#you found another way: a way to use the pain. To burn it as fuel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

capr1pengu1n · 3 months ago

Note

Man, I really throughly enjoyed your vigilante!reader x riddler story. I just absolutely love the way you characterize him. I’ve been thinking about it for days, no joke. It’s where my mind ends up wandering. So if you feel compelled, may I request a similar situation, a bat-family reader x reader, but with a more hmmmm antagonistic approach maybe? Banter, name-calling, taunts, curses, gibes. Idk, I need them at each other’s throats, to the point where they lift cannot stand each other, then…hate sex ensues! Maybe my girl fights for dominance, but is ultimately a switch-leaning sub, so when Eddie does ultimately overpower her, he’s down right giddy at how submissive she can be when she’s not a pain in his ass. (Also, if you could throw in a size kink for Eddie I’d die a happy women, but do what you want and what your comfortable with, or ignore this all together, I just really love your writing!)

I'll break your pretty face

Summary: After solving your rival's incessant riddles, you're face to face with the man who has been giving you a headache for months now. But with emotions bubbling to the surface, you find out just how much your rival hates to feel about you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), hate sex, dubcon (to be safe), dom!edward, fingering, spanking, choking, degradation, creampie, Edward being a condescending ass, insults and snide remarks galore.

Words: 5.2k

Notes: Thank you very much for the request anon! This was so much fun to write, and i'm happy to have finished it before going away with my family. I hope you enjoy!

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Running, your heels burn as you race to the back of the abandoned shopping mall, your cape billowing around your form as you sprint. The riddle you’d been given at the last location rattles around in your head, racing through the possibilities. ‘I shine like the sun, yet I'm cold to the touch, In the earth I am found, deep within as such. I clink and I clank, and I’m strong and steadfast, From coins to machines, through ages I last.’

All you know is that it’s located at the back of the abandoned shopping project in amusement mile, so you’d sped over on your motorcycle to beat the timer. This was all a game, his twisted version of a game. Right now, The Riddler had Officer Patel from the GCPD with a bomb collar around his neck in the middle of a pig pen; with glee he’d explained you had to do his stupid treasure hunt to find the code-word that would disarm the bomb remotely, letting the police know his location. While you know Gordon has his men searching any farm or slaughterhouse, simply solving his puzzles was quicker and more reliable to get the officer to safety. His demented scavenger hunt had taken you all over Gotham, your motorcycle practically out of fuel by now, as each location was another puzzle or stupid memory game that would lead you elsewhere. You slightly felt like a headless chicken, running around wherever he told you.

Getting to the back of the mall, you catch your breath as your eyes dart around the various stores that you can see, or maybe it’s in the employees only area? The riddle echoes in your head again…metal? But if that’s the answer, what does that have to do with-

Your gaze falls on the Hot Topic store, abandoned and derelict, but unmistakable with the sign out front. Metal music. It has to be in there, you think as you notice the security camera seemingly pointed right at you, red light on despite the supposed lack of power. He’s watching you, you know he is. Pointing your middle finger right where he’d be able to see, you enter the store and look around. God he infuriated you, his smug smile a constant picture in your head whenever you think about his riddles or his crimes. The way he talks to you is different than how he talks about your family, no with you he seems to be ten times more condescending. The patronising tone gets you more riled up than anything, with the falsely charming comments about your looks just seeking to make the anger rise up your chest like lava bubbling to the top of a pissed off volcano.

Sure enough, inside the store was an arrow spray painted in a metallic shade of green, pointing to a cassette player with a crude smiley face. You go towards it and press play, hearing the word ‘Venality’ screamed from a pained voice, presumably Officer Patel, along with a button flashing. Switching it on, seemingly nothing happens for a few moments, your eyes frantically looking around to see if you missed anything. Then your comms device crackles to life.

“Riddler just made contact, said you solved the puzzle. Gordon is sending his men for the officer, good work.” You hear Bruce say, causing you to smile a little. You’re glad you helped, and despite how shallow it makes you feel, you’re glad you got praise from your adoptive father. Hard to impress, you feel satisfied that you’re able to prove yourself, that’ll teach Tim not to doubt your intellectual skills again at least.

You’re just about to leave the store when static fills your ears again, this time from the old speakers hanging above the clothes racks. “Oh look at that, my favourite dimwitted little girl was able to solve my puzzles.”

Gritting your teeth, you leave the store and stand in the empty space outside before the speakers in the mall itself crackle to life. “Walking off are you? Oh are you having a tantrum? Poor girl, do you want me to call daddy to pick you up?”

His condescending tone was like nails down a chalkboard to you as you glare up at the security camera. “What’s wrong? Pissed off I beat you?”

“I’d hardly call that display beating me, a child could have probably solved those riddles faster than you. Still I suppose you saved the life of the corrupt cop, how lovely.”

“Oh? I thought I was a child according to you.”

“Dear, it’s called infantilization,” you can hear the smirk on his face as he continues to patronise you, “Besides, I know you aren’t a child with a body like that, no matter how much you try and hide it with such garish costumes.”

Fighting the blush at his crude comment, you shake your head. “I know you aren’t the one to talk about garish outfits.”

This elicits a throaty laugh from the criminal. “Oh I’m hurt darling, truly… Oh wait a second, I’m not! Why would I bother with an opinion from someone of such little worth and brain capacity!”

You roll your eyes, glancing away from the camera for a moment to suppress the urge to give him the reaction he’s clearly looking for. When you’d followed in the unconventional family footsteps of becoming a vigilante, Bruce was clear and concise with how he taught you about the different criminals that operated throughout Gotham. Both their modus operandi in terms of their various crimes and escapades, but also their psychological profiles. Edward Nigma was a textbook narcissist who thrives on the attention and validation of others, so you were determined to not give him what he craved.

“Leaving already dear?” he asks as you head to leave, “you haven’t even asked where I am.”

“You’ve rerouted your signal through seven different countries’ VPN networks, we’ll find you eventually.”

“I guarantee you will not. Well, maybe the bat or one of his many boy blunders who trail after him like deformed puppies will. But not you.”

Swallowing, you breathe slowly to calm yourself. Don’t rise to him. Don’t rise to him.

“No, but I’m nothing if not charitable. Why don’t I offer you something, maybe it’ll help you prove yourself to the other precious little costumed freaks.”

That makes you pause, as if he was aware of your internal complex to prove you earnt your place in your family as you glance at the camera.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you where I am of course. Provided you come alone. If you contact the GCPD, or any of the aforementioned costumed freaks, I’ll be gone and I’ll be sure that the next bomb will be around your pretty neck instead.”

You know Bruce would be telling you not to, to realise it was a trap, or another stupid mind game. But you can’t deny the temptation…to be the one to take down the Riddler, that’ll cause everyone’s doubts about you to dissipate, right?

“Fine…how do I know it isn’t a trap?”

He barks out another laugh. “Oh silly girl, you don’t know. But I still think you’ll come, such a hopelessly plucky thing you are.”

It’s like a blur, you find yourself nodding and listening to the address before getting on your motorcycle. As you drive through the city, the twinkling lights reflecting on the shine of your handlebars, your thoughts are scattered as you travel. This really is a bad idea, and you know it. You hate him, his stupid tone and stupid puzzles and stupid face…and yet here you are, pulling up to the abandoned building and making your way inside. Green graffiti greets you, messages like ‘can you defeat a mind such as mine?’ taunting you as you head down the hallway to a derelict living area. Flickering in the corner, you step over and see the monitor set up on the table was broadcasting the feed from the shopping mall.

“Oh good, you can follow simple instructions.”

You’re on high alert as you spin around, battle stance ready as he walks in calm as anything, question mark cane twirling in his gloved hand. With his trademark smirk etched on his face, he stands there with his head tilted.

“So what’s the plan, little girl? Knock me out, beat me up, make me repent.” He chuckles at his own words. “Or maybe just look at me.”

“You flatter yourself.” You snap at him.

“I know, it’s my favourite activity. A man with looks as well as an intellect are hard to find you know, even harder to find in a vigilante. Pity you only seem to have one of those.”

Barely suppressing the eye-roll, you bite back at him. “You won’t be so patronising when you’re in a straitjacket.”

“I’m so scared.” He says dryly, stepping closer. On instinct you lunge for him, knocking him straight in the cheek, but his reflexes are better than you thought, as a split second later his cane makes contact with your arm. The pain sends you stumbling to the right, bracing on the rat-bitten sofa as Edward grits out a laugh.

“Well well well, the brat really can punch. I’d say that was definitely in the…hm…top fifteen punches to the face I’ve taken? What an achievement.”

Despite his sarcasm, his hand is gently touching his cheek to assess the damage, and a bit of you smirks at the knowledge he’ll have a killer bruise in the morning. However so will you, if the dull throb in your arm is anything to go by.

“You hit like a girl, even with your cane.”

“Now dear, isn’t that a little sexist? Insinuating that girl’s punches are weak, I’m a little surprised.” He mocks you, smirking as he stands back to his full height. Having never been in the same room as him before, you’re a little taken aback by just how tall he really was. Sure he wasn’t the most muscular man you’d ever seen, but he clearly took the time to have a slim and strong appearance which matched his imposing stature. He rolls his neck, looking you up and down.

“Enough with the feeble attempts at brutality, you aren’t the batman.” He sneers at you, before you glare at him.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Why did I invite you here..” he repeats your question, pretending to ponder it before his eyes grow cold. “Because I hate you. I hate how…stupidly you solve my puzzles.”

You barely have time to process his weird dichotomy before he continues. “I hate how I underestimated you, I thought you were just some silly girl who put on a costume and thought yourself a hero. But now, you’re an annoying thorn in my side.”

He pulls out the gun from his belt, the gun you foolishly missed in your blind haze of annoyance and hatred as you back away slowly.

“So perhaps I brought you here to kill you, to finally rid myself of my annoying problem. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about you.”

You pause at his last sentence, but he steps forward and places the gun against your forehead. Swallowing, you look up at him, at how his breathing is deeper than before and his hair had fallen out of place so strands fall limply against his eyebrows. Running out of time, you gently move your hand and mess with the end of his purple tie, feeling the silk material. His eyes dart, confused and with a hint of something else entirely, down to the movement of your fingers.

Taking that as your chance, you move to hit the gun away from him, kicking upwards. He grunts in pain, as you push him to the floor, gun clattering out of reach. Landing squarely on top of him, he grabs your arms and flips you with an ease that took you off guard completely. Instead of the cold glare he gave you a few moments ago, now he just laughs.

“So naïve, you think I’m not used to getting a woman on her back?” he taunts.

“Yeah I do think that, I can’t imagine a woman wanting to be in bed with someone like you.”

“Oh you’d be surprised,” he smirks, leaning in closer as he pins you properly against the hardwood floor, “I think you’ll find I do quite fine with whoever catches my attention. It’s just that nobody can ever hope to match me.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing your neck, digging in to the sides and causing you to squirm and struggle. However, unfortunately it causes your cheeks to flush which doesn’t escape his notice.

“Are you blushing?” he says, eyes frantically darting around your face.

Embarrassed beyond belief, you try and use his momentary shock to once again gain the upper hand, pushing him off you and scrambling to get up. However he’s one step behind you, getting up from the floor and grabbing your arm, pinning you face first against the wall. His height means he has to lean down to talk into your ear, his grip harsh as he keeps you in place.

“You are blushing, oh isn’t this precious. The pathetic girl is attracted to me. Well I’m not surprised, I am a specimen.”

“Do you ever shut up.” You snap, trying to move but instead he presses his chest fully into your back, hand unclipping your utility belt so it falls to the floor with a clatter.

“Not when I’m having fun. Finally you’re actually worth a damn.”

You turn and spit at him, the saliva only succeeding in creating a small stain on his white shirt, to which he tuts.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? Spitting at me like that.” He starts as he grips your neck from behind. “I could just choke you right here, right now. You wouldn’t be able to stop me now, without your little toys, or without backup from your dimwitted friends. No I think you should show a bit of respect to the man who holds your life literally in his hands.”

You still, the situation really dawning on you as you’re pressed against the wall. He uses his other hand to tug your hood down, before pulling your hair so he can look at you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked this.” He mutters, his hand gently stroking the strands now and giving you whiplash from the tonal shift. “Is that true? Do you like being dominated?”

“No.” you lie, gritting your teeth as he laughs.

“No? Then why are your pupils dilated? Why is your chest moving rapidly with your frantic breathing? Either you like this, or you’re a truly pathetic hero to be this scared.”

You know deep down he’s right, and you hate it. You hate it as much as you hate him, and you hate him as much as you’ve always been secretly attracted to him. Seemingly, the twisted feeling is mutual as he pushes his knee between your thighs.

“What are you-“

“Use whatever limited cognitive abilities you possess to come up with an educated guess.” He taunts, as his knee presses against your clothed cunt. You bite back a gasp, lips parting as your hips buck forward without warning. “See? I think you’re finally starting to understand.”

It’s sick, it really is disgusting how turned on you feel as the murderer you’ve been trying to catch is currently helping you move over his knee and thigh, grinding against him. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you rock against the material of his suit trousers, the green being practically the only colour you can focus on. “I hate you…”

He smirks at your admission as he leans in, warm breath tickling your ear. “And I really believe that you believe that.”

You shudder at the whisper, as he grabs your upper arms and spins you so you’re facing him. Gripping your throat once again, his lips slam into yours in a brutal kiss, months of biting remarks and taunts accumulating into this dizzying moment of passion and desire. Not one to give up, you grip the lapels of his jacket and bring him closer, tongue trying to assert dominance in his mouth. You feel the grin he has at your antics, his free hand lifting your thigh so he can grind against you.

When he pulls away, a small trail of spit connects you both as you stare at each-other. You really hate how handsome he looks like this, his eyes softer but no less condescending as he looks down at you, large hand moving away from your neck to grip your jaw.

“Much more appealing when you aren’t running your mouth.” He mutters quietly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Feeling the cold leather, you bite down gently and tilt your head to pull his glove off, which causes his eyes to narrow in amusement.

“Oh I see, trying to get me to touch you properly? Are you that starved for affection? I almost pity you.” He taunts, but his hand runs down your cheek in such a soft manner that it takes your breath away. Fingertips dance down to your pulse point, then down to your cape, unclipping it so it falls to the floor with your belt. His eyes roam your figure, and you know you should just punch him hard and get out of there, but when his finger fiddles with the zip at the top of your suit, you jolt with a passion and spin him so he’s against the wall. Surprisingly he lets you, as he laughs against your lips when you kiss him forcefully. He grips your hips and brings you against him, having to crane his neck downwards to keep kissing you.

Your hands feel his chest through his expensive shirt, running over where his nipple is which causes him to jump a little. Relishing in that, you run your fingers along the same spot again to which he growls and pushes you quickly. Stumbling back, he pins you against the back of the sofa and smirks.

“You’re so easy to push around, some vigilante you are.” He teases, although clearly trying to deflect from the fact he himself was flustered from your outburst. To punctuate his words, he cups your clothed cunt roughly, causing a small whine to escape you. “See isn’t that much better? To just give in to the wills of your superiors.”

You try and bite back, but it dies in your throat when he keeps groping you, this time roughly pulling the zip down of your suit so it reveals your black bra. He takes his other glove off, placing it on the back of the sofa before groping at your chest with both hands, causing your back to arch.

“Oh sweetheart, if I’d have known this is what you were hiding under that stupid outfit, I’d have rid you of it long ago.”

Tugging your suit, you let him use your limbs like a rag-doll to get the top half of your suit off, before unclipping your bra and placing it with his glove. His hands grope your newly exposed chest, circling your nipples as he groans softly at the sight. He cruelly pinches just to watch you cry out.

“That’s it, let me use you. You just love it don’t you?”

You don’t answer, which clearly aggravates him. He pinches your right nipple roughly yet again, as his left hand comes up to tug your hair. “I said, you love it. Don’t. You.”

“Yes!” you finally cry out, hips bucking into nothing as your breath comes out shaky and stunted. His self satisfied grin speaks volumes as he pats your cheek condescendingly.

“Good girl.”

Impatiently, he tugs down the rest of your suit so it hangs limply around your knees, allowing your thighs to part just enough for Edward to fit his big hand between them. Feeling how soaked you are, he grits out a moan as he explores your folds. Letting out a soft moan yourself, you shiver at the villain’s touch as he circles your clit.

“You’re drenched…is this what you do to all the criminals you fight? Strip when you lose the upper hand?” he taunts, moving his fingers faster over your throbbing heat.

“No…of course I don’t…” you grit out, whimpering again at the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Good. I’d carve out their eyes you know.” He whispers darkly, and despite your conscience your pussy throbs at his words. “I don’t think I like the idea of anyone else knowing how slutty you are.”

“I’m not slutty.” You try and argue, but it’s hard for those words to carry any weight when you’re shivering and moaning under his precise touch. He has the audacity to laugh in your face.

“I think we both know that’s not true darling. Slutty for me, the criminal who you came here to stop. If only Gotham knew the truth about their prettiest hero.”

At your embarrassed noise, he brings his fingers down lower to play with your hole. “Do you want me here?”

Not having the strength to resist your desires anymore, you nod pathetically as he smirks. You expected him to make you beg or grovel, but instead he sinks two fingers into your cunt, your legs shaking at the slight stretch.

“You're prettier when you’re polite.” He says as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right so you moan louder for him. Clenching around his digits, you hold on to his shoulder, his eyes full of concentration as you look up at his face.

“Fuck…I didn’t expect you to be so-“

“Good at this?” he taunts, continuing the steady pace of his fingers, “I’m hardly a blushing virgin dear. I know how to make a woman feel pleasure.”

“That’s surprising.” You can’t help but mock, which causes him to hum and reach his hand around your neck once more.

“Don’t be a brat. You were doing so well.” He hisses, pushing against your g spot. “I could just stop, leave you here all wet and wanting and pathetic.”

You think there’s a good chance he’s bluffing, but with how much your clit aches with desire you decide you aren’t willing to take that risk. So you shake your head. But that isn’t enough for him.

“Say sorry.”

You whine, but he stops the movements of his fingers, leaving them deep inside you without moving. His grip on your neck tightens slightly as he stares you in the eyes.

“I said, say sorry. Surely you aren’t that dumb that you don’t know how to apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, so he pulls out his fingers and gives your cunt a harsh slap.

“Is that it?” he taunts, reveling in how you cried out at the slap, “I could barely hear your little whisper. Say it again, say it properly. Say ‘I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.’”

Shame and embarrassment burn throughout your body like a wildfire, his words the match you’d practically lit for him. With a shaky breath, you repeat it.

“I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.”

He doesn’t respond, just forces his fingers back inside your dripping heat roughly. Moaning, you relax as best you can with your ass pressed against the back of a rather uncomfortable sofa and enjoy his slender fingers filling you up. His pace is intense but steady, his eyes firmly on yours as he watches your reactions to every little change in pace or angle. It’s like he’s operating a machine, pressing the right buttons and connecting the right wires to achieve his intended results.

When his other hand lets go of your neck to rub messily at your clit, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your moans getting breathy and desperate. His smirk grows as he notices, feeling your thighs start to shake and your hips move.

“Getting close?” he asks, and you nod desperately. You can feel the pleasure nearly reaching the pinnacle, just a few more thrusts of his fingers and…oh god you’re going to-

He pulls his fingers out roughly, and his face is one of pure satisfaction as you whine pitifully at the loss of stimulation, not being able to cum as you gaze up at him. He laughs in your face, holding your jaw so he can look into your glassy eyes.

“Did you really think I’d just let you cum?” he chuckles again, squishing your cheeks together to further humiliate you, “oh you silly, silly girl. No, you aren’t getting that privilege until you earn it. And my dear, I think you’ll have to do a lot more than apologising in such a pathetic way.”

With a grin that betrays the fact he’s having the time of his life, he forces his wet fingers into your mouth so you can lick them clean. Not being given much of a choice, you suck them and look into his eyes from under your eyelashes. Once he deems them suitably clean, he pulls them out and wipes them crudely on your breasts, before gripping your arm and moving you to the correct side of the sofa. He pushes you down unceremoniously, before settling behind you as you get up on your hands and knees, not before he strips you of your suit completely and placing it with his gloves.

Hearing the sound of his belt being taken off, your thoughts are clouded by lust as you arch your back a little. He seemingly appreciates the submissive gesture, slapping your ass as he unbuttons his trousers.

“So eager.” He teases, and you feel his cock against your ass as he speaks. “Beg for me.”

With a shiver, you know that he’s being serious so you start to beg softly, not really used to it. In response, he pushes your thighs together and pushes his cock between them. Moving, he fucks your thighs as you realise your begging isn’t enough, moaning softly as your pussy coats him with your wetness. Each time you feel him brush against your clit, your breath hitches and your words stutter. But still you persevere, begging like you never have before, for him to fuck you, for him to make you his, for him to own you.

That word choice seems to be the right one, as he groans before positioning at your entrance and pushing in smoothly. Crying out at the long awaited feeling, your head hits the sofa cushion underneath you as he bottoms out, before pulling out and thrusting deep once more.

“So tight, bet it’s been a while, hm? If ever.” He taunts, moaning softly as he pulls out and watches his own cock disappear again inside your heat.

“I’m not a virgin.” You mumble, realising he’s doing to you what you did to him earlier, as you defend yourself rather pitifully.

He instead laughs and sets a rhythmic pace, gripping your hips to aid his movements. “Well you certainly act like it, acting like you’ve never begged a day in your life. Hard to believe from someone so…fuck…so submissive.”

You want to protest, really you do, but his pace just has you reeling from the pleasure as you let yourself be used by him. Moaning into the cushion muffles you, so he grabs your hair and tugs hard.

“Let me hear you, go on. Tell me how good I am.” He demands, his ego seemingly never satiated as he fucks you.

“You’re so good…so good sir.” You ramble, feeling yourself fall into the submissive head-space as your eyes grow more and more unfocused.

“Say the full thing dear…fucking hell…go on.”

You know what he wants, and the part of your brain that was telling you to resist, the part trying to remind you that this is a man who has brutally tortured and murdered people, who has terrorized your city, who has put your adopted brothers in death traps, it falls silent with every thrust into your cunt. So you do.

“You’re so good Mister Nigma, sir.” You whimper, your voice barely recognisable to your own ears. He seemingly is pleased with your words, letting go of your hair and fucking you harder. The pace and intensity make him sweat, quickly and clumsily tugging his tie off and shrugging his suit jacket from his shoulders, still finding the compulsion to place them neatly on the back of the sofa with your bra and suit.

“There, so much better when you listen to me.” He grits out, clearly struggling to keep his own composure. He’d never admit it of course, but he’s thought about this scenario more times than he can remember. Laying in his bed, not being able to sleep with a million thoughts and ideas running through his brain, but the most pervasively annoying being thoughts of you. Your voice as you snap back at his taunts, your body and how it looks on his screens as he watches you beat the robots he’s painstakingly made, or the men he hired to protect his assets. All of it usually leading to his hand down his trousers, furiously pumping his length to the thought of putting you in your place, of showing you that he is the greatest mind Gotham has ever seen, and you’ll respect it, as he’d cum all over his hand and torso.

Now here you are, practically putty in his hand as he thrusts into your cunt like a toy. He’ll never grow tired of this memory, no matter how debilitating it’ll become when he’s forced to work, or worse, confront you again. He channels all those emotions into spanking your ass, the gasp like music to his ears as he rails you.

You’re so desperate for the orgasm he cruelly denied you that you sneak your hand down to rub your clit, which of course he notices. But he can’t seem to stop you, as he keeps thrusting over and over again.

“So good for me, so good for the Riddler.” He says, uncharacteristically breathy and lower pitched. You just nod in agreement, little moans escaping you. Feeling his orgasm barreling towards him, he grips at your neck once more, desperate to feel your life in his hands again.

“How about I let you cum this time, wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah? Say thank you.”

Your clit throbs at the permission, getting closer and closer to the edge again as you moan. “Thank you Mister Nigma, sir.”

With that title, he moans and rails you without mercy, clearly chasing his own pleasure. That doesn’t matter though, as you’re cumming around his cock regardless, making a mess of the ratty sofa beneath you. In a couple of thrusts, he buries himself inside you with a guttural groan, and you’re so fucked out you don’t even have the energy to lambaste him for cumming inside you. That’s a problem for tomorrow, as both of your heavy breathing's sync up.

He pulls out of you reluctantly and with a soft hiss, looking at your ruined hole with a small amount of pride in his chest. In all honesty, he didn’t expect to get this far with you, so now seemingly you’re both a little out of your elements. With an uncertain hand, he brushes the hair out of your face, looking at you curiously, as if to gage what you’re going to do.

“I still hate you, you know.” You mumble halfheartedly, moving a little to lay back on the sofa.

He chuckles, soft and light. “I know dear.”

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#the riddler #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #riddler x reader #the riddler x reader #riddler smut #edward nygma smut #dc fanfic #dc smut #dc x reader #the riddler smut #edward nigma #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma smut

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fixated-on-something · 3 months ago

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I think you're magicians because you're unhappy. A magician is strong because he feels pain.

He feels the difference between what the world is and what he would make of it. Or what did you think that stuff in your chest was? A magician is strong because he hurts more than others. His wound is his strength.

Most people carry that pain around inside them their whole lives, until they kill the pain by other means, or until it kills them. But you, my friends, you found another way: a way to use the pain. To burn it as fuel, for light and warmth. You have learned to break the world that has tried to break you.

—Henry Fogg, The Magicians by Lev Grossman

(Unlabelled Gifs sourced from here)

#the magicians #fixated-on-magicians #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #alice quinn #julia wicker #yeah I’m totally fine while reading the books #why do you ask?#magic comes from pain #the magicians s4 #lev grossman #Dean fogg #quotes

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perfectfeelings · 6 months ago

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Lev Grossman

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thoughtkick · 2 years ago

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Lev Grossman

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aries-rp-corner · 11 months ago

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Rina arrived in Unova, looking up to the big city known to all the locals as Castelia. She honestly felt intimidated by such tall buildings and larger crowds of people, she knew Orre was small with its towns and cities, but this was a whole new level.

“I wonder how Baron and Aries adapted to this…. I’m honestly feeling dizzy…” Rina spoke sickly as she stood aside to get air. Taking in breaths to calm herself and to gain her senses… “Okay, I’m good now… wonder where they are.” Rina began to walk forward to the Main Street, looking around to see the city truly alive.

“Rina!” A voice called to her, looking over to see Baron. He quickly ran up to her and held her close, as he felt his wife’s embrace as well. “I hope you were okay, I get the big city is a whole new jungle.”

“I agree, say where is Aries? Is the organization holding her down?” Rina asked with worry, making Baron form a sad smile.

“Yeah, she is needed as a guard on deck. Luckily, she does know you are coming, but she doesn’t know you just arrived..~ So why not surprise her?” Baron’s smile gleamed with joy, making Rina laugh at her husband- until feeling a sharp darkness within the city and a feeling they are being watched. Making Baron quick put her down as he looked where she was. “Who ever this is, they had to ruin it…” Baron growled out. “Hurry, we’ll be safe where Aries is at.”

He held onto her hand as the two quickly began to make their way to the Frigate. Baron was mostly concerned for his wife’s and daughter’s safety, unfortunately they found themselves crossing paths with an…Abra? Holding out its small claws as it grabbed the two and teleported them deeper in the city… meeting Them.

Rina looked over to see the Peon, Dim Sun, and the Pinchers. Angry and ready to throw down if needed. “D-Dim Sun and Pinchers?! You all were supposed to be disbanded!”

“Oh we were, until Kane and Mira offered us to reclaim what was supposed to be ours..” A voice spoke, making Baron look over in time to see an controlled Gallade pushing him away with Psychic. Now seeing the new leader of the Pinchers.

“P-Purple Eyes?! I thought you died in a pit somewhere!” Baron barked with anger, causing Purple to huff in annoyance.

“No, I was running from the law. Still amazing to see two out of the three heroes who took down Team Olethros. Still ashamed for what happened to your-”

“L-Leader! Watch out!” One minion spoke out, as Rina took out her blade and was able to cut a new scar onto Purple Eyes. Causing the man to yelp in pain.

“Release my husband and leave us be. I won’t hesitate to feed you to the Pokémon who live in this city!” Hissed out Rina, until feeling another presence and energy, quickly dodging a Thunder Wave from an Eelectross.

“My my, so this is an Empath. Not only you felt my presence, but an attack as well? No wonder your brat is this danger against Cipher.” Spoke a man with shades with a symbol from Dim Sun, causing Rina to be on edge more.

“You… Kincaid wasn’t it? I don’t want to know how you got out, but you all will be placed back! And better watch that disgusting mouth of yours about my daughter!” She held her blade up while Baron tried to break free as he secretly is struggling to pull out a spell card.

“Oh why on edge? There is no need to-” Before the man can finish, Kincaid felt a piece of his hair fall. Looking over to Rina with a now death glare. “Why you! Eelectross! Bind her down!” Commanded Kincaid, as the controlled Pokémon dashed over and wrapped Rina. Even delivering its Thunder Wave to prevent her from moving, yet to all surprise she didn’t scream, but she did let go of her blade as it fell to the ground as she fainted from the attack.

“RINA!” With burning rage fueling his might, Baron tapped a Dazzling Gleam card as the freed him from the Psychic, and stun the Eelectross. Scooping up his wife as he made a run for it, causing both Dim and Pinchers to chase after them. After a good distance, Baron send out Goggles to aid them. “Girl! I need you to fly us out of here, ASAP!”

With no hesitation, she obeyed as the three made their escape…or so they thought. Baron looked back to see the same Pinchers from the night before returned. “You are not getting away this time!” One barked as their leader joined them.

“I’ll take control of his Flygon, try to capture them! We need them alive!” Purple Eyes commanded, causing Baron to be worried.

“I’m not letting them take you all. Goggles, take Rina to Aries. I’ll hold them off!” He got up and looked back to their pursuers, throwing out another Pokémon, as his Salamence roared out angrily at his foes. “Ragna! Let’s show them what we can do in the skies!” He looked back one last time as he gave the rest of his Pokémon to her. “You’ll find us… I know you all can.” He smiled warmly as he with his Salamence fought while Goggles take Rina to safety.

Aries meanwhile, was indeed on deck patrol to keep an eye out for anything… and she spotted something alright.. “Goggles?… Usually dad would-” Her thoughts stopped as she sees her unconscious mother, now fearful as she ran over to Goggles. “What happened?! Where is dad?!” Tears quickly formed as she looked over to her mother. “Mom?! Are you okay?! What happened?! Mom!!” Aries cried out, yet it stopped as she looked over to the skies as she felt a fight is going…yet one felt worried and the other fighting for resistance. “What happened?…”

#pokémon rp #pokémon roleplay #tag: trouble within the skies #tag: The Capture #tag: Rising darkness #tag: Trenya’s Stand

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thehopefulquotes · 1 year ago

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Lev Grossman

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anon-e-miss · 8 months ago

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A Tough of Sight - 9

Somehow, Prowl lost all concept of time. They lingered at the lunch table. The soup Punch had served a crusty loaf of energon bread to dip in it, was rich and flavourful. Prowl could not think of a time where he had tasted better fuel. It was simpler fare than he had been served in the palace and superior in every way. Perhaps his regular diet of cheap cubes had dulled his pallet but he did not believe that to be the case. Punch’s cooking was not about impressing his betters, it was about fuelling and comforting the mechanisms he fed. Bluestreak did a happy wiggle as he ate the soup and Prowl smiled as Smokescreen snickered. Though Prowl could not see Bluestreak’s face, his doorwings did not have the sensors for such fine detail, he could see his shape, see the cant of his doorwings and Prowl new he was enjoying his meal.

“Such a sweetspark,” Punch praised Bluestreak. “Did ya wanna help me wit the tapestry ‘m weavin’? O’ course ya won’t wreck it, Bitlet.”

“Bluestreak has never taken so easily to any mech,” Prowl told Jazz as he stayed at the table as Jazz cleared it.

“Except for you, Creator,” Smokescreen corrected him.

“It was really more you he was taken with, Smokescreen,” Prowl told his creation. “He was quite terrified me when you brought him to me. In fairness to him, I could not have been pleasant to look at.”

“How’d ya find Bitty Blue, Smokey?” Jazz asked. Prowl’s sparked fluttered in a funny way. It would have been unheard of for anyone to be so familiar with Smokescreen, even Prowl had been to free in their interactions. They were sweet pet-designations.

“I was looking for medicine for Creator,” Smokescreen explained. Prowl listened to the harmonics in Smokescreen’s voice, ready to hush him and to warn the Lord Inquisitor off but Smokescreen’s voice was clear and strong. “Creator doesn’t complain but he was in so much pain and he was running a fever ‘cause the burns were infected. He was resting and I wasn’t supposed to go far... but I did. I heard running energon. We hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in... forever it felt like... I thought it would help, maybe. I followed the sound into a cave. I found Bluestreak all alone sitting on the far side of an underground river. Everything before that had been scorch but the river must have stopped it because everything on his side was... perfect.”

“How long were the three o’ ya travellin’ alone for?” Jazz asked.

“A quartex,” Prowl replied. “I think. We stumbled upon a refugee camp.”

“They tried to chase us off,” Smokescreen had a sneer in his voice.

“They were scared,” Prowl hushed him.

“You were hurt,” Smokescreen countered.

“I was not the only one,” Prowl replied.

No, Prowl had not been the only injured mechanism in the camp. The stench of infection had been been everywhere Prowl had turned. There had only been one mechanism in camp with any training in first aid, a farmer’s creation who had learned to tend the ills of the sheepacron they had raised. With smoke still hanging heavy in the air, it had kept the odour of rotting sentio-metallico from fading. There had been no solvent, no coolant and no clear source of energon. Prowl had taken the mechlings away from camp in search of a few breaths of clean air. He had almost missed the faint tinkle of the wiluite they walked past. His audials and doorwings had not been so well tuned then and he had felt blindly along the ground for a while before uncovering a cluster of crystals under the broken root of a fallen tree. Another survivor had found a creek and between the two pumices and tisanes had been brewed and more of the wounded had survived thanks to these interventions than otherwise might have.

“I learned I could find crystals blind,” Prowl explained. “I did not plan to forage for our living but I learned quickly that begging is a dangerous way to try and survive. Traffickers tried to buy the mechlings from me and I knew I had to do something else lest one of these monsters snatch them from me when my guard was down. I trained my doorwings and my audials to guide my servos. We do not prosper but we do well.”

“I can see clear as crystal how well ya take care o’ these two,” Jazz said. “Ya must o’ had Blue seen by a medic.”

“There is no physical cause to his mutism,” Prowl explained. “And so nothing for them to treat. Often, even his servos are mute, his doorwings usually are. I do not know precisely what he saw but I know it was a horror because that is the story all Praxians share. Every time he becomes a little surer of his “voice” something spoils it. I am amazed at how well he has bounced back this time.”

“This time?”

“The teacher at the temple screamed at him for not answering,” Smokescreen explained. “He knew Blue doesn’t talk but he thought we were making excuses and making him weak. I got in his face and he hit me. See? You can see the scar. Fixit said it’ll probably disappear since I’m young and healthy.”

“Did ya report the slagsucker?” Jazz asked, his tone dark and foreboding as he looked over Smokescreen’s servo. He did not apologize for his crass language. Prowl elected not to scold him.

“The medic I called did,” Prowl replied. “The priest we spoke to at the Cornerstone took issue as well. I believe the cur will be disciplined.”

“Good,” Jazz said. “If they leave anythin’ for me, I might put some licks in o’ my own.”

“You do not need to trouble yourself,” Prowl replied.

“Ain’t trouble,” Jazz replied. “Scrappin’ bullies is a pleasure.”

Prowl imagined Jazz meant it. He knew the duties of the Lord Inquisitor did not end at operating a spy network and he doubted Jazz prioritized keeping his servos cleaning when enemies were revealed, either from within Iacon or beyond its borders. The Optics of Praxus had not been so different, though Prowl could not picture Camshaft walking through markets to recruit his agents, Praxus chief spy had bloodied his servos when the situation called for it. Prowl had lived his whole life under the watchful gaze of hundreds of spies, both those employed by the Optics and those employed by any number of dukes and earls, each of them waiting for him to make a misstep and he had always thought Camshaft to be the exact same sort until the last Optics of Praxus had defied Nightstalker and abetted the escape of the sparklings of executed lords, “traitors” to the Emperor’s reign. Camshaft had paid for that act of mercy with his life. Faced with the same situation, Prowl believe Jazz would make the same choice but perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

Somehow, they visited so long with Jazz and Punch that Punch insisted they might as well stay for dinner. Smokescreen had been delighted by the invitation to help with dinner. He had never cooked, neither had Prowl, princes did not dirty their servos with such menial tasks. If a prince wished to occupy his servos, he might go hunting, write poetry or arrange crystals. Though the nobility often had greenhouses on their estates, they were usually staffed by gardeners. They might play about with propagation but they did not turn the soil or weed the garden beds. Prowl had been consider eccentric for his tending his own crystals and for dancing for them. As it had stood, many of his predecessors had been known for eccentricities and his gardening hobby had been quite mild compared to those of his ancestors, and his elder brother.

Jazz dug out a bag and marbles and showed Bluestreak how to play the game. Prowl stretched his doorwings wide and basked in moment. Smokescreen snickered at something Punch said and Bluestreak’s near mute doorwings fluttered as Jazz praised him. These were good mechs, truly good mechs. Prowl could believe Jazz did the work he did for the sake of the citizens of Iacon and not for fame and fortune. They both appeared to shun the temples and yet they were more godly mechs than any priest Prowl had known. He doubted he would be of much use of to Jazz, beyond reporting on counterfeit coin or petty scams. Apart from his time spent selling crystals, Prowl was reclusive. It was not an accident that he put his mat down well away from the corner of the market most Praxians. Though neither he or Smokescreen wore the armour of royalty, Prowl feared someone might one mega-cycle recognize them. His burns served as something of a mask and Smokescreen had largely been kept from public view but even if it was unlikely, it was not impossible that they might one mega-cycle cross paths with someone who had attended court and there was nothing that scared him more.

“Let me walk ya home,” Jazz said after dinner.

Prowl thought he should demure. He knew the market, as did his creations but Prowl knew Jazz would insist and Punch would as well. Beyond that, Prowl found he liked the Lord Inquisitor’s company. Bluestreak’s doorwings danced on his back. They did not move in a manner that “spoke” glyphs but in emotion. Bluestreak held knit lupinoid toy to his chassis. Punch had given it to him from his stock. It was now the single most precious thing in Bluestreak’s world. Smokescreen gave Bluestreak and “Woof” a piggyback ride as Prowl walked behind with Jazz, keeping his creations “in sight” in the only way he had. The air was cool on his plating but not unpleasantly so. Soon Saltus would give way to Calor and the dark-cycles would become unpleasantly hot. Such was the way of the seasons. In the next quartex Prowl would need to forage for the crystals that would disappear or go dormant during Calor, to awaken the next Saltus. He would treat them with a tincture to preserve them for sale for the quartexes to come. Prowl paused at the door when they reached his building. Jazz opened the door for him.

“Ori’d expect me to see ya all the way home,” Jazz said. Prowl smiled and he supposed that was true but Jazz, for all his lack of courtly manners was a gentlemech to his core. Insisting on his originator’s behalf was simply a convenient excuse.

“If you wish,” Prowl replied. “Thank you. Your originator is a wonderful mech.”

“When he told ya to come by any time to take a meal, he meant it,” Jazz said. “I hope ya know. He’d love to see more o’ yer bitties. He’s got a hankerin’ for grandbitties and he don’t got any comin’ from me or Rico.”

“Neither you nor your twin have intendes or conjunxes?” Prowl asked.

“Rico’s sweetspark died in riot back in Polyhex,” Jazz explained. “Don’t think he’s even ready to look for someone to open his spark to again. ‘N I... guess I’ve always thought wit my work, it would be too dangerous. I got enemies ‘n I can handle’em but I couldn’t handle’m comin’ after my family.”

“Are you afraid for Punch?” Prowl asked.

“More afraid for anyone dumb ‘nough to test’m,” Jazz replied. “I learned everythin’ I know from ‘m. I thought he outta have this job ‘n not me but he’s where he wants to be.”

“He seems... happy,” Prowl said. “Genuinely so.”

“Thank ya,” Jazz sighed. “I always worry ‘m just bein’ hopeful thinkin’ the same. It was hard, real hard when my genitors died. A part o’m died wit them and he lived for our sake. I was startled to feel like he was findin’ his joy again.”

“I do believe he is,” Prowl turned his helm to “look” down at Jazz and smile. He paused as he stepped on the next stair. “Oh! Swindle fixed the lose step!”

“I may o’ had a glyph wit’em,” Jazz told him. “He knows I got ya in my... protection I guess. He won’t give ya trouble. Mech’s so scared o’ bein’ poor again he’s stingy but he’s more scared o’ me than losin’ his coin.”

“You are familiar with each other?” Prowl asked.

“He’s a useful mech to know,” Jazz replied. “Sell information, it’s usually good. I killed his conjunx so he gives me a good deal... He deserved it. Sold their mechling a creep that fancies youngling.”

“The monster,” Prowl hissed.

“I got Devcon back for’m and made’m a window so even though a scare the scrap outta him, Swindle, sorta likes me,” Jazz explained. “Was this the only suite available when ya came lookin’ for a place?”

“It was,” Prowl said. “With some many refugees, it was hard to find any place we would not have to share. Swindle is... stingy but in his defence, I never complained about the step. I wanted us to be left be he does and that’s all I really ask.”

“If ya e’er find yerself in a bind, go to ‘m,” Jazz said. “If ya can’t find me or Ori. He’ll keep ya safe ‘til I can take over.”

“Are you sure?” Prowl asked.

“100%.”

“I’ll let ya get to berth,” Jazz said. “Wit the mechlings started their new school in the light-cycle ya probably wanna get’em down quick.”

“Thank you, yet,” Prowl said. The priest we spoke to spoke some chirolinguistics. He promised the instructors would all be made aware and they provice meals to all their students.”

“Sounds like a good place for ‘em for sure,” Jazz said. “I’ll see ya soon.”

“Good dark-cycle, Jazz.”

The mechlings said their goodbyes. Bluestreak gave him a quick hug. It really had been the perfect mega-cycle. They had good fuel in their bellies and the promise of more. Fuel alone might help Smokescreen find some value in his class. Prowl had a loaf of bread for a snack as he sold his crystals throughout the cycle and Punch had told him to expect a visit around lunchtime. He would likely be well-fuelled to. It had been a perfect mega-cycle but it had been a long one. The mechlings had been gathering with him for joors before Jazz had appeared and they would normally have gone to their berth a joor earlier but none of that mattered. This would be a mega-cycle Prowl would dream about for a long time. Smokescreen crawled into berth first, followed by Bluestreak would curled up with his new toy and made a silent, blissful sigh. Prowl crawled into berth last, with doorwings uncovered, facing the door, watching the door, as they recharged.

“Jazz thinks your pretty,” Smokescreen said as he made himself comfortable.

“Oh I do not believe that at all,” Prowl’s intakes flexed and his glossa felt thick and awkward.

“He couldn’t stop looking at you and smiling with googly optics,” Smokescreen replied.

“He has a visor,” Prowl said. “I know the shape.”

“Doesn’t stop googly optics.”

“Silly mechling,” Prowl huffed. Smokescreen snickered as they all snuggled together under their one blanket. Prowl drifted down to recharge with Smokescreen’s glyph repeating in his helm. He rarely dreamt in colour but this dark-cycle he saw his processor’s imagining of Punch’s shop and all the colourful things Bluestreak had been delighted by. There was laughter in the kitchen as Punch prepared a treat with the mechling. He imagined one of the laughs as Bluestreak, sweet and innocent. Jazz pulled him towards a private corner. Prowl threw off the blanket as he broke into a coughing fit. It was too hot. The air was heavy with acrid smoke. He walked towards the door and felt a wall of heat too intense to pass. Prowl heard it crackling. Fire.

“See the demon burns? See? See?” Prowl heard his crazed old neighbour yelling a mechanisms that were not there. “Yes... Yes... I will’ll be transformed.”

“Aiiiiiie!”

“Creator!” Smokescreen called out, coughing as he did.

“To the window!” Prowl ordered, between coughs. “There is no other way out!”

#anon-e-miss writes #maccadams #valveplug #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf punch #A Touch of Sight

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princess-tulip-writes · 1 year ago

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nipple play with eris pls him squeezing and using his fire PLEASE I BEG OF YOU

- 🐨

“stay still.”

although eris’ voice was slightly muffled, you knew that it was a warning rather than a demand and your constant squirming instantly came to a halt.

“there’s my good girl.” he chuckled. “now, stay still… unless you would like to suffer the consequences of your disobedience again, little one?”

you whimpered out a reply, flinching away softly at the mere mention of another method of pain being inflicted to your aching nipples, causing the male to grin at your fear.

chuckling cruelly, eris raised his face from the crook of your neck and turned his head to the side, nudging you with his nose once before licking a long, slow stripe up your damp cheeks. you screwed your eyes shut as a whine left your dry throat, the noise making the high lord pinch at your nipples harder.

when a soft sob left your lips from the sharp pain of his heated fingertips closing around your sensitive and sore buds, eris felt his cock twitch in excitement from the lewd noise.

“i find your sounds absolutely amusing, love.” he breathed against your cheek. “both when you’re in pleasure..”

suddenly, the painful squeeze of his torturous fingers had been released, but before you could let out a sigh of relief, his thumbs grazed over top of the overly sensitive buds softly, gently as if to soothe the ache.

you let out a soft cry at the euphoric feeling of the warm pads of his thumbs as they stroked your hardened nipples back and forth.

“and pain.”

you furrowed your brows as he practically growled his words, opening your mouth to interject the offer but as usual, he had beat you to the punch.

his palms laid flat against your breasts, a loud smack sounding as he harshly landed his heavy hands oon your chest, completely disregarding the flinch and hiss that left your body at the stingy contact.

“s-so mean…” you pouted, your lip wobbling as you avoided looking at your mate— who smirked devilishly at your meek reaction.

eris found your pouty and sensitive nature to be rather amusing, especially during harsh punishment that he knows you don’t deserve— yet he can’t help but not feel bad about the corruption of his darling wife.

“oh?” a brow lifted in curiosity as he took hold of your wobbling chin and forced your teary gaze back to him. as his eyes met with your glossy ones, his cock twitched once more. “is that right, dove?”

for a moment, you contemplated if answering him would be a good idea or not. the way his eyes burned into yours with a flame that danced along his pupil made your stomach churn with hunger, and calling him out on his cruel behavior would certainly fuel that flame…

but on the other hand, an extra punishment for calling him ‘mean’ would certainly be in your near future.

after a few moments of silence, that eris deemed we’re too long, he tapped his thumb against your cheek impatiently.

“yes…” you whispered, nearly too soft for the fae to hear you.

a mischievous look danced in his iris as a small, throaty groan left his throat. he leaned in until your noses were touching, causing your lashes to flutter shut and your anxiety to spike at the intimating proximity of him right now. a sigh left his lips before he stroked your cheek gently.

“you’re going to regret that, little one, because i can be even meaner.”

#eris 🌷#🐨 anon #eris x trader #eris smut #eris x reader smut #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris vanserra smut #acotar smut

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amournoir · 1 year ago

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𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝

pairing(s): niklaus x reader

count: 1.2k

warning(s): angst & fighting if you squint

author’s note: this fic, short as it is, was written for the 15min challenge and i hope it doesn’t disappoint! 🥹

In the heart of the Mikaelson compound, tension hung heavy in the air. Y/N, a fiercely independent soul, had always been willing to go to great lengths to protect her friends. However, Klaus Mikaelson, the enigmatic and brooding vampire, was growing increasingly angry at her recklessness, as it constantly put her life in danger.

One fateful evening, as Y/N returned from yet another daring mission to rescue her friends, she found herself face to face with Klaus, his dark eyes burning with fury. "Y/N," he growled, his voice tinged with both concern and frustration. "I've had enough of your impulsive heroics. You can't keep putting yourself at risk like this!"

Y/N stood her ground, her eyes flashing with determination. "Klaus, they're my friends. I can't just stand by and do nothing when they're in trouble," she retorted.

"And what about you?" Klaus snapped, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "You seem to have no regard for your own life!"

"I can take care of myself," Y/N insisted, her voice unwavering. "I don't need you to protect me."

Frustration and fear battled within Klaus as he struggled to find the right words. "You're too damn stubborn for your own good," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I won't let you throw your life away like this."

With a mixture of anger and desperation, Klaus made a drastic decision. He grabbed Y/N's hand, leading her to her room, and with a simple yet powerful twist of his hand, he broke off the door handle.

"You can't keep me locked up like this!" Y/N shouted, pounding on the door. "This won't stop me from doing what I believe is right!"

In the darkness of her room, Y/N refused to be defeated. She knew she had to find a way out, to continue fighting for her friends and her beliefs. Later that night, Y/N managed to break free from her temporary confinement, using her wits and resourcefulness to outsmart Klaus. As she slipped back into the compound later, she could feel Klaus's wrath waiting for her in the shadows.

There he was, nursing a glass of bourbon, his expression both haunted and pained. "You defied me," he stated coldly, his eyes narrowing.

"I won't let you control me, Klaus," Y/N replied, her voice laced with defiance. "I can't just sit back and watch while my friends suffer."

Klaus took a deep breath, struggling to contain his emotions. "You don't understand," he said quietly, his tone tinged with regret. "I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Y/N's heart softened, and for a moment, anger gave way to vulnerability. "I'm not going to let anything happen to me," she assured him, her eyes searching his for understanding.

"You can't promise that," Klaus whispered, his voice breaking. "You can't predict what dangers lie ahead."

Their argument became a battle of wills and emotions, each trying to protect the other in their own way. The tension hung heavy in the air, until finally, Klaus relented.

"You're right, Y/N," he admitted, his voice laden with guilt. "I can't lock you away like some caged bird. But promise me, promise me that you'll be careful. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Y/N nodded, her heart aching with love and understanding. "I promise," she said, her voice gentle but resolute. "But you have to promise me something too, Klaus."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for the answer she sought.

"Promise me that you won't try to control me," she implored. "I need to make my own choices, even if they're risky."

Klaus hesitated for a moment, before finally nodding. "I promise," he said, his voice sincere. "I won't try to control you, but I'll always worry about you."

As the night wore on, Y/N and Klaus found solace in each other's presence. Their bond grew stronger, fueled by the understanding that love sometimes meant allowing the ones we care for to be their own heroes, even if it meant facing danger.

In the days that followed, Klaus sought out his older sister, Freya, and asked her to cast a spell to protect the compound and ensure Y/N's safety. Freya obliged, crafting a powerful enchantment that would prevent Y/N from leaving the compound without Klaus's consent.

In the aftermath of Freya's spell, the compound remained sealed, keeping Y/N confined against her will. But the fire in her heart refused to be extinguished, and she knew she had to find a way to break free from the constraints that bound her.

With a flick of her fingers, Y/N typed a desperate message to Marcel, the powerful vampire who had always been a steadfast friend. She poured her heart into the words, begging for his help. Her heart raced as she hit send, praying that he would come to her aid.

Time seemed to crawl as she waited for Marcel's response, every passing second feeling like an eternity. Then, finally, the message notification blinked on her phone. Marcel had replied. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she read his words, promising that he would find a way to free her from the compound.

Marcel enlisted the help of one of his most skilled witches, and they made their way to the Mikaelson compound under the cover of darkness. As they chanted their incantations, the magical barriers weakened, giving Y/N a small window of opportunity to escape. With her heart pounding in her chest, Y/N seized the moment. She slipped through the weakening spell, moving as quietly as a shadow, determined to evade detection. The sense of freedom was exhilarating, but her elation was short-lived as Freya sensed the spell's disturbance.

Y/N's heart sank as she heard Freya's enraged cry, but she knew she had to keep going. She made her way through the darkened streets of New Orleans, every step taking her farther from the prison she had been confined to. Meanwhile, Klaus and Elijah had become frantic with worry, their search for Y/N leading them to every corner of the town. They knew she would be relentless in her quest for freedom, just as she had been in everything else.

Finally, they reached Marcel's residence, where they found him brooding over the huge window that overlooked the waterfront. Their gazes met, and Klaus instantly sensed the anguish in Marcel's eyes.

"What's wrong?" Klaus demanded, his voice laced with concern.

Marcel's jaw tensed, and he turned away, his fists clenching at his sides. "The witches took her," he admitted, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Klaus's heart sank as he understood the gravity of Marcel's words. The witches had interfered, and they had taken Y/N away from them. Without a second thought, Klaus lunged at Marcel, a torrent of emotions surging through him. They fought fiercely, their anger and frustration fueling their blows. Elijah watched from a distance, his eyes betraying the turmoil he felt within.

But as the battle raged on, they knew that their focus should be on finding Y/N. Their hearts were heavy, knowing that she was now in the hands of those who sought to control her fate.

The night echoed with the sounds of their struggle, and the waterfront witnessed the clash of powerful beings, each driven by their love for the girl who had captured their hearts. The darkness of the night seemed to mirror the uncertainty that loomed over them, a reminder that their journey to find Y/N had only just begun.

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anony-man · 5 months ago

Text

Chubformers drabble #59!

Character: Ratchet (& Megatron - TFP)

Word count: 661

(TW: mild themes of dubcon)

“Eat.”

It wasn’t a request, but a demand. Ratchet heard the growling threat hidden beneath silky words and stroking fingers, and though he desperately wanted to turn his helm to the side and scoff at the offering, he’d learned to know better. With shame burning in his cheeks, Ratchet narrowed his optics and opened wide, allowing the rich energon candies to be slotted past his lips.

“There’s a good pet,” Megatron sneered, his thumb reaching up to swipe away the smear of jelly in the corner of Ratchet’s mouth. “Finally decided to enjoy yourself a little, have you? I was starting to worry you’d never warm up to my pampering… it’s never been my intention to hurt you, doctor.”

Ratchet chewed silently, anger and indignation simmering in the pit of his tanks. Dozens of quick, snappy retorts came to mind, but he held his tongue. He was stuck playing a game of tactics, and as much as it hurt his pride to give in so soon, Ratchet knew it was for the best. If Megatron was looking for obedience, obedience was what he would get.

Better him than Optimus, after all.

Ratchet had lost track of the days since his capture, but he was certain it was nearing close to two weeks by now. There was nothing but radio silence from team Prime, and as much as he hated sitting on his aft like a pampered pet in Megatron’s care, Ratchet knew there was little more he could do in his compromised position. Still, his pride had taken more than a few blows since boarding the Nemesis.

Megatron was sneaky, but even his true motives would have been exposed by now—he was no Starscream.

Ratchet had found himself the focus of Megatron’s attention the moment he was brought aboard, and not at all in the way he’d expected. Where Ratchet had anticipated violence and painful interrogations, he received pampering and care worthy of a Prime. He was treated as Megatron’s personal pet, kept locked away in the Decepticon’s quarters only to be greeted by Megatron and Megatron alone. Hours had passed in which Ratchet was merely warming the lap of the warlord as he hand-fed rich and expensive fuels to his beloved captive.

It was unsettling, humiliating, and most of all, confusing. The degrading praise as Ratchet was spread out across the berth and taken too soon by Megatron’s spike was one thing, but being laid across Megatron’s lap and warming his thighs as he was coddled and fed and petted was another. Ratchet had become a toy, a glorified lap dog, and he loved it.

Oh, how he hated it. Worst of all? Megatron knew, and Ratchet could tell.

“You’ve grown fat since coming to me, old friend,” Megatron said, soothing servos roughly pinching at the folds of Ratchet’s belly. His armor had been shed days before, exposing plumped mesh for Megatron’s convenience. “It’s only been a few days and I can already see you gaining… my poor little pet, what have they done to you back home?”

Ratchet stifled a groan as Megatron gave his belly a slap. He could already feel the pulse of heat building behind Megatron’s panels, and he dreaded what would come next. Being stuffed to the brim was unpleasant, but being forced to take Megatron’s length as he whined out the warlord’s name was a fate Ratchet wished to never experience again.

He could stop it… but he didn’t. As much as Ratchet hated it, a small part of him had to admit that he enjoyed it, too. The feeling of a full belly weighing down on him as he lay in his new master’s lap, his every need met, was heavenly. He wanted for nothing, the responsibilities he’d used to bear lifted from his shoulders and replaced with only Megatron’s commands.

Eat, eat, eat.

“On your knees, pet,” Megatron said, his breath tickling against Ratchet’s face. “It’s time for your next meal.”

#chubformers #tfp rachet #tfp megatron #anon man writes

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808airsoftbros · 1 year ago

Text

Painful Ressurection (Lusi Zhao)

Author: Another AI written story that I made when I was playing around with during my hiatus. Hope you enjoy and do check out my Masterlist

Author's POV

Lusi stood by the alleyway, her gaze fixed on the young boy, Y/N Todd, as he frantically tried to remove the tires from her car. A mix of anger and curiosity stirred within her. "Hey, kid!" She called out, her voice cold and commanding. "What do you think you're doing?"

Startled, Y/N froze and slowly turned to face Lana, his big, innocent eyes filled with fear. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I was just hungry," he stammered, his voice barely audible.

Lusi's stern expression softened as she noticed the hunger etched into the boy's face. She sighed, realizing the struggles he must have faced as an orphan. "Hungry, huh? Come with me," she said, extending her hand. "I don't tolerate thieves, but I'm not heartless either."

Y/N hesitated for a moment before reaching out and clasping Lasi's outstretched hand. He felt a strange mixture of apprehension and gratitude as he followed her.

Weeks turned into months, and Y/N was settled into his new life with Lusi and her vampire clan. But instead of clapping erasers and solving quadratic equations, Y/N was learning to fight.

"You need to be able to protect yourself, Y/N," Lusi insisted, her voice firm as she trained him in the art of combat. "The world out there is dangerous, and you need to be ready."

Y/N sparred with Lusi tirelessly, his determination fueled by his desire to prove himself. Slowly, he began to develop an uncanny skill for fighting.

One fateful night, Y/N grew tired of the crime plaguing the city. His blood boiled with righteous fury, and he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Lusi, I have to do this," Y/N pleaded, his jaw set with determination. "I want to take down the mafia clan that killed my parents."

Lusi's eyes filled with worry as she observed her young protege. She understood his thirst for vengeance but feared the consequences. "Please, Y/N, let us help you. You're not ready to take on the entire mafia alone."

Y/N's eyes hardened, and he shook his head. "I have to do this on my own. Don't worry. I'll be back."

As Y/N ventured into the den of the mafia clan, Lusi fought off a horde of goons who attempted to prevent her from following him. A fierce battle raged, but she knew time was running out.

Inside the warehouse, Y/N found himself outnumbered and overwhelmed. He fought valiantly, but the boss of the mafia clan proved to be his match.

The boss smirked, bloodlust gleaming in his eyes. "You think you can take me down, kid? You're nothing but a rat caught in a trap.

Though battered and bruised, Y/N refused to succumb to fear. He locked eyes with the boss, a defiant fire burning within him. "I may be a rat, but even rats bite back."

Just as Y/N was about to deliver a final blow to the mafia boss, an explosion ripped through the warehouse. Chaos ensued, engulfing Y/N in a sea of flames.

Lusi fought her way toward the warehouse, her heart pounding in her chest. But as she finally reached the entrance, the sight before her shattered her soul.

Flames danced in her tear-filled eyes as she saw the lifeless body of Y/N amid the wreckage. Grief washed over her, consuming her entirely.

As the years passed, Lusi mourned for the loss of Y/N, berating herself for not being able to save him. The world grew darker, and crime seized the city tighter in its clutches.

Until one day, news reached Lusi's ears of an enigmatic anti-hero known as the Red Hood, who had miraculously taken control of the city's crime syndicates

Intrigued and suspicious, Lusi set out to uncover the truth behind the Red Hood's sudden rise to power. Her instincts told her there was more to this vigilante than met the eye.

The streets of Beijing were shrouded in darkness as the Red Hood emerged from the shadows. Lusi observed him from a distance, her senses heightened, ready to strike. The Red Hood turned, his piercing gaze meeting Lusi's eyes. A smirk played on his lips as he twirled a silver dagger in his hand. "You still haven't lost your touch, Lusi," he taunted.

The sound of her real name falling from the Red Hood's lips sent a chill down Lusi's spine. How did he know? Who was this mysterious figure, taunting her with familiarity?

Determined to uncover the truth, Lusi set about examining surveillance footage, hoping to catch any glimpse of the Red Hood's true identity.

Days melded into nights, as Lusi meticulously studied every frame, every movement, determined to find the key that unlocked the identity of the Red Hood.

A sudden gasp escaped Lusi's lips as she stumbled upon a significant revelation. The Red Hood's blood stained her sword during their last encounter - a source of DNA to be tested. Shen Xiaoting, the clan's expert in all things scientific, took charge of the DNA testing.

Excitement and apprehension mingled within the group as they awaited the results.

Time seemed to stretch into eternity as the DNA results finally arrived. The clan gathered, their eyes fixated on the paper in Shen Xiaoting's trembling hands.

Shen Xiaoting's voice trembled as she spoke. "The DNA results... they match. The Red Hood is Y/N. He's still alive."

Shock rippled through the clan, their emotions a chaotic whirlwind of joy, confusion, and apprehension. Their lost brother, their fallen comrade, had returned to them, but in what state?

Determined to find answers, Lusi sought out the person she believed held the key to this cruel twist of fate - Ra's al Ghul, the mastermind behind the Lazarus Pit.

Ra's al Ghul, cloaked in shadows, offered a melancholic smile as he revealed the truth. "I stole Y/N's body, dipped it in the Lazarus Pit, but I did not foresee the monstrous result."

The weight of Ra's al Ghul's revelation pressed heavy upon Lucy's shoulders. Thoughts of vengeance and redemption warred within her mind.

Against her sister's cautionary advice, Lusi made the difficult decision to confront Y/N, to face the monster he had become and bring him back into the light.

The alleyway was filled with an eerie silence as Lusi ventured into the night, her heart pounding with equal parts fear and hope. She called out Y/N's name, her voice laced with desperation.

The Red Hood emerged from the darkness, his eyes cold and devoid of the warmth Lucy once knew. "So, you came to face the monster I've become, Lusi?" he sneered.

Determined to reach the remnants of the Y/N she once knew, Lusi stood her ground. "You are not a monster, Y/N. I won't let you believe that lie. You're still my family."

The air crackled with tension as the two clashed, their skills matched with an eerie synchronicity. Each strike and parry echoed the bond that once bound them together.

Sweat drenched Lusi's brow as she fought against the Red Hood's relentless assault. Her heart ached with each blow, longing for the gentle soul she had lost.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Y/N's expression faltered. The light of recognition flickered within his eyes as Lucy managed to cut his arm, their blood mingling on her sword.

The pain of the wound seemed to jolt Y/N's consciousness back, if only for a fleeting moment. He faltered and stared at Lusi, his voice laced with confusion. "Lusi...?"

Tears welled in Lusi's eyes as she whispered, her words a bittersweet plea. "Come back to me, Y/N. Fight against the darkness that consumes you. Remember who you once were."

The weight of his sister's words bore down upon Y/N's fragmented mind. Emotions long buried beneath the monster's façade began to resurface.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N woke up with a throbbing headache, his memories slowly returning. The atrocities he had committed haunted him, leaving him plagued by regret and guilt.

Surrounding him, the clan welcomed him back, overjoyed to have him once again, even if the price paid was steep. Yet, their smiles held a tinge of sadness, for they knew he would never be the same.

Lusi embraced Y/N with open arms, her tears mingling with his own. Grief and relief intertwined, creating a bittersweet symphony within their hearts.

he city began to heal, but the scars from Y/N's reign as the Red Hood remained, a reminder of the darkness he had once become.

Over time, Y/N focused on redemption, using his newfound skills to protect and serve, to ensure others didn't succumb to the same path he had walked.

As the years rolled by, Y/N's journey became a legend whispered among the citizens of Beijing. The Red Hood's name synonymous with redemption and hope.

Lusi watched from afar, her heart filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. She had succeeded in bringing Y/N back, but a part of her mourned the loss of the innocent boy he once was.

Lana stood beside Lusi, her gaze fixed on Y/N as he fought off the criminals that plagued their city. She nudged her sister playfully. "Well, I must say, sis, we did a pretty good job raising a monster."

Lusi smirked, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "Oh, Lana, they say the best monsters are the ones you create yourself."

Shen Xiaoting joined in with a chuckle. "Indeed, and I suppose we can claim the title of 'Monster Creators Extraordinaire.'"

The lighthearted banter brought a much-needed respite from the weight of their shared past. The world had turned dark, but the bond between the Zhao siblings remained a beacon of light.

Surrounded by her clan, Lucy found solace in their unwavering support. Together, they stood tall, guardians of the city, forever united in their eternal dance of shadows and redemption.

And so, the story of Y/N Todd, the boy caught stealing tires, the monster that emerged from the Lazarus Pit, and the hero reborn as the Red Hood, came to a bittersweet close. The echoes of his legacy whispered through the city's streets, reminding all who heard of the power of redemption and the strength that lies within the bonds of family.

#cdrama #zhao lusi #x male reader #bxg #xiaoting #shen xiaoting #red hood #vampire au #vampire #dc comics

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