#( * &. ✧ ━ i. you're too young to let the world break you » saved.

[praeluxius]

c'est la vie - Kim Minju

Part 3 of folie à deux.

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male reader smut. (ft. a sprinkle of Wonyoung)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 10,553

c'est la vie - that's life

"I'm so fucked."

Fists clenched and eyes scrunched, you’re venting out loud to no one in particular. You repeat it, "I'm so fucked." Louder this time—to the sky. Well, more accurately, to the plastered ceiling of this little hole-in-the-wall. Either way, the solution isn't there.

It isn't at the bottom of a bottle either, but you're determined to find that out the hard way.

"Is there a friend I can call for you?" The woman behind the bar has stopped polishing off the glasses; interrupted by what she would say are the ramblings of a madman.

"There's no coming back from this." You throw your head forward, catching it in your now open hands, elbows resting on the wooden bar top.

"Sir? I'm going to call you a—"

"I don't need a cab." You draw your head from your hands and open your eyes—allowing the light to pour onto you from one of those little round lights above you. The drink sits in front of you, unfinished. Hard liquor in a tumbler just waiting to be thrown back like the three before it—a plea you can’t ignore. The large ice cube rests against your nose as you pour every last drop onto your tongue and swallow. "I do need another drink."

With the glass set back down, your body slouches and sinks. Eyes stare down at the empty glass and your face is cold to the world, cold to the woman across from you. You must reek of self-pity, the smell thick in the air. 

Let’s be honest, you've had far better days.

She's got her delicate fingers around the neck of the bottle, pouring you a fresh drink and placing it on a napkin, "you know, you're not the first person to stumble into this bar wearing a face like that."

You slide your eyes over to the glass and reach for it. "I highly doubt it."

"But, few of them show up this early, even if it is a Friday." She has a point: you’re propping up the bar alone and drowning your sorrows solo. In fact, there are only two other people in this whole place, sitting together at a table. "So what’s your story?"

"Does there have to be one?" You grip the glass in your hand, giving the stranger the best smile you can fake.

She steps back and brushes her hand on her trousers as she laughs, "I've seen many broken men and women sit at this bar and spend too many hours drinking their life savings, with hearts broken, dreams smashed and most of all, mistakes they regretted. But you seem different."

"Oh really, why's that?" Your eyes stare into your drink. It stares right back at you.

"You're still young."

"Does being broken have an age requirement?"

She shifts and reaches for something, something you can't quite make out, being locked in the most intimate of stares with your drink. It’s the sound of her placing down another fresh glass that gives it away. "Actually, yes. Because you've still got time to work with."

"That's the irony. All I have left is time."

“Then you have to believe in yourself to make the most of that time.” Her words are heavy, like their meaning holds weight within her too.

She lets you dwell on it for a moment while she pours her own drink. She settles herself against the bar top, across from you, resting her head in one open hand. Her gaze burns into you like sitting in the sun. You can feel something else too, a soft vibration in your pocket.

You finally break away from your staring contest with your drink—one you lost anyway—to fish your phone out of your pocket. The screen alights with Gaeul’s name and is followed by the words ‘1 new message’.

After a swipe, it reads, ‘wtf where are you? what happened?’ but the thought of sending a reply never crosses your mind. And, just in case, you switch it over to silent.

“Is that her?” The woman gently waves a slender finger towards your phone as you put it back where you found it. “The reason you’re here?”

"Do you press all your customers like this?"

“Only the interesting ones,” she returns her hand to her glass, taking a sip of it before continuing, “and there’s sadly so few of those.”

"And if I'm not as interesting as you think?"

"Then I'll buy you a drink.” She tilts her glass at you. "For the trouble."

"And if I'm fascinating?"

"I'll still buy you a drink." Another sip from her glass as her lip gloss stains the rim, "maybe two."

"Then no, it wasn't her." And here's the thing, you don't know who to blame. Yourself? Probably. Wonyoung? Maybe. The mystery cameraman who got it all on video? Almost definitely. 

“But it is another woman, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly rushed off my feet here.”

You sigh, unsure exactly where to begin with this whole mess. The complete story is a long one. You could tell her about your family—the trouble at home and why you had to leave—but that’s not for anyone to know.

"I transferred here. Moved here with my brother. He's at work right now, and he will be late into the evening." You pause to take another drink. Another burning sensation. "To keep food on our table and keep me in college." 

Even saying so little it weighs on you, the feelings of regret and the feeling that you're saying too much. You bite your tongue and hesitate.

"So why are you here and… you know... not at college?" She pushes you for more. She flicks a finger towards you with her free hand and then brings her glass to her lips.

You drag your eyes up for the first time and finally inspect the woman across from you.

She's your age, roughly—if you had to guess. She's pretty, and that part you're more confident about. She wears her long brunette hair over one shoulder, running in a loose wave, over her slate black blazer, which sits over a small black tee, cropped at the waist. She smiles when your eyes meet hers. And maybe she had no idea, and perhaps it's all subconscious, but the tips of her slender fingers squeeze slightly against the glass now that you're paying her some attention.

"I never got your name," you say with curiosity laden in your voice.

"Minju."

"And why is a young woman like you working here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Were you not the one telling me about your troubles?" She follows her words with a soft laugh.

"Call it quid pro quo. You answer and then I’ll tell you all about it," you say.

"Fine." She stands back upright, adjusting her blouse with a few gentle touches. The way her finger glides across the collar and tugs at it slightly. It's more than a little distracting. She cuts a sleek hourglass shape out of the shelves of bottled booze behind her. "I'm between gigs right now."

"Gigs?"

"Ah." She waves a finger. "My turn."

Minju tilts her head and then rests her palm against the bar—leaning toward you and eyes focused. It’s like an inspection and you instinctively sit up straighter.

"So why are you here?" she asks.

"Expelled. About..." You bring up your wristwatch into view. "About an hour ago."

Her brows go up a fraction and her eyes narrow on you again, almost as if to accuse you of lying to her. But her expression softens almost instantly. You would never notice if not for watching every second in painstaking detail. Her widening eyes reveal to you the thoughts passing through her mind as she racks her brain for a reason you would be expelled.

"You said that you're between gigs, so what is it you do?" you say, shifting the focus back away from yourself.

"I sing. I dance. I model. I act." She pauses with a bitter look. "However, right now, I serve drinks." You get it; she looks the part. That much is clear. She's far too gorgeous to be spending her time polishing glasses and serving screwdrivers to burnouts at happy hour. She looks every bit like a woman who should be so much more, but this isn't Hollywood, and the storybook tale of the waitress who makes it is so cliché.

You swill the last of your drink around in the glass, watching the little tidal pattern inside. The way the ice cube moves with the current, it hypnotises, entrances. You speak, looking down into the amber-hued ocean within your glass.

"And you have the talent to back up the looks?"

"So they tell me." There's no joy in the words or the tone. No pride or smug sense of achievement. If anything, it's dismissive. “It’s just a slow period. That’s life.”

“C’est la vie.” You catch her gaze as you utter the phrase under your breath.

Minju continues despite you, “but things will turn around soon enough. I'm going places."

"Every actor who is going places never seems to get there." Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because, right now, you hate this city and everyone in it, but everything that comes out of your mouth is uncharacteristically curt.

And look, you regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth but that doesn't change the way you just dismissed her. It wasn't meant personally, but it's hard to stop your thoughts from curdling into words right now.

Minju is quiet, and the air becomes heavy. You swallow deep and finally look her in the eyes again. There's something there, some little flicker of emotion untold that gives her away for a moment. She is a woman told repeatedly that she has the world at her feet, but the hard truth of it is that she's here, working away behind the bar because, in fact, life is a lot more cruel.

Absorbed by her vulnerability, you feel the need to backtrack, "that's not—"

"So what, you look at me and see nothing but a girl who couldn't cut it?" There's a flash of fire in her eyes. A burn. A spark that sets the sky alight. A very attractive spark.

The way she fires it back. The passion in her words. The tension building between you as your eyes linger on each other.

You can't explain the attraction, but you can certainly feel it.

"No," you fire back without hesitation, leaning towards her, "what I see is a woman working two jobs just to afford a place to live." Your confidence rises with the alcohol pumping its way through your system and you do your damnedest to rescue the situation. "What I see is a girl with stars in her eyes and a dream that somehow she still keeps alive where so many more have given up. I'm not judging."

Silence.

Sudden, silent, and slightly sinister.

"Yeah, you were," Minju's eyebrows arch in amusement, "but that's fine, I'll take my turn now."

As she leans forward, there are words on her tongue. She looks ready to bite back, but she's looking over you, across the room, watching the only other two people in the bar leave. And for a minute, everything is held in suspense, you are locked together in silence, the clap of their shoes echoing through it. Then the sound of the door, and the brief exposure to the outside world, it's the rain pouring and the cars passing by and then it's the slam shut. It's just you and her, Minju, alone under the dim of the lights.

"So what was it?" she finally breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"What got you expelled?"

You could lie. There's an opportunity for that. But what's the point? Even though she's a stranger, it doesn't feel like there's a risk if you just come clean and spill your dirty little secret, besides, you owe her one now.

"I got caught fucking in the library." The truth comes out plain and simple. It’s a brazen statement to make in the middle of the afternoon to a stranger. Her gaze shoots down at you. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that.

"I’m sorry, you were caught fucking in the library?" She repeats it out quizzically as if she’s taking time to process. Minju has this way of talking—a lilt in her voice. She has a tone and a pitch that rises and falls with each word. She's amused, that much is clear, by the slight smirk that has curled a corner of her mouth to accompany her sound.

"We were alone, or at least we thought we were, and it’s not like we hadn’t done it before, but apparently, there's evidence." You gesture your empty glass at her, a secondary conversation, unspoken but clear that you need another drink before you tell her anything else.

In doing so you see how she tenses her lips together, holding in her laughter at the thought. She’s holding and you’re watching until she finally cracks, her grin wide and laughter loud.

"Now I am the one judging you. You made fun of me for trying while you're too busy swinging your cock around to even try. So, you tell me, who is the stupid one here?"

"Alright I deserved that one." Your hand had been holding the empty glass to her but now you bring it to rest against the bar top. "In my defence, it's not like I had much of a choice. That girl..."

"Here we go. Let's see how you justify this one." She finally takes your empty glass and when the edge of her fingers brushes across the back of your hand, they linger for far too long. And when she draws back, dragging away those long, delicate fingers from your own, you find yourself suddenly cold.

"It's not like I could turn her down if I wanted to. Also I would never have done it in the library if she didn't make me."

"She 'made' you. Go on." There's scepticism in the words. Her mocking tone teasing you as you watch her turn to the shelves behind her, eyes scanning the possibilities.

"No one says no to her. Never."

"Wow, sounds like quite a woman," she says, ever more playful, as she reaches for the top shelf. Her blazer is pulled up now, ever so slightly exposing her back above the waist of her trousers. Trousers hugging the subtle swell of her hips. Her small, tight, round ass is defined through the fitted fabric. You can't look away.

"Everything comes easily for her. There are literally men fighting for her affections. They would die for her," the words tumble from your mouth, as your gaze lingers.

You must have been lost in the daze and absent-mindedly following the contours of her thighs because by the time you shift focus to her face, she's peering at you from over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as daggers, as if to say it’s a little too obvious.

"Wow she sounds like a real piece of work. I know someone like that too. " Minju turns with bottle in hand, hair swirling around her as she does so. She's graceful. Unbothered and unhurried by anything. "This one is perfect. This bottle is older than me."

She pours two fresh drinks with more ice in each.

"Am I going to regret this in the morning?" you question as the weight of the glass finds your hand.

"You might. But at this moment? No."

You trust her, somehow, inexplicably; you do.

She asks, “so, what will you do now?” it’s a question as funny as it is difficult to answer. 

The truth is that you haven’t got the slightest clue. You tell her as much and try to explain it as best you can, and her eyes soften as you share the details. It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth—quid pro quo—but she’s pressing you with question after question: how long have you known her? Is she pretty? Where does she see you in all of this?

“You and her. Still a thing?”

Minju is on your side of the bar now, sitting by your side with little caution about personal space; there’s not an inch of space between you. Her thigh presses against you and her upper arm is flush with your own.

"Me and Wonyoung were never a thing, not really."

Minju stops dead and chokes, holding her throat, and forcing the drink down. Her whole body shifts. She nearly falls off the bar stool and, after steadying herself, she stares blankly forwards.

"Wonyoung? Jang Wonyoung?"

"Yeah, her." The new drink meets your lips and its taste is a hell of a lot richer than the cheap stuff you were pouring down. It’s laden with a smoky taste over sweet tones.

There's a silence even after you finish taking a drink. Something untold hangs in the air. You know it. She knows it. She's here on the verge of telling you something, but what? And you sit here and wait, despite the racing of your heartbeat.

"I should have known." Minju shakes her head, laughing, but without a smile.

"Should've known what?"

"You're Wonyoung's new toy. I should have guessed as soon as I saw you, she has this effect on people."

You stiffen at that. It's always the truth that hurts the most and the fact is you really were just a toy. A convenient dildo.

"You know what you need right now?" She twists on the stool, and suddenly, you've got Minju looking straight at you. Eyes locking with you. Right there. Looking up at you. So close. Right there, leaning back ever so slightly so her chest arches towards you, accentuating her small breasts, straining against her shirt.

"Drinking helps," you reply, raising your glass.

"Yes, but so does fucking."

That’s a line. It’s one that shouldn’t come as a surprise because a girl like this probably has a lot of experience in being wanted, so who is to say she can’t turn the table for once? But in one breath you’re giddy, taken out of yourself and feeling drunker by the moment. Not on the booze, but her. She is intoxicating.

It takes you a few seconds to notice but her free hand slips on your leg, rubbing and caressing as it snakes further and further up.

"What?" You ask as if it needs confirmation and in those long few moments, you think you must have imagined it. And the same way a nervous laughter rises, the laughter spilling out of your throat, she is quick to quench the growing dread inside of you by sliding her palm across your bulge.

"Wait here." Something has switched inside her. You don’t know what, but either way, it's got her standing up and strutting towards the door. With each step, she opens her body language. A growing swagger, letting you see the sway of her hips. Left and right. Just enough to catch the eye. And oh boy, does your eye get caught. You couldn't pull your gaze away now if you wanted to.

She's swiping hands at the door now and flicking the locks. Then she's pulling the blinds shut. A giggle comes from Minju as she spins back to face you. She runs her bottom lip through her teeth and stares right into you.

You feel exposed but, strangely, comfortable. It's so very odd; with no clue as to what happens next. It has your heart pounding out of your chest.

"I thought you were alone tonight because you were upset, but no, I understand it now. You're frustrated. Angry. Stressed. She used you and got away with it."

She kicks off her heels, loses a few centimetres in height, and is walking barefoot across the floor - toward you. Her shoulder rolls to one side and then to the other as her body rises and falls, sashays with the pace of her hips. She can see that you're stuck. You’re rooted to the seat with a dumb look on your face, and yet she saunters ever closer.

“I am a little confused,” you finally say. She's so close that all your senses are lost to the approach of Minju's swaying frame. Her curves, her body, her gentle steps, the way her perfume smells—it's consuming you.

She ignores you and continues, "I’m frustrated too. I'm so frustrated that I'm wasting time in this damn bar. I'm angry at all the auditions that ended up with producers rejecting me. I know exactly what you're feeling. You're angry at the world and everyone in it." Her tone grows raspier. More raw and less stable. "You feel alone. Hung out to dry and in need of attention."

"And you feel the same?"

"Yes, and I'm hungry. Starved of any real satisfaction. You told me I’m going nowhere and I guess it means I need a little attention, too."

You watch her eyes flittering as she looks you up and down. The sultry grin she wears shows she likes what she sees.

"So what are you going to do about it, Minju? What is the solution?" You drop a look down to the soft and slender flesh of her neck.

"No strings. We get this all out of our system." Minju leans in. Lips so close to yours. She stays there. It's torture. "You let all that shit out. Take out your pent-up stress, frustration, anger."

"On you?"

"Exactly. You'll feel better. I will too. Because right now…" Her nose presses against the side of your own. Soft skin. Gentle pressure. "I need it rough."

Her hand lands on your thigh again, rubbing down the denim of your jeans.

The offer is enticing. It has your head swimming with dirty images of everything the two of you could do together, and your cock? Well, that's already twitching in your underwear.

"This isn’t going to help, it will just make things worse."

"Can they really get any worse?"

Minju brings your hand, hers and yours, to her waist. Your thumb feels the soft material of her shirt, and your fingers touch that small patch of skin below it.

"Are we prepared to find out?" Your lips graze gently against hers. The thrill. The electricity in the air.

"I’m ready. More than ready. Just this once, do what you want to do and make me the star of your fantasy. Use me. Make me everything you need." She plants her lips firmly on yours. You both go quiet, muffled by a kiss.

Nothing to do but feel.

Minju's grip tightens on your leg, and yours on her waist. The other hand slides up to her chest, finding her breast, cupping it and feeling her. She opens her mouth. And you follow. Your tongues are colliding and sweeping across one another, eager and desperate.

So you push, guiding the two of you to stand. Minju staggers back, and you're with her every step of the way. Stumbling through a kiss. Hands everywhere. Uncertain. Lost, confused, and passionate. It's an incoherent tumble that takes you both crashing through chairs, pushing them aside until you hit something sturdy. Minju's ass slams against the pool table and she grunts into your mouth.

Her lips drag away and she smiles. "Fuck me."

You grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the pool table.

"I need to see the big cock that’s got Wony all worked up. She wouldn’t settle for anything disappointing." She's fumbling at your waist, struggling with the buckle of your jeans.

"This what you want?" Your words vibrate through her. And when you take a handful of her hair and tug, there's a long, soft, desperate sigh from Minju's parted lips.

"Use me. Abuse me." Her fumbling finally succeeds and the waist of your trousers slackens. "I know how I look, but don't worry, you're not going to break me."

She's pushing at your trousers, your boxers, and when that stiff dick pops out, her smile spreads into a big, stupid grin. It's not an unattractive expression—not really. It just tells the truth. She is excited. 

It’s as clear as day that you are too. You’re rock hard, stiff as hell, ready to fuck, and this, this will give you the chance to let it all out. All of it.

"Perfect." Minju grabs your cock in both hands, still warm, throbbing, and strong. "Just look at this thing."

You pull on her hair again, harder, until she breaks away from you, until she gives way—losing the grip on your cock and falling back on the table. And now you slow as if to savour the moment as you’re sliding your fingers under the waist of her trousers. Not often you get afforded a measure of control.

"C’mon, please, don't be gentle," Minju moans out through gritted teeth. The desperation is painted on her face and that’s the difference here: while a girl like Wonyoung wouldn’t let you go slow, Minju is the type of girl who makes you not want to go slow.

So you pull at the trousers of the girl sprawling out in front of you, tearing the button from the fabric, yanking them open and pulling them down those long, slender legs. The flesh is soft. And to touch, so smooth and light. Minju's breathing picks up—becoming shorter and deeper with each touch to her sensitive skin.

"I might leave marks."

Minju stares you down, hands already massaging over her panties. "I hope you will."

The thought is intoxicating, so much more so than the alcohol in your blood, as your hands paw over her legs; you knead soft skin with a kind of aggression you haven't felt before.

Minju is a rare girl.

Beautiful. And by definition, beautiful women have seen it all before.

But her?

The look she gives? Like no man has ever fully satisfied the itch within her. It's deep-set hunger. The kind that she chases endlessly for.

This hunger makes people behave stupidly, careless and forgetful of the consequences. And maybe you know that all too well but even still it's a risk worth taking. Every choice has led you here and maybe that is your solace, that it's not all downhill from here.

And as your hands reach her small satin panties, the warmth embraces you, and the urge within you grows. You hook your fingers inside and draw the panties aside to expose the tight pink flesh of Minju's cunt.

Not that you would expect anything else, but she is clean-shaven. So smooth. Not a single blemish. This is a girl who kept herself neat and pristine, and yet from her mouth spills utter filth, "just look at how wet this pussy is for you."

She's running her fingers between her lips, showing you everything she has to offer between her legs, showing you where she expects you dick will get put to use.

"This tight fucking cunt can take everything your thick cock has to give."

"Minju, you’re so..." You're standing over her, her legs spread wide beside you, blazer falling from her shoulders leaving nothing covering her but that low-cut top.

Minju stares right at you, eyes fixed, wide and eager, her chest heaves with every deepening breath she takes in. She's wild, reaching for you with one hand, stretching to hold you and then pulling at your shirt to draw you in.

"I'm so needy. Please fuck me." She's whining through closed lips as her other hand slips away from her pussy and glides over her taut abs and leaving her cunt ready to be used. She wants it, desperately, and you're drawing it out. Making it build inside her, and you hold your cock in your hand.

You're stroking, and she's watching. And for all her strain to pull at your shirt, to pull you into her, you hold back. You hold just long enough. Enough for her arm to fall limp. Enough for her to almost give in. "Please..." she trails off with a whimper.

You push the head of your stiff cock against her cunt—against her clit. Your hips roll as you run the entire underside of your cock between her lips. She gasps and breathes deeply. She's holding it all the while. All the time it takes for you to draw your cock back, so the tip is right there. Ready.

She let's go as you do. The air escapes her lungs with a sharp squeal. You let your cock sink in. Slow but persistent, you push further and further, feeling her tensing. Then the clench and tightness overwhelms. She gasps and squirms, wriggles beneath you and her nails scratch at the fabric of the table beneath her.

You push again, sinking your cock as far as you can through her wet hole.

There's a loud snap and squeal from Minju. Pretty girl broke a nail. It flew off somewhere across the room, such is her grip onto the table. "Fuck. So fucking full," she manages, barely. It's more the noise you force from her than any actual communication.

You draw your hips back and she's quick to encourage you, "again," she says.

Your hips are driving forward again, pushing every last centimetre back through her.

Minju whimpers. There's this short, sweet purr from deep within her. You feel her stretch, she moves a little, adjusting herself atop the pool table. There's a warmth that swells, tightens, and pulsates. And you feel the breath come easier. It leaves her as though her body has settled to a kind of ease and pleasure, some form of satisfaction.

You refuse to let her rest. It's not what she would want.

It's not what you want.

You run your hands along her inner thighs, past her knees until you finally reach her ankles and pull them together and hold them aloft. You lift and pull her ass up slightly from the table. She's suspended now while you fuck into her.

The shake of her small frame is completely erotic. Watching her ass and thighs jiggle as you fuck into her. That plump little ass taking slap after slap from your hips.

Her perfect skin reddens as her moans louden the longer you last. There are high-pitched squeals and low and gritty growls. They bounce around the empty bar, reverberating and multiplying—echoing back louder than before.

"Harder." She thinks she can take more. Look, Wonyoung was demanding, she wanted to control everything and push your limits, but Minju? Minju is whole different type of demanding. She's welcoming everything you have with every fibre of her being. Her pussy so eagerly taking it all, and it just seems like no matter what limit you push past, or the more Minju takes, the more she craves.

You pull her legs to you, calves on your shoulders, feet in the air, and your hands move firmly onto her hips. You steady her—ready her. Your grip bruises the tender skin (hey, it's what she wants) and then you fuck her like your life depends on it. Your cock pumping inside with reckless abandon.

"Keep going! Just like that! Fuck!" her voice rises over the rhythm of your low grunts, and the crack of your hips slapping against her ass.

Minju's face twists, red and flushed. She's so tense. Muscles tight around the neck and her teeth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip. Her voice is low and raw, growling, as she pleads for more with words you can't pretend to understand. It's not eloquent or graceful... In fact, it's that incoherence that makes this all the better—so utterly unbothered, unconcerned with anything other than being thoroughly used, fucked and defiled.

She has that hungry glaze in her eyes when you look down upon her, a girl being exactly the kind of filthy thing she promised to be. And those eyes only draw you in, you're pushing over her, folding her legs further against her body until she's truly helpless. Pinned to the table. Bent in two. No ability, nor want, to stop you from dominating her.

"I'm gonna—" she tries to speak until you press down, right into her. She squeezes your cock inside that tight, creaming hole. Then she whines, loud.

So loud.

Her back would arch high if it could. But she can't break free. You have her completely immobilized with your upper bodyweight. And fuck does she love every second of it. She's got handfuls of her shirt, pulling it, clutching, writhing. Ecstasy courses through her and eyes roll.

And now she's rolling, you're turning her. Ankles in your hands, you have pulled out and you're flipping her onto her front, face down into the table. She’s just… accepting it. Not an ounce of fight in her. Not even a word. Just a throaty moan.

"Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” you’re ordering, “give me your hands.” 

She reaches her arms back over her subdued body and lets you take her delicate wrists.

She submits.

Just lying there prone, her delicate body against the table, with that tight little ass perched on the edge of it, and that skimpy underwear still pushed aside for her throbbing cunt. Those slender legs left hanging either side of you. And go on, you're allowed to think it in the simplest of terms; Minju is sexy. In a word, that's it. Sexy. And yet, the reality is there's so much more you can say. Every soft curve of her toned body is alluring, she is magnetic and inviting, and that cute face peering over her shoulder, long hair spilled all behind it. All the words in the world couldn't do justice to describe her—couldn't properly capture the image.

"What are you going to do to me, daddy?" Oh, she says it so seamlessly, slips it in like it's been on her lips for a while - floating in the atmosphere since you took control. And now that it's finally landed, you feel its weight. It has her voice different; smokey and dripping with sex. And it hits you straight between your legs. 

She licks her lips and tests it out again, just for good measure: "what does daddy think I deserve?" 

One hand holding her wrists against the small of her back, another gripping her hip. Her legs sway lazily, unable to reach the floor. Helplessly dangling, waiting for her fate. And you're not a man to disappoint a girl like Minju.

"I'm going to use the needy little slut in front of me," you say as the head of your stiff cock probes at her cunt, slipping between her wet lips and sliding against her swollen clit. Teasing her. 

You draw it back up again and pushing apart her ass cheeks with the length of your cock. Slipping under the thin fabric of her soaked panties.

She bites her lower lip and whimpers through her teeth. The head of your wet cock slides against her tight asshole, and her hips twitch back. "Whatever you need, take it from me." She means that. There's yearning in every word. The hunger and desire in her voice growing thicker.

You push against her, cock sandwiched between her cheeks, pushing your weight down and pressing her against the table. Her eyes close for a moment, her fingers curl into her palms.

"Yes. Fuck," Minju's desperate encouragement spills through clenched teeth.

You pull back your cock and replace it with your thumb, sliding your hand over her ass and slipping it against her puckered hole.

"Please da—" You slip the tip of your thumb just inside her ass and hold it there while she holds her breath. 

Anticipation— 

Waiting— 

Knowing what's coming next. 

Minju is completely still as you drive your cock into her cunt again. Sinking yourself in so deep—balls deep. Her hands become tight fists and her whole body is shaking. You withdraw and plunge again, and she hisses, breathing from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and shallow, and fighting to speak.

"I'm a dirty, needy, little slut and you’re going to use me—"

You spit at her spread ass, right onto your thumb, and use it to dig a little deeper. "What are you?" your question provokes an instant answer,

"I'm a horny slut. I'm a fuck-hole. That's what I am."

As if it's a reward for her honesty, you fuck her a little harder. Push your thumb a little deeper. She smiles through a howl of ecstasy, the sound swelling into the room.

"Tell me again," you command with another pump of your hips, stretching her even more with your thumb.

Her words crackle, dying in her throat with each impact of your hips, "I'm just a dumb girl who needs to be full of cum."

No sane man would refuse it. Not you, not anyone. Definitely not you at all. You couldn't resist any part of her, but especially not that filthy demand. Especially not with how you felt watching those gorgeous fucking curves ripple every time your hips slapped against her ass.

It's all so easy, how you continue, keeping pace. Thumb deep in her ass. Balls smacking against her soaked pussy with every thrust. It's a pleasure all too overwhelming—a thrill, a sensation, a powerful sense of utter fucking satisfaction and all-consuming desire—an erotic overflow inundates, a swell, an ever-growing crest inside your balls.

"Minju. I'm. Gonna—"

"Cum in me? Please." She's the hallmark of innocence-gone-wrong; the way such words roll off her tongue with playful ease. And she knows all the right ones. The ones that she knows will bring all the right reactions. To speak to you on a primal level. She's at it again, cutting into you, "Inside— Inside me."

Cutting through you like the blade of a knife, right to your core and you obey—fuck.

"Daddy please."

You're incensed.

Dogged with the pounding you're giving her, you have lost control of just how deep you have your thumb in her ass. This is so Indecent. Obscene, even. For you, or for anyone, to just... enjoy something like this. Your body is roaring with lust as her ass and cunt both squeeze on you, clamping you as you drive yourself to the brink.

"I wanna... feel your hot load," her voice comes shaking through the unabated pounding you're inflicting. "Fill me please," she's begging and it sounds a little clearer now, stronger, a little louder, no doubt because she knows it's almost done.

You tug at her wrists, pulling her arms back and her body away from the table. Her head hangs forward beneath a wave of hair. Face covered by sweat streaks across those pretty sculpted features.

"Please, I'll be a good girl and take every drop. All the fucking cum that daddy has. Make me your stupid dirty little slut," she compels, then yelps with every new slam and stroke of the stiff cock being buried into her again and again.

That tight asshole, and that cock-hugging pussy. All the relentless slamming that you have done and will do. All the desires, with the pent-up frustration, the rage and anger and tension that has built up—you release it. Everything goes as you send your load rushing through your cock to paint her insides.

Pushing everything you have in. Pumping. Driving hard.

Her squeals are like music to the soul. Relief and rapture are overflowing. And fuck. What a ride. What a rush. You pump her full until she's gasping for air, struggling in your grasp and making sure to moan each and every dirty word into the atmosphere as she fights to hold on. What a thrill. And as the two of you hit the limits of physical exhaustion and exhilaration, you pull back. Letting the girl lay there, spent, and filled, on the pool table.

Used.

Satisfied.

Sullied.

Minju to you, today, is a feeling of freedom. Fulfilment. Absolution. As she lay limp, arms out, legs hanging, hair draped over her face and pooling on the table—a girl well fucked and on display. She is satisfaction. And she is dripping with your cum.

She slips her fingers under her panties. That shrivelled piece of fabric that clings, or struggles to. Now she pushes them off her hips and they tumble over her feet.

When this beautiful girl speaks her voice has the distinct scratch of someone whose lungs have had the oxygen stolen from them, her throat sore with moaning, "I need more."

She moves to her back and you can only watch in amazement as she turns to you with that flush face. One of her small, delicate hands falling between her legs and her dainty fingers tracing around her cunt—through her pink folds, and dousing them in your leaking cum.

There's a knock at the door. It rattles in the frame. "Open up!" It's the voice of the young man seeking an afternoon drink. You think that, luckily, hopefully, between the blinds, the posters and the neon lights in the windows along with the dim lighting, he can't see in.

"Fuck off!" Minju shouts. Her chest is heaving, and there are the gentle lulls of a giggle welling in her throat.

You notice she hasn't moved the fingers away from her swollen and sticky cunt. There's a building cackle, almost as if she is going to fall into hysterics.

"Let me in! You should be open!"

"I said fuck off!" Minju's climbing from the table with a wild smile on her face. Cum is trailing from her cunt, pooling, oozing, dripping down her thigh, down her leg. Her tongue slides over her lips, she's eying you up like a tiger.

"I want to ride your thick cock." She's breathing the words out heavy and finally pulling that shirt over her head. Small round breasts exposed. Stiff dark nipples. Hard and taught. That bare torso. Tight and tone. Firm and solid. Every muscle defined under glistening, sweaty skin.

She pushes herself against you until you push between a pair of stools and your ass plants against the bar. "You made me a dirty girl, and now I can't stop."

You find her strength a little unnerving, the way seems so unphased and determined. She's running on pure adrenaline. It's hot, sure, a kind of raw passion is certainly not without appeal, but also maybe a touch too overpowering. The way that she grabs at you, a touch forceful, and the way you come together is perhaps too rough and less than elegant.

So unkempt, un-romantic, yet so insanely gratifying as her soft skin finds yours.

You take her body in your arms, lips on one another, exploring mouths with tongues. Grasping the round cheek of her ass as she lifts her left thigh up to your waist. Hand trailing between the two of you and then grabbing a firm hold of your cock, guiding the thing back to her pussy—and not letting go.

This is it. This is where she belongs.

It’s all so natural for her to be on the end of your cock, so much so that she can casually pull away from the kiss to switch her focus to finding a drink on the bar behind you. She’s taking a drink of it now and some of it spills from the corner of her mouth.There is something undignified in that, but utterly perfect nonetheless.

She's grinding against you now, swirling her hips and cooing like a little kitten, as your hands move over her ass and that silken smooth back.

Minju sets the empty glass back down on the bar, and pulls back to meet your eyes. She presses a finger to her tongue, her eyes gleaming and focused solely on you, as she guides a small, playful trail of drool to run over her glistening tits. "Fuck," she breathes through a grin, taking both her hands and smoothing that drool over her chest.

Another knock at the door. Another fist pounded into its frame.

All these fucking interruptions.

"Ugh! Fuck this. Come on, follow me." And before you know it, she's guiding you across the room. "I'm going to ride you until I can't walk. Until I'm so sore that every step will remind me what it felt like to have you deep inside me."

Your phone rings, on the floor in the pocket of your trousers. Who would call right now? Just as one interruption finally concedes at the door, another emerges.

Minju bends to fish it out of your trousers. Her little ass, one cheek marred with a handprint from your grasp, is so close you could bend forward and eat it (any other time, you would.) but it's not that which intrigues you the most. When she rises, slowly, your phone is in her grasp, screen displaying Wonyoung's name.

"This should be fun," Minju chuckles to herself. She swipes the answer button and raises the device to her ear. "Hello?"

Minju reaches out to hold your hand and pulls you toward the staff only door. "Sorry, he's a little busy right now," she says as she walks through the door with you in tow. Her head pivots. Minju stares, eyes boring deep into yours. That sultry expression. The spark of desire igniting all over again.

Minju turns on her heel, letting you go and taking a step back. Thin fingers stroke over her cum-soaked thigh, up and along her wet lips, higher and past her flat stomach, sliding between her firm tits. "He is really busy."

She points at the couch in the break room, gesturing you to sit. You oblige, a little nervous about the turn of events. She's rubbing at her perky little tits as she speaks, "do you want me to take a message?"

"Minju..." you say with warning, ready to take the phone off her. But it's so hard to ignore how utterly sexy she is, and your hand starts to stroke along your shaft. She turns her body and poses, looking over her shoulder to you, and she grins. Minju affords you all the time you need to admire her while she listens to the ramblings of Wonyoung through your phone.

Minju steps toward you, looking down at you. "You need to speak to him?" She rests a hand on your shoulder, and then she clambers over you, straddles you. Her leaking cunt right above your cock. She licks her lips and rubs her slick pussy over your stiff dick, eyes focused on you, head tilted down. "Give me one second."

She holds the phone against her collar and shifts above you, resting the tip of your cock against her hole.

"Minju, let me—"

She sinks onto your cock. 

Inch by pleasurable inch, she takes you. Minju rocks forward and adjusts to settle on the length of your rod. Fully hilted and stuffed. She's a slick sheath of velvet on your stiff rod and you realise then just how perfectly she fits on you. You bite your tongue, trying to not make a noise so you don't alert the woman on the other end of the phone. Minju, however, is careless, and she lets out a soft moan as she shifts on you, readying herself.

Cum still seeps out of her cunt and down your shaft—your own and hers in some messy cocktail. The smell is sharp but unmistakable. It hangs in the air as the unmistakable evidence of what has happened and what will happen again. It’s so potent; invigorating and exciting. A reminder of everything and more, as if you would ever forget it—as if you could ever forget what she has become for you.

Minju draws the phone back to her face and, with a cocky smirk parting her lips, she speaks again, her voice breathy and full of lust. 

"He's in a bit of a tight spot right now." She throws you a wink and continues, "give him ten—wait, no—give him fifteen minutes and whatever is left of him is all yours."

There's the sound of a voice coming through the phone, so unmistakably Wonyoung's but you can't make a word of it out. There's another sound, one much dirtier, that fills the air between the two of you. The soft squelching as Minju rocks and rotates those full hips on you.

"Sorry, what was that?" Minju is stifling a giggle and not-really trying to keep the naughtiness of the situation in check. "Yeah, Wonyoung,you’re right. It's me, Minju," she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes fix on you. Then her tongue flits from her lips, sweeping from left to right.

‘It's me, Minju.’

Look, it’s not really a surprise that they know each other well. It was always a possibility that Minju had just heard of Wonyoung but had never really been acquainted. Thinking back, however, the strength of her reaction to the girl’s name should have told you everything. The truth is now ever so clear. 

Not that Minju is going to let you process it. She will not allow you to focus on anything other than the caress of her pussy over your sensitive cock. She's elegant with the movements of her hips—the motions subtle and slow. Her pace is sinful. She's running her tongue over her teeth and staring at you, enjoying the quiet grunts that rattle from your throat.

"He showed up in—" Her breath hitches and she catches a moan in her throat before it escapes. "In the bar, drinking alone."

There's a gasp, then another as she strokes her hands through the locks of your hair. "Yeah. He was doing that." She's laughing under her breath and looking you up and down. "That thing with his hand, yeah, it's cute."

“What? No. I wouldn’t.” You’re getting half a conversation and none of it makes any sense.

She reaches out her hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw and her body leaning in. "He's got a sexy jaw line," she admits and then picks up the speed of her movement. 

Her hand slides down your neck and presses into your collar. "His body?" Minju hums as her hips are churning; her body is rolling and her abs are flexing. "Yeah, I think so too."

Minju's back arches and her tiny tits bounce as her movement changes, bouncing rhythmically on your cock. She's adjusting and getting more comfortable on you. As the seconds pass, she's getting rougher and moving ever faster. 

Fuck.

"Well, he's drunk, so it's no surprise."

It's been no end of strange situations over the past couple of months, but this may well be the strangest yet. The girls are having a friendly conversation, but one is on top of a cock that's dripping with her mess.You're still trying to piece it together. They're friends—that much is clear. But there's still so many questions unasked: How? Since when? And why are they having their catch up right fucking now?

Her delicate frame moves fast now and the rise and fall of her chest growing sharper leading to short breaths.

"Mhm," she utters, keeping her voice low and words at a premium. "N—No we aren't." To give her credit, she's actually very good at sounding natural. In some twisted way, it's one hell of an audition for how talented of actress she can actually be. 

But that image comes crumbling down before your eyes.

Just for a moment, the picture freezes. Her mouth is half-open, eyes wide. She bites down on her lip, silencing herself, and then she drops her hand from her ear. She's hitting her fist, clenched around the phone, against her thigh repeatedly as she fights against her own body. There's another choked grunt as she is being pushed ever so close to the edge.

She draws the phone to her face again, breathing in deep and staring at you with those glossy eyes scanning all across your body, and she swallows. 

"We aren't fucking," Minju denies, as your hands creep up from her slender thighs, sliding over those beautiful taut hips, gripping tight and helping pull her back and forth. It's clear, from the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the subtle trembling of her chin, she's hanging on by a thread, ready to lose it at any second.

"No. Don't—" Minju holds the phone out, and she’s looking at it—you can see it too—Wonyoung has just ended the call. "Ah fuck it." Minju throws the phone down on the couch.

She looks at you with a face that's a little lost in thought, considering things unknown to you. All while her body is on auto-pilot, still fucking down onto you. 

After a moment, her face changes, an expression of indifference, of calmness. She smiles a little and rests both of her hands on your shoulders. Staring deep into your eyes, she grows ever more serious with a tinge of intent. She shifts from auto-pilot to manual, tightening the grip with her legs and slowing the pace, but fucking you harder.

Minju rides the ridge of your cock. Your whole length is dragged up and down her insides, setting every inch of you on fire. She moans every time she slams onto you. 

Every time. 

She's falling further apart in front of you—coming completely undone. Eyes rolling and biting that lip again. Hips shifting in all kinds of directions. A cacophony of beautiful grunting sounds that flood the room.

Minju is a woman derailed by pleasure.

"God. Your cock— Your cock is—" She's struggling now and you're only going to make it worse. Using the hands on her hips, you buck yourself up into her, bringing yourself a fraction closer each time. 

"The things this cock— the things you— fuck." Minju has no power to string any kind of sentences together, no matter how many words you force from her. They grow less and less like words you can understand until all that remains are these loud and unashamed gasps. 

Gasp after sharp and unstoppable gasp.

The rush of exhilaration courses through her, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She feels it. All over. It's written on her face, in the way that she moves and in the look in her eyes. A look like that is a hard thing to fake, even for her—there's nothing else like it. Minju is cumming all over your cock and every bit of it is evident in every tense muscle, the quiver in the corner of her mouth, the sheen across her brow, the mist in her eyes as she blinks lazily and tries not to be overcome, overawed, with emotion and all the intense sensations, one wave after another, rippling through her.

You're just about there again too. You try to warn her, but you're fucking up into her with so much energy that you're not sure if the words ever left your mouth. But she knows it, somehow, because she has renewed aggression in her. Even through her orgasm, she's bouncing on your cock with such ferocity. Minju takes hold of your head and draws you into her. Nose to nose. Foreheads touch. "Cum in me again."

They're four of the best words she could have said.

She rides you faster still as you pump rope after hot rope into her cunt, your entire length filling her already overflowing cunt. You cum so hard inside her that the world seems to distort, twist, and wane.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouts in a whisper—her voice stolen by pleasure. "Fill my little pussy."

And with every last ounce of strength you have, you continue. Bucking into her, driving deeper with the last throes of your second load. It's too much. It's beyond pleasure and into pain now, as you have nothing left to give her.

You squeeze at her hips and waist, holding her down and doing everything you can to stop her fucking you.

You're panting. Tired. Done.

Done.

Minju raises herself just enough to slip that ruined and swollen cockhead from the depth of her. You watch as your combined fluids flow out of her onto your leg.

All that filth, a dirty combination of the two of you. Two loads of your cum drained into that one pretty pussy.

Minju is stroking a hand up your stomach, your chest, along your neck and jawline. Across your face and to your chin, so slowly, as if memorising your features.

You watch her body, so fucking perfect, flexing and trembling still and her breasts heave beneath sweat and exertion. Her breath is so ragged that a chuckle emerges between the hard, deep inhales and exhales. She's sweating, perspiration painting her body and strands of long hair matted to her head. So beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

She looks into your eyes, studying, thinking. "You feel better now," her voice has returned to the softness of before, low and sultry. "Don't you?"

With a smile, your hands move again, wandering further up. They snake their way around her slender waist. There's something strange, something new, about how they explore her—before, you were quick to set them and demand control. But not now. Now, it's tender and grateful and you have a slow, searching rhythm to the touches that skim the skin across her skin. 

"Yeah." It's honest. You do. She has done her magic, she has restored the balance, and the release has cleared a space within the self, within the mind. You stare back into her gaze, "thank you."

"No." Minju brings her head forward, her face almost colliding with yours. "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed, I really—" She bites down on her lips and hesitates. She pauses for a second before she begins to move herself off you. Standing up straight, wobbling for a moment on the spot before stepping off and the sticky remains of your fucking cling to her inner thighs, glistening on the flesh, thick and trailing down from her hole.

She stares at you for a moment in some profound silence. You sit on the couch, on that musty old fabric, fully spent and staring. She's searching for something, eyes drifting over the room until it catches her eye, and she heads right for it.

You find the strength to stand and as you do, you’re still watching the sway of her body—noticing each bounce of her perfectly formed butt. Your eyes linger, appreciating the body that was given to you, enjoyed by you, and that gave so much to you. Your strength slowly builds from within, your legs are sore, your stomach and core are aching, your lungs feel crushed.

She's fumbling around on the table for something, she's leaning over slightly, her thighs pressed together. She wears sex like a crown—the pride, confidence, and accomplishment manifesting in her natural glow. Minju radiates. There's always something so electric about a woman in the post coital haze.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"No."

"You should," she says as she turns, fishing one out of the pack and perching herself on the edge of the table, crossing over her legs. "Makes you less nervous. You might need it."

There's an elegance in the way she slips the filter between her lips. An attractiveness in the casual way that she places the box down. With practiced poise, she flicks her wrist with lighter in hand so it flips open and her thumb runs against the sparkwheel. Once, twice, and on the third go the light takes and the flame holds steady. Minju lights the end of the cigarette and leans in, taking a deep draw and holding it.

It's mesmerising to watch. The way her mouth closes around the stick, how the soft glow dances upon her features. A darkness in the hollows of her cheeks as the smoke fills within, while she flicks the lighter back closed and slides it on the table.

Minju tilts her head back as her lungs empty, billows and tendrils escape into the room.

In the silence, you've had some realisation.

Minju is cool.

Like— really cool.

So you stand naked, facing her, in the breakroom of the bar she... works in? Owns? Hell, you don't even know that. Doesn't matter. And you finally ask her, "how do you know Wonyoung?"

For a long moment she just smiles, blowing smoke towards you, teasing with silence.

"We go way back," she says, and that is hardly the complete answer that you've hoped for. 

Eventually, she offers more. "High school. We were friends." Minju studies the cigarette, eyeing the burning stub. "Guess you could say we were closer than that. Fuck. If not for—"

Silence.

And yet you wait.

"Well, there was this boy," she continues eventually, offering a soft and resigned smile. "My crush, and then my boyfriend. He was my first. First kiss, first date. First—" Minju looks over to the wall and inhales hard on the cigarette again. She breathes in slowly and you watch the small ember dance, the edges turning amber and glowing bright before she brings the cigarette down and flicks ash in the tray.

"What happened?" you ask, taking a seat alongside her on the table, pushing a cup aside to make space. It's not exactly hygienic, but nothing the two of you just did was.

"Wonyoung happened. Right before we left school, he left me for her and he thought he had a chance, but, well, you know Wonyoung. She's unattainable."

"You blame her?"

"Fuck no. But it didn't exactly bring us closer. He left me for her, she rejected him. What a mess."

There is always something when Wonyoung is in the picture, a messy little tangled web, something hidden behind those silky smiles. She's the reason for many lost loves and many lonely nights. You take a pause to appreciate that fact—to see what's really at the core. She’s the common denominator. Wonyoung—the arrogant heartbreaker.

"So what was all that about? On the phone?" you ask, trying to make some sense of it all.

Minju laughs aloud, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. She holds her cigarette between her slim fingers and rests her other hand on your thigh. "I wanted to play with her a little. I wanted her to know. Because well, and no offense, but you’re one of her possessions. She basically owns you. Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot, but I wanted to see how she would react."

"So you teased her."

"Pretty much."

She laughs a little. There is some spark in her eye, born out of childish fun.

"Don't think she cares," you shrug.

You both turn toward the door that leads back into the bar. You both heard it. Out there. The knock against the front door of the bar.

Minju turns to you, crushing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. There's a smirk on her lips and amusement in her eyes. In that look alone, there's a lot to unpack; there's an air of knowing, a glimmer of deviousness, and something else lurking beneath the surface.

"Then why is she knocking on the door?"

[yanderismo]

Yandere Platonic Superman Concept/Idea (?)

BRO, BRO, I DON'T KNOW IF I LOVE OR HATE MY MIND FOR GIVING ME IDEAS THAT I'LL NEVER START OR FINISH. But okay, I have an idea for a platonic yandere Superfam, maybe it involves Batfam or the entire DC universe. I think this is more platonic yandere Superman. Let's go. (using the translator, be kind to me please 😭) 

— Imagine that you are originally from the Injustice universe. You were a neutral young/teen heroine who wasn't at all interested in siding with Batman or Superman. Well... that neutrality of yours had consequences, and now, somehow, Superman and Batman were in a bloody tug of war to get you on their side. And you are the cable they are selfishly pulling. And one day that cable would break, and that's what happened to you, you broke it. So broken that I would consider it irreparable. 

— But luckily for you (bro, are you lucky?), after so much physical and mental suffering, you ended up in a way that I won't explain, in the original DC universe. In other words, no superheroes is crazy tyrants. Too bad you don't know that (yet).

— You were living as if the world was a danger to you (just like it was in Injustice). But you discovered that you were REALLY in a different universe or timeline when you met Lois Lane, the woman who drove Superman insane after her death. And it shocked you, you thought maybe you had gone back in time. And as reckless as it was, you felt hope that you could stop the future of Injustice from happening, stop Lois Lane from being murdered! After all, you were still a hero, even if you had probably lost half of your original universe's neurons.

 — So you made a decision. You decided to protect Lois Lane! You practically become her protective shadow. Being noticed wouldn't do any good, and for SO FEAR of being confronted by Superman/Clark for apparently stalking his wife, you stopped watching her when Clark showed up and you went back when Clark left. (In your head, this Superman is the same Superman from Injustice, just before Lois' death happened). You were wary as hell of all the heroes. Anyway, a lot of trauma caused by Injustice.

— And I believe that Lois, even if she was a civilian, would notice that she was being watched (or maybe you're just not very good at stalking because you're a very young heroine). Whatever it is. Lois noticed and she became cautious (she is a journalist, there are many people who may not like her to the point of committing atrocities), as you could be a threat to her life. Although you haven't revealed yourself as any threat so far.

 — But let's suppose there were events in which she was in danger (actually, it was just something like shelves falling, preventing her from being run over, preventing some rabid dogs from biting her, small things), events in which you managed to remain hidden, however Lois knew it was You, her strangely protective stalker. Lois was trying to know your intentions and work it out for herself, so she didn't say anything about it. If this is something much more than she can handle, Clark can always lend a little help. 

— But on another one of those times when she was in danger, you desperately saved her (the situation was quite dangerous, more than normal), asking if she was okay and everything. Lois was surprised, you were surprised. Before you know, the idea of staying in the shadows went down the drain. You were almost begging (you were begging) her not to tell anyone that you were persecuting her (protecting her), you didn't want her to report you to some authority (that would only hinder your mission) or worse, report you to Superman. You said, stammered, that you were just protecting her. Wanting to make sure Lois didn't feel threatened and report you. 

— The desperation, the panic in your voice, seemed too young for Lois to feel comfortable. You were like a scared child, you looked very much like just a scared child, and that made Lois uncomfortable but at the same time... motherly. If you wanted to hurt her, you would have done it already. You at least accomplished one thing: making Lois not feel threatened by you.

 — The other thing you couldn't do was stop Lois from telling Clark about you. Look, I'm sure Lois didn't mean it, it's uncomfortable to be watched almost every day, but also, since she discovered you, she's been quite worried about you.

 — And Clark is all worried, like, "What?? My wife is being stalked??? Oh wait, my wife is being stalked and protected. Well, that's still very worrying, I'm definitely going to check it out for myself." Furthermore, Lois insisted that he be gentle when approaching you. And Lois saying this to him made him even more intrigued. 

— He tried to approach you just as Clark Kent, just to know how you would react around a seemingly civilian person, think of it as a method to read your character (he didn't want to confront you as Superman in a careless way. After all, who wouldn't Does he act nice or change to a more pleasant personality around Superman?)

— Needless to say, Clark was surprised and confused when you looked at him like he was the greatest terror of your life before simply running away from him. He recognized that look, only villains who were traumatized after a confrontation against him have that look (but the you look was much, much worse than that). That day, you didn't chase Lois.

 — Clark suspected you knew his secret identity. There is no longer any reason for you to have reacted like this. 

— lol, that day Lois noticed the absence of the feeling of being watched and scolded Clark for scaring you. Although it wasn't his fault, he apologized. He really didn't mean to scare you ;( You were gone for a few days after that. But of course, you still had to protect Lois in her everyday life. Even if you were scared. 

— Anyway, it didn't matter how softly, friendly Superman approached you next time. You ran, or at least tried to run. Do you really want to bet on who is the fastest? He easily caught you and held you by your forearm. And that was enough to make you scream, cry, struggle and finally, shrink as much as possible.

— And Superman was all confused, he wasn't even hurting you or squeezing you hard. His voice was also friendly. If anything, it made him even more worried. Add the fact that you appear to be very young and his paternal instincts kicked in. 

— To his surprise, you pulled out a knife. Something like that couldn't hurt Superman, of course not. But who said the knife was meant to hurt him? Let's say you picked up the knife and tried to slit your own throat as a last resort escape. (What did you go through with Superman from Injustice to the point that you tried to commit suicide just to escape him?) 

— Superman was surprised and then horrified. He immediately knocked you unconscious before you cut deeper into your throat. Now with you unconscious, you seemed more vulnerable and fragile than you should have been. Now he understood why Lois was worried about you. (You know, if Batman can adopt multiple children, why couldn't Superman...? You seem like a good kid and even Lois agrees with that. Conner and Jon would definitely like to have a sister) 

— Superman wondered what happened to you that made you reach the point where death was a usable route. He wanted to question you personally, but the moment he confirmed that you knew his identity (you acted the same way when he approached you as a civilian. He was the only one to receive this reaction from you and no one else), this matter became the subject of the Justice League. Discovering the identity of a superhero and pursuing someone close to that superhero was not going to be taken lightly. Who's to say you don't also know the identities of others? Although Superman wants to deal with you alone, he doubts he'll get any information out of you with you yelling and screaming. So he took you to the justice league. 

— Batman can definitely help you solve this.

(Imagine the anguish it would be to probably have to get used to people having the same appearance and the same voice as your captors in Injustice. Imagine them acting all soft after finding out you come from a universe where the heroes are corrupt and broke you😩)

Notas: I leave the rest to you. Or to any author who wants to use this idea (I beg you, some author write a Yandere platonic Superman/Superfam fic😭 They could even add other platonic Yanderes like Batfam, it would be so interesting 🙏😭)

(I just realized that the one who acted the most Yandere was Reader herself, lol)

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo fic, day one: obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

"You're working for Cadmus," Tim says slowly. "Cadmus, as in the lab that stole Superman's body and cloned him without his consent. Cadmus, which you had to break out of so they couldn't put mind control code words in your head."

"Yeah," Superboy replies like that's not literally insane. Tim stares at him.

"Why?" he asks incredulously.

"Food and shelter?" Superboy shrugs. "And I mean, I dunno, where else am I gonna go?"

Tim is not okay with this situation.

"What did Superman say?" he says.

"Just to like, keep an eye on things," Superboy says with another shrug. "Make sure they're not up to anything shifty."

Tim stares at him.

"Superman," he says. "Told you to just . . . 'keep an eye on' the dubiously ethical cloning lab. The specific dubiously ethical cloning lab that tried to put mind control code words in your head. Specifically."

"Yeah," Superboy confirms.

Alright, Tim is actually even less okay with this situation than he thought, apparently. Like, impressively less.

"Okay," he says. It is absolutely no kind of okay in any way whatsoever, of course, but he doesn't want to put Superboy on the defensive. That'd make effectively interrogating him a lot harder, for one thing. Cooperative subjects are best in these situations. "What are they paying you?"

"I mean, like, they gave me my own room and they're feeding me and whatever, so I don't really need much money," Superboy says. "There's a discretionary fund I can use if I need to go on an undercover mission or anything like that? But I'm not really the undercover type anyway."

"Sure," Tim says. So . . . no way for Superboy to save up to move out and get an out-of-lab life, then. Great. That's not fucked-up or crazy or horrible at all. "Do you like it there?"

"It's okay," Superboy says, shrugging again. "Better than literally everybody in Hawaii yelling at me every time they see my face, yeah?"

Tim wants to set the world on fire, but he's trying really hard not to go supervillain before he's thirty and he'd hate to throw out all that hard work.

"They just let me do whatever, mostly," Superboy adds. "They don't really care as long as I'm around when they need me."

He'll go supervillain as soon as Bruce dies, Tim promises himself. Just–he'll give his share of the eulogy at the funeral and then he'll blow up three-fourths of Arkham and the entire GCPD while Commissioner Gordon is on his lunch break. He can time that out, that'll be easy. And then he'll go and personally murder the Joker with the very specific combination of a rusty crowbar and a shrapnel bomb, and then he'll just . . . well, he'll just go with the flow from there, he figures. Do whatever feels natural.

Seriously, the world as it is does not deserve to exist. It really just does not.

Tim figures he can probably convince the rest of Young Justice to tag along for the whole supervillain thing and hopefully Dick and Steph and Barbara too, and ideally also Alfred, in the unfortunately likely event that he outlives Bruce. He's got time to lay the groundwork with them all and all, and also everything really is awful and horrible and really does deserve to burn.

"Are they sending you to school or anything? Or tutoring you?" Tim asks with what little scraps of hope he has left. Higher education would be . . . well, something, at least. And actually it probably wouldn't hurt for Superboy to learn a bit more about genetic engineering from the same place he got genetically engineered, just in case anything goes wrong with his DNA again. Cadmus should at least be good for that much, right?

"Ew, no, thank fuck," Superboy says, making a face. "Like I said, they mostly let me do whatever until something needs punched."

So . . . no furthered education or learning any usable job skills or making real money or literally anything that could, again, lead to Superboy ever getting any kind of an actual out-of-lab life established.

Great.

Just great.

"I see," Tim says.

"It's a pretty sweet gig, considering," Superboy says, and grins brightly at him. It's a very nice grin. Normally being faced with that particular grin would make Tim need to beat down the highly unprofessional urge to kiss it.

Right now, though, he's a little bit more concerned with the fact that his teammate is just . . . living in and working for a fucking lab. As a matter of course. Just as a thing.

And Superman of all people thinks that's . . . fine, for some reason? Like, normal and ethical and okay? Somehow? In some way?

What the actual fuck, Tim thinks to himself.

"You said Superman told you to keep an eye on things?" he asks.

"Yeah," Superboy says, his grin widening. "He took me to his fortress and asked me to do it there. Showed me around a bit, too."

"That sounds really interesting," Tim says, wondering in vague disbelief if that means Superman had never taken Superboy to the Fortress of Solitude before. He must've, right? And just . . . inexplicably not shown Superboy around then.

Yeah. Sure.

"It was awesome!" Superboy says with more enthusiasm than Tim's seen from him since they met Nina Dowd's . . . endowments, seemingly forgetting the need to be "cool" for long enough to lean forward in his seat and outright beam at him. Tim is gonna need a minute to recover from the sight of that expression, probably. "It's seriously freaking freezing up there, but there's so much cool shit in the place. Like, from all over the universe, but from Krypton, even! The only thing I'd ever seen from Krypton before was kryptonite!"

Tim considers moving up his supervillain timeline after all. Like. Just possibly. Just a little.

Maybe he can convince Bruce to take an early retirement off-planet and just go from there.

What the hell is wrong with Superman?

"Oh, wow, really?" Tim says, simultaneously pretending he didn't already know what Superman has in his fortress and trying not to be screamingly obvious about the internal calculations he's running on figuring out how to weaponize red sunlight. Or like, maybe he could look into learning some magic. That's technically an option. Probably more time-consuming and harder to hide the process of, though. Still, it's on the table.

"Yeah. He showed me some of it. Told me some stories and stuff, even," Superboy says, and that excited grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. He ducks his head just a little, and then that soft grin is more like a soft smile, and Tim suffers. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency contact number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his smile widens helplessly. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile of his own instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that genuinely never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh, rubbing at his arm. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him again.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

"Yeah, it's kinda cool," Kon says, straightening up in his seat and then leaning back, clearing his throat and slipping his sunglasses back on like they're not in a literal cave right now. Tim doesn't call him on it, because he has a supervillain timeline to work out and that's much more important.

Also because the teammate he has an inadvisable crush on is in a much, much shittier situation than he ever realized and he has to reconcile that with his worldview and also his opinion of Superman. Tim doesn't especially idolize the man except in the sense of knowing he's one of the greatest heroes on Earth and a very, very good man that Bruce thinks incredibly highly of, one of the best men on the League and maybe even on the planet, but . . .

But if he's such a good man, then why the hell is Kon living in a lab that tried to mind-control him and why has he only just seen the Fortress of Solitude for the first time?

Why didn't he have a real name?

"So do we call you Kon or Kon-El now?" Tim asks, which is a bit of a senseless question but also at least a bit of a distraction. He wants to say this whole situation is a horrible idea, who the FUCK convinced you this situation was a good idea?!, but there is no possible way that Kon would respond well to that. Ever.

Also, Kon had a point. Where else is he gonna go?

Clearly not the Fortress of Solitude.

Seriously, would it be that hard for Superman to give him a room there? At least a place to stay sometimes, so he wasn't exclusively relying on the mind-control cloning lab for food and shelter and basic comforts?

"I think just Kon?" Kon says, frowning consideringly. "'El' is like Superman's last name, I guess? So I think just Kon."

"Makes sense," Tim says, internally seething. Superman gave him the "El" name but not a secret identity? A name from a dead civilization with a bit of sentimental value, maybe, but nothing usable on this planet? Fuck, you'd think Kon didn't already know his secre–

. . . Kon doesn't know Superman's secret identity, does he.

Tim had thought he was lying, when he'd said that stuff about Superman not having one, before. Thought it was supposed to be a cover or a misdirection or something. But Kon actually thinks that, doesn't he. And Superman has just . . . kept letting him think that.

Becoming a supervillain actually might be an underreaction, in retrospect.

"Just Kon sounds less formal anyway," Tim says instead of so just in theory, do you think tactile telekinesis could trigger a heart attack or stroke in a full-blooded Kryptonian, if you could REALLY concentrate on doing it? like not FATALLY, just dehabilitatingly?, because he still has some groundwork to do before they get that far into potential supervillainy. There's steps to the plan. The steps need to be followed. They're very important steps. "You don't want Bart full-naming you every time he's looking for the remote."

"Like he'd even bother, it's faster for him to turn the living room upside-down than actually ask anyway," Kon says with a laugh, dropping his head back on his neck. Tim has some thoughts about climbing into his lap and figuring out if the TTK makes him hickey-proof, and then buries them. Not appropriate. Not professional. Just not.

. . . technically, if Kon wanted a hickey, he could just let his TTK down and ask for–

Tim buries his thoughts deeper.

Much, much deeper.

"Point," he says. "So what time does Cadmus expect you back?"

"Dude, it's a job, not a boarding school," Kon says, giving him an amused look. "I don't have a curfew."

Tim, technically, hasn't followed his own curfew any way but accidentally once in his entire life, but for god's sake, is Cadmus even pretending to be raising a teenager or are they really just being that flagrant about ignoring all the child labor laws they so clearly do not give a fuck about? Like, there must be something illegal about this. There has to be.

If there's not, Tim will be adding "burn down Project Cadmus" to his list of supervillain plans to set up in advance. In red pen. Underlined.

Twice.

God, why is the world like this. Why are people like this?

"I guess that'd be convenient," Tim says, internally ranking various methods of combustion. "Though I guess it depends on the cafeteria hours, too."

"It's whatever, I can always eat later," Kon replies with a shrug. "I think I've still got a couple protein bars in my room anyway."

"Just protein bars?" Tim asks, mentally upping the amount of explosives he was considering going with. Cadmus is going to be a crater by the time he's done with it. "Don't you need more calories than that?"

". . . well, sort of," Kon says, folding his arms and looking very briefly embarrassed. "Superman doesn't have to eat, apparently, but, uh, guess I'm not Kryptonian enough for that. Actually I kinda need to eat more than normal humans, it's weird. Like. A lot more."

"I'm ordering pizza," Tim says, upping his mental explosives count again. "What do you want on it?"

"We're the only ones here," Kon says, looking puzzled.

"More pizza for us, then," Tim says.

[kimjun]

Package | Bat family x reader

You never stopped to think about being a mother, you are young and it was too early to think. Well, until you meet Bruce Wayne. You met him by accident, really an accident, you ran him over with your bike and then you went out to get to know each other better.

After many meetings, the marriage proposal finally arrived. As said above, you didn't think about being a mother. But marrying Bruce Wayne came with a package.

The first package was Dick.

He was adorable, he was always around you, he bragged to everyone that he had an incredibly beautiful mother. Mom, it was a surprise when you heard that word addressed to you.

It was a Friday, you went to pick Dick up from school because Alfred was on vacation, so you went to Dick's school. You were at the gate waiting, while sending some messages to friends and Bruce, little Dick approaches along with three boys.

—I told you she was beautiful. - Dick points at you, then crosses his arms.

—Wow.- one of the boys says.

—Stop drooling over my mother. –Dick speaks naturally as he gets into the car.

On the other hand, you become paralyzed trying to absorb the new information. When you finally get in the car, Dick hands you a drawing, it's him, you and Bruce.

—You can throw it away if you want. - Dick says, putting on his belt.

You've had this drawing saved for over fifteen years. A memory of the first time you became a mother.

—It's very beautiful, my love, thank you very much.

—Is it okay if I call you mom?

—You are my son, obviously you should call me mother.

Dick is a mama's boy, even at twenty-two he still runs into her arms.

The second package was Jason.

You were already in your pajamas, the calm rain turned into a storm and Bruce was already on his way back. You just didn't expect Bruce Wayne to show up with a boy cowering from the cold.

—Honey.- Bruce looked completely embarrassed. —This is Jason.

The boy looked at you, his beautiful eyes made you sigh with love for your newest baby.

-I am __.

It was a complicated relationship at first, in fact Jason only let you get close to him. He spent time with you at the library, you created a book club that was just the two of you.

It was a trusting relationship, when Jason had nightmares you would always be with him.

—It's okay, love, I'm here.

Jason started calling you mom because Dick did that.

—Are you my mother too? - Jason asked with his mouth covered in chocolate.

—Of course, right, - replies Dick. — If you're my brother, idiot.

He starts calling you mom. And you love the fact that you have two boys. Jason is also a mama's boy. When you learned of Jason's death the world stopped, you fell into a deep depression that you had to hide because Bruce Wayne brought a surprise.

The third package was Tim.

It was a little difficult, it wasn't Tim's fault, you love him, but he came so quickly that you haven't accepted Jason's death yet. The pain is horrible. But Tim needed love and you tried.

Tim heard you lost a son and it was still hard. He saw you crying several times, even though you hid to not show how fragile you are. Then one day, Tim came into the room where you were crying. He climbed onto the bed and hugged you.

—I'm sorry, I didn't want you to feel this pain, mom. - Tim was hugging you.

-Oh my love.

You were healing, Tim was there to help you, he knew you were broken.

-Mother?

-what?

—Nothing, it's cool to call you that.

—How about making cookies? - you smile.

—And coffee?

—You are prohibited from drinking coffee.

Tim is a mama's baby, he's always by your side when you need him, you take care of him with so much love that he just wants to reciprocate.

It is Tim who breaks the news that Jason is alive.

Bruce Wayne doesn't know when to stop and you don't really care.

The fourth package was Damian.

—Are you saying you have a child with another woman?

You need time to understand the situation, when Bruce explains it you still get suspicious. A new kid in the mansion. Harder than Jason as a teenager.

—Damian, it's going to rain, take an umbrella. - you say.

Damian looks at you.

—You're not my mother, you don't command me. - he leaves in a huff, taking the umbrella.

A new member of the book club, Jason was reluctant before accepting that Damian could join the club.

You noticed Damian was slowly approaching. If you are in the kitchen, he will come up to you and ask what you are doing. If you leave, he asks if he can come along. At the market he pushes the cart for you.

-Can I have this? - Damian points to some chocolates. He sighs remembering what Thalia told him.

You pass Damian picking up several bars.

—Yes, you can, my love.

Damian never complained about you calling him baby, living by your side is peaceful because you are a different person than his mother.

Damian wrote you a letter, actually a note.

YOU WANT TO BE MINE MOTHER?

Yes ( ) or no ( )

You thought it was so cute, you squeezed Damian saying yes, you accepted being his mother.

Damian is mommy's little baby to this day, he will always come to you looking for mommy's hugs and kisses.

Bruce Wayne is a big surprise, you love him, you love his children but every time you leave you fear that he will return with another child.

—I love you, but please try to have control, we have too many children. - you laugh.

—I think it's over, don't worry.

-He is sure?

—I think so, I'm going to stop adopting for a bit.

—You need therapy. - you laugh kissing your husband.

—We should have a baby of our own. - Bruce grumbles. You laugh, getting up from the couch.

—We already have too many children. - you scream running to the kitchen.

[josiesullysblog]

His Prize

~AGED UP Neteyam x Na’vi reader

~DarkNeteyam, explicit content, CNC?? Characters aged up to, 22

~Proofread?- no

~Summary-Neteyam is in love with [Y/n], although they aren't in a relationship.

~Note-Everything that happens is consensual!!! Wanted to make that clear before you read, hope you enjoy it!!

***

Neteyam loved a good challenge. He loved being able to showcase his talent, loved hearing the praises everyone would say, “Wow Neteyam you're so advanced for your age!” or, “I think you might be better than your father!” whatever compliment it was he thrived off it.

Neteyam at a very young age understood that one day he’d become the leader of his clan. His father always said, “A strong leader always has a stronger woman behind him,” he took these words into account. He knew if he ever wanted to be a great leader, better than his father he’d need the perfect mate.

He thanked Ewya that his parents never arranged a mate for him, allowing him the freedom to pick his own. Although his parents did push a certain girl. Kya was cute, she was everything a man would want in a mate, submissive, and always did what was asked of her, but Neteyam didn't want that.

He liked fighting, he wanted to break his mate and watch the fight leave their eyes as he finally claimed them as his, he wanted a prize. He’d, of course, treat them with the respect a woman deserves to have, but he knew no girl here would put up any fight. They’d willingly want to come to him, they’d fall to their knees begging for him. This changed when he met you.

You were like a firecracker. Always had something slick to say, never let anyone step all over you, it was a match made in heaven. Neteyam was going to break you, make you regret meeting him, but at the same time save you. Save you from your boring life and show you the real world.

“What are you looking at?” you gave him a stank look, and he smiled, “You,” you just laughed as you got up, “i’m too bad for you, I wouldn't want to taint Toruk Makto’s golden boy.” you walked off swinging your hips.

Neteyam's smile deepened, you truly believed you were worse than him? This was going to be fun.

You were bored. You had the same schedule every day, nothing new, and you were longing for something. Anything to finally make you feel content. You longed for something, and Neteyam was going to make sure you knew it was him.

“Hey, Teyem,” Kya smiled at the boy. Neteyam’s eyes were on you, he watched as you made bracelets, “hi, Kya,” the girl blushed. Usually, the boy only said hi and then left but today he said her name, “I was wondering if you needed help with anything!”

Neteyam looked at her, “Anything?” her breath hitched, “anything,” it came out as a whisper, “Hm, aren't you a good girl always trying to help everyone,” his eyes examined her. Her breathing had become irregular, and her mouth was slightly open. Neteyam would be a fool not to notice how the girl was obviously sexually attracted to him.

Neteyam’s eyes fell back on you, “what do you know about her?” Kya looked at you, “[Y/n]?” the boy nodded, “she’s lazy, she never does anything always moping around,” Neteyam wanted to cut the girl's tongue off for speaking like that towards you, but he wasn't stupid.

A girl like Kya was always noticeable in a group. She was often the leader in situations and if he were to kill her people would notice. But a girl like Kya was also a whore. He saw the way her eyes lingered on his brother or other hunters.

If Neteyam were to make a dumb decision and get with her, she’d be tainted. Ruined by someone else because Neteyam knew Kya was no virgin. But [Y/n], although she claimed to be worse than Neteyam, was fresh meat.

Nobody dared mess with her, she always had a rebuttal. Nobody wanted her because she was a handful, perfect for Neteyam. “I see,” Neteyam stood up and placed a hand on the girl's back, “Thank you, Kya,” he then walked away.

Kya’s eyes lingered on you, what could you possibly have that she doesn't? She wasn't afraid to admit, she wanted Neteyam for his title. Imagine her the next Tsahik, she understood she’d need to put an act on. But Neteyam was always looking at you. She had to get rid of you, make Neteyam understand it was her he wanted.

You played with the water in front of you. You were at peace Pandora was so big, and you thought it was sad you might never get to see all its wonderful parts. You were so gone, you jumped up when you heard sudden movement behind you.

“Who's there?” your heart raced as your eyes searched for something moving, “didn't mean to scare you,” Neteyam came out with his hands up. You rolled your eyes, “If you're here telling me I need to go back you have wasted your time.”

He laughed, “i’m not here for such things,” you looked at him, “Then what are you doing out here?” you didn't believe him. You convinced yourself that you could read anybody, but you found it difficult with Neteyam. “I could ask you the same question.”

You huffed, “I asked first,” the boy came closer, “have you always had such a mouth?” your eyes widened, “have you always been so intrusive?” the boy shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Well, I won't be answering any of your questions,” you turned away from him, “a girl with a mouth like yours needs to be tamed.” you turned to him before charging toward him, “You have no right to say I need to be tamed. I am not some toy-,” he cut you off by putting a hand on your throat. It was a gentle yet firm grip, “let me go.”

It was times like these when you remembered your place, that men's strength was no match for you, and no matter how strong you thought you were they could still overpower you. “Why should I? I’ve been here for only minutes and you’ve been nothing but rude toward me.”

You fought in his grasp, “You know if you really wanted me to let go, you’d fight harder.” The boy's grip became harder, “I know you have more fight in you, but I think you like this.”

His smile was wicked, “you like being helpless at the disposal of me,” you shook your head, “then fight,” you tired but he held you tight. “What I thought.”

You didn't want him to know, that this secretly turned you on. He was the only person to put you in your place, it was rare for anyone to do that.

He let go of you, letting you fall to the floor, “I bet if I were to open you up right now, you’d be wet.”

You coughed as you tried putting distance between yourself and the boy, “Don't run, you know you love this,” you couldn't lie you loved every part of this. You never expected Neteyam to be like this, he was so good at hiding this side of himself.

Neteyam bent down to your level, trailing a finger down your leg, “you're so beautiful,” your breath hitched, “so needy,” he laughed. “No, i’m not,” he looked at your eyes you still had a fire in them.

Other girls would give up by now, but not you. You were determined to fight till the end. “I love how you fight me,” he gripped your ankle pulling you in, “it makes it more fun for when I break you.”

“You won’t break me,” his grip became tighter as his smile deepened, “wanna bet?” his other hand traveled to between your legs, “your soaking.”

You fought back a moan, “There's no point in fighting now, baby,” he caught your clit causing a moan to slip out, “Give in to me, you never have to worry again.”

You threw your head back, “never,” Neteyam nodded, “I’ve always loved a good challenge,” he plunged a finger inside you, “so tight can't wait to fill you up!”

You started moaning, and you couldn't hold it back, “that's right baby,” he picks up speed as he feels you tighten around his fingers. He was going fast and you felt yourself coming near, “slow down,” if anything your words made him go faster, “After you cum on my fingers, you’ll do it on my dick.”

Your eyes widen, as you felt yourself let go. Your body twitched as he let go of you, “open wide,” he brought his fingers to your mouth. You moved his hand as you tried to catch your breath, but he grabbed your cheeks and pushed his fingers into your mouth. “See, it's not so hard is it?”

You choked on his fingers till he finally let go of you. He stood up, “Get on all fours,” you knew why he wanted you to. You shook your head, “That wasn't a request,” you looked into his eyes, “Please, just,” he laughed, “are you begging?”

You couldn't believe it yourself, “I just need time,” you said as you tried to stand up but he pushed you to the ground, “Play with your nipples.”

“What?” you looked at him crazy, “You heard me. If you want time you’ll listen,” it was such a humiliating thing to ask. Yet you still did it, “look into my eyes,” you looked at his eyes, “Look at you, such a slut for me,” you rolled your nipples as he degraded you, “I shouldn't be so nice to you,” he said causing a shiver to roll down your back.

“Please,” you said as he put his foot between your legs, “grind,” it just kept piling up. You did what he asked, “No one will ever see you like this,” you nodded as you felt yourself near, “I’ll give you a week, every night I expect you to edge yourself.” he got down to your level.

“If I find out someone else has touched you, or you’ve come without permission I will fuck you for everyone to see,” you nodded as he stood up and walked away, “be a good girl.”

You laid back thinking about what just happened. That boy was going to be the death of you.

Kya watched as you helped the elders put boxes away, “is that all?” you smiled at them, “Yes, thank you, dear!” you walked out deciding to head somewhere else.

Your mind kept going back to Neteyam. The way he handled you was such a turn-on, you smiled thinking back to it. You did as he asked, besides the no cumming part. What he doesn't know won’t hurt him, you thought as you walked.

As you were walking, a hand pulled you causing a gasp to leave your throat. “What the fuck,” you said yanking the hand away, “if you wanted my attention should've said my name like a normal person,” you looked up at your captor to see Kya.

Kya has an imaginary battle going on with you. Ever since you two were children she always tries to be better than you. She never wins although you don't care enough, you do think it's funny seeing her get all railed up.

“Kya what's your problem this time?” you rub the spot on your arm she yanked you by, it was definitely going to bruise. “Why are you spending time with Neteyam?” you couldn't help but smile. This was over Neteyam?

“Why do you care?” the girl’s nose flared as she spoke, “Please [Y/n], everyone knows me and him are expected to mate,” you shrugged, “I don't keep up with the local gossip.”

“Enough with your remarks! I’m telling you right now stay away from him,” you looked her up and down, “or what? You're going to kill me?” now you probably knew getting her all worked up wasn't the smartest thing but you were bored.

She gasps, “No, I won't kill you, but I’ll do something that makes you wish I did.” you laughed, “Can't wait!” you were starting to get under her skin, “you must be drugged him,” she said, “why would he want a girl like you?”

You didn't know the answer to that, why did he want you? “He obviously doesn't want you, Kya. Grow up fighting me won't make him want you,” she narrowed her eyes at you, “and he so obviously wants you?”

You looked at her funny, “Answer your own question dumbass,” she was becoming increasingly annoying, “I don't know what you did to him, but I promise you I always get what I want.” you turned around flipping her off, “whatever makes you sleep at night.”

The most annoying thing about you was, you didn't care. Kya’s threats were meaningless to you, she knew that. No matter what anyone said, it was like they went in one ear and out the other. She’d never voice this out loud but she was jealous of you.

You didn't need anyone's approval to be happy. Her whole life she’s been fighting for that number-one spot and you don't even try, yet you still got it.

Her parents push her every day to be this amazing girl, who gets all the guys and has all these friends. Your parents love you no matter what. She understood you both had different personalities, your personality was more carefree. You didn't listen most of the time, but Neteyam still wanted you. He doesn't even look her way.

You don't have all the friends she does, you seem happier alone though. You spend your time with the elders, always listening to their stories. She hated you so much she wished she was you.

“Teyem!” she giggled as she watched the boy. He seemed lost in thought but his eyes still looked at her, “Kya,” she smiled, “what are you up to?” he sighed, “Nothing,” Neteyam rarely had a moment to himself. He wanted to kill the girl for interrupting him.

He was imagining what faces you’d make as he fucks you hard. “We should hang out together!” that was the last thing he wanted, “why?” her face flushed, “to get to know each other better, last time we spoke you were asking about that girl-,” he smiled, “what girl?”

Kya smiled, “[Y/n],” She couldn't contain her happiness, maybe she was wrong, and he didn't like you. He sighed, “she's pretty cool,” Neteyam said, “pretty lazy,” Neteyam's head looked at her, “what else is she like,” he smiled at the girl.

“[Y/n] only does things when she feels like it,” Neteyam nodded, “I was just talking with her about how she doesn't deserve a boy like you,” Neteyam’s smile fell, “What?” Kya laughed, “She's so boring, I was only humbling her.”

Neteyam gripped her arm, “what did you tell her?” his gaze became hard. “Huh?” he hit her on the head with his other hand. He dragged her onto a tree. “You better hope she doesn't take your advice.”

The girl cried as Neteyam’s hand grabbed her neck, “Aw why so sad?” he smiled, “Did you touch her?” she shook her head, “No, Neteyam I didn't!”

“So, if I see her, she won't have a mark on her,” her mind goes back to when you were rubbing your arm, “Neteyam I didn't mean to! I was just trying to get her attention!”

Neteyam faked sympathy, “I bet, it was a simple accident,” the girl nodded but Neteyam’s grip got stronger, “let me tell you something,” he looked her up and down, “ever come near my mate again, I’ll rip you limp to limp,” he smiled before letting go.

“I’ll tell everyone! That you did this to me!” she cried from the floor, “did what? They all know you're a whore, these marks on you? They got there because you got too carried away after a fun night, and who are they going to believe? The whore or Toruk Makto’s son?” he smiled before walking away.

“They told me if I keep working hard, I’ll be ready before my birthday!” you smiled at your mother, “My little girl is growing up!” she wiped fake tears from her eyes.

You laughed till you both heard footsteps, “Good afternoon Mrs. [L/n]!” Neteyam said as he flashed a smile, “Neteyam! What a surprise!” you rolled your eyes, thankfully your mother doesn't see. “I was wondering if I could borrow your daughter for a little bit?”

Your mother nodded, “That's alright with me!” you stood up, “See you later mom,” You kissed her and walked ahead of the boy. “Such a good boy in front of others,” you said when the boy caught up to you, “always, my in-laws need to know their daughter is in safe hands.”

You looked at him, “In-laws? So soon?” he laughed, “Oh, you’ll learn with me I like to move quickly,” he nodded, “What if I said no?” he shrugged, “You won’t.”

“How do you know,” he smiled, “because i’m the best thing to happen to you.” you hated how right he was, “You always have to be right,” he nodded, “love a quick learner.”

Once you two were a far enough distance his persona changed, “last time we spoke I gave you two rules to follow,” you nodded, “yet you have a bruise on your arm,” he said which made you smile, “this wasn't from a guy, Kya just grabbed me to hard.”

“I said if I found out somebody else touches you I’d be upset, did I not?” you nodded, “no guy touched me!” he smiled, “somebody could be a girl as well, [Y/n],” you pulled your arm back, “it wasn't like that.”

He was this mad about Kya wait till he finds out you came this week.

“You still broke my rule, so now we're going to play a different game,” he gripped you, “it's called tag,” he smiled, “I’ll give you twenty seconds to run, and if I catch you I can do whatever I want you.”

You smiled, “And if you don't?” he sighed, “I’ll leave you alone forever.” you thought about it. “Deal.”

He smiled, “Better get to running, pretty face.” With that, you immediately booked it.

***

HEYYYYY!!! Hope you enjoy this story! So much fun writing about Neteyam in a darker light, hopefully, you all appreciate it!

[six-eyed-samurai]

AGAIN AND AGAIN - A REINCARNATION AU

Help, what have I done? Sorry if this doesn't fit the characters, I was writing it sleep deprived and as neutral as possible. Support me and my poetry (that I came up with in the shower)

Heavens blessed me with you

The Knight, who when your parents announced you would marry you off to some elderly Lord, kept true to his word and took you away, escaping into the clashing colors of freedom and love in another kingdom far, far away, only for your world to darken into black and white once more when your enraged parents caught up and had him executed; it was now your turn to keep your side of the oath and join him in the afterlife when you drank the poisoned chalice.

In every rebirth

The Roman General who passed by you, lashing out any "potential buyer" when he walked disgusted through the slave market - he bought you freedom and yet somehow you stayed with him forever willingly cuffed by shackles of affection...until he died of an assassination and you were hung for having an "affair" with someone of higher class, but not before you both screamed to whatever god that would listen to come back to each other once more.

I promise I'll find you

The Baker who's never cared a penny about the other air headed girls from his small British village until you, a young noble lady recently moved into the old Baskerville Manor, turned up requesting his help in setting a banquet. Excuses after excuses pile up from both sides in an attempt to extend your brief time together but soon, oh, too soon, you leave as per your family's orders and he's left to wonder how you're doing now, because after years and years of searching they refused to let him in.

Through tears, death, dreams and mirth

The White American who finds you working day in day out at the laundry lady's for little to no pay, so from his not so small tips grew to slipping love letters through the pockets of his clothes, but soon you're fired and bade to leave for your skin colour and he's still bitterly cursing the townspeople for their blind racism.

And I know it's just a gamble

The Hockey player who grins at you who always shows up to his games in every match until he asks you out on an ice skating date, but alas, how could he have known that the day you finally showed up in his jersey, much to his delight, would be the day a crazed fan clubbed you on the head with his own hockey stick, much to your doom? He left the industry as cold as the rink.

Unfair, repeated roll of dice

The F1 Racer who whines about the most ridiculous problems happening to his car and making bad impressions of the other drivers just to see his beloved mechanic even crack a smile - no oil or dirt stained on you could ever dim that brilliant smile when you both went on a joyride together into the sunset...oh, wait, his death on the track did.

But in this temporary, fleeting

The Roommate who knows exactly what you want for breakfast every morning, and soon it spiraled into having a meal together for lunch and dinner too, especially when he added candles and rose petals! You still make your coffee the same way he did even after your studies took you abroad and both of you decided it was for the best to break up.

Moment in fast ending time

The Landlord who did NOT expect such a cute little you to move on when he decided to make a little cash on the side renting out his spare room...never mind, it's still on rent because now you've moved into his room. He managed to save your photo album from the charred remains of your house though...although he couldn't save you.

Tell me, oh tell me

The Drug dealer who just recently entered your big brother's gang, who protected you with his scrawny body every time any sexually frustrated asshole came to harass you. Your declarations of love didn't come in heartfelt words or gifts but a smoked joint with each other. You both didn't get delusional, because why should you when your fantasies were right in front? It was the same when you overdosed after someone ratted him out and sent him to a life sentence in prison.

Darling love of mine

The Mafioso who charms you with his suave words and cool under fire attitude, causing you to giggle and kick your feet whenever he came back to your door with flirtations and blood on his face from those who disrespected the mob boss's goddaughter. It was the classic romantic Italian dinner when he got down one one knee...except for the part when his rivals arrived to gun him down and you're left staring at his broken body and shattered ring.

You're just as lost

The Neighbour who had no idea the babysitter for the kids next door would be so goddamned FINE - if only he hadn't fumbled and stumbled over his words in the elevator! But that's alright, even little Ray and Katie are rooting for him and you! Your first date might not be fancy, but he was more starstruck in awe of you than he was of the night sky as you sat on top of the roof.

In paradise

"I feel like I've know you all my life."

"In every lifetime?"

"Maybe!"

And somewhere deep inside, you both knew it for certain: the endless cycles of pain were finally broken.

"I'm so glad of whatever karma that I did in my previous life got me to meet you!"

"You better continue it in this life so I can see you in the next one!"

Not karma, actually, but a series of broken promises finally repaired.

***

Sukuna, Giyuu, Kokushibo, Gojo, Takemitchy, Mikey, Ranpo, Nikolai, Kirishima, Hawks, Kakashi, Nishinoya, Kuroo, Toji, Kazutora, Nanami, Eren Yeager, Gyutaro, Kunikida, Zuko, Yuta, Inumaki, Levi, your favourites!

[etheries1015]

Arlecchino having a (female) s/o who is extremely sensitive and cries frequently.

You'd think arlecchino would have something against dating someone like this. Crying is a sign of weakness in her eyes, and honestly you were no different. Despite your typically optimistic and flamboyant personality, you were incredibly sensitive. Just leave it to Arlecchino to pick probably the most sensitive person in the world to choose as her lover, right?

You saw a sad play? Tears streaming down your face. You saw a malnourished dog on the streets? Sobbing while spending your life's savings to help the poor thing. It starts raining? You're crying, too. "Its been raining so much...The hydro dragon must be in such misery. I wish I could help him." One of the kids called you "mother" for the first time? You're sobbing uncontrollably. Most of the time Arlecchino would roll her eyes and be mildly unomftorable around your tears, but you knew she still loved you. Especially moments that it truly mattered, she would mutter a "Stop crying..." And pat your head, or quietly engulf you in a hug. She couldn't fully understand why you were always so empathetic and crying all the time, however they do say opposites attract, right?

Most of the time she found it to be one of your weak points, crying so much means you aren't strong to save face, right? That you don't have what it takes? Crying all the time was something only the pathetic and unworthy do...right?

Arlecchino heard two voices. One was her lover, you, and the other was the feeble whimpers of a child. She made sure to stay hidden from behind the door frame, eavesdropping on the conversation, where you and the young boy were left unaware of her presence.

"Father says I...shouldn't cry. I'm sorry, mother, I..."

"Freminet," Arlecchino heard your voice strong yet sweet, her heart skipping a beat slightly. She hadn't heard you so...authoritative in a long while. So loving, gentle...and so confident. There was not a hint of hesitation in your voice.

"I understand you think very very highly of Arle. She gave you a life here, along with your siblings. I know you look up to her. But if there is one thing we, even as lovers, disagree on..." The sound of rustling caused Arlecchino to glance around the corner, quickly noticing how you were pulling the young boy into your arms.

"Tears are not a sign of weakness. It means you have a strong heart, a heart full of emotions just waiting to burst and let loose. Strength comes from standing up again despite the challenges you have faced, and what may have made you cry." You pulled back and wiped his tears before poking his chest above the spot where his heart lay. "You have a beautiful heart, freminet. Its healthy, and strong. Strength is purely subjective, we can each decide for ourselves what strength truly means. Don't let someone else decide that for you, no matter how much they may mean to you."

"But-" the blonde haired boy went to object you, only to be promptly cut off.

"Arlecchino has her own definition of strength and weakness, and so do I. They are completely opposite from one another. But that doesn't mean the love between us isn't real because of that. We all still love you for who you are, Freminet. You're growing to be a very fine young man, and I'm certain you will find your own definition of strength. Create it yourself, okay? Your soul is meant to grow into your own shape, not forcefully conform into someone else's." There was no words, only the sounds of light sobs as Freminet hugged you tightly. You smiled slightly and pat his back gently and comfortingly.

"If you ever need a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to, I'm always here for you. You do not need to suffer alone."

Arlecchino could have sworn your gaze notice hers and lock eyes for but a moment, with a gentle smile placed upon your features. Quickly turning her heel and walking away, Arlecchino simply scoffed at the notion you were breaking down the principals she had built at the house of hearth.

Night had fallen and you entered your shared room with the Knave, who was currently laying in bed with the lights off and blankets covering her body. You strolled over to the bed, sitting down next to her as you gazed down to the quiet harbinger.

"Are you mad at me?" You inquired, "I know you heard what I told freminet. I assumed you would yell at me by now, about how crying isn't a sign of strength, and how I'm 'teaching them worthless things'. " You awaited a snotty response from your thickheaded lover, yet much to your surprise, there was no response. It was only when you sat your hand upon her shoulder did you notice the slightest tremble, your eyes widening before you were abruptly pulled down into the sheets with strong arms wrapping around you. Arlechinnos head tucked into your shoulder, you could feel wetness seep through your shirt. You smiled sadly and began to hold her back, stroking her soft black and white locks.

"I see you're taking my advice, huh? Did I strike a chord finally?"

"Shut up."

With a shaky voice and mild hesitation, Arlecchino had become far more vulnerable than she had ever felt before.

"You're a bad influence," she sighed into your shoulder, her grasp tightening. With a chuckle and another gentle kiss, you hummed in amusement. It wasn't long before you felt the trembling come to a halt and Arlecchinos breathing even out, you closed your eyes and began to drift off into sleep with your lover still in your arms.

Maybe crying wasn't as bad as she made it out to be. At least, not when she had someone to hold her tight all night.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 4, Unwelcome - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, hints of jealousy, some slight self-deprecation.

Word Count: 1.7k

Previously On...: Now that you and Bucky are officially FWB, you couldn't keep your hands off one another, which obviously meant having fantastic sex in your office.

A/N: And it's time to finally introduce our antagonist! Sort of! Although, I guess you could say the real antagonism is the angst and anxiety we meet along the way. Chapter 11 is coming along very nicely, hence a posting today. I hope you enjoy!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala

"You're both so codependent," Nat said to the two of you one evening a few months later as you all sat gathered around in the common room after dinner. It was a rare occurrence where no one was away on a mission and everyone was Earth-side. The space was crowded, so naturally Bucky had offered you his lap, theoretically in order to open up some seating for everyone else. Aside from the two of you and Nat, there was Wanda and Vision, Steve and Sam, Clint, Thor, Tony and Pepper, Bruce, and Rhodey. Your perfectly imperfect found family. The only one who was missing was young Peter Parker, but it was a school night and Tony tried to make sure the kid had his priorities in order.

"No we're not," you and Bucky said in unison, which made everyone else either laugh or groan. You glanced up at him with a smile and then back to the others. "What can we say? We just really enjoy the benefits of our friendship."

Bucky let out a cough into his hand that sounded a lot like "Be cool, damn."

"How come you never volunteer to sit in my lap?" Steve asked with an exaggerated pout.

"Do you want me to get up, Star-Spangled Man?" you ribbed as you feigned moving out of Bucky's lap. "You can have him all to yourself." Bucky squeezed your waist in warning, holding you down against him. You knew that if you got up now, you'd be exposing everyone to the erection that had been rubbing against your backside all evening. Fortunately, Steve wasn't one to take such a joke very far.

"No, it's fine. I can tell when I've been replaced," he teased, though his smile didn't necessarily reach his eyes. You and Bucky weren't necessarily hiding the fact that you'd started having sex from everyone, but you sure as shit weren't shouting it from the rooftops. There would be far too many 'I told you so's or 'about damn time's for your liking, not to mention everyone asking 'what's the next step?,' so it was something you kept to yourselves. Besides, you both decided that the secret aspect of sneaking around made it so much fucking hotter.

"Good, you're all here," said Tony, breaking through the levity with a serious tone, "since we're all together for once, there's something we need to discuss."

All eyes turned to him. Usually, a serious Tony meant a global-threatening event, but things on the world-saving front had been fairly quiet recently, so you were all curious to see what he had to say.

"As you're no doubt well aware, because most of you aren't complete morons, there are more and more enhanced individuals coming out of the woodwork, and not all of them are identifying as friendlies. I know we've already got a great team here, but Fury thinks we could be better."

"Pretty strong opinion for a man who just sits around watching and talking," Clint offered from his position on the couch next to Nat where he was re-stringing one of his bows.

"Don't disagree, Barton," Tony continued, "but Fury's good graces and government approval are the reason we keep getting to do what we do. He wants us to expand."

"What, open up a West Coast Avengers second location?" Bruce asked with a laugh.

"He wants us to consider taking on some more members," Tony said. "Expand our capabilities. I was able to negotiate it down to one."

"Do we have a say in the matter, or has he already made the choice for us?" Natasha asked warily. Like you, the Avengers were the only real family she'd ever known, and like you, she was highly uncomfortable with the idea of allowing just anyone to join it.

"He's made some... suggestions," Tony said, holding up a stack of thick folders, "but the final decision is ours to make."

"Well, I say we stick with known quantities," Sam offered. "Like Tic-Tac. He proved himself in Berlin."

"Nah, Scott Lang's not a viable option," you interjected thoughtfully. "Maybe as a reserve or something, but not a full-blown member." At Sam's questioning look, you elaborated. "His daughter's young, and he doesn't have custody. He's not going to move across the country and leave her in San Francisco. Not for us, especially after being apart from her while he was in prison."

"Same's going to go for T'Challa," Nat agreed. "His priority is always going to be Wakanda, he won't give that up, nor should we expect him to."

"We could always invite my brother Loki to join us," said Thor with a grin. "He's quite skilled," he paused for a moment to think his statement through. "Though he is completely untrustworthy and could very well try to murder us all, so perhaps not. But what a humorous situation that would have made!" The eye rolls from around the room proved that, no, it would not have made a humorous situation at all.

"I wish Pietro were still here; he would be magnificent. A perfect addition," Wanda said wistfully, and you reached over to squeeze her hand. She'd done so much healing since her brother had died in the crossfire of the battle with Ultron, but you couldn't imagine the lingering pain losing a twin must keep her in. She gave you a grateful look as she returned your squeeze.

"Well, who else do we know that we'd actually trust enough to ask?" Rhodey posited. The ensuing silence spoke volumes.

"Natty, what about your sister?" you suggested. "You think Yelena would be interested? It wouldn't suck to have another trained Widow on the team. Plus, she makes me laugh, which, you know, absolutely crucial Avenger requirement."

Nat looked thoughtful. "I don't know if it would be her thing, but I could reach out; wouldn't hurt to ask. But I wouldn't get our hopes up; she's pretty dedicated to helping all the former Widows right now."

"Swell," said Tony with an eye roll, making a note on a piece of paper inside his folder. "That's one, maybe. But probably not."

"Well, what options did Fury send over?" Rhodey asked him.

Tony began handing out folders to everyone. Each page contained a brief bio of an enhanced individual Fury had vetted and thought might make a good addition to the team. He handed you a folder, then made to hand another to Bucky.

"I'll share with Pocket," he said.

"Of course you will," Tony said with a shake of his head. "You sharing your balls with her, too, Barnes?" You stuck your tongue out at him. "Nice, Pocket. The pinnacle of maturity," Tony muttered as he moved on toward Bruce.

"Not just your balls," you whispered into Bucky's ear, giving his cock a discreet squeeze. He did his best not to moan out loud at your touch.

"You are going to pay for that," he whispered, causing you to laugh.

"Why don't we take a look at these profiles?" Steve interjected with a cough, waving a folder in the air. Everyone began leafing through their packets. The room was silent, save for the shuffling of paper.

"Wait, here's someone we should definitely consider," Bucky said after a long moment, freezing everyone's attention. He held up a sheet of paper with a picture stapled to it.

You leaned over to get a better look and immediately felt an odd sensation deep inside as your eyes focused on the woman in question: Jade Carthage, code-named 'Vixen'. She had long black hair cascading down her back and vibrant emerald green eyes that, in your opinion, looked cold and calculating. She was absolutely stunning.

"Let's see..." you began reading out loud, "she's the only survivor of a secret Hydra super soldier facility. Looks like they gave her a relatively successful version of the serum, but she single-handedly destroyed their base before it could be replicated and defected to S.H.I.E.L.D. Damn; that's really impressive. Enhanced strength, regenerative capabilities, trained in various forms of martial arts..." While reading about her powers and skills, you couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy over your own lack of superhero abilities. It was a gentle though bitter reminder that, though you may be able to play in the Avengers' world, you'd never really be one of them. 

"She seems..." Bucky said, almost reverently, letting the rest of his thought hang in the air. "We should definitely meet her." You weren't sure why, but the tone of his voice left your stomach feeling sour.

"Well, she certainly seems interesting," Tony said, perusing the profile, "but I'm not sure she'd be a good fit for the team; I'm not seeing anything unique she can bring us that we don't already have on tap, and I'd want to know why she was the base's sole survivor. What happened to the rest of the subjects? We'll have to look into her more closely before we consider inviting her."

"I think it would be a mistake not to at least meet her," Bucky said, his gaze still locked on Jade's picture. "You can't just walk out of a Hydra base, especially when they value you as an asset. She's got to be good at what she does."

The others seemed to agree with Bucky's assessment after reviewing Jade's sheet. The general consensus seemed to be in favor of inviting Jade in for a more in-depth interview and meet and greet before making further decisions. You weren't sure how you felt about it, but you kept your discomfort to yourself. After all, she could definitely be an asset to the team if they chose to make her an offer, and if she chose to accept, of course. Those were two big ifs that might amount to nothing.And really, when it came down to it, your opinion didn't matter. You weren't actually an Avenger. You were just... Avenger-adjacent. Shaking your head, you attempted to disperse the negative thought. It was a term you'd used to refer to yourself when you were feeling less than your friends, when you were being hard on yourself. You hadn't used it in a while, and you weren't about to let yourself spiral down the familiar path of self-loathing... at least, not just yet.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM SHREK *  assorted dialogue from the 2001 film, adjust as necessary

what's that? it's hideous!

well, that's not very nice.

some of you may die... but it's a sacrifice i am willing to make.

whoa, look at that! who'd want to live in a place like that?

that would be my home.

you know, you're really quite the decorator. it's amazing what you've done with such a modest budget.

i like that boulder. that is a nice boulder.

man, this would be so much easier if i wasn't color-blind.

we can stay up late, swapping manly stories.

in the morning, i'm making waffles.

where are you going? the exit's over there!

i have to save my ass.

what kind of a knight are you?

for your information, there's a lot more to me than people think.

you know what else everybody likes? parfaits!

you dense, irritating, miniature beast of burden!

parfaits may be the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet.

hey, don't look at me! i didn't invite them!

we were forced to come here.

hey, what's your problem? what do you have against the whole world, anyway?

look, i'm not the one with the problem, okay?

it's the world that seems to have a problem with me.

they judge me before they even know me.

that's why i'm better off alone.

you're a monster!

i'm not the monster here, you are!

now tell me, where are the others?

my patience has reached its end.

all right then! who's hiding them?

two things okay? shut... up.

do you think he's maybe compensating for something?

so where is this fire-breathing pain in the neck, anyway?

i was talking about the dragon.

men of his stature are in short supply.

hey, where are you going? oh man. i can't feel my toes.

i think i need a hug.

doesn't that bother you?

man, i like you. what's your name?

celebrity marriages. they never last, do they?

it's on my to-do list!

you didn't slay the dragon?

that's not the point!

all right, you're going the right way for a smacked bottom.

you're afraid of your own feelings!

i heard the two of you talking!

man, that was annoying.

oh... oh this is all my fault.

you can't do this to me, [name]! i'm too young for you to die!

turn your head and cough!

believe me, if it was me, you'd be dead.

we must be getting close.

why didn't he come to rescue me?

you're not making my job any easier.

you love this woman, don't you?

i don't want to rush into a physical relationship.

you may remove your helmet, good sir knight.

let's just say, i'm not your type.

this is the part where you run away.

does that sound good to you?

you look... uh... different.

it only happens when the sun goes down.

i didn't know you wrote poetry.

only the true love's kiss can break the spell.

i guess you don't, uh... entertain much, do you?

can i stay with you... please?

[pretty-red-garnet]

Pumpkins and Candy

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Commonwealth • Fluff

Happy Halloween!

It was Halloween in the Commonwealth. Your eyes danced between all the different venders handing out treats, each one sweeter than the last. The day was warm, the sun cascading over the large street festival. People crowded the streets, kids in costumes followed by their parents.

You never imagined you'd be celebrating Halloween after the end of the world.

You moved your gaze to instead look at Daryl, sweetly playing and talking with RJ. You begin to smile without even meaning to. The sight was unbelievably adorable, you'd even say domestic. Daryl smiling and tossing an apple on a string for little RJ to catch.

Daryl with the kids was always something you'd watched with great adoration. It seemed kids were just drawn to him, and he never minded. He was so good with them. In fact, it was watching Daryl with little Jude that made you realize you were in love with the man.

It was after Rick died, after you'd known him for about a year. Daryl was gone more often than not then, but he always made sure to be there for his niece and nephew. Always hugging and holding them tight first thing when he arrived back to Alexandria for trading.

Judith was young, and jumped into his arms so fast he almost fell back. He smiled so brightly, so genuinely. Your heart fell to your stomach so fast it made you sick. You were down bad, and it wasn't going away any time soon.

     And now that you and him were neighbors in the same shitty building, you were closer than ever. Having dinner together most nights when he was too tired to cook, watching the kids when he was busy, spending most of your free time together. You were both pretty much attached at the hip. You'd even call him your best friend. He was the one person you knew you could count on for anything.

     "You are so smitten," Carol says, breaking you out of your stupor with a startle. You roll your eyes and giggle a little, although it sounds more awkward and tense than you intended.

     "Am not." Her elbow meets your ribs and she grins at you.

     "Smitten as a kitten." You purse your lips at her to stop your smirk, although it breaks through.

     "You're ridiculous," you say, crossing your arms and turning away from her slightly to return your eyes to Daryl. "Aren't you supposed to be handing out cookies or something? Or do you get paid to bother me?"

     Carol laughs and shakes her head. She watches as you— not so discretely— gawk at Daryl. She lets out a deep sigh.

     "Why don't you just tell him?" She asks.

     "Tell him what?" You retort, playing dumb and not meeting her gaze.

     "That you're in love with him!"

     "Shhh!" Your eyes glance around almost comically, making sure no one hears the woman. "I am not!"

"If you weren't, you wouldn't care if anyone heard." She rises an eyebrow, making you scowl and scoff at her. Carol was the type of person that can always read others. She was always watching, she knew how everyone thought. It was pretty scary.

"I didn't want Daryl to hear!"

"Didn't want me to hear what?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Daryl stands beside you, watching you with a curious expression. Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle to come out with a response, mind totally blank.

"Uh," you mumble. "Nothing." Daryl furrows his brows, regarding you with a look somewhere between concerned and straight up confused.

"I guess the secret is out, Y/N," Carol says, melodramatically with a shrug. "You should just tell him."

Your face blanches, your mouth continues to gasp like a fish. Daryl looks even more confused now, looking between you and Carol.

"That you're cooking Daryl's favorite meal tonight!" Carol says, excitedly. You let out a breath. While now you have to make dinner instead of relaxing at home like you'd planned, at least it was a save. Somewhat.

"You don't gotta do that," Daryl says, looking at you with that adorably concerned expression he always has when someone tries doing anything for him. His brow pinched and teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

"She wants to, Daryl," Carol says, placing her hands on her hips. You look from Daryl to Carol, feeling strange and helpless that Carol was speaking on your behalf with you right there. It was a little nice though, since the near-revelation of your romantic feelings for Daryl was still making your mind swim.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you finally stumble out, awkwardly and with a stutter. "Sorry to spoil it."

"Don't gotta be sorry, I shouldn't have listened in," he says with a shrug and a little half smile that made your heart pound. "We'll go to yours tonight then?"

     "Actually!" Carol buts in again. "I'll take Judith and RJ trick or treating. It could be just you two tonight." Carol's smile is a weird combination of scary and Betty Crocker. She's setting up a date.

     "You sure?" Daryl asks, only to be met with Carol's enthusiastic nod. "Alright, sure. I better get back to the kids." Daryl steps away and once he's out of sight, you immediately wack Carol on the shoulder.

     "What?!" Carol yelps. "You should be thanking me."

     "Thanking you?" You ask, incredulously. "That was so embarrassing."

     "I got you a date, Y/N. Yes, thank me."

Hours later, and dinner is done. Your apartment is warm and humid from the stove, but the delicious smell of seared meat makes the heat bearable. Your stir fry of squirrel meat and rice sit on the counter, awaiting Daryl's visit. You aren't quite sure if the stir fry was Daryl's favorite meal, but he did mention he liked it best of your cooking.

He's a little late. He was supposed to come by yours right after the Halloween masquerade party, but he still hasn't shown. You sit at your table, picking at your fingernails and tapping your foot. Your eyes keep glancing over at your clock on the wall and you sigh at every passing minute.

You know your destress is a little dramatic. You usually wouldn't be this anxious, but Carol's label of a 'date' rattling around in your brain made tonight feel different. Besides, Daryl is a busy man.

He worked all day, he could be tired. Maybe he forgot? Although it did seem out of character for Daryl to just not show up, he wasn't the type to stand people up.

Your worry is quickly cut short by three quick knocks at the door. You smile and quickly make your way to the door, swinging it open.

"Hey," you greet, moving aside for him to enter.

"Hey," he answers, pointing at the little bucket of candy you have beside your door propped up by two pumpkins. There's a little 'take one' sign that you hand painted accompanying it. "I know I ain't a kid, can I have one anyway?"

"Sure, obey the sign," you say, teasingly smiling at him. He scoffs a little, digging his hand in the bowl and pulling out two candies. You gasp, placing a hand on your chest and looking at Daryl with a dramatic expression on your face. "How could you?"

A smirk takes over Daryl's face before he covers it with another scoff, shaking his head. He pushes you aside to enter your warm apartment, immediately pulling at the neck of his long sleeved shirt.

"Ones for you, dumbass," Daryl says before he smacks your shoulder with a candy. You take it immediately to unwrap it and pop it into your mouth. It was your favorite candy that the little shop in the middle of town makes, and it warms your heart that Daryl remembered which is your favorite.

     "Come on, dinners ready." Daryl follows you into the kitchen.

     "Already?" He asks, grabbing his plate that you already made.

     "You're late, Dixon." Daryl grimaces a little, a quiet groan leaving his lips.

     "Sorry, shit went down at the party." You smile and wave your hand in a dismissing manner.

"I'm just teasing you." You and Daryl sit down at your small, round kitchen table. You both eat quietly, Daryl scarfing down his meal like a man starved. Luckily, most are out on the town celebrating Halloween, so the building is quieter than usual. Celebrating. That truly is surreal.

"What're you thinking 'bout?" Daryl asks, having seen the thoughtful look on your face.

"I just never thought I'd ever see Halloween again I guess." You shrug and smile lightly. "I used to love it when I was a kid. Was my favorite."

"Never celebrated it," Daryl mumbles, almost embarrassed. Your eyebrows fly up in surprise.

"No? Not even trick or treating?"

"Nah, no one gave candy. Lotta assholes in my neighborhood," Daryl answers, piling the last bit of rice and meat on his fork. You don't answer and Daryl looks up, shrugging when he sees your saddened expression. "S'fine. Can eat all of Jude and RJ's candy now."

"You've at least carved pumpkins, right?" Daryl looks down, not wanting to sadden you even further with his answer you assume.

You knew Daryl didn't have the best childhood, that his dad was a dick. But you looked back so fondly at Halloween, and it upsets you that Daryl didn't. It made your chest hurt that he didn't have happy memories of dressing up, or getting candy and rushing home to see the goods.

     You look down to your lap for a moment, before getting an idea. You shoot up out of your chair, ignoring Daryl's inquiring gaze. You rush out of your front door and stoop to the ground, grabbing the candy bucket up from the pumpkins and dropping it to the ground. You hoist up the two—rather large— pumpkins before lugging them to the kitchen table, making sure the kick the door shut first.

     Daryl is now awkwardly standing at your table, already having placed your dishes in the sink. He still has that cute, confused look on his face, but when he sees the pumpkins, it dawns on him and his lips quirk up in a smile. You smile back, a huge and bright grin that makes Daryl's face light up even more.

     You're about to grab the knives before another thought hits you, and you jog out of the kitchen to the front door once again. You scoop up the candy bucket, flipping off the light outside your door and bringing that too to the kitchen.

     "Ain't that for the kids?" Daryl asks, jutting his chin towards the candy. He leans against the counter with a teasing twinkle in his eye as he watches you set everything up.

     "Kids are brats anyway, and I paid for it so I can do whatever I want." Daryl laughs at that, just a huff of air escaping his chest. Basically cracking up for Daryl.

     Not five minutes later, both of you are sitting at the table forearm deep in pumpkin guts. The table rattles and shakes with the vigorous scraping of the pumpkin, an attempt to thin the inside of the thick walls.

     Daryl's tongue is sticking out of his mouth in concentration, and you resort by not looking at him because if you do, you're sure you'll pass out from the flip flopping of your stomach. He keeps glancing at you and your pumpkin, his eyes narrow and focused, to confirm he's doing the right thing.

Once both pumpkins are empty and clean, you get a baking sheet ready and begin to separate the pumpkin guts from the seeds. You place them all evenly and sprinkle a good amount of salt on them. All the while, Daryl watches.

     "You like baked pumpkin seeds?"

     "Never had 'em," Daryl responses with a shrug. You pop them in the oven and grab two knives, handing one to Daryl.

     "Now the fun part."

     It doesn't take long for both pumpkins to be carved up, even with the occasional pauses for bites of candy. Daryl is rougher with his knife than you, sticking the knife in and dragging the blade harshly. He does this with great intensity and focus, however, leaning back and moving the pumpkin to look at it from all angles.

     You, on the other hand, are much lighter handed. Precisely moving your knife around the orange vegetable to make it perfect. Your hands trained and careful from years of carving.

     You and Daryl place your carving tools down around the same time. You turn your pumpkin around to show it off, a big grin covering your face. Daryl smiles lightly looking at your jack o lantern, a large toothy grin with big eyes. It looks almost perfect, directly in the middle of the pumpkin with clean cuts. Daryl suddenly looks embarrassed.

     "Mine ain't good," he says lowly, scratching a nonexistent itch at the back of his scalp.

     "I'm sure it's perfect! Turn it around," you assure, persuading him to show you his carved pumpkin. He glances at you for a moment, biting his lip before he concedes and turns his pumpkin around.

     Daryl's jack o lantern isn't as cleanly done. His doesn't look happy like yours, lips placed in a snarl that is a little crooked on one side. The eyes are off center and one is a little bigger than the other. Despite the quirks, it's perfect in your eyes. Almost as adorable as Daryl's bashful expression.

     "It's so cute!" You exclaim, and Daryl shrugs, looking down at his hands tangling together. "I think it's perfect."

     "Whatever you say," Daryl says, a huff of air escapes his lips. He finally looks up from his hands and sees your face, smirking when he does. You frown.

"What?" You ask, self consciously. Daryl shakes his head, smiling even larger at your expression.

"You got a little somethin'," Daryl says, motioning with his finger at his own face. You touch your face briefly, trying to feel what he was motioning to. Before you could get whatever it was off your face, Daryl's fingers replace yours.

     His fingers, calloused by years of hard labor, are surprisingly gentle at getting the mess of your cheek. He wipes off the sticky residue, showing you the stringy pumpkin guts before chucking it at the table. But even after, his fingers slowly and hesitantly return to your cheek, softly caressing the flushed skin.

     It's like he was drawn to you and he can't help it. Two magnets pulled together against either of your wills. You're positive you can't pull away, even if you wanted to. Both stuck in this position, with Daryl slouched in his chair to lean towards you, and you ridged and stick staring at his face.

His face, which you've carefully studied plenty of times, had never seemed so soft. The rugged scar down the center of his eye and cheek at great contrast to his loving expression. He's nibbling at the inside of his cheek, and his eyes cast nervously from your eyes to his hand, which seems to be moving on its own accord.

Before long, you're kissing him. You don't really know who kissed who, just that one second Daryl was staring at you with those pretty blue eyes of his, and the next your lips were on his.

The kitchen table digs into your ribs because of the angle, both you and Daryl leaning forward in your chairs to get to each other. You don't mind, the discomfort barely even registering in your brain. All you can think of is Daryl, and his hand still resting on your cheek and how his lips are chapped, but somehow still soft. How you've been thinking about this for so long, and you can't believe that Daryl is actually kissing you right now.

Unable to take the uncomfortable angle any longer, you stand just slightly without removing your lips from Daryl's. You shuffle closer to him, leaning down and raising your knee to rest on the chair between Daryl's legs. Daryl leans back to accommodate you, and his hand drops from your cheek to grab your waist, pulling your body even closer to his. Your hands meet his shoulders to steady yourself, and you kiss him harder.

     Daryl's fingers tremble, but they slowly slide under your shirt. Your quiet groan is muffled by Daryl's lips, but he heard— or felt— anyway, telling from the smile that curves his lips. You only part for hurried pants of air, before he chases your mouth again. It's a game of push and pull that neither of you want to ever end. It might've never ended, only if you never put those pumpkin seeds in the oven.

     The loud, shrill noise from the oven beeping is a great difference from the quiet passion that was just taking place. You and Daryl startle away from each other. Your hands are still on his shoulders and his fingers still squeeze at your hips, but you're both looking towards the interrupting oven.

     You slowly turn your gaze back to Daryl. He's still looking at the oven, with a anxious look on his flushed face. His hair is messy from your wandering fingers, and his eyebrows are low from what you could only assume is embarrassment. You smile and tap his cheek, and Daryl turns to look at you with uneasy eyes.

     "Ready for those pumpkin seeds?" You ask, smoothing down his hair. His face relaxes at the sweet gesture, like he thought you'd be upset or something for kissing. Daryl can be silly sometimes.

     He nods and returns your smile, and you can't help but place one more hesitant and quick peck to his mouth. He chases you when you pull away, and you giggle. You allow yourself to card your fingers through his wavy hair one last time before you pull away from him completely.

     You pull out your roasted pumpkin seeds and lay the sheet down on the cooling rack. You admire the perfectly done seeds and look back at Daryl to share the feeling. His ears and cheeks are still red, and he has a small bashful grin on his face. Your lips quirk up on their own accord.

     Maybe Daryl didn't have great memories of Halloween to look back on, but you hope you gave him at least one he won't forget.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Are you requests open yet, right?

Can you make something with Fenrys, like, him and reader are mates, and they are trying to get a child for so long, and one day they discover that they are expecting.

(I really liked your writing, and very few people write about him, so I wanted to thank you for this 💕)

Had a blast writing this truly. Thank you for requesting and the kind words, I hope you'll enjoy it. 🤍✨

Little pup

At first, you didn't talk about it. You both were still young and for the most part, had wanted to explore the world together. Just you two. Try new things. See new places. Travel. Indulge in each other's company. And the mating frenzy hit you so hard that you didn't leave your house for over a month. And by then you were convinced that everyone passing by could smell the sex lingering all around.

And yet even in that month, it wasn't about getting pregnant. Fenrys was learning how to please you and you were doing the same. It was the desire to explore that drove you. To bring each other immense pleasure. Till the last breaking point. Till the moment all you could see was stars. Till furniture was breaking. But the thought of conceiving never crossed your mind.

But it's the first time your period is late and you're feeling so weird that Aelin had to drag you to the healer's level. It's the joyful smile on the woman's face when she says, "Oh you might as well be pregnant", that breaks this bubble of cold water over your head. "How exciting would that be? Babies are so rare and to have one ahh...", the healer beams as she ushers you to lay down. You reach for Aelin's hand almost instantly. The nerve suddenly so uneasy in your chest.

And then the healer's face drops and so does your heart. Sadness washes over you and it's like you had lost something you didn't even think you wanted five minutes ago. "You started your circle, darling", she says lowering your skirt down and you just want to crawl into yourself. "Ah, yes", you quickly move to get down the table. Glad your back is to the two women as you quickly wipe your tears. Suddenly feeling so frustrated. You feel Fenrys tugging on the bond yet that only makes your heart ache more so you push him out of your head quickly. Drowsing the bond in complete darkness.

Fenrys comes home way earlier than he should have been there. And you know it's because he would always drop anything for you. High stake leaders waiting for the meeting? Fuck them! His mate needs him so he's leaving and gods save the souls who try to stand in his way.

He knows by the silence that something had happened. Something that upset you. Ticked you over. Then Fenrys smells the blood. Gears turning before he realizes that your cycle had finally shown up but why the sense of sorrow then? This feeling of pain makes him rub his chest as he too tries to soothe the aching.

"My, love", Fenrys shrugs his cloak off carelessly, stepping closer to the bed. You're completely submerged by the furs all over your body. He makes a quick work of pushing them to the side until your wet cheeks come into sight and Fenry's heart drop even more. "Love", he breathes out in worry. But that only makes your tears well up more. A choked-out sob leaves your lips before you move to push away from your mate. That jabs Fenry's heart too.

"Love, if you don't tell me what's going on...", and then this shien of anger washes over you. Painting your cheeks in even more crimson shades. "Talk to you? Talk about what, huh?", you leap at him, fist coming in contact with Fenrys's strong chest.

But then you draw your hands back, looking at them with so much disgust. Fenrys steps in quickly taking your smaller palms into his. Your mind was too chaotic for him to read now. So he had to trust you to let him in on your own time. "What is going on...", you mutter, "You're overwhelmed and your body is full of hormones", even Fenrys frown at his own words but that's the truth in a way. The question still stands though. What caused all of this? "I thought I was...", you breathe through the sobs, "Thought we had...", and then it's full-on sobs, till your legs give out and Fenrys quickly wraps you up in his arms, rocking you from time to time.

There's no way to tell how long you've been crying by the time you're only sniffling. Eyes puffy and red, holding onto Fenrys for dear life. And he had run out of comforting words by then, opting for silence and love that he poured through the bond. You push away from him slightly. Knowing full well that you owe him an explanation. Because he too would have been a part of this if you had been pregnant. Your eyes well up with tears once more as you glance at him and Fenrys is ready to cradle you once more but you stop him. "I saw a healer this morning. She thought that I might...", you swallow the lump in your throat, shoulders sagging, "might be... pregnant". Fenrys's heart jumps up his throat. Suddenly he's almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. Threats. Smells. Sounds. But then nothing. And then just like before it all falls into place.

This. All of this was because you weren't. Because there wasn't a babe growing in your womb. No little Fenrys, or Y/N. And it's almost like another slap to his face because he only now realizes that you never really talked about it. Becoming parents. Growing your family. Being together and having one another was comforting enough. But seeing you like this. "I'm sorry...", you whisper and Fenrys draws his gaze back to you. "What for love? There's nothing to be sorry for", he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

"For not being pregnant", Fenrys frown at your words. And frowns so deep that his eyebrows nearly come together. "Now you take that back", his hands cup your face, "You take that back and never dare to apologize for something like this".

And you know that it comes from his heart because he loves you. Because no matter what you do he will always be there. "What if I can't?", you ask him, biting your lip, "Then we won't have any and that will be more than enough because we would have one another", he's quick to reassure you. And once more from the way his eyes are gleaming you know that he means it. "Come here", he mutters m, bringing you back into his arms, and wrapping it up in the comfort of his warmth. Drowning out the world around you.

All of this leads to a long conversation about children. One that you share late at night, both tangled between the sheets. Let the stars and the moon be the only witnesses of your wishes and dreams. And you both know that's so rare. And something that many couples don't even get close to. Fenrys knows how he and his brother Connall had come pretty late into their parent's lives. But then what a blessing it was to have two babies. Yet the time span was what scared him the most. Not because he was desperate. Don't get him wrong he wanted to see you pregnant. Know that it's his baby growing within you. But he could tell how fragile this topic made you. How you would shiver any time someone brought up the conversation of babies. How you would halt at the sight of younglings running around in the streets. How you forced a smile once Ellide got pregnant and you had brushed away your sad tears saying that it was only happy crying.

And it's only a handful of years later. Many disappointing visits to the healers later that you jolt up in the morning rushing to the bathroom. Fenrys is out of bed just as fast, darting after you and reaching to hold your hair out of your face as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. His hands rub comforting circles over your back. Your skin looks clammy and pale and it makes Fenrys sick to his stomach as well.

Because what if all the sorrows had finally eaten you from within in? What if he had missed something? Overlooked you not eating well, not sleeping enough. Your head drops to the side, and Fenrys quickly turns you over, reaching for the tap before flickering water over your face. If an illness claimed your life... if he would be left alone...it's a selfish thought but one that has been his number one fear ever since he saw you for the very first time.

"I'm fine", you groggily say and Fenrys only huffs, "Fine my ass, you're barely conscious". Those are harsher words than he wishes that thrown your way but he's so worried. So worried his own eyes are blurry. Then he moves up quickly, you tightly pressed to his chest. "Fen, I just need to lay down", but he doesn't listen as he throws the door open. Not caring that he's shirtless, or that you are only wearing one of his shirts. He rushes down the hallway, yet he's still mindful of not shaking you too much.

The healers haven't even finished their morning preparations when he storms in, eyes wild. The healer who had been tending to you for years now jumps up instantly. "I don't know what's happening", Fenrys admits as he lowers you onto the bed. The lady presses her palm onto your forehead before cradling your cheek. "Y/N, what's hurting?", she asks softly but you only shake your head. Her mouth falls into a tight frown and she orders a couple of other healers around, turning to Fenrys so he would tell her what happened.

"When was the last time you ate, girl?", she asks strictly, fingers running over your stomach. "Breakfast", you breathe out, "yesterday". Fenrys growls in frustration. He had returned home late last night, you had already been asleep and so he never even thought about the fact that he didn't ask anyone on his way up if you had been down to eat dinner. The healer shakes her head, "Silly, silly girl. Mirth, bring the lady some light breakfast and a tart", she says even though you turn to protest. "You're with child and this is all stunt you pulled here is because you didn't eat", every sound in the room dies down. Your eyes grow big and for a moment you're sure you just mistaken her words. Surely not... but it's the way Fenrys is looking at the healer with the same surprised eyes that makes you realize that he heard it too.

"Congratulations you two. A strong heartbeat", she carefully presses her palm to your shoulder. Knowing full well that once the information fully settled in Fenrys's brain anyone that would get near the slight swell in your lower stomach would be marked an enemy. The wolf closes the distance between you two. He doesn't yet trust his words so he just leans in pressing his forehead to yours. And now that it's been brought up you do smell slightly different. And the heartbeat. How did he miss the heartbeat? What kind of father will he be if he missed his child growing inside you?

"The best kind", you mutter, "the best kind of father", your hand cups his cheek, and the white wolf instantly nuzzles closer to you. He kisses the side of your head, brushing the tears from your cheeks. "Our baby", he mumbles, pressing his palm to your stomach, "Our little pup", you put your hand over his. And then Fenrys breaks into fits of giggles as he brings you closer into his arms. You too can't help the smile even if the dizziness still lingers. And you suddenly feel complete as if this was all that was missing. Now the picture would be complete. "A father, my beautiful mate will make me a father", he beams, brushing his lips against yours in a messy kiss, but the door swings open as the younger healer walks in with a trey. The laughter stops and Fenrys is snarling at the door, teeth out. Your hands push against his chest softly, "Darling, she means no harm", you reassure him yet his eyes don't leave the poor girl now shaking by the door. "Thought you seen him protective, girl? Welcome to the next stage", the older healer chuckles as she hands you the sweet bun.

[queenendless]

🪶❣️🪽This Bird's Beauty (Keigo Takami/Hawks x Adult!Fem!Reader)🪽❣️🪶

A/N: Testing the waters and getting back to writing BNHA stuff. This time on my recent simping/comfort character.

AU time, already established relationship, tickle fluff, and emotional stuff cause I'm an emotional wreck right now.

Plus I have read a lot of tickle fluff with this man and now I want in on it! There is some in here so I count that!

The past month and so this bird man has been on my mind. And I need new anime husbandos to write for!

PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE STEAL COPY TRANSLATE AND OR REPOST MY FANFIC CONTENT. Rather reblog like and follow please and thnx u.

Another day in Kyushu.

Another busy patrol.

All to attain his long-term goal of heroes having too much free time on their hands.

Worn out, scuffed here and there, and gliding slowly above his hometown, the #2 hero Hawks was heading back to his favorite spot in the city.

A conversation from earlier surfaced in his mind.

“No villain stands a chance against you, Hawks!” One of his sidekicks ego boosted him.

“And no hero for that matter.” His other sidekick remarked.

Hawks chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Endeavor would disagree on that last one. Even the fastest hero alive can't handle the flames so well.”

“And does the fastest youngest hero alive have their eyes set on anyone lately~?”

“I've got my whole life before this young bird settles down in the nest.” That was his ending remark before saluting off to his crew and flying on outta there.

“Still …” He murmured to himself as he took a certain familiar route through the air. “I've already got my sights set on a particular birdie~”

A precious light amongst the seas of blurred smudges.

Saving you on more than one occasion.

Just a regular quirkless person.

Coincidence turned into a kinda sorta reason.

Spotting you between patrols and breaks.

An instant curiosity turned to intrigue.

Walking with you, talking with you about anything besides hero work, getting some fried chicken together.

This new constant of his day-to-day life as the #2 hero of Japan became the one constant he wished to keep hidden from the rest of the world.

One minute you're the breath of fresh air that he gladly partakes in. The next thing he knows, seeing you waving at him one day had his stoic face burning up at how much his heart was racing.

Your genuine gaze, your comforting scent, your infectious laughter —

Razor sharp vision spotted your apartment a mile away as he arrived at the more tranquil suburbs set against the rowdy cityscape.

He could immediately visualize you reading something curled up on your fuzzy soft rug in your bedroom, laying on your tummy as your bare legs crisscrossed in the air, your balcony door cracked open to let in the fresh air.

“All too easy.” He snickered as he sent several of his small feathers to zoom in through the opening.

Your recognition of the tough supple fuzziness that is his feathers stroking your bare soles had you rubbing away those tingling touches only to giggle absentmindedly as those feathers split up to stroke your heels, your topsides, and your arches.

Viewing your smile growing and picking up your melodious giggles through the sound vibrations in the air his feathers received had him relishing in his newfound hobby on top of winding down with you.

“Beautiful, inside and out.”

Your concentration on reading crumbled as you squeaked from those feathers wiggling against your toes, having you roll over and pull your legs to your chest, rubbing your feet together as your narrowed gaze homed in on those feathers floating back to the big bird man perched outside.

“Hey birdy!” Hawks' cheery face and tone had you at a loss between glee and frustration. “I've missed ya!” He was met with a pillow thrown at his face, taking the plush smack, catching it right after. “I take it the feeling’s not mutual?”

“It's been a week.” You stood up and brushed out your wrinkled attire as he hopped down from his perch on the railing before you, his ruffled feathers straightening themselves out. “And the first thing you do is a sneak attack!”

“Well, performing my heroic duties comes first, of course. Didn't stop me from thinking about you, though.” His flattery could only get him so far out of the doghouse, tossing the pillow aside. “And your lovely voice.”

“Can't see why though – EEK~!” The feather tickling your neck had you squealing and smacking your skin for not catching said feather as Hawks snorted in his gloved hand, smirking his ass off.

“Well cause I like everything about you … and you being ticklish is just a bonus.” He laughed as you playfully smacked his arm. “This is the thanks I get for saving you all those times?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot. I owe you my life.” Your sarcastic remark trails off when his tough supple wings draped around you, pulling you flush against him as his pouting lips and downtrodden eyes made you sigh in exasperated admittance. “Okay okay.”

Grabbing both sides of his fluffy collar, you pulled Hawks down enough for you to gently peck his lips. “Seriously … thank you.”

He blushed bright as a rose, grinning all dopey like. He cupped and brushed your cheeks as he returned the kiss tenderly, murmuring between breaks. “How lucky am I to have a gem like you in my life?”

“Flattery will only get you so far, #2.” Your airy remark was short lived as his golden-brown eyes gleamed with mirth.

“And your teasing will just keep getting you this~!”

His wings scribbled against your backside, causing a stream of squeals to come out, sounding so melodious to his own ears.

“No fair!” Your frantic pushing against his chest only drove him to have his feathers strike your nape. “Stahahap!” You felt your feet slip over your forgotten book, leaving it up to Hawks��� quick reflexes to keep you standing as his arms and wings protectively wrapped you up in his fuzzy cocoon, increasing the tingling sensations rubbing every inch of you. “Hahahahahawks!”

“So sensitive.” His faint stubble brushed the side of your neck, grinning against your skin as you squeaked louder. “So squishy~” He swooned, his arms flexing as he squeezed your waistline, wiggling his fingers into your sides plus squeezing them for good measure. “So squeamish!”

“I hahahate you – AAH~!” Him lifting you by your thighs had your arms and legs instinctively hugging his neck and waist.

“That's not what I see here, beautiful~” His smug smirk made you hide your flushed whining face in his neck, feeling the rumbling of his laughter seep through you. “But okay, I'll stop with the tickles … if you help me strip~”

“God you tease.” Your complaint was betrayed by your heartfelt emotion. Gingerly taking off his visor, his amused affectionate eyes watched as you also took off his headphones with slow tepid care, keeping you steady with his hands pressed to you tight.

“Ya know … you can call me by my real name … if you want to, that is.” He mused as he plopped down on your bed and helped you take off his jacket. “Seems only fair since I always call you by yours.” He pried his gloves off with his teeth, tempting you with his actions. “I wanna hear my name coming off your lips~” He purred.

Tenderly setting his removed items down on your nightstand table, you cupped his own cheeks just so you could look him straight in those golden-brown hues. “Keigo.” His eyes lite up right away. “K … Kei.” He audibly gulped as rose red tinted from his ears to his neck for indeed his blushing face spoke volumes of how overjoyed he was. “Can I call you that? Kei?”

He cheekily grinned. “Anything for you, angel.”

You peppered kisses all over his own giggling face. Prying his boots off with help from the heels, Keigo delicately pushed you to lie down on your back, legs intertwined, as some of his feathers tugged the balcony slide door closed before returning to his wings draping you both in their cozy protective warmth.

“I really did miss you, baby bird.”

He froze up as the sounds of sniffles reached his ears. The sight of tears making your e/c eyes shimmer like jewels are as mesmerizing as they are heart wrenching.

“I missed you too, Kei. So much.” His butterfly kisses to your eyes and cheeks were his way to cheer you up and show you just how much he cares for you, smiling as his stubble tickled your sensitive face enough to make you giggle and smile yourself.

“This optimistic guy is just glad to finally be home with his beauty again.” He sighed deeply as you brushed through his unruly messy hair, relaxing and leaning in to your heavenly touch.

Lulled by your caresses, he felt himself falling asleep, whispering as his droopy eyes turned to you.

“Y/n, thank you.” His lazy kiss gets returned by you, having his tired smile still radiating endearment as you both pulled away. “For coming into my life. Letting me be myself around you. Just … everything.”

“I feel the same way, Kei.” You confess as you too felt the embrace of sleep taking you in, using his chest as a pillow, slacking as having him back in your arms made it that much easier to settle down and unwind, straight to sleepy town. “I love you.”

Keigo's heart beats right outta his chest at that confession, admiring your sweet sleeping self, giving your forehead a kiss, curling into you, lulled by your soft breathing as it became his favorite lullaby. “I love you too.”

His wings settled back, pulling away to rest behind him as Keigo pulled you two to lay on your sides, still enraptured in each other, as nighttime swept throughout Kyushu.

For their winged protector took a nice long rest.

With you, his beautiful partner, safe and sound in his arms.

[ezzydantes]

Telling the Monster Trio you're pregnant...

Author's note: Just light fluff and lovings from our Monster Trio after you tell them that you are pregnant.

Luffy

You had spent two years with Luffy while he had trained. You had been the one to pick up the pieces after Ace had been killed at Marineford. Your lover had never really been the same after, hellbent on getting stronger so that he didn't have to lose anyone that he loved ever again. He had vowed that he would not lose what was left of his family.... you.

While the thought made your heart swell with love and adoration, it also began to break because of the trauma you had both endured during it. You had fought alongside Luffy as he tried desperately to save Ace. The both of you finding an inner strength that had been hidden and potentiality that needed to be exploited if you two were to carry on in the New World.

Rayleigh had been a saving grace for you both. Teaching you and Luffy the ins and outs of using Haki as well as building on fighting separately and as a team. However, there was one thing he had not been expecting the last six months of his proposed two year training schedule for you both.

"So you're pregnant?" he quietly asked as Luffy slept with his head on your lap, holding your right hand to his chest.

You simply smiled, knowing you couldn't hide the fact from Rayleigh. He had a sixth sense about EVERYTHING it seemed. "Yes... I haven't told Luffy yet because I am not so sure myself...not like we have a doctor here..."

"I can tell you that you are... and I know that you have a well enough intuition being a woman, that you can tell....", he stated matter of factly.

"I know what you are thinking... a pregnant woman at sea is not meant for the future King of the Pirates..." you scoffed as you raked your fingers through Luffy's hair... ensuring he didn't wake up.

"No... what I am thinking is the two of you will need to consider long and hard what a child would do to this dream of freedom that you have. It will definitely nullify it", the elder man raised his eyebrow at you.

"You think I haven't considered that? That I haven't brought up to Luffy that eventually being together the way we are will result in a child? He's well aware...", you whispered as you started tracing your lover's face before leaning down and kissing his forehead, "You can say what you want, Silver King... we will make our way in this world as we always have... together...ALL of us..."

Rayleigh smiled at this. "Then I will only say this... hold onto each other because there will be a time that will either make you both stronger... or break you...."

"Fair enough... ", you smiled as you leaned against the tree and shut your eyes. Luffy turned to sleep on his side and wrapped his rubber arms around you, nuzzling into your hip as he did so. "Mmmm.. I love you, y/n..."

"I love you too, Lu..." you sighed as you began to drift off to sleep.

The next morning Luffy was already awake, trying to find something for the two of you to eat for breakfast. When he returned he gently shook your curled up form. You had at some point nestled down onto the ground from your sitting position against the tree in the middle of the night, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. "Hey! Sleepy head!" he shouted as he threw the large beast he had caught on the ground in front of you. You moaned at him, "I'm still tired Luffy...."

His hand immediately shot to your forehead. You were never one to sleep in, not in all the years he had known you. "Are you sick? Are you okay?"

"Luffy..", Rayleigh warned. Let her sleep... she's tired."

"But we still have training to do...", the young man pouted as he kept feeling all over your face, trying to find any sign of fever.

"Lu... I'm fine... ", you stated groggily as you sat up, "I'm just really tired today."

"You've been acting differently the last few days...", Luffy hinted, "What's really going on?"

You looked to Rayleigh who merely shrugged his shoulders. "It's your business to tell him... so I think I will simply go this way..." And with that their teacher walked towards the jungle without as much as another word. This caused Luffy's eyebrows to raise. "What's going on?"

"Luffy... you know how I told you that if we kept sleeping together...without taking any precaution that there might be a baby born from it?" you started to explain but was quickly shut up by your lover snatching you up and into his lap as he sat down. "Are you pregnant?"

"Possibly... I won't know for sure until we are somewhere that I can be tested...", you began but Luffy immediately shut you up with a kiss. He clung to you tightly like you were the last bit of breath on this Earth. He relented on his passionate kiss and began peppering kisses all over your face, before resting his lips on your forehead. "I thought that might be the case... and if it's true.. I couldn't be more happier..."

His lips speaking those words against your flesh was mind altering. You couldn't help but blush and embrace him tighter to you, eventually burying your face in his chest. "I was worried..."

"I know this is going to be a BIG step for us... and it's going to change a lot of plans... but I am still going to be King of the Pirates....and you will be Queen... we're going to be free for the rest of our lives and our child... will be happier for it", he whispered into the crown of your head, "I always wanted us to have kids... I can teach them all kinds of things!"

His excitement warmed your heart. You took his face into both of your hands as you looked up at him. "Its not going to be easy...", you began but he quickly shut you up yet again with his finger on your lips.

"I am training to be stronger for you and my crew. That includes our baby... I will NOT lose anymore of the ones I love...", he stated very seriously as he pulled you back into his chest, "You, this baby, our crew... you're the only family I have left and I refuse to lose any of you."

You couldn't help yourself and blamed it on the hormones since you were normally not so emotional, but you began to cry and cry and cry... you had never cried so much in your life. "Thank you, Luffy..."

"No... thank you. I have a kid that will grow up to be an even better pirate than me one day!" he began laughing as he wiped your tears away. You could only shake your head and giggle through the sniffles as you buried your head back into his chest.

Zoro

You and Zoro had been in Wano not even a week before you noticed he was enjoying his time there. In all of your adventures and traveling together, you had never seen him more in his element. He had met master swordsmen and craftsmen and looked like a child who had been introduced to a candy shop with no budget to speak of.

It truly warmed your heart to see your lover in his element. but you knew that something might change his attitude. You had recently visited a doctor during one of the few moments that Zoro had left you alone. He had confirmed what you already knew... you were pregnant. It had to be that time a couple of months ago during your reprieve from the crew on your own. Luffy had granted you and Zoro time alone and you had taken off to an island that you had wanted to visit for a while... Grekko.

It reminded you of your homeland that had been taken by the Celestial Dragons long ago to serve as their own vacation spot. It had the bluest waters, the greatest food (many dishes that were from your homeland), and hanging gardens in the central most part of the island. Zoro had taken you to a resort there with the money that Nami had actually helped him save up. She had even talked down the prices so that you two could enjoy more on the amount she had helped him set aside and more.

The view from your balcony in your suite was breathtaking. You could watch the sun rise, the sunset, and even the full moon. He had planned it perfectly so you could see all three based on your descriptions from childhood. He proclaimed to you that he had loved you since he laid eyes on you at 10 years old. Hence why he asked you to remain by his side after Kuina passed. He had considered you HIS since then. Once Luffy was King of the Pirates, which was just a matter of time, he wanted to marry you. After making love for hours that night, Zoro decided he couldn't wait. He wanted you to be his wife then and there and threatened a priest to perform the ceremony. While the both of you wanted your crew there, it was a special moment. You and he had tried to plan things out accordingly throughout your lives, so the spontaneous idea to wed on the island was new for you both. A mutual decison...

You and he had talked about children but agreed to wait until the right time to start having them.... and this was the most inopportune moment to have one. You guys were setting up to go against Kaido... an Emperor and being pregnant during this time was dangerous.

Your thoughts were keeping you from sleeping and nausea was beginning to set in from the stress of it all. You clawed your way out of your husband's embrace to stumble to the toilet where you barfed your heart out. Zoro had naturally woken up from you tearing yourself away from his embrace, so he came to check on you. He was half asleep and naturally grumpy from the way he had been awoken. "Oi..", he called out as he walked up to the scene in front of him.. the gruffness immediately leaving him as he saw you puking your guts out, "Baby... are you okay?"

He leaned down to hold your hair out of your face and crouched beside you at the toilet. He rubbed your back with his free hand and kept reassuring you that you were fine. "Zoro... I need to tell you something..."

"You're pregnant... ", he deduced as he continued to rub your back, "I figured after Grekko... if I didn't get you pregnant then..."

Your green-haired swordsman chuckled to himself when you looked back at him with shock on your face. "Baby... not to brag but I fucked you into that bed so many times and in the hots springs... as many times as I came inside of you, I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a baby..."

"You're not upset?" you questioned. Timing could not have been worse.

"I've always wanted a child with you.... someone to carry on my name in one sense or the other.... to teach the sword... my greatest dream besides becoming the strongest swordsman in the world is having my kid surpass me...", he stated honestly as he wiped your mouth with a wet cloth he had just procured.

"But our lives... your oath to Luffy...", you began but was quickly silenced by him grabbing your face with both hands.

"Luffy will be happy for us... he may be an idiot but he knows good news when he hears it...", he assured as his thumbs began to gently stroke your cheeks. You couldn't help the tears that came slowly at first, until your husband held you to his chest and then it was an all out bawl fest.

"I love you so much, y/n and our child...", Zoro cooed into your hair as he held you tight to him.

Sanji

"I'm pregnant...", you announced in the kitchen early in the morning before the rest of the crew could interrupt the two of you. Sanji immediately dropped the knife he was using to cut up veggies for the omelets he had planned to make. His cigarette dropped onto the floor as he whirled around with hearts in his eyes.

"Y/N LOVE!!!!!" he screamed as he ran to you and engulfed you in his arms, holding you tight to him, "REALLY?"

"Yes... Chopper confirmed it yesterday but I asked him to keep it secret until I could tell you.... are you happy?" you smiled, knowing damn well your man was over the moon about you carrying his child.

"Y/N!!! ARE YOU KIDDING????" the cook shouted as he began twirling you around in his arms.

"BABE!!!" you shouted, "Don't do that!!! I'm already sick to my stomach..."

Your cook immediately stopped and sat you down in a chair. He began feeling your head with one hand and placing his other on your stomach. "I'm sorry... its just..."

You couldn't help but smile as he began to weep. Black Leg Sanji fell to his knees before his lover and held you close so that his face was next to your womb. "I wanted you to carry my children for so long.... ever since the Baratie when I told Zeff I was going to make you mine..."

You hugged Sanji close to you combing your fingers through his hair as you whispered how much you loved him and how you were his completely even before you were pregnant, which caused the man who had always had a stiff upper lip to fall to pieces in your embrace. Between his sobs and declaration of love and protection for both you and your child, he kept rubbing his head against your womb and kissing it reverently.

"Sanji... Baby...", you cooed as you lifted his head up to look at you, "This is going to be hard.. you made an oath to Luffy...."

The cook quickly stood up, never letting his embrace on you break, keeping you and the newly formed life within you close. "I will never let you or our child get hurt... and neither will our crew..."

"I know..", you gently caressed his face, wiping away any stray tears, "Our child will be protected."

"How far along are you?" he quickly changed the subject, "And why didn't you tell me sooner?"

You laughed at his pouting face. "I wanted to be sure and as I said I wanted Chopper to keep it secret until I could tell you.... "

"You don't even know how happy you've made me, Love", the cook pulled you to his chest and kissed the top of your crown, "You've made me the happiest man in the world..."

"Would you prefer it be a boy or a girl?" you innocently asked. He quickly pulled you from him with his hands still gently, but firmly on your shoulders as he looked you straight in the eye. "Be it boy or girl... I am going to love our baby because its ours... yours and mine."

"Shall we tell the others?" you smiled. He grew serious in the moment and picked you up bridal style. "No... I want you both to myself for just a little while longer."

Sanji began to walk to your shared bedroom and ignored some curious glances from your crew mates.

"Hey Sanji! When are you making lunch?" Luffy called.

"Make your own damn lunch... I'm spending time with my family!" the cook growled as he pushed past Franky.

"Whoa what's with the attitude, Bro?" the cyborg asked.

"Y/n is pregnant! She needs rest and I will need to make her a snack...what are you craving, Baby?" Sanji asked as he continued on his way leaving a stunned Franky in his wake.

You couldn't help but giggle at this. "Well I don't know what Baby is craving... but I would like some cucumbers and carrots... with some ranch? Maybe some pickles... oh and lots of water... I've been craving water like crazy....", you began listing off things.

Once inside the room, Sanji stated he would fulfill of your needs and encouraged you to relax and maybe take a nap. Once he was down getting your snacks together he admitted he didn't mind taking a nap with you.

"But what about the rest of the crew?" you earnestly asked. You felt bad if he didn't fulfill his duties just because he knew you were pregnant.

"They know how to fend for themselves and Luffy can't break the lock on the fridge. It was one special request I put in with Franky while he was building the Sunny...." he stated matter of factly.

"Smart man.... ", you teased as he leaned in for a kiss.

"By the way... I know you need your rest but...", Sanji coyly hinted.

"Of course...I heard it was good for the baby and I am already pregnant so...", you wiggled your eyebrows.

"Oh you're going to be the death of me my Love...", the cook grinned as you entered your shared bedroom, "Don't hold back..."

"Wasn't planning on it", you grinned as you squealed from him gently throwing you on the bed and immediately draping himself over you, shirtless. You laughed at the fact that he was quick to get undressed and even more so to have you the same way.

Hours later you two revealed yourselves and announced the joyous news to the rest of the crew, who already had an idea due to Franky freaking out by Sanji's casual statement. The crew celebrated with a party, which Sanji simply sat with you in the corner of the kitchen, enjoying being cuddled up with you and your growing child. He did not drink because he wanted to make sure he was within his senses to take care of you and the baby during the night. You didn't mind his over protectiveness... knowing it would be part of his demeanor from now on being a father. You simply rolled your eyes and enjoyed his embrace, longing looks, and sweet nothings he kept whispering in your ear. You couldn't help but feel overjoyed at the fact that you couldn't have asked for a better partner and the family that you two shared.

[hellsingmongrel]

I can't help but think about how Vash, after the trauma of having Rem killed when he was so young and then learning to expect the humans he grew to love to grow old and die or be killed in so many myriad ways and even having them betray him for the bounty money or just out of fear, must have developed so many difficulties allowing himself to get close to people.

Abandonment issues SUCK. You want to be close to people, you want to love people and develop connections and have friends and loved ones you can spend time with and be happy with, but you become so sure that anyone you get close to will just end up leaving you for one reason or another, and nothing you do will ever make them stay, so you just...stop trying. Stop letting yourself get attached. Stop letting yourself hope these will still be there or even reach out to bridge the gaps.

You can be friendly and outgoing and happy in the moment, but that's all it is; momentary. So you just let yourself be happy with the little glimpses if friendliness that you get from time to time and never hope for anything more. It's easier that way, you won't get your hopes up, and you're alright being alone, you've always been alone, it's ok. It's ok.

Except it's really not, and sometimes the loneliness just eats away at you, and you wonder why you were so wrong, why you were so bad or broken or a problem, or not made right to live like other people did, and why you have to be so Different that you're best hope is to just be allowed to exist Around other people, not With other people.

It's no wonder he has so much trouble never settling down, or why he only lets himself be happy for small spells between the downward spirals. He wants SO MUCH to be human, just like everyone else, worthy of love and companionship and the kinds of connections everyone else on the planet shares. He just wants to fit in and be loved, and the more his abandonment issues are reinforced, the worse it makes him feel about himself.

And then, he finds the one human who refuses to abandon him, even if he should, even if it means it puts him in danger, even if at first it's just because he HAS to, and maybe Vash feels like someone finally wants him to be around, and makes him feel a little more Human, and like maybe he can finally have a friend. Or a partner. Maybe he can let himself try to be loved.

And then he's Abandoned all over again, except it's not like every other time. It's not because he's not worthy of having someone next to him, and if he just catches up, then he can save him from the things his brother is doing, and he can be happy for a little bit longer! He doesn't have to say good bye all over again so soon, just let him be on time!

But no. It was never going to work out, was it? He should have known better. So much of what's happening has to be his own fault in one way or anotuer, so it's just his fault that this happened, too, wasn't it? It was his own fault for letting himself get his hopes up, anyway. He knew better. He doesn't get to have people who love him. It's his own fault that his world feels like it's breaking all around him while he digs a solitary grave out behind the orphanage. He's a blight on everything around him. Everything he loves ends up leaving him, eventually. He just wishes everyone he gets close to could stop dying in horrible ways. At least the betrayals mean the people will still get to live their own lives, happy and safe, once he's moved on to the next path on his neverending road.

[gffa]

There's an interesting quote from an interview with Tini Howard (one of the two architects of this storyline) that just collided in my head with everything I've been trying to articulate about the bigger arc of this storyline: “It's not really an event about whether or not [Bruce and Selina] can get together. Once you agree that you like someone, you get down to ideology. You can't just love someone because they're beautiful and they stun you. What if you're different people? What if you believe different things? [In] comics, it is like [they] kiss, and they're together.” Howard also emphasized the importance of agreeing to disagree when it comes to interacting with loved ones, both romantic and platonic. “As someone that's been married to my best friend for 15 years, that's not the truth. A big part of being with someone you love is learning to disagree. When you're a superhero and a powerful stakeholder in Gotham, those personal things can have major effects on the world around you.” But what's interesting is that I think it applies to his kids just as much as it does to Selina, because I think this storyline's heart is all about Bruce Wayne's mental state. That's the framework, that's the beginning, and I'm assuming it's going to be the end, too. The story has been set up very clearly about how he's been running through too hard a gauntlet with no rest in between for too long, the opening pages of this event make a very heavy point about how Bruce is already running thin, the establishing storylines before this are ones like Failsafe, Red Mask, Insomnia, etc. I would even argue (and have) that there's a lot of connections going on with other storylines that were about Bruce's relationships with his family that are informing this one--like, the breakup between Bruce and Selina is right there when Selina says, well, if Gotham being saved is all that stands between us, now it's peaceful, let's head to the church then, in pointing out that Bruce doesn't want Gotham saved as much as he needs to be the one saving it. There's so much deeply personal stuff Bruce has been facing and he's always struggled with caring about others and letting them in, not just afraid that he'll lose them again, but that he'll be hurt by them again, that he'll fight with them again. And it's not that he's never clashed with viewpoints, like he and Dick alone have gotten into a whole bunch of knock-down-drag-out fights about how they clash with each other.

But I keep coming back to Bruce's mental state and the ultimate purpose of this storyline, because it's not really about Selina's plan at all, it's always been about Bruce's mind and mental health falling apart in a deeply horrific way and how even his loved ones are being stripped away from him, because he cannot compromise. That one of the core problems with Bruce as a person is that I'm not sure he really learned how to get along with someone that he fundamentally disagrees with--because, when he lost his parents at such a young age, there wasn't time to see them as people he could disagree with, they're forever idealized in his head. With Alfred, they had disagreements, but fundamentally, Alfred saw how much Bruce needed this and Alfred was so often water bending around Bruce's immoveable rock. Dick was one of the biggest challenges, because they did have fundamental disagreements that led to massive fights. Jason and Tim and Damian all have their disagreements with him as well. Which is why I think Jason plays the role in this that he does--why Bruce is suddenly bringing up Jason's murders again, because it's the narrative bringing up that Bruce has been struggling to reconcile fundamentally disagreeing with someone on such an important thing, a core thing about himself, and when this much stress is piled onto him, he breaks and does something truly terrible.

It's why Selina had to be the one to come up with this plan (no matter how silly it might seem, no matter how much it's not really that much sillier than costumed vigilantes fighting crime as a reasonable solution to how to help society), because Bruce doesn't really know how to disagree with her on this fundamental a level and still have a relationship with her. It's why Dick has to be the one that fights him as one of the most central pieces of the story that really makes shit hit the fan, because Bruce has come to depend on Dick (as an adult) to be the one to save him, to pull him back from the darkness, and when it's Dick that "betrays" him, it's a foundational block being taken away from Bruce's stability. It's why Tim and Damian occupy the roles they do in the story, that they both desperately want to help Bruce, but don't know how when Bruce won't let them, that while this story is central to Bruce as a character, these characters also need to struggle with disagreeing with someone and still interact with them--and how to deal with a Bruce who struggles with that.

Watching Bruce struggle with Zur-En-Arrh taking over his mind, watching him struggle with defining himself through his war on crime because it feels like the only thing holding him together, watching him struggle with how much he loves and wants these people, but it's running right up against the thing that's holding him together--it's pretty painful because most of the time, even when he disagrees with someone, he can look the other way (after some asshole behavior) or someone will pull him out of the dark, but here everything just piled up in a major freight train of about seven different things colliding at once and Bruce just does not have enough experience in dealing with disagreeing with people and just learning to live around those disagreements, to be able to handle it when his mind is fracturing and the "pure Batman" part of him is all that's holding him together.

[ciozio]

HAPPINESS AU EDITS !!

Another one of these

BUT WITH MORE WORDS!!!!

Act 4 / Act 5 spoilers

:)

(It's time.)

"Traveling One! Are you done talking with your companions? Yes, wonderful, wonderful!

I'd like to thank you for accompanying young Mirabelle this far. I'm very grateful.

#######, yes? If there's anything I can do to thank you, please don't hesitate to let me know!

I know you will go back on your travels soon, but I do hope you'll keep in touch, if only for young Mirabelle...

But no matter what, know that Dormont will always be open to you! Please co-"

(TELL HER!!!!!)

> "I KNOW ABOUT WISH CRAFT!!!"

"Wish Craft...?

Oh, Wish Craft! Yes, it just so happened that a lot of people in Vaugarde wished for our country to be saved!

I did not think it would work, but if you're here, perhaps it... did...-"

!!!!!!!

"OH.. OH NO... OH NO NO NO-... OH... #######!!..."

(ON CUE!!! HERES THE FREAKOUT!!!! You shouldnt of expected anything less. Worst part of these loops, she doesnt smile!!.. just cries at you.)

“I’m so sorry! There’s no way we can stop it now!”

(But there is. You’re sure she knows it.)

“I’m sorry! You’ll be going back! Back when everything started!”

> “YOU CAN FIX IT… CANT YOU?..”

“I know you thought your-“

(SHUT UP! I GOTTA MAKE LOOP HAPPY HERE!)

> “YOU CAN FIX IT. CANT. YOU?”

“-quest was over, but it can’t be! Somethings broken, somethings failing, rotting!!”

(YOU KNOW!!! HAHA!!! GOOD PERFORMANCE AS USUAL.

BUT YOU WISH YOU CAN HEAR A DIFFERENT SPEECH THAT ISN'T HER WHINING!!)

> “YOU KNOW, I KNOW. WE BOTH KNOW WISH CRAFT!! SO WE CAN FIX IT, YEAH!? STOP THE MISERY!!!”

“. . .”

“Fix it?”

“No. It’s too late, Siffrin.”

(That name..)

“It’s always been too late.”

(What does she mean?)

> “What are you talking about?…

(She laughs.. you don’t like this kind of smile.)

“Haha… oh Siffrin..

Its.. true. All of Vaugarde wished to the Favor Tree, wished for us to be saved.

We wished for a savior.

A way for us to win against the King.

And Wish Craft gave us the means to do it… didn’t it?.. make sure it’d work..?

S…somehow… Wish Craft gave us a savior.. able to use Time Craft.. able to retry.. as many times as it took!…

So you could beat the King!..”

(. . .)

“But.. but something went wrong!… didn’t it??.. something went wrong!…”

“Hahaha… every time!… if you’re here… questioning Wish Craft.. then something must’ve gone wrong!..

I.. I can see it in your expression… Siffrin…

This isn’t the first time you gotten this far… it isn’t, isn’t it!?…

This shouldn’t be.. this shouldn’t be at all!…”

(But…)

“Why does time loop back… even with the King defeated?!?…

Hah.. the only answer I can find…

Is it’s because we did it wrong..”

(W..w……wrong?)

“I don’t know!! I don’t know what happened!…but we MUST’VE done it wrong!!…

NONE of us in Vaugarde knew the exact ritual.. but— but we must’ve done it wrong. It broke. And it doesn’t answer to us at all anymore!..

Haha… or perhaps… s…someone wished for it… wished for our own wish to fail…wished for this !!

Something made the wish break, fail, ROT!!….

O…or…. Maybe the wish can’t come true anymore, somehow!..

Maybe the King wasn’t defeated the right way— it’ll forever remain incomplete.. and Wish Craft, the world, will not abide it!!!

I… I don’t know! I don’t know I don’t know!!!”

(. . .)

(You can’t move.)

(You.. can’t breathe.)

(Just… just smile.)

(You.. don’t understand.)

(You came all this way..to find the answer…)

(The answer to all of this.)

(Why you’re here.. how to break the loop, the loop that Loop wanted broken!…)

(But the wish was…

broken the whole time?…)

(She cannot help you?…)

(You’re… stuck?… forever?…)

“I…if only… if only we fought back against the King instead! If only we didn’t wish for a thing!

If only I knew this would happen.. if I had noticed it sooner… I would never have let people wish at all!!!

…to know you’ll be trapped for all eternity, Siffrin.. I am so sorry!!!

It’s our fault. All of Vaugarde, that you have to suffer like this!!”

(Suffer?… you… you have been making the most of this!…)

(YOU HAVE BEEN MAKING YOUR FRIENDS HAPPY!…)

(But.. now… you can’t make Loop happy…)

(You…)

“…I just hope that one day…”

“You might learn to forgive us!!!!!!!!”