyes.

"You ok?" He asks, suddenly scared.

"Yeah, I just want to try something first." You say. He puts you down and you push him against the wall, kneeling in front of him. You tug his jeans down along with his boxers.

"God, baby." He says as you kiss his tip, throbbing red and leaking precum. His body jerks as you take all of him in your mouth.

"Mmm..." He moans, tangling his hands in your hair. He tugs slightly, and you hum, sending vibrations down his dick. He pushes your head into him, and he hits the back of your throat, making you gag and drool.

"S-so good, baby." He whimpers. You feel him twitching, and not long after, his warm cum shoots down your throat. You stand up, wiping the excess off of your chin and kissing him. He turns you around once more, and you jump automatically. You grind into him, and he groans, hastily pulling your panties off. You unzip your sweater and reach your hands back to unbuckle your bra, still not breaking the sloppy kiss.

You are both now fully naked.

"You ready?" Dexter asks you, making eye contact. You nod, and he pushes himself into your wet folds, letting out the loudest moan yet.

You gasp at the new feeling. Sure, you've had fingers in you before, but this was different. He was a tad bit bigger than your little fingers.

"S-so tight, baby." Dexter says, pushing in and out of you, slowly getting faster in pace.

"D-dexter! Faster, please!" You moan, nails digging into his skin. He obeys, fucking you at an inhumanly pace. His face is buried in your neck, gently kissing the skin.

His lips trail down to your breasts, leaving huge hickeys all over. He lifts one nipple into his mouth, roughly kneeding the other.

"I'm s-so close, Dex." You say, cock drunk.

"Me too." Dexter responds. His pounds started getting slower and sloppier, and soon you feel his seed shoot into you. He keeps going, waiting for you to orgasm. You clench down on him. He moans sinfully.

"Come on, baby, cum all over my cock." He whispers in your ear. You release, whimpering in his ear, toes curling.

Dexter pulls out of you and places you on the floor, handing you your clothes. You guys silently dress and he pulls you in for a hug.

"I love you. I never knew I was capable feelings until I met you." He says, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you too, Dex. Now, what are we going to do with this body?" You say, gesturing towards the bloody mess on the table.

[baby-tini]

What are some of Manila Mikeys punishments for reader... sfw or nsfw, doesn't really matter too me. I just adore how you write for him and he's my favorite. Thank you in advance!!!

There aren't many- if any punishments that are sfw if they're coming from Manila!Mikey if I'm being honest...

TW- Abuse, Victim Blaming

NSFW- He'll make you sit quiet. There's a rule for you and that smart little mouth of yours. If you can't use your mouth correctly, you don't get too use it at all. It's as simple as that really. Whether that be, him keeping your mouth stuffed with his cock, nestled down your tight little throat. Letting you suck on his fingers, curling his fingers inside the wet heat of your smart little mouth, because there's much better things that your mouth could be doing. Although, it could just be something as simple as sticking duct tape over your mouth.

NSFW- He'll restrict you on a multitude of things. If you can't follow his rules and listen to him, then why should he listen to you and your needs? That's his thought process anyway. If you're being difficult and are refusing food or even worse, for you anyway, you decide on being picky with what he gives you. Then you don't get food, or if you don't like the clothes, if you can even call them that, that he gives you, then you won't wear anyway and he'll purposely turn the air up to very low temperatures. To the point where you're sitting in your shared bed, all the blankets and pillows taken away, shaking as he just watches you.

NSFW- Edging. Even if you are being punished, he's still gonna fuck you, it just... won't be for you. He doesn't care for the little whines that bubble in your throat, it doesn't really affect him, he knew you'd be upset and that's actually what he was hoping for. He wants it too be drilled into your head that misbehavior doesn't get rewarded, and he tells you this. Stating that if you had just behaved for him, like he knows you can, you'd be having a much better time- you both would. He wouldn't have too deal with your insistent whining about wanting too cum and you'd... be able too cum.

NSFW- "Positive punishments." Despite the name, there is nothing positive about any of his punishments. Manipulation is a better word- victim blaming specifically. He'll mutter into your ear that it was your fault as he tightens the cuff around your right wrist. That you only had yourself too blame when you lay awake at night, your cunt still pulsing from the lack of orgasms, not being allowed too cum once at all that night and if your misbehavior still continues then.. I guess you won't be coming for awhile, huh?

[icaruskey]

Hey @pillowspace I've been promising some whump and this is going to be the start of it.

I don't know how many parts it'll be, but I suspect I'll be able to post one snippet every day or two and finish it out by the end of the week.

I hope I do it justice. I've been hyping it up in my head a whole lot, especially since I'm writing more comfort for the clone au than here.

This is loop five. You're pretty sure of that. Sun is a little suspicious of you, the distance between you and the attendant growing ever wider as you prove to be more capable with the kids than him or Moon. It's not his fault, you want to explain, but you know that will only make things worse.

So you try to ignore instinct, let the children fall and need Sun, but he's the face of the daycare and he's needed all the time, so it becomes pain for pain's sake, and that of a child too! You can't stand it, and you know if he were in your shoes, if either of them were, they'd understand.

You still don't like the day they bring the generators in --- other humans with help from some of the animatronics, Freddy and Bonnie always eager to give their coworkers a helping hand. You don't like it because it means Moon won't be out anymore.

"Can we put some tape down? I'm worried the kids will trip over the cables." You stand at Sun's side, both of you watching the generators get placed. You with a furrowed brow, Sun with his rays retracted nearly entirely into his faceplate.

"That might be for the best." The strain in his voice is upsetting, and you reach to touch his arm in sympathy. It surprises him, and he slowly places a hand over yours. "Thank you for helping with the children. It's been... Difficult lately."

I know, you don't say. There's no movement from him, no wit or joke in his voice. Even his touch is limp.

"We're all set!" Freddy's voice is as full of life as Sun's is void of it. He walks over, the ground trembling ever so slightly with every step. "Everything going all right Sunny?"

Sun's grip on you tightens, painfully so with flesh trapped between metal. "Of course! Moon is just having some malfunctioning code, so we are putting him on pause until he gets better." The strain is audible, but Freddy is far too polite to bring it up.

"It's a shame," he says instead, clapping a paw on Sun's shoulder. "He's always good for a tune and a prank. Let us know if you need anything Sunny."

"Of course," Sun replies, but he's drowned out by Bonnie hop-jogging over to grab Freddy's arm.

"C'mon man. We got a set to practice with the girls. Chica's gonna murder us if we aren't on time."

"Ah right. See you Sun, Superstar." Freddy waves his goodbye, but you avoid looking at him. In a couple weeks, Freddy won't be the same. You wish you could warn them, but.

But instead, you watch as the two glamrocks leave, useless in comforting Sun, in saving Bonnie. Maybe if it wasn't for the fire... But you have to keep to your personal priorities right now, and you'd failed too many times already.

Sun signs, releasing you. "Let's get the daycare ready before the kids start showing up. Thank you for coming in early Starlight."

"It's not a problem Sun." You push as much love into your voice as possible. "If you get the art supplies and breakfast snacks ready, I can secure the electric cords."

"Oh of course. That's very smart." His rays remain retracted as he walks to the locked cabinets to prepare. You bum a roll of duct tape off a coworker and climb into the jungle gym, carefully taping the cables out of the way of little feet.

At least Sun brightened when the children started pouring in. You take over explaining the new naptime rules to the parents so he can fawn over the little ones, and the day passes quickly under the unforgiving glare of the lights.

You stay late to help clean, staking chairs out of the way to vacuum. Sun is humming as he pins the new drawings up, taking a few of the oldest ones down and stacking them neatly to the side.

"Will Moon get to come out after hours?" You ask, and Sun stops, arms full with little trays of crayons and markers. You notice there's a couple red hearts drawn on his cheek. Does he know about them?

"Oh, no. We aren't allowed to leave the daycare unless it's for maintenance, so he won't be coming out." Sun hands you the trays. "I'm going to take the old drawings up to our room. Can you finish things up down here?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." Even five loops in you're sticking your foot in your mouth. "Have a good night Sun."

"Thank you Starlight." He gathers the drawings, reaching up for the cord that he and Moon use to travel through the air. It descends and clips in place, and... He's gone.

It hurts to see him in pain like this. But, you will fix things this time. And Sun, very unintentionally, gave you the chance to do some after hours exploring.

✴️✴️✴️

Even better, it turns out the daycare's vacuum cleaner is broken, the always frayed cord finally snapped. Weird that you hadn't noticed this before, but then again, you have been busy every loop. You drag the vacuum out the side door to the manager 's office so it could be thrown out by someone with actual authority. It's quiet, the music playing to softly to muffle your footsteps or rattly old contraption dragging behind you. It shouldn't be easy to sneak up on you, and yet

"Who are you?" A woman's voice cuts through your thoughts, and you jump, giving an inarticulate yell and promptly tripping over yourself as you turn.

She's a security guard you realize, spotting the badge and pseudo-cop attire even as you're blinded by her flashlight. You squint and shield your eyes, clumsily getting back to your feet.

"I'm the daycare assistant." You fumble for your badge, clipped on the inside of your sweater to show. "I'm still cleaning up. Sun's having a bit of a stressful day and it's a lot slower without his help." You're over explaining but, ah well. You're still startled.

"You're not supposed to stay after hours." She checks her watch, and you can finally make out her face. She's pretty, young. Not exactly what you'd think of when you think overnight security guard. "It's late."

"I know." There's an edge of irritation slipping in, even as you gather the broken vacuum again. "I need to finish cleaning."

The guard watches you, and you're uncomfortably aware of her apparent lack of blinking, fiddling with the busted cord instead. "And the daycare attendant is refusing to help?"

"He's had a bad day," you say, openly defensive. "He deserves a break, so I'm taking care of things. It's fine. You can even watch if you want to make sure I'm not stealing anything."

She's still frowning at you, shaking her head. She holsters the flashlight, taking the vacuum from you. "You go on home. I'll make sure the daycare gets cleaned."

"But---" You grimace as her already disgruntled expression turns hostile. "Okay, all right. Can I at least get my stuff?"

She sighs but nods, dropping the vacuum. "Come on then. I need to escort you. Someone's been sneaking around in here after hours already."

Oh? "They have?" Could they have messed with Moon? "Why hasn't the day shift been informed?"

"Everyone important has."

You give up trying to talk, frustrated with her stoney silence. The daycare is lit like a beacon in the pizzeria, and when you enter you cut off to the side, digging your bag out of your cubby. You start to call up to Sun, but the guard is at your shoulder, still watching you in her unnerving way. You swallow instead, gesturing vaguely. "Well, that's it."

"Good. Let's go then." And she takes the lead, leaving you scrambling to catch up. There's no lingering or trying to take the long way around. She leads you directly to the atrium and even watches as you clock out.

"Well, thank you," you say, attempting one more smile. She's unmoved. "Um, have a good night?"

"In the future, if you can't get everything done by the end of your shift, telephone it into the security office," she says, escorting you to the nearest door.

"I will." And you're leaving, confused and frustrated. You turn around when the door locks behind you. The guard is already leaving, her ponytail bouncing with her long steps. Just in case, you try the door, but nope. It's locked.

"Fine then. I'll try again tomorrow," you tell the door, drawing a hand down your face. Hopefully she didn't bully Sun for trying to take a break. You've already decided you do not like her. But how have you missed her the past few loops? You're the only one who knows what's happening, so you should've run into her before. What's changed?

[aspenned]

@maybeitsmay555

A housewife takes a lover during the day, while her husband is at work. Not aware that 9 year old son was hiding in the closet. Her husband came home unexpectedly, so she hid her lover in the closet. The boy now has company.

Boy: ‟Dark in here.” Man: ‟Yes it is.” Boy: ‟I have a baseball.” Man: ‟That’s nice.” Boy: ‟Want to buy it?” Man: ‟No, thanks.” Boy: ‟That’s my dad outside.” Man: ‟How much did you say the baseball was again?” Boy: ‟$250.”

In the next few weeks, it happens again that the boy and the mom’s lover are in the closet together.

Boy: ‟Dark in here.” Man: ‟Yes, it is..” Boy: ‟I have a baseball glove.” Man: ‟That’s nice.” Boy: ‟Want to buy it?” Man: ‟No, thanks.” Boy: ‟I think I just remembered something I needed to tell my dad.” Man: ‟How much did you say the glove was again?” Boy: ‟$750.” Man: ‟Fine.”

A few days later, the father says to the boy, ‟Grab your glove. Let’s go outside and toss the baseball!” The boy says, ‟I can’t. I sold them.” The father asks, ‟How much did you sell them for?” The son says, ‟$1,000.” The father says, ‟It’s terrible to over-charge your friends like that. That is way more than those two things cost. I’m going to take you to church and make you confess.”

They go to church and the father alerts the priest and makes the little boy sit in the confession booth and closes the door.

The boy says, ‟Dark in here.” The priest says, ‟Do not start that shit again.”

[stealthetrees]

I made ocs for my fanfic and now I get to talk about them. They all got adopted by Fox.

Cable is the responsible smart one on paper but in practice he’s much too fond of making things explode.

Slicer will go nice and beyond what you ask him to do so make sure to be very specific when asking him to bankrupt a person, not a planet.

Sketch is holding it together with duct tape and prayers. Picking locks and cracking safes is like doing yoga for him.

Vixen (will be a she after identity crisis) has a bad habit of appearing in places (s)he has no logical explanation of getting to. Was given a sniper rifle and they called it a day. Physically fought squad over the name. Burrow still has a scar from where (s)he nearly took their eye out.

Sparrow used to be normal until Fox taught him how to pickpocket and now he has clinical kleptomania.

Havoc was obtained (not rescued or stolen) from the marines. Officially still MIA. Supposed to be a medic but likes sharp things way too much and got banned from the med bay. Fox gave them a knife to cheer them up and Havoc made it their entire personality.

Lucky was a cadet that was smuggled off Kamino and insisted (demanded) he get to finish his training. Adorable little guy until he gets to hit someone then you realize he’s a honey badger on crack. Truly Fox’s kid in every way.

[orange-coloredsky-archive]

i cannot believe ive never posted this. probably because it looks like shit. anyways heres my pepe silva ass scrawlings about what i think this guy's mods are for.

translation of the nigh unreadable text under the cut

REAL AND CANON DIMA LORE PART ONE: What The Hell Are All Those Doo Dads

(i'll start from the head and go down)

HEAD

functionally blind. constant exposure to moisture from the fog pretty much turned a lot of him into mush and short circuits, including whatever optic nerves he had going on in there. so he mainly relies on sound and memory to get around. some of the shit sticking out of his head actually works like echolocation devices. pickinh up the sound around him and translating it into something that lets him know "oh, theres a fuckin table there. it does not always work. (fun fact: thats the reason why his memory game is based on abstractions and sound. while exploring nick/kellogg's brain we got visual input. dima doesnt have that)

all of the other tubes are basically just typical vacuum tubes. used to reroute voltage to make sure he doesnt overload himself with all the extra mods. make sure you dont stand too close to him during a thunderstorm

TORSO

basically an external disk drive. his main way of utilizing holotapes and shit. i like to draw a lil heart on it

looks like guts. gross. i cant figure out what this would do (i now believe its a liquid cooling system)

LEGS

so it turns out sitting in a damp ass cave on your ass in the dirt for 365 days doesnt do wonders for the skin. especially when that skin is just shitty rubber. basically his fuckin leg parts rotted away and just his metal skeleton remained, which is wrapped in his weird duct tape yoga pants. the metal frames are for extra support. because of this as well as his age he cant really stand for long periods of time (ignore the part where he stands in acadia forever after you get deeper into his questline) and when he INSISTS ON DOING SO he requires some form of mobility aid. usually in the form of faraday or chase walking alongside him

typical synth skeletal feet, but augmented to actually flex/extend like talons. he is weirdly skilled at picking things up with his feet.

BACK

basically his whole back is just Gone, minus the structures needed to hold up those ports because dima is very prone to overheating. was easier to just get rid of anything blocking the flow of air than to install a bunch of heat sinks. faraday's smart but hes on a budget.

these are the cerebral (spinal?) connections he uses to be plugged into his chair (not dissimilar to the placements of the connections in the institute mind wiping chair ☹️)