#this request was my kryptonite actually

[halsteadlover]

𝐑𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Pregnant!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: being pregnant isn’t the easiest thing to go through but you always want to be there and support your fiancée during his races no matter what. Charles, however, being his overprotective self can’t help but constantly worry about you.

• Warnings: pregnancy as you might see 😂 and I don’t think anything else, just fluff.

• Word count: 2405.

• A/N: what can I say? I’m such a sucker for worried!dad fics they’re actually my kryptonite so here it is 😭 it didn’t turn out exactly how I wanted but I hope you’ll like this, please let me know what you think and comment, reblog and like if you want and I apologize for any mistake ❤️ I love you all and thank you for you constant support 💕

Being a pregnant woman in the middle of summer heat was far worse than you would’ve ever expected.

As you made your way towards the paddock you tried to ignore the paparazzi who kept trying to get your attention, your mind focused on just trying to stay upright and not faint in the middle of the crowd as your hand kept resting on your belly.

You literally felt like a hot air balloon ready to explode and you had just entered your eighth month. “Bébé!” Charles’ voice caught your attention and a smile appeared on your lips as you saw him run towards you, leaving the engineers he was talking to standing there with a confused look on their faces as soon as he saw you.

He immediately hugged you, taking meticulous care not to press his body against your belly and then wrapping his arm around your waist as he led you away from the crowd towards the garage. Before you could say anything he got you a bottle of water, ordering you without mincing words to drink it.

“Are you okay? You needed to rest chérie, it’s too hot in here and the heat isn’t good for you and the baby,” he began to ramble, one hand caressing your bump.

“Babe I’m fine, I know the heat is unbearable but I can manage to stay here, I want to be with you,” you replied after drinking the water. You placed a hand on his face, stroking his skin and seeing his features visibly relax.

He took the half-drunk bottle from your hands, looking at you intently and scanning your face as if he was looking for some sign of hesitation. “I know baby, you’re both always my lucky charms but I’d rather you not take any risks.”

You fanned yourself with the paper you held between your fingers, feeling your forehead and the rest of your body sweat. “Oh come on Charles what risks are you talking about? I’m surrounded by people if anything happens…” You burst out laughing at the way his face contorted when you said those last words. “Darling, just stay calm okay? The baby and I are both fine. Now just focus on the race, go do your job and kick everyone’s ass.”

Charles cupped his hands over your face, pulling you closer to him and pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. “If anything happens and I mean anything you call me, are we understood? Even if you need me to tie your shoes,” he had whispered, looking intently into your eyes making sure to let you know he wasn’t joking at all.

“Good thing I’m wearing sandals then.”

“Chérie…” .

You rolled your eyes. “Everything will be fine I promise and I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“That’s more like it.” He gave you another kiss. “I want you to be safe. I’ll go now. I love you so much baby.”

“I love you so much more.”

Charles pulled away from you, only to bend down on his knees and rest his hands on your bump before leaving a kiss on it. “And you try to be a good boy and let mommy rest okay? See you later little one, dad loves you.”

Your heart exploded with joy and maybe it was the hormones, but you found yourself putting a hand in front of your mouth to keep yourself from crying there in front of everyone.

You saw Charles walk away to go back to making the final preparations for the race, but not before he turned one last time to look at you and blow you a kiss.

God I love this man.

Charles had always been very protective of you, from the first moments you got together, always being careful to leave you in safe places when you came to the paddock, always shielding you with his body when you were in the middle of a crowd, but ever since you got pregnant his protective instinct went to the roof.

You didn’t complain, even though it could be intense and a little frustrating at times, you loved how he cared so much about you and your baby and you wouldn’t change it for the world. You loved knowing that no matter what he’d always be there to help you and do anything in his power to make you feel better.

Of course, there was no shortage of small arguments when even getting up to go to the bathroom made him alert and fill you with questions about whether you were okay or not.

But that was another story.

Charles was preparing for the race but he couldn’t help but always glance in your direction, reassuring himself when he saw you sitting and engaging conversation with someone.

“Make sure my fiancée is okay and she has everything she needs,” Charles had ordered even though by now everyone knew these words by heart since he’d say them every time you were there.

In the next hour you tried to keep a neutral expression and pretend everything was fine but the heat was really unbearable and even sitting was becoming painful.

The back pain was killing you, as well as tiredness since the previous night you could barely sleep.

You needed some air, suddenly feeling your head spinning, a wave of atrocious heat passing through your body but even getting up from a damned chair was hard. With quite a few difficulties you managed to do it but a particularly intense dizziness forced you to lean against the wall, your vision darkened and nausea gripping your stomach.

“Y/n hey! You okay?” One of the technicians who was passing by asked you, immediately rushing to you. He took your hand, helping hold you up.

You nodded. “I’m fine… I just need some air.”

“Can you walk?”.

You felt too weak and you knew if you tried you’d just faint so you shook your head.

“Okay, take a few deep breaths, you’ll be fine. Do you want me to call for Charles?”.

“No, no, he’d worry to death and the race is about to start, I don’t want him to lose focus.”

“Y/n he’ll have my head on a plate if I don’t tell him.”

“Please… I just need to relax a bit… I’ll be fine soon. I’m just pregnant those things happen unfortunately.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go in the break room there’s a little bed there. Take few steps at the time.”

Charles meanwhile was finishing putting on his racing suit, talking about the latest strategies and praying that some kind of disaster wouldn’t happen although he wouldn’t be surprised if a wheel flew off or the engine even exploded.

His mind couldn’t help but wander to you too, worried about what you were doing since with the coming and going of people he had lost sight of you.

“I’m going to quickly look for Y/n,” Charles announced, no longer able to stay calm without hearing from you.

“Leclerc we’re about to start, for god’s sake!”.

“I’ll be back in a minute I promise!” He exclaimed before running away without even waiting for the answer.

He made his way among the technicians, the various engineers and analysts scanning the various faces and noticing none of them were you. Fear took over him as he noticed you were no longer sitting where he had left you.

His mind started imagining the worst possible scenarios while telling himself to stay calm, since you probably just went to the bathroom or something. However, when he collided with one of the technicians, his worst fears came true.

“Charles finally!”.

But Charles interrupted him, not wanting to know anything that didn’t concern you and his baby. “Where is Y/n? Did you see her?”.

“That’s why I was looking for you. She’s in the break room…-”

Charles’s eyes widened so much they almost popped out of their sockets and before even letting him finish the sentence he immediately run towards the break room. His heart was pounding in his chest, worse than at the start of any race.

“Why the fuck didn’t anyone call me?!”.

When he opened the door, his worried eyes immediately fixed on you, almost going having a heart attack when he saw the doctor next to you intent on taking your blood pressure.

“Y/n baby! Oh God what happened? Are you okay? Is she okay doctor?” Charles rushed over to you, sitting next to you and immediately taking your free hand in his. He alternated his gaze between you and the doctor and only a second passed before he responded even if it seemed to last an eternity.

You widened your eyes, sending a murderous look at the technician who was helping you just before. He shrugged his shoulders, an apologetic look on his face before he walked away.

“Just a slight drop of her blood pressure due to the heat, I advise you to go home to rest and keep yourself hydrated. This heat is not good.”

“Thank you Doctor.” “Thank you.” You and Charles answered at the same time and the doctor nodded at you before packing up his bag and walking out of the room, leaving you and Charles alone.

“Baby what the fuck? Why didn’t you call me?!” Charles snapped. “What happened?”.

“I’m sorry love, I didn’t want to worry you. I’m fine I promise,” you tried to reassure him even if at that moment nothing seemed to be able to calm him down. “I just felt a little dizzy.”

“You gave me a heart attack, fuck. How are you feeling now? The baby?”. He placed a hand on your belly and caressed it, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt his baby kick after a couple of moments.

“Just tired and our baby is fine. But Charles the race is about to start and you shouldn’t be here...”

“I don’t give a fuck about the race, I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he replied. “Do you need to go to the hospital? We can go right now if...-”

You placed both hands on his flushed, hot face, stopping his flow of words as you drew imaginary circles on his skin to calm him. “I’m fine baby, now that I’ve gotten some fresh air I feel better.”

“I can’t leave you here, what if you feel sick again? What if you need something?” He spluttered, his worried eyes still looking at you.

“Nothing will happen love.”

He sighed before wrapping his arms around you though and pulling you into a hug, which you immediately returned. He deeply breathed in the scent of your skin, planting kisses on you cheek meanwhile holding you so tightly as if he was afraid you’d fly away.

When he slightly pulled away, he simulated the gesture you had made not long ago and placed his hands on your cheeks, looking at you with so much love while caressing your skin. “I would die if anything happens to either of you, you know that right? I would never forgive myself if you needed me and I wasn’t here to help you.”

You smiled warmly, leaning into his touch. “I know and we’re both so lucky to have you baby but you have to go now. I promise you’ll find me here when the race ends, but I need you to go, I wouldn’t forgive myself if you stayed here because of me. This is your job, what will you do when the baby is born? You’ll just retire?”.

“Well…”

“Charles Leclerc,” you interrupted in an authoritative tone. “Get your cute ass up and go. I’ll. Be. Fine. Now go baby, you have a race to win.”

Charles remained silent, watching you conflicted about what to do. You softly kissed him. “It’s okay love, go.”

He finally nodded feebly even though he wasn’t remotely convinced of this choice. He didn’t feel like leaving but you were right, he had a job to do.

“Come on, I’ll help you lie down,” he then said after standing up, giving you space and helping you lie down on the bed. He knelt next to you, placing a hand on your hair and caressing you so gently it made your heart explode.

“If you need me…” he whispered.

“…I’ll call you. I know darling,” you continued and then smiled. “I love you so much.”

He gave you a breath-taking smile before leaning towards you and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you much more chérie, you’re… You both are the best gift that life has ever given me I hope you’ll never forget it.”

“Never. Now go kick everyone's ass predestinato.”

Against all his expectations, the race ended in the best possible way, not without some hitches which, however, Charles managed to overcome in the best possible way.

In the garage everyone welcomed him with whistles, shouts of joy and cheers, still teasing him about his radio messages.

“How is Y/n? Has anyone gone to check on her?” He had asked Charles in the middle of the race.

“Focus on the race Leclerc.”

“I can’t if I don’t know if she’s okay.” He retorted in frustration as at that exact moment he took a turn. “Someone fucking answer me! This is my fiancée and my son we’re talking about mon dieu!” He continued when he didn’t get a response right away – and by right away he meant after two seconds – his accent particularly pronounced when he was angry.

“She’s fine Charles, she’s resting. Now focus.”

“I swear if you’re telling me this just to keep me quiet I’ll burn this place down.”

“Check yourself.” There was a moment’s pause in which Charles was left perplexed. “Baby!” He heard your voice in his earphones, his heart almost explodIng with joy. God only knew how much he needed to hear you in that moment. “You’re doing great, I’m so proud of you!”

“Cherie! Are you okay? Did you get some rest?”.

He heard you giggle. “Yes. I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep since I wanted to watch you. But now focus we’ll talk later! I love you.”

“I love you too bébé.”

The race had ended and he won. Charles Leclerc won the Grand Prix but he didn’t care because the best prize he could ever receive was in front of him celebrating with him and cheering him on while tightly hugging him.

Charles Leclerc tag list: @softicecr3eam, @halsteadbrasil

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[yannawayne]

if i bend under the weight + sun bleached flies

synopsis: tim's super! s/o gets hit with kryptonite and gets stuck under a building tags: gn! reader, blood, broken bones, needles, panic attacks part of my dc augu-whumpers series ; requests for this are open!

⋅────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰────⋅

PREVIEW.

"Was that a crash? Damn, that was loud."

"A building collapsed in the far east. Supers is in charge of that area."

"Supers? You there? Status report. What happened?"

“Shit! Shit! Shit! They’ve been hit with Kryptonite. Vitals are unstable! Someone get there now!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Tim cried too, tears mingling with the grime on his face. “I’m sorry, I know, I know, baby. Please! Come on, we have to get up.”

⋅────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰────⋅

You were a super.

A near-indestructible hero with strength beyond measure. People watched in awe as you deflected bullets, halted runaway trains, and shattered barriers that would have left ordinary heroes in ruin.

To them, you were an immovable rock, impervious to life’s storms, a being untouched by doubt or weakness.

You had grown used to this. You were used to being seen as strong, so much so that you rarely had backup on missions. You were often sent out alone, expected to handle every crisis on your own. After all, you were a super. You fought solo, without regret, without asking for assistance. You believed you could bear it all.

But now, you found yourself beneath the skeletal remains of a collapsed building, the wreckage pressing down on you with a force that should have been a mere inconvenience. Dust and debris swirled around you in the dim light filtering through cracks in the rubble. The once-sturdy structure groaned and creaked as if protesting your struggle.

Normally, you would have lifted the wreckage effortlessly, but something was terribly wrong with your powers. Your hands, usually so strong, trembled as they strained against the concrete. You could feel the weight of each individual slab pressing down on you, pinning you to the ground.

Kryptonite, you thought, the realization hitting you with a force almost as crushing as the debris. The last memory you remember is being hit with a green glow.

Whimpering, you took a deep breath, strands of damp hair fell over your eyes, clinging to your sweat-soaked forehead. The burn in your side, a sharp and unfamiliar sting, pierced through the usual numbness. Your breathing came in ragged gasps, each inhale heavy with the smell of dust and despair. You had grown so accustomed to invincibility that pain felt like an unwelcome stranger. The once-mighty walls of your strength seemed to be crumbling, just like the debris around you.

There was a ringing in your ears, a harsh buzz that grew louder. You realized it was your communication link, crackling with urgency. You heaved, your head lolling to the side as you struggled to keep the building aloft. Every muscle screamed in protest, and the once-lightweight concrete now felt like it was made of lead.

"Supers? You there?"

Someone's voice echoed in your ear, Batman you think, steady and calm.

"Where are you? We need some backup here, stat."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. Your eyes drooped, the weight of your exhaustion pulling them down. "S… Sorry. I'm in a situation right now. I can't provide backup. Might actually need some..."

There was a pause, a brief silence that felt like an eternity.

"How serious is your situation? I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can handle it?"

You could hear the detachment in his voice, the cold, clinical tone that expected you to push through just as you always had. There was no urgency, no hint of concern—just an unwavering belief that you would somehow manage.

Belief that a super could hold their own.

You blinked away the growing tears, shifting your position slightly to alleviate the burning in your side. The ringing in your ears had subsided, replaced by the dull roar of your own heartbeat.

"O—okay. I think I can hold on for a bit." Your voice was barely more than a whisper, the words forced out through gritted teeth.

The comm-link clicked off, the abrupt silence leaving you alone with the weight of the world pressing down on you.

You struggled as you lifted the building, feeling the bones in your wrists start to give way under the pressure. A sharp, searing pain shot through your arms as the bones cracked, the sickening sound lost in the groaning of the collapsing structure.

Your palms were now raw and bleeding, cut by the jagged edges of the debris. Warm blood trickled down your arms and you heaved, throat dry.

Tears mingled with the sweat on your face, blurring your vision. You blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand. You had to hold on. You had to keep fighting. The world above depended on it.

Slowly, agonizingly, you managed to lift the building a few inches. It was a minuscule shift, but it was enough to make a difference. The weight shifted slightly, and you could see a small gap forming. With a final, desperate effort, you managed to lift the wreckage high enough to create a gap wide enough for you to fly out.

As you emerged into the open air, you collapsed onto the ground, your breathing ragged and uneven.

For now, at least, you had held on.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"Was that a crash? Damn, that was loud."

"A building collapsed in the far east. Supers is in charge of that area."

"Supers? You there? Status report. What happened?"

“Shit! Shit! Shit! They’ve been hit with kryptonite. Vitals are unstable! Someone get there now!”

There was a cold, icy feeling sinking deep into Tim's bones as he heard the announcement through his earpiece. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat feeling slower and more labored than the last.

He quickly checked his location on his communicator. The display flickered with stark, cold reality—he was indeed the nearest to the scene, but still a grueling 15 minutes away. The distance seemed to stretch into an endless expanse, each second feeling like an eternity.

Without hesitation, he sprinted to his bike, his movements driven by sheer adrenaline. The cold, numbing fear was replaced by a burning urgency as he mounted the bike and roared to life. He maneuvered through traffic with reckless speed, weaving and cutting corners as if each second lost could mean a life.

As he drove, the cold, numbing fear slowly began to ebb away, melting into a fiery, scalding anger.

"Why the fuck weren't there reinforcements?!" he shouted into the earpiece, his voice laced with frustration and desperation. "Did no one think to check the fucking area? Is everyone just sitting around with their heads up their asses?!"

The bike roared beneath him, and his driving became even more reckless. Tim leaned into every turn, the engine's growl mingling with his furious breaths. He spotted a fence ahead, a barrier that seemed to mock his urgency.

Without a second thought, he gunned the throttle, launching the bike into the air. The bike soared, crashing through the fence with a deafening crack. Concrete and debris exploded around him as he slammed into the ground on the other side. The impact jarred his bones and rattled his teeth, but he barely registered the pain.

He tore through the final stretch of the city streets, his bike a blur of metal and fury. The wreckage came into view, a twisted maze of steel and concrete.

Tim skidded to a halt, his heart pounding furiously as he dismounted. He spotted you, hunched over right beside the collapsed rubble, your blood seeping into the grass.

Tim’s heart felt as though it was being torn in two as he saw the state you were in. His rage gave way to the deep, icy fear again as he rushed forward.

With trembling hands, he carefully rolled you onto your back, his gaze sweeping over your injuries.

Your face was ghostly pale, streaked with a grimy mix of dirt and blood. Each shallow, labored breath you took seemed to cut through the air with an echo of a sob. The severity of your injuries was laid bare—cuts and bruises marred your skin, each wound a painful testament to the violence you had endured. Blood pooled around you, a dark, crimson stain against the surrounding debris, making his stomach churn with a sickening nausea.

His eyes fell to your wrists, and he was horrified by the sight of them—clearly broken, twisted at unnatural angles.

He leaned down, his voice softening with a tender, almost broken affection.

“Hi, pretty bird,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Kryptonite,” you rasp out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know, I know,” he whispers back, his voice low and soothing. He reaches into his utility belt, pulling out a syringe with a green needle, filled with a bright, clear liquid. It was an antidote, a precaution he had hoped never to use.

Tim was always prepared for every situation, his mind a labyrinth of strategies and contingencies. One of the many things you loved about him. His meticulous nature meant that nothing was left to chance, and that care extended to you, his lover.

His hand was steady as he moved to insert the needle, but when you thrashed in pain, he realized too late that the entry had been rougher than he intended.

The sharp intake of breath you took, the wince that crossed your face—these were things he had rarely seen, and he realized just how fragile you were in this moment.

Tim had always relied on your metahuman durability, knowing that you could handle whatever force he threw your way, trusting in your strength without a second thought.

Then you screamed and cried, your sobs echoing through the night. The pain was unbearable, a relentless pressure squeezing you from every angle. Tim’s face crumpled in horror and panic, his usually calm demeanor cracking under the weight of your suffering.

He administered the antidote with trembling hands, his movements hurried yet tender. The needle was pulled away with a gentleness that belied his growing panic.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, moving to comfort you. “I didn’t mean for it to hurt. Please, just hold on. I’m right here.”

His hands were unsteady as he brushed the sweat and tears from your face, touch as gentle as he could manage despite his own mounting panic.

Tim was losing his grip. The sight of you, so vulnerable and hurting, was terrifying and so, so, so unfamiliar, driving him to a near hysterical state.

The antidote began to take effect, the green glow from the syringe slowly dissipating as it worked to counteract the kryptonite’s effects. But Tim’s relief was fleeting. The urgency of the situation pressed down on him, and he realized with a jolt that he needed to get you to a safer location.

“Come on, pretty bird, I need to get you up,” he said, his voice quivering with desperation.

Each attempt to lift you was met with new waves of agony, your screams slicing through the air like a jagged blade. Your cries were heart-wrenching, each one a brutal slash against his soul, unraveling him with every tortured note. The dark, red stains seeped into his heart, a reminder of how he was failing you.

Tim cried too, tears mingling with the grime on his face. “I’m sorry, I know, I know, baby. Please! Come on, we have to get up.”

With a desperate heave, he dragged you into his arms. You shuddered violently, your body wracked with ragged, sputtering sobs. Tim's heart squeezed with each gasping breath you took, and then, with a final, shuddering exhale, you fainted, your body going limp against him.

Panic surged through Tim like a tidal wave. His breath came in frantic bursts as he cradled you, trying to stay calm despite the overwhelming fear clawing at him. His hand fumbled for his comm device, his movements erratic and desperate.

He knew he had the skills—both medical and analytical—to assess your situation and manage it. His training had equipped him with the ability to stabilize injuries, evaluate critical conditions, and make quick decisions under pressure. But now, those skills felt useless against the crushing weight of his fear.

“Someone, please!” he screamed into the device, throat raw. "Help me!"

 ༻⊰───⋅

[dark-and-kawaii]

Thank you for writing such good breeding kink. 🫡 This war needs good soldiers like you. Raphael and Haarlep breeding is my actual kryptonite.

Bred By The Incubus & Devil

-Separate Stories-

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader - Raphael x f!Tav/Reader

18+

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: You are so so so welcome!!! Thank you for the love and support you beautiful babe!!! I’m happy to provide!! And because we are both weak when it comes to Raphael & Haarlep breeding I wish to bestow this gift to you!!! xoxo have a beautiful day/night!!! I hope you enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Creampie | Breeding | Lactation | Pregnancy | Possessive

⋆˙⟡♡ Raphael ♡⟡˙⋆

“Mmmm, Raphael?” You whispered, “My devil, I’m achy again.”

Your pregnancy was the result of his desire, his deliberate act of claiming you, breeding you until your form swelled with the successor he sired. The early arrival of your milk, too, unfolded by his command, for he would lavish attention upon you, coaxing the initial droplets into constant flows that ensured your thoughts were filled only with him, marking you unmistakably as his own.

Your hand drifted to one of your hard nipples, your breast so swollen it was already starting to leak. You whimpered quietly to yourself before nudging Raphael softly, “my king~” and he began to stir. You bit your lip while watching him, his hair disheveled, his brows furrowed, he was so beautiful like this, and it was a sight only for your eyes.

You leaned into his warmth, pressing a kiss against his collarbone and then the base of his neck, his scent so thick here. Your hips rocked slightly against his thigh, your heat slickening his leg. 

You knew his cock was already hard, ever since you had given him the crown the thing always seemed to be hard when you were near him. It was like an unspoken instinct for him to fill you up with his seed, to make you round and fat with his child.

“Always such an eager little pup,” he teased, his voice still heavy with sleep. He moved without hurry, his movements precise and practiced as he pulled you on top of him, the way he liked you best.

It wasn't long before he was deep inside of you, filling you completely. You were still a little tight, but with your pregnancy and constant fucking, your body was quickly becoming accustomed to the intrusion.

You rocked back and forth, rolling your hips just the way he liked, the way that drove him absolutely wild. You gasped and moaned, his hand gripping your hips so tight they would certainly bruise later.

“Such an obedient mortal,” he said through gritted teeth.

You whimpered softly, his praise making you gush.

“Do you wish to cum, pup?” He asked, his voice teasingly soft.

You nodded, your hips never stopping their steady rhythm, “Ye-yes my l-love~ b-but my breasts~♡“ you panted and moaned.

He grinned, his smile devilish, “Please articulate your desires with grace. Should your request be presented with courtesy, I may be inclined to fulfill it, little mouse.”

You flushed a deep shade of red, the nickname he gave you only adding to the effect, his words were like fire on your skin, you could never get enough of them.

You took a breath, steadying yourself, before finally speaking, the words falling from your lips in a sweet song, like honey, “I- I wish for you to relieve me, my Archdevil~. I wish for you to taste the fruit of your labor, and drain the nectar from my breasts~.” Your cheeks were a deep red, embarrassed by the things he made you say.

Raphael smiled, he loved the way you submitted to him, the way you obeyed, the way you said what he wanted you to say. You were so perfect, so beautiful, and it was his will that you would remain by his side for eternity, his precious little mouse.

He had chosen you, after all.

He could have anyone, yet he chose you. Such a gift was not one to be taken lightly.

“Very well,” is all he said before you felt his tongue upon you, the flat of it gliding against the swollen skin, before his lips enclosed around the pert little bud. You moaned and writhed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your hips moving erratically. The feeling of instant relief and ecstasy overwhelming you. 

It was a taste Raphael would never grow tired of.

You tasted sweeter than the sweetest wine, better than any of the delicacies the world had to offer. His tongue swirled around your nipple, his mind drifting to the thoughts of impregnating you again after this child was born. Would you let him? You had no choice in the matter, he would take what he pleased, as he was entitled to do.

You were his and his alone.

You were his Queen.

His little mortal.

His precious, precious little mouse.

⋆˙⟡♡ Haarlep ♡⟡˙⋆

With Haarlep now accompanying you in Baldur's Gate, their presence by your side in public spaces became constant. The sight of strangers eyeing you as if you were available incensed them deeply. You belonged to Haarlep, solely theirs, and they were determined to make that clear to everyone in the city. If demonstrating their exclusive claim over you was what it took to deter prying eyes, then that was precisely what Haarlep would do...

Haarlep was relentless. 

“Beg, little dove-" they hiss, hauling your legs up so easily to your chest, “beg to be filled yet again~”

“Hgh~ Haarlep! P-pleeeease~ ♡” you whined, tears rolling down your cheeks. The stretch was always unbearable at first but gods did it feel good once you grew accustomed to it.

The strong grip they had on you was definitely enough to bruise where their fingertips dug into your soft flesh, “Nhh’~ M-more, please~ F-fill me with your thick, hot cum~ ♡ P-please, I need it~ I wan’ it- Hhhngh~"

"They stare at you with such hunger-," his thick thighs heavy on your body, “but their precious savior belongs to an incubus,” Haarlep smirked, “a vile creation that feeds off of her soul and pleasure-“ another snap of their hips, “Would they still stare at you with such preying eyes if they knew what was about to be growing within you I wonder~”

Your eyes widen, a fresh wave of arousal and excitement washing over you. 

"I'll make sure the whole city knows whose precious hole this is," the incubus hissed, a low chuckle in their throat, “that their hero was defiled by a fiend, impregnated by a creature of the Abyss~ How delicious indeed~”

In all truth, there's so much of Haarlep’s cum in you already, that you were probably bloated by now- at least you felt like you were. Haarlep had never been inclined towards gentleness, only on rare occasions… This was not one of those rare moments. This was about their sense of ownership over you, and it had escalated to unprecedented levels… Especially after watching a halfling man eyeing you for far too long for their liking… 

Your little whines are enough to provoke a growl from the creature, sliding their stupidly large cock back into you, their thick body heavy against yours, “You are mine, my little dove~ Solely my hands have the right to claim you in such a manner, only I can elicit those cries of my name from you, hm?"

"M’yours~ All y-yours~" your hands reach out, gripping onto their biceps, trying to hold onto anything, trying to ground yourself.

Your body was shaking, the feeling of your cervix relentlessly fucked made you a whimpering mess, the only word you knew was their name, and even that was a struggle.

Your walls clench and cling to their thick, long cock when they pull back out before pushing in again, much faster, fucking their last load of cum into you again. The ring of cream around their cock and the wet, sloppy sound of their hips meeting yours was a filthy symphony.

Haarlep chuckled darkly, “You will look so radiant while bearing my offspring~"

It was a fantasy of yours, one you had only recently brought up with the creature .

"Hah- ah~ ♡!!” 

It was all so perfect. 

The sloppy sounds of your cunny being destroyed by an incubus, their threat- no, their promise to fill you with their  hot seed until you were swollen with their child- children, your body covered in sweat, tears, and bruises. It was the life you wanted, the life you craved after bringing them back with you.

"I want all the devils of the nine hells and all the mortals in this realm to know just who you belong to!”

They noticed how your eyes fluttered back at the mere idea of bearing their child. It was a fresh fantasy Haarlep harbored and was eager to realize… 

And so they did.

Again.

And again.

Three children later, your beauty and suitability for the incubus remained as impeccable as when they first made you theirs. Your abdomen, once again enlarged with another child they had sown within you, didn't diminish your allure.

Haarlep, with a smile at the vision of your curved abdomen, declared, “I will ensure that you always remember who reigns over you~”

[fandoms-x-reader]

Youngest Sibling! MC

Requested By: @loidwho

Headcannons

Summary: The brothers' reactions to MC who is the youngest in their family and it shows. The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 1,218

The rules that Lucifer has set in place for his younger brothers applied to you as well.

Lucifer was strict but at the end of the day, he loved his brothers more than anything.

He’ll find the charm you have of being a younger sibling very adorable.

He’s beyond ecstatic when he finds that even though you’re the youngest in your family, you have a good sense of responsibility and maturity.

He’s never had to nag you or reprimand you the way he’s had to for his brothers and he’ll often use you as a role model.

He’ll tell his other brothers that they should act more like you.

“Just because you’re my younger brothers doesn’t mean you have to act like children - just look at Y/N.”

Lucifer will wear the same stern facade in public, but when it was just the two of you alone together, you had a way of melting it.

He would give you everything you ever wanted if meant seeing your smile as often as he wanted.

Mammon may put on the tough guy act, but he is a total sucker for his younger brothers.

Yes, he steals from them from time to time.

And yes, he does attempt to charge them a fee whenever they ask for his help.

But, underneath that facade, Mammon dotes on them. 

So, you are like his kryptonite.

He finds you indescribably adorable.

You know the perfect way to get him to bend his knee to your wants without even trying.

Mammon would see how the others would want to spoil you and so, of course, he had to keep up with the competition.

Debt be damned, Mammon will try and get you whatever he thought you might want, even if it was something you had never asked for before.

He thinks your smile and gratitude when you receive a gift from him is so sweet that he just can’t help himself.

Levi isn’t the best at picking up on social cues.

So, he probably won’t pick up on the fact that you’re the youngest in your family unless you tell him outright.

But, once he does find this fact out about you, it’s very obvious to him.

You never expected anything from anyone and yet they all spoiled you.

When you agree to play games with Levi, he is more than excited.

His brothers are always fighting for your attention so when you agree to spend your night hanging out with Levi, it feels like a victory for him.

Though he has a hard time when the two of you are actually alone together.

He thinks you’re so sweet and adorable that he’ll have a hard time focusing on any of the games that the two of you play together.

His hands will be shaky and a bit sweaty and his cheeks will constantly be flushed.

But, even if you noticed, you’ve never once called him out for acting so nervous around you and he loved you all the more for it.

Satan was able to figure out that you were the youngest in your family almost instantly after meeting you.

And yet it was so clear to him that you were the youngest sibling.

They were small details that he picked up on.

You weren’t overly spoiled and you didn’t act as if they needed to treat you a certain way.

Satan is another one who will attempt to steal you away from his brothers, claiming that reading was more important than his other brothers’ plans for you.

But in reality, it was all an excuse to try and spend as much alone time with you as possible.

He thought your personality was charming and adorable and he wanted to see if he could elicit the happy smile that you always gave everyone else.

Satan didn’t tend to overly spoil Belphie as some of the others did, but for you, he would gladly give up the world.

You were like a precious gem that he wanted to protect. Someone he wanted to always keep happy no matter the cost.

Asmo is another one who will completely fawn over you.

Asmo tends to think Belphie can do no wrong just because he’s the youngest of the brothers.

And he would act the same way with you.

Oh, you hid Luke from Lucifer in Beel’s bedroom? You were just trying to help him out because of how sweet you are!

You knew about Belphie being locked up and didn’t tell anyone? You were just trying to protect them all.

Asmo will come to your defense until he’s blue in the face because you’re way too cute to do anything wrong.

He will also spoil you rotten.

Asmo will make sure you get to experience all of them.

Asmo knows the best of the best that the Devildom has to offer.

From makeup products to clothes to food to the best hangout places. 

You were way too special to only receive mundane things from his other brothers, so he will make sure you have the time of your life while you’re down there in the Devildom.

Beel will do more than just dote on you. You would be his best friend. 

You are such a sweetheart and it immediately draws him in.

There’s something about your doe eyes and innocence that drives him crazy.

Beel could tell that you were the youngest in your family based on the way you acted.

He was the closest with Belphie and often observed how he acted so he was able to see the similarities between the two of you.

Beel had an easy time connecting with you, wanting to take you everywhere with him.

He had a huge amount of pride whenever he saw you cheering him on at his Fangol games and can’t help the large smile that breaks out on his face whenever you offer him a snack.

Beel knew that you were constantly being offered things - everyone wanted to hand you things and never have you lift a finger.

So, when you went out of your way to make sure that Beel had a snack, he was more than appreciative. 

When Beel dotes on you, it’s different from his other brothers.

Instead of doing anything and everything for you, Beel focuses on doing a couple of things here and there that are really meaningful instead.

You may think that you and Belphie would get along the best because of the fact that you were both the youngest siblings in your families

But that was not the case at first.

Belphie could tell that you were the youngest of his family from some of the things you said and did.

But the biggest indicator was the way his family doted on you in the same way they doted on him. 

Belphie would definitely compete with you at first to see who was the better younger sibling. 

But once that gets old, he realized how much damage the two of you could do together.

You were a duo that would be impossible to say no to which meant that you would get anything and everything you would want.

And after that realization comes to light, the two of you would be inseparable. 

If Belphie wanted to skip school to nap the two of you would find a way to convince Lucifer and it almost always worked as long as you didn't do it too often.

If you wanted a rare item from Akuzon, you would work together to convince Mammon or Levi to get it.

Asmo has no defense against you... It didn't matter what you were asking for.

And you even found a way to melt Satan's heart.

You two would be a power duo.

[berryhobii]

One Margarita(pjm x reader)

Pairing: Park Jimin x black!female!reader

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), mentions of brunch, mentions of drinking alcoholic beverages, drunk antics, Jimin being a sweetheart, reader being a giggly and clingy drunk, reader also being a horny drunk, implied foreplay but I don’t write it out, on the side sex(reader lays on their side but Jimin doesn’t, hopefully I explained the position good enough hehe), missionary, doggy style, clit play, rough sex, drunk sex, a little dirty talk, Jimin’s stroke game is A+, both implied multiple orgasms and actual orgasms, implied oral(f receiving), choking with both hands, scratching, reader is dick drunk and Jimin is pussy drunk, reader trying to run from the dick but Jimin doesn’t allow it😆, bad TikTok references and I’m not sorry

A/N: And we’re back! Welcome back! I know I’ve been away for a while but I recently closed on a townhouse and I’ve been moving these past few weeks but I’m finally settled! It’s been crazy but now that I’m back, I’ll be doing regular postings again. I wrote this after seeing a Jimin edit with that One Margarita by That Chick Angel on TikTok. I just couldn’t not write about it. As for reader, I did describe them as brown skinned with love handles and saggy/droopy breasts because we’re out there! Not every breast is perky and that’s okay! They’re all beautiful! I also gave reader locs because I’ve been so many gorgeous black women really embracing them lately and I love that. Another thing, my requests are open for both BTS and Seventeen members. I’ve been rewatching both group’s In the Soop seasons and I’ve been having the best time. Both Yoongi and Woozi have been wrecking me lately. And I may or may not have a Rockstar!threesome fic planned with them😆😆I mean, long haired boyfriends that you can dress the same? Yes please. Anyway, enjoy this and thanks for reading

~

Jimin knew the moment he heard your silly giggles and the crash of the shoe rack that you were drunk off your ass.

This was a common occurrence on certain Sundays when you went out to brunch with your friends. You didn’t really like to drink but margaritas were your kryptonite, those frozen and fruity concoctions just did something for you. A few of those and your inhibitions were flying south for the winter.

Closing his book with a sigh, he stood to his feet to go and greet you at the door.

You were leaned over at the waist, one hand on the wall and the other trying to unlace the strings off your heels. How all of the shoes had gotten all over the floor was a mystery to him but he’d worry about that later.

“Baby.”

You turned your head, locs falling into your face and sticking to your lip gloss. A goofy smile spread across your face at the sight of your husband standing there, your vision slightly blurry from both your hair and the alcohol in your system.

Dropping your foot, you tried to stand to your feet but gravity was a bitch so you stumbled to the ground. Jimin immediately surged forward to help you.

Giggles erupted from you as you leaned into your dependable husband, your hands landing on his buff biceps. Mmm, he was so strong….

Placing your chin on his chest to lovingly gaze up at him, you wrapped your arms around his torso. “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii my sweet baby love muffin cake. What are….*hic*….you doing here?”

He couldn’t fight down his smile, expression full of endearment for you. God, he loved you so much. Even drunk you was adorable.

“I live here?”

Another fit of giggles. “So do I!!”

“Alright, let’s get you out of these clothes and some water.” He leaned down a little to grab your thighs and haul you up. You let out a noise as he lifted you, your arms wrapping around his neck and legs sticking straight out.

“Whoa! I am married sir.” You slurred, laying your head on his shoulder, eyelids drooping. Even while drunk and unaware, Jimin’s presence calmed you. Like your body just knew you were in safe hands and could finally relax.

He just rolled his eyes and began his walk your shared bedroom.

Gently placing you on the bed, he tried to stand but your arms locked him in your embrace. Your glossed lips left sticky kisses across his neck and jawline.

He could tell where this was going. You always got super horny after brunch. Not that he hated it, quite the contrary. Drunk sex was absolutely amazing with you—you just got so submissive and pliable. Whiny too which he secretly loved.

While he really wanted to flip you over and fuck you until you were sober, he knew he had to get you situated first.

“Baby, let me go. I have to get you out of these clothes.”

You whispered, “Please do.” Releasing him, he rolled his neck, relieving a bit of the tension from bending over in that position.

“I’m readyyyyyyy.” You opened your legs in a V shape, smacking your ankles together in an attempt to be sexy but Jimin just thought you were funny.

He walked over to your dresser to pick out something for you to wear. A muu-muu would be the easiest to slip on you in your jelly like state, he thought.

When he turned back around, he found you trying to get your pants off while your legs were still in the air.

“Let me help.” He gently said, starting to untie your heels from around your legs. You were being surprisingly docile while he did this. Probably because you were about ready to pass out.

After he got your shoes off, he grabbed both sides of your pants to pull them off your legs.

You giggled again. “Do you know how many margaritas it would take for me to open my legs?”

How could he know that? But he’d play along. “No. How many?”

You motioned for him to lean closer to you which he did. “None.”

You decided to drop your legs at this moment, revealing your panties and fat cunt to him. Your lips had all but swallowed up the fabric, juices soaking them.

He could feel his cock jump at the sight. How were you already that wet?

Focus, Jimin! Get her dressed and get her water.

Shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts of fucking you into the mattress, he reached down to undo the buttons of your blouse next, trying to ignore the bedroom eyes you were sending him as he did so. You barely helped him actually get the shirt off, your arms trying to pull him back down to kiss you again. Sliding an arm under your back, he lifted you up so that he could slip your shirt off of you. Thankfully, you weren’t wearing a bra, just boob tape holding them up. Good thing he’s watched you take it off so he knew what to do.

20 minutes later and Jimin had managed to get you into the bathroom to clean off your makeup, remove the boob tape, and get you into your muu-muu before getting you back into the bed.

Now he could give you the attention you so desperately needed.

On your side, leg thrown over his shoulder and his weight pushing down on you, his cock was stretching out your begging cunt.

The alcohol in your system was only making your pleasure feel ever more powerful, waves of buzzing euphoria flowing over your body.

“Hmmmm, yeah baby….just like thaaaaatttt…” You moaned, one of your arms wrapped around Jimin’s shoulders and hand tangled in his soft hair.

Both of his fists were on either side of you, holding himself up, hips trying to push his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy. He was weak. Weak for you. He thought he would be able to make it, maybe get you to take a nap and let you sober up a little before you had sex. But you weren’t having it. All he did was turn his back to grab your bonnet and you were pulling your panties to the side, giving him an unhindered view of your leaking folds. How could he not latch his lips around your clit and make you scream? It was impossible. You were impossible but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now both of you were 2 orgasms in and ready to burst.

His cock was touching the deepest parts of you, the head almost touching your cervix and the veins rubbing up against your most sensitive spots. Your arousal soaked walls hugging his cock and pushing him to the brink of madness. You were like an angel sent just for him, everything about you perfect in his eyes. He was obsessed with you in the best of ways.

And god, your pussy was like his own slice of heaven.

That feeling began to build in your tummy once again, another orgasm just inches from you.

You tossed your head back against the pillows, fingers gripping Jimin’s nape to pull him closer to you. His hot breath fanned over your face, plump lips dropped open to let gasps and groans pass.

“I fucking love this cock….you’re so deep.”

“Yeah? You like this cock, baby?”

You nodded your head, eyes shut in ecstasy as you focused on your impending orgasm. Your whole body felt floaty. Jimin’s cock was scrambling your already buzzed brain, his heated skin against yours relaxing your bones even further.

Jimin ran his lips up your sweaty throat, your brown skin smelling like Thank U, Next, your favorite perfume nowadays. “Touch yourself.” He whispered against your skin.

You shakily reached down to press two fingers against your neglected nub. Your toes curled, the stimulation propelling you right to the edge.

“That’s it. Faster. Make yourself cum.” He sat up on his haunches, using his hand to push his hair back out of his face. A simple movement he did often but in this situation, it made him look ten times sexier. Sweat dripped down his bare chest, abs flexing and muscles in his arms shifting around. Fuck, you wanted to bite him.

He grabbed the leg that was over his shoulder, pressing a few kisses to your calf before pulling your hips up so that he could really start pounding into you.

The feeling of his cock bullying your walls paired with your fingers on your clit and you were about ready to ascend.

Jimin almost thought he was dreaming. You just looked so ethereal while locked in pleasure. Your glowing skin, bouncing breasts, eyes rolling and mouth dropped open to let calls of his name out. Fuck, you were breathtaking. His eyes went down to where you were connected, your cunt leaving his cock coated in a shiny sheen. You were practically dripping, your arousal dripping down between your ass cheeks and staining the sheets.

He dropped your leg to lean down over your body, hands moving to both sides of your head. You adjusted yourself to be fully on your back which allowed his cock to reach even deeper, your legs wrapping around his waist.

His strokes were long and deep, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

“Kiss me….please baby.” You begged, puckering your lips. He happily obliged, pressing sloppy pecks to your waiting pout. “M’gunna cummmm, cumming baby. Harder.” You were breathless, lungs struggling to pull oxygen into your body. Jimin invaded your senses—his scent, his body heat, the feeling of his affection and intimacy. You felt so good under him, in his embrace and covered by his love.

Wrapping both of his hands around your throat, he began driving his cock in and out of your dripping pussy. Your hands gripped at his arms, running your nails down the skin and leaving red streaks in its wake. Your throat burned from the scream you let out, head lifting to get a look at where he was entering you. Just the sight of his cock moving in and out, covered in your arousal and the creamy ring around the base, was enough to propel you right off the edge.

His own resolve was starting to crumble. Your pussy just felt too good. Pulling his lip between his teeth, he hissed, “shit, you feel so good…love this pussy.” He was pushing his hips harder and harder into you, the backs of your thighs starting to burn from from the constant contact.

It felt like he was shaking your thoughts loose. You weren’t drunk on mimosas anymore, now you’re drunk on your man’s dick. If you could bottle and drink this feeling, they’d have to admit you to a rehab.

Back arching, your orgasm full body absorbed you. Your vision blurred, waves of endless pleasure cascading over you and sending you straight to the King. Your hands went to his waist, digging your nails into the skin there. He hissed at the sting but it only made his cock throb.

You hadn’t even come down before Jimin was flipping your weak body over, pulling your hips up so you were in doggy style. You let out a breath now that you could breathe. His hands gripped your love handles, using them to yank you back on his cock.

With this position, you could feel every ridge and inch of him, the head of his cock pushing into your abused soft spot.

Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, your eyes rolling back and hands practically ripping the pillow under you.

Jimin gritted his teeth as your walls constricted around him, trying to milk him for everything he was worth.

“Bout to cum. Fuck, bout to fill this pussy up.”

Pleasure sparked down his back as you gushed around him, more wetness leaking from you and soaking the backs of your thighs and his cock.

With a few more thrusts, he was pulling your ass back until he was buried all the way in your cunt, shooting his cum into your pulsing pussy. His orgasm was enough to make you cum again, your hips jumping trying to run from him but his hands held you still.

He leaned down until his chest was pressed into your back. “Stop running. Take it.” He grunted in your ear and you wondered if you could marry someone again while already being married to them.

After a few minutes of resting, Jimin sluggishly lifted himself from your back, lifting his hand to push his sweaty hair back. Now both of you would need a nice, long bath.

“Baby? Are you okay?” He noticed you’ve yet to move, not even a groan from him resting on your back like you normally did. He tapped your shoulder, still no movement.

Then he moved your locs that had covered your face to the side, finding your relaxed and resting face. You had fallen asleep. Of course.

He sighed, tapping you again. “Baby, get up. You should get cleaned up.” Still nothing.

Later after you woke up from a long nap, you found Jimin in the kitchen making a late lunch. The first thing you noticed were the red streaks across his back and arms. Wow, you didn’t even remember doing that.

You approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder.

“Finally awake? How do you feel?”

You shrugged. “Fine. A little sore but nothing I can’t handle.”

He hummed and you two stood in silence for a moment before he broke it.

“How many drinks did you have?”

5 margaritas. That’s how many it took.

[bowandcurtsey]

Hi! Just saw your requests open post and squealed. Could I please get headcanons of Fuegoleon falling in love with an extremely beautiful woman and how he goes about courting her?

Hi sweetie!! Thank you for waiting so long (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

I hope you're still here and get to read this request! Hope 2024 would be filled with nothing but amazing things <3

My last piece of work in 2023 hehe! Here's some gentleman Fue for you Anony!

Characters: Furgoleon Vermillion x f! reader tw: unchecked works

When he first saw you, he was so mesmerised by your beauty that he started blushing.

Fuegoleon, the captain of the crimson lion was usually an eloquent man. But he started to stutter around you and found himself not being sure of what to say.

He actually thought of many ways to talk to you a little more but he couldn't think right at that moment.

When you both parted way, Fue found himself thinking about you all the time. He just couldn't shake you out of his head. He was mentally slapping himself so many times in the day everytime he thought about how awkward he was when he first met you.

He had to come up with an excuse to meet you again. He just had to.

And guess what? he organised an entire event for the village you stayed in, just so that he could see you again.

Did he have any plans when he met you again? no.

So he arranged a charity event in your village (and a few other villages as well for cover up of course), and he was there in person every single day.

And when he met you again, he goes tripping over his tongue again. It's like you're his kryptonite and his brain malfunctions when you meet.

Thank the heavens you spoke to him a little, else he'd won't get over himself again that night. You volunteered to help out at the charity event and of course he agreed without any hesitation.

In the next few days, he would bring you breakfast or some snacks, or water - anything that could increase his chance of coming to interact with you.

Slowly he would start to make more casual small talks and ask a little more personal questions.

As he interacted with you, he fell harder in love, not only because of your physical features, but also your inner beauty. Every time you laughed, he found himself smiling as well.

On the fifth and last day of the village charity event, fue found himself in low spirits. He thought about extending the event, but as a magic knight, he knew that there were other villages waiting on the help too. He had to move on to the next village tomorrow.

He brought you a small little bouquet of flowers. "as thanks to helping us out" he spoke in a low and quiet voice, but internally he was freaking out.

The smile on your face was everything to him. He would never forget the sparkle in your eyes and the rosy tint on your cheeks. But what you said next was even more unforgettable.

Because it would be the start of everything you had with Fue.

"would you guys need an extra helping hand in the other villages? I would love to volunteer"

WELL WELL WELL

it is safe to say he almost jumped in joy at that moment. But he had to maintain his composure else he'd risk looking like a total dork in front of you.

Now he would find himself having lunch with you daily. Bringing you water, breakfast and snacks are just the norm now.

Some days he'd even ferry you to and fro the village so you wouldn't even need to travel yourself. Because it's "the least I should do!"

Every week when you ended the charity event with a village, he brings you a brand new bouquet of flowers "as thanks" and they get bigger and bigger in size.

You guys chat about more personal things and share more stories now. He's starting to get comfy with you.

By now, the entire Crimson Lion knows that Fue is trying to court you. The dissing he gets from Leo and Mereo is UNIMAGINABLE. Soon, mimosa and kirsch knows about it too and they tease him about it as well. Poor Fue.

But nothing is going to stop his determination of courting you.

How could you resist a fine, charming man like Fue anyway? You knew you were starting to catch feelings as well.

Fue is not the time to spend lavish amount of money on you during the courting stage. He believes the best way to show his sincerity is through his actions.

Chivalry is Fue's middle name, so do expect a lot of opening doors, pulling out chairs, lending you a hand on simple tasks, helping you hold your dresses, etc.

After ALL the charity event at the different village (which spread across 6 weeks in total), Fue finally mustered up the courage to ask you out for dinner. The rest was history.

[hischierdevils]

Uh-Oh Pt 2 | J.H.

note: I wrote this and re-wrote this at least three times. I’m still not happy with it but you guys have been waiting so here you go :)

summary: the highly requested part two to Uh-Oh. You can read part one here. 

warnings: explicit content, semi-public sex & unprotected sex

wc: 3.2K

Jack drops you off at your apartment the next morning like he said he would. When he leans in to kiss you goodbye, you turn your head giving him your cheek. “Y/n, don’t be like this.” He pouts as you reach for the door handle. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Jack.” Your heart is heavy as you say it but you know you need to. “I’m tired of the back and forth.” 

“I told you from the beginning that we couldn’t be anything more.” His voice cracks as he watches you but you refuse to look him in the eye. 

“I know you did.” You confirm as your eyes sting with unshed tears. “I know i’m the one who fucked up and caught feelings but I can’t keep sleeping with you and pretending I don’t want more.” 

“Y/n…” 

You shake your head as he reaches for you and his hands stop in mid air. “Please, don’t.” He always convinces you to come back to his bed. He’s your kryptonite and you know you’ll give in again if he touches you. 

“So, what? We’re done?” It surprises you how quickly his voice turns to anger. “You’re going to fuck other guys now?” 

“Haven’t I been free to fuck other guys this whole time?” You question his logic. He told you from the beginning that it was just sex between the two of you, that you weren’t exclusive. 

Jack practically growls. “Have you?” 

Shaking your head, you finally open the car door. “Goodbye, Jack.” It feels final as you walk away from him and you hold your tears in until you make it to your room. 

Feel your eyes watchin' me So I'm movin' on him just so you can see Told you I was gonna get you right back Oh, you don't really like that?

Avoiding Jack is easy considering he left for a nine day road trip the day after you told him you were done. He’s texted you a couple times but you’ve deleted the messages before you could read them. Your friends try to distract you, taking turns keeping you occupied so you don’t have time to think about Jack.

He calls you the day he lands back in New Jersey but you send him to voicemail, not wanting to hear his voice. He then texts you, offering you tickets to his home game that night. You almost reply before your friend takes your phone. Your friends decide to take you to your favorite club for a girls night, telling you that you need to get back out there. 

You sit in a booth sipping on your drink as you constantly check the score of the game. Jack played well, getting two goals and an assist but the Devils ultimately lost in overtime. You smile to yourself, knowing that Jack likes to go home alone after a loss and lick his wounds. If they had won, you would’ve been questioning all night if he had taken another girl home. 

“Y/n, that guy has been eyeing you all night.” Your friend gets your attention a little while later, tilting her head toward the tall blonde man on the dance floor that keeps glancing over at you. 

“He’s not my type.” You shrug, turning your attention back to your drink. You grudgingly joined your friends on the dance floor but have yet to actually start dancing. 

“Oh my god! Is that-” One of your other friends nudges your shoulder and points toward the door. You look up in time just to see Jack Hughes make his way inside. He’s still wearing his game day suit with a hat backwards on his head and you know he came straight from the Prudential Center. 

“What the hell is he doing here?” You panic as you turn around to look at your friends. “He usually goes home…” 

“It looks like he’s looking for someone.” One of your friends tells you as she watches Jack out of the corner of her eye. 

Another friend pushes you toward the blonde man. “Go dance! Look happy!” 

You stumble into the man, who puts his hand on your waist to steady you. “Hey, I'm Eric.” 

“Y/n.” You respond nervously. “Mind if I dance with you?” 

“I’ve been waiting for you all night.” He gives you a look that makes your stomach turn sour but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway and begin to sway your hips. You can feel the moment Jack finally lays his eyes on you, his gaze practically burning a hole in your back. 

Eric spins you around, pressing your ass into his front. You make eye contact with Jack as you grind on Eric and the anger on his face is unmistakable. He stands with his arms crossed over his chest and watches as you put on a show for him, showing him exactly what he’s missing. 

I'm yours again when you walk away You know if you leave, I ain't gonna stay When I'm doin' good, you get me off track And I guess I kinda like that 

Eric, unaware that he’s being used as a pawn in this chess game between you and Jack, gets into the dance and begins trying to kiss your neck. You try to push him away but Jack is already shaking his head and walking away. 

Letting him go is what you should do, it’s the smart decision, but you find yourself pushing through the crowd to follow him anyway. Eric calls out your name as you get further away from him. Jack never looks back to see if you’re following him but he doesn’t have to, he knows you are. 

“Are you having fun?” Jack asks as he wraps his hand around your elbow and pulls you into the private bathroom with him. 

“How did you know where I was?” You cross your arms over your chest as he locks the door. 

“Snap map.” He responds easily. “Who was that?” He’s still angry but you can tell he’s fighting a smirk by the way he keeps biting his lip. 

Your friends told you to block him on everything, you should’ve listened. Being this close to him after not seeing him for almost two weeks has your brain going hazy. His hair is still wet from his post-game shower underneath his backward hats and he looks so good you can’t help but want to taste him. 

You lick your lips before responding, “Eric.” 

Jack steps closer to you, the warmth of his body enveloping you as you hold his gaze. “Is Eric why you’ve been ignoring me?” 

You roll your eyes at him. “I told you we were done, Jack.”

He brings his hand up to your face, gently running his fingers over your lips. “Tell me to leave right now and I will.” He says. “You’ll never hear from me again.” Your eyes widen in surprise as you look at him for any sign that he’s bluffing. Could he really disappear from your life so easily? Did you want him to?

“Jack, I-”

“Say it, y/n.” He presses your back into the wall as he keeps his hand on your face, the other falling to your hip. His eyes stay on your lips as he waits for you to speak. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want-” You can’t think straight as he looks down at you. You’re so intoxicated by him that you’d do anything he asked you to right now. “I want you to kiss me.” 

He crashes his lips on yours before you fully get the sentence out, as if he’s trying to devour your mouth. You hungrily push back, not realizing how much you missed the taste of him until now. The bristles of his scruff scratch against your soft cheek as he holds your face firmly, as if to keep you from escaping. Your tongues battle for dominance, both craving more from each other. 

Your hands make quick work of finding his belt and undoing it before his mouth moves to your neck. “Needy girl aren’t you?” He grins against your skin as you undo his pants next. 

“You're the one that’s needy, Jack.” Your voice is breathy as you finally get your hand around his already hard cock. 

He thrusts into your hand as he continues his assault on your neck, sucking enough to leave marks but then kissing the sensitive skin. “What are you going to do about it?” 

There’s a desperation in his voice that you haven’t heard before and you push at his chest so he’s forced to take a step back. He worries for a moment that he said the wrong thing before you drop to your knees in front of him and take his eager member in both of your hands. 

“Y/n…” You put him in your mouth before he can finish speaking, not wanting to hear whatever he has to say. “Fuck.” His hands cup the back of your head as you bob up and down on him, circling his dick with your tongue. “Forgot how good you are at this.” The sounds he makes cause wetness to pool at your core and you eagerly pump him with your hands as you lick his tip. 

You moan as he starts fucking your mouth, holding your head steady as he thrusts into you. He tugs at your hair and you wonder if you can orgasm without him actually touching you. The loud music on the other side of the door is hopefully covering the string of curse words that fall from Jack’s lips as you let him use your mouth. 

“Stand up baby.” He says suddenly as he pulls out of your mouth. He helps you to your feet and then spins you around so you’re facing the wall. “It’s been too long since I've felt you.” He says as he lifts your dress over your hips. He pulls your panties down your legs and you step out of them before he places them in his pocket. 

“Jack, please.” You beg as you arch your back, pressing your ass into his erection. 

“Please what?” You can’t see his face but you know that he’s smiling. He runs a finger over your folds before pressing on your clit. You jump in surprise before pressing down against his hand. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” 

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head from the pleasure as he rubs your clit. “I want you to fuck me.” He moves his hand away and you want to cry from the loss of contact. “Please.”

“I don’t have a condom.” He sighs from behind you as he starts touching you again. 

“I don’t care.” You moan as you press your upper body against the wall so he can have better access to you. “I just want you inside of me.” 

That’s all the encouragement he needs before he’s lining himself up and pushing into you. “Fuck baby you’re so wet.” He groans as he holds your hips tightly and kisses the back of your head. He gives you a moment to get used to the size of him before he starts thrusting into you. 

“Oh my god, yes.” You moan as he slaps your ass and you grip the wall as best you can. 

“Who made you this wet baby?” He asks as he wraps an arm around your chest and pulls you closer to him. “Hmm?”

“You.” You gasp as you feel yourself getting close to the edge. “You did.” 

He kisses the side of your head as he continues to fuck you against the wall. “That’s right baby, I did.” He reaches his other hand around and begins rubbing your clit. “Who’s pussy is this?” 

“Yours.” Your voice is breathy and you’re barely capable of forming a coherent thought as he brings you closer and closer to pure bliss. 

He removes his hand from your clit just as you’re about to climax and you groan in frustration. “Who’s?” He prompts again, not liking your first answer. 

‘Yours, Jack.” His hand returns as he picks up his pace and it’s just what you need to send you over the edge. “Fuck.” 

Jack continues with his movements as you ride out your high, groaning as you clench around him. Once he’s sure you’re finished, he pulls out of you and continues pumping himself with his hand. “Gonna cum.” He warns you as you turn around to face him. 

You drop to your knees again as you pull your dress down and pull him into your mouth. You look up as you swirl your tongue around him and once you make eye contact with him, you feel his warm cum coat the back of your throat. 

When he’s finished he steps back and fixes his pants. You stand and straighten your dress out as he tightens his belt. You watch him quietly, not sure what to say or do now that the tension has evaporated. When he looks at you and notices the hesitant look on your face, he pulls you into him. “C’mere.” He envelopes you in a hug, pulling you close to his chest as he kisses your forehead. 

You said, "Can we leave now?" I don't think we should Through the back door  That won't end good Then I'll follow you out Hope nobody looks

You break apart when someone pounds on the door, telling you to hurry up. Jack laughs as he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go home.” 

You’re not even sure what that means but you find yourself shaking your head. This isn’t going to end well and if you have to say goodbye to him one more time you know it will break you. “But Eric…” 

“Fuck, Eric.” Jack growls as he holds your hand and pulls you toward the door. “You’re my girl and I’m taking you home.” 

He’s said the words before when he was balls deep inside of you, but they hit differently now as he opens the bathroom door to a hallway full of angry patrons. You want to ask him what he means but he’s pulling you down the hallway before you can ask. You get a glimpse of your friends before Jack is pulling you out a side door to the street.

You’re both quiet as he drives to his apartment building but he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. He runs his right hand up and down your thigh squeezing occasionally at red lights. “Why did you come looking for me?” You finally ask, the silence becoming more than you can bear. “You normally want to be alone after a loss…”

“You watched the game?” He glances over at you in surprise. 

“Yeah, on my phone.” You realize what a hypocrite that makes you and chuckle to yourself. “I’m just continually hurting myself, aren’t I?” 

“What? No, y/n.” Jack shakes his head as he lifts his hand up to hold yours. “All I wanted after we lost tonight was you.”

Your heart squeezes as the oxygen suddenly gets sucked out of the car. “You need to stop saying things like that.” You warn as he pulls up in front of his building. He’s already gotten what he usually wants from you, he doesn’t need to manipulate your emotions anymore.

“We need to talk.” He says as the two of you get out of the car and Jack hands his keys to the valet before leading you inside. He holds your hand in the elevator as you quietly try to organize your thoughts. Did he track you down at the club just so he could be the one to end things? Would he really be that cruel?

“I’ll get you some clothes.” Jack tells you once you’re both in his apartment. He disappears into his bedroom and comes back out a few minutes later wearing sweats and a hoodie. He hands you some sweatpants and a t-shirt to change into. 

“Thank you.” You smile at him awkwardly, not wanting to change in front of him even though you just let him fuck you in a public bathroom. 

“No problem.” He smiles nervously at you. “Uh, you can change in my room.” You nod before walking into his room and quickly changing out of your tight dress to his comfy clothes. The suit he was wearing is carefully laid out on his bed and you realize this is the first time you’ve come over and haven’t gone straight to his bedroom. You didn’t always sleep with him, sometimes he called you to just come over and cuddle. Those nights fucked you up more than anything. 

He’s sitting on the couch when you come out of his room and he gives you a sheepish smile as you sit down beside him. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but then shuts it quickly. “Jack, you don’t have to do this.” You tell him as he tries to figure out what to say. “I can just go.”

“No!” He reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can even stand up. “I don’t want you to go.” 

You tilt your head to look at him, trying to figure out what he means. “Jack you’re the one that said-”

“I know what I said, okay? I was stupid.” He sighs and adjusts the hat on his head as he searches for the right words. “I know I told you we couldn’t be more but it wasn’t because I didn’t care about you.” He plays with your fingers as he talks and you lean into him, encouraging him to keep going. “I’m a professional athlete, y/n. My schedule sucks. I’m at the rink or on roadies all of the time. It wasn’t fair to put you through all that and make you wait for me. Not to mention all the hate you’ll get just for being seen with me.” 

He finally makes eye contact with you but your heart is pounding so loud in your ears you’re not sure if you heard him correctly. “What are you trying to say, Jack?” 

“You didn’t talk to me for nine days and I was losing my mind. My game was shit and I didn’t even care. All I could think about was you.” He admits. “When we lost tonight, the only thing I could think about was coming home and cuddling with you.”

“Jack…” You move closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. “I told you I had feelings for you months ago.” 

“I know.” He presses his forehead against yours. “And I know it wasn’t fair to keep calling you after you were honest with me.” He pulls back to look into your eyes. “I’m in love with you, y/n. I don’t want to go another day without you.” 

Your heart is so full it’s threatening to burst as you tilt your head to kiss him. “I love you too, Jack.” He smiles and holds you tightly in his arms. 

“You think we should try this relationship thing out?” 

You laugh and kiss the tip of his nose. “I think we can figure it out together.”

[suzukiblu]

i am literally for real obsessed with your timberkon pink kryptonite fic so i definitely would love to see another sneak peek, but i'm also loving all the superfam stuff you're putting out!!! something that i wish you would write because i love your works (and have since the darcy lewis stucky days) and i think you would do amazing things with the pairing is jaytim, but i know thats not everyones cup of tea

(i realize now that you were probably aiming for an ask rather than a reply so here it is in your inbox too hskdhsh)

Thank you! ❤️ And oh, asks and replies were both fine for this, no worries. I try to just specify in-post whenever I have a preference but it's not gonna bother me either way.

I DO like JayTim to read, but I've never really felt a particular bug to write it myself? At least not yet, anyway, that may one day change. Though I miiiiight still put Kon in the middle because I am who I am and all, haha.

I'm planning to update the pink K fic on AO3 tomorrow, though I'm pretty sure I've already posted enough of chapter two in excerpts on Tumblr to have posted basically all of it by now and I'm trying to avoid doing that with chapter three, sooooo instead please accept the beginning of this very niche Superfam omegaverse pack dynamics AU instead. I've been looking for an excuse to post this whole big long thing anyway, lol.

Read-more for length, 'cuz there's kind of a lot here, haha.

.

The representative from the wet nurse agency shows up fifteen minutes early with an unusual-seeming omega who can't be a day over nineteen, being generous. Bruce makes a note to look into the agency's hiring practices a little more closely. The current situation is something of an emergency, unfortunately, and he's only had time to run the intermediate-level background checks so far.

Maybe this isn't the prospective wet nurse, he halfheartedly hopes, and they're just another representative; one who's in training or just here as backup. The kid smells like milk, though, and also why the hell would the agency send out an omega representative? Omegas are typically secretaries and clerks and almost all do in-office jobs, where they're "protected" from the outside world.

The practice is stupid and demeaning and borderline abhorrent, but it's a step up from the days when an omega couldn't get any job that wasn't as a nanny or a sex worker or some fucked-up combination of the two. Clark being an actual reporter is something that was practically unheard of two lousy generations back, and even now Clark is still an unusual exception in his field. Typically, an omega writing for a newspaper would be doing gossip or advice or something domestic, not investigative journalism.

So no, there's no way that this particular omega is anything but a wet nurse candidate, unusual-seeming and concerningly young or not. And Bruce had insisted on the candidate coming to meet them in person, even when the agency had very unsubtly implied that it would be better to just have the milk delivered.

Bruce is absolutely looking into this agency's hiring practices. An omega this age should barely be presented. One who's already allegedly producing enough milk to be a viable wet nurse for what they're requesting . . .

It's concerning, yes.

"Master Bruce, the representative from the Waterton Agency and her associate," Alfred introduces politely, gesturing between Bruce and their guests. He doesn't look or smell disapproving, even in the mildest notes, but Bruce knows he is.

Of course he is, with an omega who might be being either abused or taken advantage of or outright trafficked in the manor.

Bruce should've run a better background check.

"Hello, Alpha Wayne. My name is Ellen Travers," the agency representative greets tightly as Bruce steps into the parlor. She's a harried-looking blonde beta with graying hair who looks very unhappy to be here and is doing a very bad job of hiding the nervous dissatisfaction in her scent.

She doesn't introduce the omega.

Bruce puts on his stupid "Brucie" grin and strides right up to Travers, sticking a hand out to shake. She puts on a weak attempt at a polite smile in return and takes it.

"Hello there, Beta Travers, thanks so much for coming out here on such short notice!" Bruce greets her with a lie of cheerfulness, but Travers continues to smell nervous and upset and her smile is no less forced. And the omega . . .

The kid smells downright sullen, which is not a typical scent to catch off an unfamiliar presented omega and doesn't do anything to make him seem any older.

And yes, he's definitely unusual. He's much taller than Travers–about Bruce's own height, in fact–and has a very broad build and a surprising amount of muscle on him on top of that. Bruce knows full-grown alphas who'd kill to be built like this kid. He's also much more "handsome" than "beautiful", and frankly couldn't look less like the kind of sweet and pretty little things the agency had advertised on their website if he tried, much less the soft and maternal type Bruce had been expecting to actually have show up, given the specific requests he'd made.

Well, it does make sense. Bruce obviously wasn't going to provide the agency with either a Kryptonian genetic profile or a Kryptonian pup's exact dietary needs in search of a suitable wet nurse, but the nutrient requests that they'd made would likely necessitate an omega of a similar build to Clark's to supply–hell, the kid even resembles him a bit, funnily enough. They've already had four agencies tell them that they simply didn't have an appropriate candidate on staff, and the milk samples they'd been able to provide hadn't proven very helpful.

Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, but Martha had at least had the advantage of having a pack bond with him. A packmate's milk always does miles better by a pup than a stranger's or any kind of formula ever could.

Though she'd had some very odd cravings while nursing him, she'd told them. And Clark had still grown up underfed, even with formula and yellow sunlight to supplement–the Fortress had observed marked evidence of childhood malnutrition in him, he'd said.

Occasionally Bruce wonders what a properly-nursed Kryptonian raised under a yellow sun from infancy would've actually turned out like.

The thought is . . . well. A thought.

A thought that still makes him leery of how Jon Kent might grow up, sometimes.

Those concerns aside, though, the really unusual thing about this omega isn't either his physique or his face. Bruce is perfectly used to omegas with "nontraditional" looks after knowing Clark and Diana this long, to say nothing of various other Justice League members or other superheroes and villains he's known, or of both raising and reuniting with Jason. But this omega isn't as demurely dressed as mild-mannered Clark Kent would be; he's wearing opaque sunglasses and an alpha-cut studded leather jacket and alpha-style jeans and an inconveniently inaccessible plain black T-shirt with no sign of a nursing bra underneath it, nothing soft or appealing in either his clothes or his posture. If anything, he looks aggressive; tense and guarded and ready to start some shit. Even Jason usually puts up a temporary illusion of traditional omega mannerisms when he's meeting strangers as a civilian, if only so he'll be underestimated. This kid isn't even pretending to make the attempt.

And the kid smells completely and undeniably stray, too. Bruce can't catch a single note of packscent coming off him. Not even the scent of whatever pup got him milked up enough to qualify for this job. Unbred omegas sometimes lactate in heat or when under stress or if someone in their pack either has or adopts a pup, but a stray who doesn't smell particularly distressed or anything like he's on his cycle shouldn't be producing any milk at all.

At least not without using the kind of stimulants that Bruce explicitly forbade when filling out the agency application, anyway. Those medications are necessary for some omegas, obviously, but in this situation . . .

Kryptonian pups don't respond well to getting anything like that in their milk, they've already very thoroughly learned.

The omega also has spiked stainless steel piercings in his ears, snake bites under his mouth, and two curved barbells in his left eyebrow. All his other jewelry is heavy alpha-styled rings and bracelets, and his nails are painted a chipped black. And he is, notably, not wearing any kind of collar or necklace, and his neck is completely unmarked.

Bruce is in no way oblivious to the obvious message that an uncollared and unbitten omega's neck presents when left so obviously bared. Especially on a stray one who's dressed like an alpha and standing like he's expecting a fight.

He cannot imagine why this kid is working as a wet nurse.

None of the theories that come to mind bode particularly well, though.

"This omega is our most fitting candidate for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, her smile turning increasingly forced. Bruce thinks he can safely translate that expression as that of a beta who did not in any way agree with that assessment but was stuck following orders. "She fulfills all of your nutritional requests, including the necessary iron content and the prioritized fats and proteins, and, of course, is not taking any manner of lactation-inducing stimulants or supplements."

"He," the omega corrects, sounding dubious. Travers's mouth tightens. Bruce knows a lot of old-school traditionalists who won't call a male omega "he" or a female alpha "she", no matter what said omega or alpha's preferences happen to be, and makes another note about looking into this agency more thoroughly.

Much more thoroughly.

"She isn't available for direct nursing, unfortunately, but her milk is a perfect match to your requests and she produces both excellently and reliably; her supply will be more than enough for your needs," Travers continues as if the omega hadn't spoken, and the omega's lip curls in obvious annoyance as he rolls his eyes with no attempt to hide his exasperation even in the presence of an unfamiliar alpha.

Bruce thinks of Jason with a brief pang, and pushes the thought aside. It's not the time.

Maybe he could've asked Jason for help with this, if he'd been a better father. A better alpha. A better . . .

But he wasn't, so now there's an annoyed stranger standing in his parlor instead of a content packmate curled up in their nest.

"Really?" he asks, tilting his head and blinking down at Travers with a deliberately surprised expression. "The consultant made it sound like you'd need multiple donors, for the amount we're asking."

If one goddamn barely-presented kid is actually producing enough milk to even half-feed a Kryptonian pup . . .

"This omega produces sufficient quantities for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers replies with another forced smile. She must know how ridiculous a statement that is, when she's talking about a stray kid and not a fully mature omega with at least a couple of litters under their belt who's well-established in a stable pack, but she says it with conviction all the same.

"Oh, good!" Bruce says brightly, because he's supposed to be a stupid knotheaded playboy who wouldn't know a damn thing about nursing either way. "That'll be convenient, then."

Frankly, he only wishes one omega could produce what they need right now, but requesting that much milk from one agency for just one pup would be immediately flagged as suspicious, and definitely turned down outright. They're still looking for other candidates under false names, but at the rate they're going, they're going to need to keep supplementing with formula, which already hasn't been going well.

If Clark could get milked up himself, this wouldn't be a problem, of course. A Kryptonian omega could easily produce more than enough for one Kryptonian pup, especially under a yellow sun. Clark nursed Jon without a problem for years and was actually overproducing when he was, Bruce knows very well.

Unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Not since . . .

Clark would never forgive himself if something like that happened again.

Never.

And Kara and Karen are both alphas, and Jon's a beta and only ten anyway, and the only other living Kryptonians they know of are either remorseless criminals imprisoned in the Phantom Zone or the sickly little pup who's slowly wasting away upstairs.

Formula and concentrated yellow sunlight haven't been enough. Clark can't get milked up anymore. They haven't been able to synthesize any appropriate supplements either in the Fortress or in working with the Justice League or STAR Labs or even in collaborating between them.

And the pup is just getting weaker, and quieter, and sicker.

A human wet nurse probably won't even help that much, at this point, but . . .

Well, it's the best chance they have to keep the pup alive until they can synthesize something. Maybe the only chance, now.

"We strive to provide to our clients' convenience, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, and the omega rolls his eyes again. Bruce is less and less convinced of him being an adult in any way but the presentation of his pheromones.

It's rude to address an unfamiliar unpacked omega directly, especially as an alpha. Technically Travers is chaperoning them in a professional situation, though, and Bruce has increasing suspicions about this omega's personal standards so far as "manners" go anyway.

And everyone knows Brucie Wayne is stupid and shameless, of course.

So he flashes the kid a grin, and he says, "Well, it's great to meet you, we appreciate you making the trip! What's your name, Mr. . . .?"

The kid blinks at him, clearly surprised both to be spoken to and to be called "Mr." instead of "Miss" or "Ms." or even "Omega". Travers looks absolutely scandalized.

Bruce really doesn't approve of the kind of traditionalists who won't introduce an omega or use their stated pronouns, though, so fuck if he cares.

"Her name is Carly, Alpha Wayne!" Travers interjects quickly, her tone a little bit too bright to be genuine. "Short for Caroline."

"Just Carl," the kid corrects, shaking his head. Travers's mouth tightens again. It's not a very typical omega name, so no surprise.

It occurs to Bruce to wonder if Carl might be a trans alpha, which he probably should've thought to wonder as soon as he saw how he was dressed and got an impression of his personality. Obviously the kid's at least not currently on HRT if he's working as a wet nurse, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of him being transgender all the same.

Actually, affording gender-affirming care is definitely a reason that a kid like this one would be working this job, especially if said kid's family weren't supporting them. Wet nurses make more money than most other fields that omegas without a diploma can expect to get into, at least short of sex work, and Carl is very obviously too young to have graduated college yet.

Actually, Bruce still isn't even sure if he's old enough to have graduated high school yet.

He's going to burn down this whole damn agency if they're knowingly employing a minor as a wet nurse.

"Nice to meet you, Carl," he says easily. Carl's eyes narrow consideringly, and then he folds his arms and smirks, crooked and casual.

"Sure," he says. "Nice to meet you too, Wayne."

Travers looks agonized. The last non-alpha stranger who called Bruce "Wayne" instead of "Alpha Wayne" was a beta terrorist who was in the middle of kidnapping him, and he's not sure any omega who wasn't an active supervillain ever has, so he's not surprised by her reaction.

Carl is still watching him with the same cocky smirk, though, an obvious challenge in the expression and his posture both. Bruce puts another point towards the possibility of him being a trans alpha, though he's not stupid enough to actually ask if he is, especially not in front of someone the kid works under. Presentation aside, Carl might not be out, and Travers is currently at least professionally following traditional manners, so Bruce doesn't have much hope for this agency being all that progressive and doesn't want to accidentally get the kid fired.

Though if Carl is a minor, Bruce is going to have to see if he can't slip him a business card and find him another job. Especially if he's going to be burning down the agency he's working for.

"Why aren't you available for direct nursing, if you don't mind me asking?" he asks in a curious tone, because he still can't smell a pup on the kid and most wet nurses who aren't nursing their own pups do direct nursing, and he wants intel about the agency's typical practices. Carl shrugs.

"Stubborn tits," he replies, pushing his chest out as he gestures at himself with no apparent sense of shame or self-consciousness, and Travers looks increasingly agonized. Bruce is just increasingly missing Jason, himself. "Milk flows too slow and the pups always get all fussy and stress out about it. Which, whatever, pups are weird anyway, they're not really my thing."

"'Weird'?" Bruce repeats, carefully noting the lack of possessives in reference to any potentially dysphoria-triggering anatomy. Still not a confirmation, but another point. Carl shrugs again.

"I'm afraid Carly doesn't bond appropriately with pups, Alpha Wayne," Travers interjects quickly, and Carl scowls at her. "She has an unfortunate detachment disorder."

"I 'attach' fine," Carl grumbles sourly, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just don't like kids."

Travers grimaces. Bruce keeps pretending to be an oblivious idiot. He has met omegas who don't like children. They exist.

They're just all deeply, deeply traumatized people. Or clinically insane.

Or both, frequently.

So . . . "detachment disorder" seems likely, yes.

Bruce doesn't consider either sex or gender to be the end-all be-all of a person, of course, but there are certain biological imperatives that no one can deny as existing, and a lactating omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–really, just about any omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–is not ever going to say they "just" don't like kids. Usually the problem with omega wet nurses is them liking kids too much, in fact, and getting distressed or depressed when the parents wean the pups and they won't be seeing them again. The decent agencies have psychological support for that in place and typically offer paid leave between long-term clients. The Waterton Agency does up to a month, which is one of the reasons Bruce chose it.

So yes, Carl is almost definitely traumatized.

Though really, a wet nurse who won't be around much isn't the worst thing, considering. Neither Clark nor Jon started developing any especially noticeable powers until they were older, but they can't assume anything based off a sample size of two, especially when said sample size is made up of biological relatives. And even if they didn't have to worry about that, well, the manor is frequently full of vigilantes and the cave is right underneath it. There's a lot that a regular guest could notice, especially over however long they might need to be nursing. Especially because nursing is a quiet, out-of-the-way activity that takes a while, and it would be very easy for someone to forget to keep their voice down or to not do a damn quadruple-backflip off a chandelier at the wrong moment.

And there's a reason Clark and Lois brought this problem to the shadows of Gotham, as opposed to staying in bright and sunny Metropolis with it. They've got something to hide right now, and a lot to figure out.

Plus if even a molecule of kryptonite gets involved in this situation, even secondhand . . .

Power Girl and Supergirl and Steel are the ones taking shifts watching Metropolis right now, and everyone is just going to leave it at that. Superman isn't coming out for anything less than the apocalypse.

"Well, the Lane-Kents will probably want you to meet the kiddo either way, if you don’t mind," Bruce tells Carl, offering an easy shrug. "Peace of mind, you know how it is."

"Not really," Carl says. Bruce debates slipping the kid a psychiatrist's business card, but he'd probably take it as an insult.

"Er, yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says awkwardly. "Actually, we were expecting Alpha Lane to be with you . . . ?"

"Lois is currently stuck in Metropolis traffic thanks to Metallo bashing up half of downtown this afternoon and Clark is upstairs getting the kiddo around. Little guy just woke up from his nap," Bruce replies with a pleasant smile, making another note of how Travers left off the omega member of the couple's last name, and also apparently doesn't expect to be meeting said omega at all. He is increasingly regretting choosing this agency, though he may yet manage to do some good in the world by subtly dismantling it. Or maybe just by buying it outright and doing a little restructuring.

Or a lot of restructuring.

"Wait, it's not your kid?" Carl asks, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Travers looks pained. The Waterton Agency isn't Gotham-based, so Bruce isn't sure why she apparently expects Carl to be up on the Wayne pack's current members, especially considering how she keeps talking over and outright ignoring him. Bruce has a hard time picturing her bothering to provide the information herself, at this point.

"Oh, no, just doing a favor for some visiting friends," he replies smoothly, still wearing the same pleasant smile. Which is a lie, of course, because actually the Lane-Kents are part of his secondary pack and "visiting friends" therefore in no way covers what they are to him. The Wayne pack is both his primary and his family pack, obviously, and the Justice League is a loosely-connected tertiary pack, but his secondary pack lacks both an official name and public recognition, because explaining to the public why Brucie Wayne's secondary pack is two award-winning reporters from Metropolis, a random museum curator in Gateway City, a decorated Navy SEAL, and occasionally a cat burglar with commitment issues is just not going to work out for anyone's secret identities.

And that even without counting how everyone knows about Lois Lane and Steve Trevor's respective very public connections to Superman and Wonder Woman, much less ever explaining anything about Selina. Bruce, meanwhile, still isn't sure how he ended up in a pack with any of these people. Clark and Diana definitely have a lot to answer for either way, though.

Mostly he blames Clark. Diana has more decorum. Clark is just . . . Clark, so now Bruce gets a scarf and cookies from Martha Kent every Christmas, never mind that he's technically Jewish, because God forbid he ever tells her that and she starts sending him Hanukkah presents instead. He cannot handle eight nights' worth of Martha Kent's colorfully-wrapped scarves and lovingly-packaged cookies. That's just not a thing he can do.

He doesn't even celebrate holidays, except when Dick cons him into it. Which admittedly he's been doing more often again the past few years, but–

This is off-topic, Bruce reminds himself, but then gets distracted as Carl cocks his head a little and frowns over something. Bruce instinctively wants to brace himself for trouble at the sight, because that frown actually very strongly reminds him of Clark's "what the hell weird and concerning thing did I just notice with my super-senses" frown, but A) Carl doesn't have super-senses and B) Bruce just heard the stairs creak, which means the actual Clark is finally on his way down to meet them. No one else in the manor would ever make the steps creak any way but deliberately except for Lois or Jon, and Jon is out on a walk with Damian and Titus while Lois is, again, currently stuck in Metropolis traffic. So: Clark, definitely.

Also Clark tends to make the stairs creak a lot louder than either Lois or Jon do, given the very notable size difference there.

"Has Alpha Lane authorized you to make decisions for his pup's care, Alpha Wayne?" Travers asks with another forced smile. Bruce is resolving to check specifically her background too, at this point.

"No, no, that won't be necessary, good ol' Clark's right here," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "It's his pup too, and he knows much more about ones this age than I do anyway."

"Yes, well, omegas tend to get a little . . . irrational about the idea of sharing their pups with a wet nurse," Travers says "politely", like she thinks she's stating a fact. Bruce would say something cheerful-sounding and subtly insulting back, typically, but Carl's frown is deepening and he looks a little bit . . . odd, maybe, or . . .

There's a strange little pup-call from the stairs, very quiet and echoing in unusual registers but still recognizably one all the same, and just as recognizably resigned-sounding. It's a pup-call that clearly expects to go unanswered, at this point, which is something that Bruce would like to never hear again in his life, given the option.

Though it's better than a pup who's given up on calling at all, he supposes.

He tries not to grimace at that thought, though he's sure Clark's grimacing enough for the both of them right now after hearing a call like that. The pup is starving, and they just can't feed him properly. At this point sending him back where he came from might be kinder.

Honestly, if Bruce didn't know exactly who his parents were, he might've already insisted on that.

It's just–

The pup calls again, even quieter. Travers looks perplexed.

"Er," she says. "I apologize, Alpha Wayne, but is the pup ill? We can't be around them if they are, it's against agency policy."

"Oh, the kiddo just sounds like that," Bruce replies dismissively, and then lies, "Vocal chord deformity, apparently. We're not sure what caused it, pediatrician thinks it's something genetic."

Well, it is genetic. Jon calls in exactly the same registers, and according to Martha and Jonathan so did Clark.

So it's genetic, yes. Just not a deformity.

Carl's expression looks–odd, still. Bruce isn't sure what to think of it, but it makes him a bit wary. A detachment disorder doesn't imply an actual negative reaction to the presence of a pup, obviously, but . . .

Clark steps into the parlor with Lor-Zod sitting on his hip, the pup no older than two or so and looking small and listless in his arms, his dark skin all washed out and his previously bright eyes gone dull and tired. When he first crash-landed in Metropolis in the rocket he'd been wrapped up inside, Clark said he'd popped out of it energetic and excited and clamoring for attention in toddler-level Kryptonian, but he's been slowly fading ever since, wasting away without the nutrients that they just can't provide him. He's probably only made it this long thanks to the sun.

Again, Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, though he was already at least three by the time they got him, which probably helped. A pup Lor's age is capable of eating solid food, obviously, but milk or formula is still a major part of a pup's diet until they're four or five, if not older, and the longer the better. Hell, most kids still at least semi-regularly nurse for as long as their dam can manage to stay milked up, or even until they present themselves. No one can wean a damn toddler and expect them to thrive.

Or even survive, in Lor's case.

Lor opens his mouth in another weak, resigned little pup-call, and Clark's own mouth tightens as he restrains himself from answering it and giving the pup false hope for milk he just doesn't have, and Bruce steels himself to–

Carl croons.

Travers startles. Bruce is . . . surprised, a bit. A detachment disorder doesn't really imply the kind of omega who'd croon at a pup they've never seen before in their life, after all.

It's an unusual and unpracticed croon, as if it's a sound Carl doesn't make very often, which Bruce supposes would make sense. Lor responds to it immediately, though, shifting weakly in Clark's arms and pup-calling again.

Carl, with absolutely no manners or decorum whatsoever, sweeps right past Travers and Bruce and Alfred and just plucks Lor straight out of Clark's arms. Which–forget the kid calling him "Wayne"; that's a damn etiquette breach. Hell, Clark probably only didn't take Carl's head off for snatching up his pup without permission because he's so clearly dumbfounded that he actually did it.

Bruce is slightly less dumbfounded due to having spent five seconds in the kid's presence, but still, what is he–

"Carly!" Travers chokes in horror. Carl very obviously doesn't even hear her and just starts purring at Lor and cuddling him close in a way that really doesn't even slightly imply "detachment disorder".

And then Bruce figures out what was "odd" about Carl's expression, before.

"Huh," he says, a little bemused. "Did he just go into feral drop?"

"Alpha Wayne, I assure you, this is not the Waterton Agency's standard of behavior!" Travers sputters, sounding even more horrified, and Clark just blinks and tilts his head.

"I think he did, yeah," he says, looking perplexed. Carl continues ignoring everyone in the room except for Lor and just purrs louder at him as they both nuzzle into each other. Lor makes more very distinctly Kryptonian pup-calls at him, and Carl croons back with no apparent concern over their strangeness, sounding absolutely goddamn enamored.

That is definitely not a detachment disorder, Bruce thinks. There is no possible way that an omega with a detachment disorder just went into full feral drop over a pup at first sight.

Or possibly first sound, he's realizing.

Bruce is perfectly aware that omegas can feral-bond with distressed pups whether they mean to or not, but he's never seen it happen this fast outside of a warzone or a natural disaster. He's heard hearsay and read studies about particularly compatible sets that have done it under less stressful circumstances, but distressed and starving pup or not, he wouldn't have even expected a human omega to be capable of bonding with a Kryptonian pup like that.

Or at all, frankly. Deliberately created and carefully cultivated pack bonds are one thing, but . . .

Lor chirps, the sound still a little quiet and fragile, a little weak, but also undeniably hopeful, and Carl gives him a low, rumbly purr in reply and yanks up his inconveniently-cut T-shirt to expose his chest with no trace of hesitation or modesty. He's already leaking sweetly-scented milk, already adjusting his grip on Lor to let the pup get at his chest as easily and comfortably as possible, and Lor latches without a moment's hesitation and immediately starts to nurse.

And then Lor purrs. Carl just watches him with undeniable adoration, still paying no attention whatsoever to anyone else in the room.

Alright, then, Bruce thinks carefully.

Well, that just happened.

"Thought you didn't like kids, Carl?" he inquires casually, putting on an easy grin, and Carl finally seems to come up enough to remember that the rest of them exist, though he still doesn't actually take his eyes off Lor.

"I would literally become a supervillain if this kid asked me to," he replies dreamily, keeping Lor cradled in one arm and tracing a finger down the pup's cheek with a soft, besotted expression that's unmistakable for what it is even with the sunglasses on. He looks like he might just burn down the world if someone tried to take Lor away from him right now, and his pheromones are so all-encompassing and so cloyingly sweet that Bruce genuinely might need to see a dentist after this.

"Well usually I'd say we keep Batman in the loop on that kind of thing around here, but if the kiddo asks, it only seems fair," he jokes with a laugh.

"I would drop-kick Batman off a roof for you," Carl informs Lor lovingly as he strokes his cheek again and then skims a fingertip along the little barely-visible scar splitting his eyebrow. Lor keeps purring sweetly and Alfred coughs to conceal a low chuckle. Clark looks a little pained to be watching one of his pups nurse from another omega so easily and eagerly, but his mouth quirks in amusement at the comment anyway. Bruce doesn't dignify any of them with a response, because he is an alpha with dignity and also is in no way threatened by a passing comment from a barely-presented kid who clearly isn't even combat-trained.

. . . although he also isn't going to be stupid enough to try coaxing Lor away from the omega he just feral-bonded with just yet either.

Then Tim walks by the doorway, takes one look at Carl with Lor, and trips over literally nothing and into a full faceplant on the foyer floor. Bruce pauses, then raises an eyebrow.

"Alright down there, Timmy?" he asks. Tim scrambles back to his feet, looking more genuinely mortified than he's ever seen him.

"Fine!" he blurts. "Fine. Everything's fine. All the things are fine. Uh. What? Who?"

"This is Carl," Bruce says, gesturing to the kid. "Wet nurse from the Waterton Agency. And his escort, Beta Travers. Carl, Beta Travers, this is my son, Tim Drake-Wayne. And also Clark Lane-Kent and his pup, Chris Lane-Kent, who I'm assuming you've figured out are your prospective clients."

"Yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says with a grimace. "We gathered."

"Ngh," Tim says, looking at literally everything but Carl and Lor. His face is bright red, which is an unusual amount of embarrassment for him to be showing just over tripping. Typically he masks that kind of thing a lot more effectively. Bruce would almost think he was actually embarrassed by watching Carl feed Lor, but Tim's literally never been affected by anything but passing curiosity when seeing a pup nurse before, so that seems unlikely. And he's a male beta, if still an unpresented one, so it's not like he's got any reason to care all that much about it anyway.

So his reaction does seem a little odd, yes.

Hm.

"Chris," Carl coos adoringly down at Lor. Bruce is in no way stupid enough to think that he absorbed any of the rest of that introduction or has even noticed Tim's presence at all. He wouldn't even put money on him having noticed Clark's presence, in fact, except as a pup-delivery system. The kid is very clearly in love with the pup in his arms and doesn't give a damn about any of the rest of them at all.

Detachment disorder. Sure.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hi could you do a Morpheus x reader where the reader is krypton (like supergirl) and they are husband and wife and the reader protects him but the bad guys uses him to get to the reader and they use the green kryptonite which causes the reader to pass out and he catches the reader and carries them to their shared bedroom and waits till the reader wakes up and have a happy ending

Potato Chips

Dream of the Endless x Krypotian!Reader

Summary: "Ah, yeah. I can't seem to catch a break," I groan, "one moment I'm buying potato chips, next thing- BANG! Shot with kryptonite."

Word Count: >600

Warnings: fem!reader, wife!reader, mervyn 'i will die for y/n' pumpkinhead, nightmare!dream, protectiveness, fluff?, typos, etc.

A/N: hi nonnie i had a similar request to yours before so i did this alshfasfh and i hope you like it (: Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

"My love," is the first thing that my senses register when I relapse into consciousness.

I rouse with a cold sweat. I feel a hot hand on my cheek. My eyes flutter open-- or at least I feel them flutter open. I rub my eyes with my palm and release a groan.

"How are you feeling?" the voice grumbles, deep and loud. It echoes through every crook and chamber; it rings in my ears, effectively waking me up.

I open my eyes, finding I was laid in darkness. I sit up from the cushions and blink rapidly, as if willing the color and light back into my eyes. It doesn't work. But then I see something glimmering in darkness; there were specks of shimmer. Instinctively, I knew it was Dream's eyes.

I reach out to his cheek, "Dream? What's going on?"

The room vibrates when he speaks, "you were hurt."

I straighten up. Yeah, that would explain why I can't see in the dark right now.

I take a moment to think back on the events that happened prior to being submerged in this darkness. Why was it so dark anyway? Am I in the Dreaming?

And then it clicks.

"Ah, yeah. I can't seem to catch a break," I groan, "one moment I'm buying potato chips, next thing- BANG! Shot with kryptonite."

"I removed the shard from your side," he speaks tightly. I do my best to really focus on his face but it was just too dark for me to see.

"Dream, why is it so-"

CRACK! There is a loud creaking sound, followed by a voice that steps in with an orange light, "BOSS!"

A similarly orange pumpkin head draws near. The cigarette in his mouth is lit by the candle in his hand, "I finished the torture room."

"Torture room?" I mumble back.

Dream pulls his face away from me and looks at his scarecrow servant. Mervyn does not look at his master at all, even as he says, "very good."

"Wait- what tort-"

"I ordered every nightmare to have at it with the miscreant who was stupid enough to mess with our lady."

Our lady? So he- "Wait- hold on. Why is there a torture-"

Dream pulling away makes my words go dry, that, and finally seeing his form with the help of the one light in the room. I suddenly wish I hadn't looked. He rose up to the ceiling, body long, spindly, dark, matted in material I couldn't make out. He had feathers? Scales? Horns? Claws? Appendages? He was terrifying; a true nightmare, so much so, when my breath caught in my throat, I am stunned and forced to look away.

"Very good, Mervyn," his voice bellows, making a shiver run down my spine.

I feel him look at me. I cannot look back.

"My love," my Nightmare speaks, "I will return in a moment."

I can only squeak in response.

Slowly, the darkness in the room dissipates. When the light touches us again, I turn to Mervyn, who blows out his candle.

I release a sigh, "what was he?"

"What do you mean, milady?" Mervyn takes his cigarette between his fingers.

"I mean Dream! He was-" I place my hands on my head, "he was horned! And- and gooey and -"

"You mean you actually looked?" Mervyn chuckles in surprise, "wow. Love is wild. I've never once felt inclined to look at my lord when he was in nightmare form," he puffs some smoke, "don't worry. It's not for you. It's for the bozo that shot you."

I raise a finger at that, "so the torture room-"

"My best work to date," Mervyn says, "of course," he begins to walk off, "I had to work last minute and overtime," he grumbles on his way to the door, "but, I mean, at least, for once, it's not entirely irrational-" he slams the door on his way out.

[almostfoxglove]

hey queen do you have any joel fic recs? can be au or canon long or short im just desperate for some joel fics lol

oh ho HO anon HELLO yes of course I do :,) I'll give you a variety of flavors so you've got some options. thank you so much for the opportunity to gush about some fics I love :,) these are in no particular order and I am 100% gonna miss brilliant ones because I have a terrible memory I'm so sorry

okay, let's start with SERIES!

I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive by Kiwicane on ao3 (ongoing series)

universe: canon universe, jackson!joel

flavor: ANGST holy fuck. also, incredible action sequences? like actually jaw dropping. and some... enemies to lovers? that's all I'll say!!!!

I actually cannot overstate how much this fic has me pinned to the fucking ground literally anytime I get a notification it's updated on ao3 I fucking RUN okay I run. it's so fucking good. THE TWISTS AND TURNS? you're not ready (you are please read it, it deserves so much fucking love)

Futureproof by @luxurychristmaspudding on tumblr (ongoing series)

universe: modern!au, actor!joel

flavor: girldad!famous joel starstruck by badass rockstar reader? yes I'll take 20.

the prologue for this just came out and FUCK I'm hooked. seriously, just buckle in. the vibes are immaculate, the world building's insane, and joel gets BOTH THIS DAUGHTERS??? I could cry.

Maintenance Request by @burntheedges on tumblr & ao3 (series complete)

universe: modern!au, hotconstructionguy!joel

flavor: fluff & FILTH just... trust me on this one. giddy rom-com feelings and absolute filth. but filth with love. AH

I literally rec this fic to anyone who gives me 0.2 seconds to talk about joel listen it's just. chef's kiss. the rom-com of my dreams.

Halcyon by @justagalwhowrites on tumblr & ao3 (ongoing series)

universe: modern!au, girldad!joel

flavor: childhood best-friends to lovers and s l o w b u r n PINING. so much fucking pining (my kryptonite)

this fic actually broke my brain I think. it is at once so sweet and tender and fucking heart wrenching. strap in for a slowburn but WOOF it's so worth it.

take me back to eden by skyspacelunar on ao3 (series complete)

universe: canon universe post-outbreak, smuggler/pre-jackson!joel

flavor: ANGST, enemies to lovers, TEARS

listen. listen. don't let the OC tag spook you away, this is so fucking good. delicious forced proximity, hate sex, then HEART EYES. there's violence, action, spice, LOVE, and goddamn tragedy. do it!

now... ONE SHOTS!

looking for the light by @sixhours on tumblr & ao3

universe: pre-outbreak!, brandnewdad!joel

flavor: angst with a happy ending, tiny baby 23 year old joel being a newly single dad to baby sarah

okay don't let the word count fool you, this one fuckin WRECKED ME (and put me back together? oh my god) my heart. I wanna hug him so fuckin bad. READ IT AND WEEP (but not in a vengeful way, in an angsty way)

until then by @studioghibelli on tumblr

universe: no-outbreak, priest!joel

flavor: ANGST angst angst. if you like fleabag.... wink!

bell wrote this for my angst challenge and it fuckin ruined me. ha ha HA it's so good. holy fuck. get ready for tears

hungry, lonely, violent by @dontloooknow on tumblr & ao3

universe: canon universe post-outbreak, jackson!joel

flavor: angst and fluff and smut. you get it all!

this is a BEEFY one shot (22k hell yeah) that has pretty much all you could ask for from sweet ol jackson!joel. the tenderness in this? off the charts. I do need him! biblically!

this has made me realize I need to read more joel one shots... oof! time to get through my tbr.

aaand I'm guessin since you're sending this you may already know about my joel fics, but just in case, I've got 3 ongoing series (one almost complete!) & 1 one shot

cover me up: jackson!joel (angst and smut and tenderness)

see you at three: no-outbreak au, young!joel (rom-comish, fluff and angst and eventual smut)

lock the gate: bostonqz!joel (angst, bitter allies to lovers, eventual smut)

I also have a bookshelf on my blog with shelves divided by characters, so you can also check out the joel miller shelf there (will include fics on my tbr list as well as ones I've read) this was so much fun. sorry it's long, but I hope you enjoy these!!

xx freya

[waratah-moon]

Cheerleader x eddie but the hellfire guys didn't know that Eddie and the cheer are Dating until she comes walking to the room asking Eddie if she can come over tonight 😁

Y'all know Eddie x cheerleader is my kryptonite, but add in oblivious Hellfire... omg guys you're spoiling me! reminder that a full length Henderson!reader is also on my WIP and she's a cheerleader too

masterlist / send me a request

"Suddenly, the boulder rolls across the cave entrance, trapping you inside in pitch black darkness!"

Everyone at the table groaned. "Seriously? So now we have to waste a spell opening the door?"

"Or you could venture further into the cave, up to you." Eddie tilted his head, waiting for the party's next move.

"He wouldn't trap us inside for no reason. I say we venture forth," Gareth said, tossing his dice on table. "Who's with me?"

A murmur of agreement made its way around the table. Dustin piped up, "are we going to go down the left tunnel or the right tunnel?"

Before anyone could answer, the door to the drama room cracked open and you stuck your head inside. When you spotted Eddie, you swung the door open.

"Eds?" Eddie lit up at the sound of your voice, the rest of the table looked at you in confusion. "Can I stay over tonight?"

"'course you can baby girl." He noticed the flatness in your voice. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Dad's being a dick and I don't want to deal with him," you took out your cheer mandated ponytail, letting you hair fall loose over your shoulders and pushing the scrunchie up your wrist. "Jessica picked me up so I don't have my car."

"Okay, we're almost done here, so we can head off soon. Come sit down," he pushed his chair back and you made your way over to him, ignoring the stares emanating from the other boys at the table.

You sat down on his thigh, adjusting your cheer skirt so you weren't flashing the table. Eddie wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you, his touch instantly putting you at ease.

Eddie cleared his throat, returning to his dungeon master persona. "So are you venturing down the right or left tunnel?" Eddie asked the party who were all staring at him with wide eyes.

"Um," Gareth started, not sure how to ask his friend what the fuck was going on.

Dustin didn't seem to care about the optics, though. "What the fuck, Eddie?"

"Excuse me?" Eddie narrowed his eyes at Dustin.

"Since when are you two dating?" The table broke out in chatter. They all knew who you were, of course. Everyone at Hawkins High did. You were the homecoming queen, cheer co-captain, and on track for an Ivy league college. You were insanely popular. Eddie was not.

"Oh," Eddie smirked, resting his head on your shoulder. "A few months." The chatter died down.

"A few months?" Dustin squeaked. "How did you two even meet?"

"We've known each other since middle school, Henderson. I just finally won her over with my charm and quick wit." You rolled you eyes, picking at your nails. It was semi-true. He'd actually asked you a question about an assignment in Mrs. O'Donnell's class, and you'd offered to help him with it. One thing led to another and here you were.

"So you finally made your move, huh?" Jeff asked through a small smile. "Only took you four years."

"I sure did," Eddie grinned, kissing your cheek.

[obae-me]

Ooh! for the blurbs I wanna request Lucifer with hurt/comfort! What can I say bittersweet angst is my kryptonite >.< I hope you get over your writers block soon <3

You know I'm always capable of writing for my boy. And with hurt/comfort? I know exactly what to do for this!

And thank you! Writers block for me is like a chronic plague. I'll get over it, I always do. Thank you <3

---

TW: Blood, burning. It's all in a nightmare, but still beware.

---

Burning.

It always starts with the burning. Then it's followed by his brothers screams. He always tries to call out, but he gets suffocated by blood and ash. It's a nightmare. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows this. But he can't wake up. Can't stop his mind from panicking as he feels his heart beat out of his chest as he spirals through the sky like a raging inferno. The ground approaches. He hits it, sending dirt flying through the air as his body scores a trench into the earth. That didn't wake him up this time? He feels them, the phantom pains. Arms, wings, everything awash in a firey pain. Then, the sound of his brother's bodies striking solid ground all around him. Wait. This wasn't the same. That...sound... Lucifer's fingernails clawed through the ground as he dragged his nearly useless body over to where someone lay.

Wait, no, stop! This was---

He awoke suddenly, sweat dripping down his face. No, wait... he was... With a shaking hand, he rubbed the tears away from his eyes, getting out of bed. His limbs still felt the tingling after-effects of the dream. Lungs tight with panic, he stumbled over to his record player, his fingernails gripping the furniture as he steadied his disoriented mind. Music, something to calm him down. Without really paying much mind to the specific record, he threw a vinyl onto the player, heading back to his couch to sit down and listen to the song play.

He hadn't had a dream like that in a while... and no matter how much he tries to heal, to move on, the nightmares are always there to drag him back.

"Luci?"

His head lifted up, realizing he had been dangerously close to falling asleep again on the couch. He spies MC waving their hand through the cracked open door, trying to get his attention while refraining from intruding too much. They must've knocked. He hadn't heard them. "Come in." He ran a hand through his hair, sitting up and attempting to make himself presentable in this state.

They poked their head in first before allowing their body to follow, shutting the door behind them. "I was passing by and heard your music." As they took a step closer, it was clear they quickly observed the little distressed details, no matter how much Lucifer had tried to hide them. "Are... you alright?" They hesitated to ask Pride such a question but found themselves asking anyway, sitting beside him on the couch. "Can I do anything for you?"

The demon's sin seemed to fizzle a little, dampened by the unease still swirling in his stomach. "Simply... stay with me for a little while." His hand gently reached down, touching their shoulder, his touch trailing down to their hand where he was simply content to let his palm settle on top of theirs. "Just your company puts me at ease," he sighed. The grip on his hand tightened, his eyes actually widening in surprise as his arm was tugged, his torso pulled down into a hug. A different sort of heat flooded his body as his cheeks tinted a flustered sort of pink. He quickly got over himself, shaking his head a little and actually chuckling. "I suppose this is fine too... Thank you."

[ovwechoes]

Sleepless Nights & Supports (Headcanons) I can't sleep and my head's focused on writing, so I'm taking it as an opportunity to talk about what the supports would do if they couldn't sleep, and how that would affect them. My asks are open, and requests are welcome!

Ana Amari: Ana struggles a lot with sleeping, and always has. It's her kryptonite, and it's something she's become accustomed to. If she doesn't simply give into the lack of sleep and carry on with her day as though she had a restful night, Ana will often be found doing household chores. Things like laundry, cleaning, sorting her junk drawer, tasks of that nature help her to unwind and get back to sleep when she knows she needs it. Ana's the type of person who usually can cope for the day with any amount of sleep, though, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't complain to anyone who asked about her night about it. She's not groggy, just whiny when she's tired.

Jean-Baptiste Augustin: Baptiste can be inpatient when he can't sleep - he doesn't fathom how it could take longer than 10 minutes to fall asleep, even when Angela's explained this to him. It's hard for him to be patient and give his body the time it needs to get to sleep, so often he'll rush the process by having alcohol before bed. His favourite is red wine, often enjoying a glass or so if he can't sleep that night. However, Baptiste has a bad habit of drinking too much out of frustration for not being able to sleep, resulting in awful hangovers that require IV drips from Angela for the mission that day. He's not the type to be restless, but Baptiste's not really able to sleep when he has a lot on his mind, or when his past is lurking in the corners of his thoughts.

Brigitte Lindholm: Brigitte's one of the lucky few who can sleep anywhere, anytime with very little needed to get her to sleep. She flaunts it from time to time, bragging about how she can get to sleep very easily, and can get as much sleep as she wants no matter what. However, when she is restless and unable to relax her body and mind to sleep, Brigitte can be found doing very straining tasks, forcing herself into an exhausted state and resulting in an episode of hypersomnia. You'll find her in the gym, relentlessly exercising until she can barely think nor stand fully without feeling as though her body's going to collapse into itself. Brigitte's been scolded many times by Angela and her teammates, often being told that she doesn't need to do this to tire herself out, but she won't listen. It's the fastest, most efficient way for her to go to sleep and her pride won't let her admit that it's not the healthiest thing to do.

Illari Quispe Ruize: Like Ana, Illari is accustomed to lack of sleep and has found ways to cope throughout the day when she's gotten next to no sleep. It's something common for her, and she doesn't tend to force herself to do anything to get back to sleep or make it more comfortable. She's tried everything - drugstore sleep meds, magnesium glycinate, lavender pillow sprays, everything she possibly can. It's never helped, though, and for years she took this as something she'd have to live with. Illari viewed it as her personal punishment, so until she met Angela and was prescribed PRN medication to help with her sleep, she never did anything about it. Now, she takes diphenhydramine, an antihistamine that causes drowsiness and can act as a sleep aid, needed only for the moments when she desperately can't sleep. It took Illari a while to actually use them, and she feels silly knowing she didn't for so long with how effective they can be for her. It's something she's thankful to Angela for, and understands now the importance of getting proper sleep.

Kiriko Kamori: Kiriko doesn't struggle with her sleep as much as she used to, often finding her vigilante activities drain her quickly. However, if she's pushed herself too far and can't go back to sleep, you'll find her doing mindless activities like nonograms and sudoku, tiring her mind out until she has to give into the sleep. It's something she's always done to help relax her, and now it's used as her own personal sleep medication. Kiriko's the type of person who sometimes works herself to death, forgetting to eat or sleep because of the importance of her work and her role in the events coming up. So, when she is restless and can't fall asleep, she's usually at the end of her rope and becomes very agitated easily.

Niran Pruksamanee / Lifeweaver: You can't tell me that Niran hasn't dabbled in weed before, especially with his sleep. Niran's the type to find herbal supplements to help with his sleep, starting with CBD before using edibles and carts to help him relax and numb his mind. His restlessness comes from his imagination, and his need to improve the world around him. He'll be kept up with countless thoughts and ideas about what he could create or implement to better the Earth's environment, and it keeps him up well into the early hours of the morning if he doesn't do something to quiet his mind and shut out the thoughts for some time. It's something he doesn't like to talk about much, not wanting the opinions of others to be pushed on him unwanted, but he's always open to share with other people and get high with his colleagues if they're experienced with it too. When he is extremely tired though, he can be non-verbal, struggling to speak properly and he struggles with moving or doing things that aren't minute or necessities.

Lúcio Correia Dos Santos: Lucio's the type of person who, if they could tell they're gonna have a restless night, would have a warm cup of decaf tea, have a bubble bath with lavender scents, and would set their room up to be extremely warm so that he can encourage his body naturally to ease into sleep easier. He's used to noise and business, and often finds it comforting to sleep to because of his upbringing in the Favela, so he enjoys playing a movie or a tv show in the background of his room whilst he rests. Lucio won't be watching it, just simply using it as though it's music to settle his mind down and rest to. He's definitely the type of kid who would wake up to the scooby doo movie end credit screen that's been playing for hours on the DVD player.

Angela Ziegler / Mercy: Angela has every remedy for insomnia known to man, and has tried every single one. I like to imagine she has a spreadsheet for what kind of restlessness she's experiencing (in terms of what's causing it) to help her decide what she's going to do that night. Stuck in the past? Mindfulness journal. Aches or illness causing insomnia? Relevant flu and cold medicine to help cure her ills, alongside pain killers. Simply unable to rest her mind? Diphenhydramine will do the trick if magnesium glycinate isn't touching the sides. She's tried everything, and often rarely will have a restless night that isn't easily cured. Angela will always help those around her too with their own sleep quality, often sharing her spreadsheets for those who need/want them. However, when she can't sleep no matter what she tries, she's a pain to work with as she's groggy and snappier than usual, not tolerating any of the jokes thrown her way from her co-workers no matter who they are.

Moira O'Deorian: Moira doesn't struggle with her sleep anymore, as she's the type to prioritise it to the point where her rigorous routine tires her out to exhaustion. Sometimes, she'll have sleepless nights simply because she's working or there's construction going on wherever she's sleeping and so she can't fall asleep. The only things that really keep her up without her consent is noise, and she detests anyone that would interrupt vital time to rest her mind for the next day's research. She complained for months when Akande brought in a construction crew to redo his own bedroom, and wouldn't stop throwing daggers his way with her stares and glares. It got to the point that Sombra bought her a white noise machine, and encouraged her to try it through her refusals and rebuttals about the worthiness of such a small device. When she did though, it helped her more than she expected and now it's become an integral part of her night time routine. Moira's unapologetic about the noise as well, often claiming that if they don't like it, then they shouldn't be okay with construction for months at a time all day and night.

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

@jaybirbie sent me a request in the replies to write Jon getting mind controlled and Damian breaking him out of it, but I was having trouble not only avoiding writing what other people have written but what I myself have written!

In my fic Dos Oruguitas Jon returns to the present after realizing that saturn girl is mind controlling him to stay with her. It's the start of my little au where freshly aged up Jon and regular Damian spend a lot of time together and are dating. i love this au. I thought about having Irma come back to mind control them again but I didn't want to turn her into a cartoon villain. I just think she's a kid and she doesn't realize how awful she is being, but if he expressly states to her that he hates her mind control and she keeps doing it anyway I feel like that becomes character bashing and i don't want to do the "evil straight woman tries to break up gay couple by seducing bisexual man" trope.

a remedy for all things by WizardEffect has Jon mind controlled by manchester black and Damian snaps him out of it.

Here's my notes anyway, I couldn't really lengthen them out to anything more substantial.

-damian gets captured while jon is being held in a different place with red kryptonite chains, but jon is able to laser off the wall its attached to and drag it with him as he looks for revenge. Damian breaks out and finds jon fighting the batfamily who are trying to stop him from beserker rage killing the people who captured them. Damian flips, jumps, somersaults midair and says “Jon, catch me.” jon goes “Dami!! I missed you so much, i was so worried!” and he holds him bridal style and starts kissing his face and nuzzling him and holding him tight. “Let me cut these off for you, habibi.” Damian says, so Jon sets him on the ground and damian pulls out a dremel and cuts through the kryptonite. “Fly us out–” jon picks him up and soars into the sky “Of here. Heh, wanted me alone that much?” jon kisses him on the mouth. He pulls back “I’m so embarrassed. I just outed our relationship in front of your whole family. And also almost killed some people.” Damian caresses his face. “But you didn’t. And they were going to find out sooner or later.” jon buries his face at the juncture of Damian’s neck and shoulder “But not like this” he whines, “My dad is gonna be so pissed I didn’t tell him.”

I couldn't actually find any other mind control fics without smut so that does show a need for more fics but I just don't feel like i can make this long enough to be worth posting on ao3. I was gonna draw a comic of it but i hate drawing comics actually, they take so much time. and it would have been 3 pages and still not as clear as my text.

[d4ndelionesky]

Hi my friend! Hope you're doing well heh :) If you're looking for writing requests, maybe some Ibara headcanons like the Natsume ones you did? I'm very normal about Ibara as you can tell hehe~ All good if not tho! Just loved your Natsu ones and would love to see you do Ibara, but no pressure of course! Hope you have a good day/evening/night! <3

pairing: x reader (gender neutral) 

genre: fluff

tw: none!

a/n:  AAAA YESS <33 THIS REQUEST WAS SO SWEET BTW THANK YOU!!! I HOPE YOU'RE GOING WONDERFUL AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

IBARA SAEGUSA !!

☆ I like to imagine Ibara as a person who's pretty much clueless about romantic relationships - and it worries him!! He is THE Ibara Saegusa after all ,, However, after becoming his partner you discover that he's been binge-watching rom-coms to help him understand. - You found it adorable actually! The thought of him using his free time watching these cheesy movies. All he wanted to know was how to treat you right. ☆ Ibara is very much a sleepy cuddler. It took him some time, but after learning to be vulnerable with you he started to become more clingy. He likes to rest his head on your shoulder, his arms loosely around you as he takes a short break. - He finds that with you, rest comes easier. ☆ He has a soft, reserved just for you. His eyes become slightly glossy as he notices you shining. He's proud of you but sometimes there's a voice in his head that tells him he didn't contribute to your achievements - you did them on your own. Yet, he still can't help his pride. - He did help you, however. It's unfortunate that it's hard for him to believe. He doesn't know how much the gentle squeeze he gives your hand whenever you are nervous helps. He doesn't know how much the confident nod he gives you across the stage helps. He doesn't know how much every kiss he gives helps. ☆ Often, Ibara plays with your hair idly. A hand gently massages your scalp as he reads with the other. It helps him focus, he says - you know better though. Your head falls on his shoulder, letting your eyes fall shut. Ibara gives you a soft kiss on your head before you fall asleep. ☆ You've seemed to become his kryptonite ,, It's difficult to be upset with you for long, if ever. When he is, it's usually him pressing a kiss on your hand and refusing to give one anywhere else. - How evil of him ?! - By the end of the day, he always gives into his temptations.

☆ Ibara is a very dotting significant other! He makes sure that you are prepared for the weather, that your food has the nutrients you need and much more. - He gets annoyed at you a little whenever you fall sick - it doesn't stop him from staying by your side though. He makes sure there's a hot soup prepared for you and checks your temperature regularly. Then, if you fall asleep... You might catch him holding your hand.

[pastelwitchling]

Hi! I have binge read your first one shot collection again so get ready for some requests. (My current tv show just disappointed me in the worst way so I need some Malex, Kylex, and Forlex healing via reading your work) I wanted to request a Kylex epilogue for chapter 25. I love how vulnerable Alex let's himself be at the end of the story. Thank you!

@pluckygazelle

Sequel to this fic.

***

Alex and Kyle sat in Kyle’s car, waiting at a stoplight that had long since turned green, but as there was no one else on the road, they felt in no rush to get wherever they were going. The night was officially ruined, and Kyle wished he had some magic words to help Alex feel better, but the memory of Michael’s words, Michael’s eyes on Alex, the anger and plea in Michael’s voice, was beyond any comfort Kyle could give.

It didn’t matter who his actual boyfriend was, Alex’s kryptonite would always be Michael. There was no getting past him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, and Alex, staring outside the window, merely shook his head.

“Alex,” he sighed, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Alex said. His brows were pinched, his lips pursed. Kyle used to interpret that look as Alex thinking hard, but he’d learned a long time ago to see the remorse alongside Alex’s train of thought, the pain that encompassed it all. It was a complicated feeling only Michael could bring on.

It’s okay, Kyle told himself. You knew what you were getting into. It’s Alex, and Alex is always worth it.

He took Alex’s hand, and kissed his fingers until the tension in his shoulders faded.

Alex finally slumped against his seat and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“He shouldn’t get to me this much.”

“But he does,” Kyle said simply. “I know. It’s okay,” he repeated.

“It’s not,” Alex repeated as well, turning in his seat to face him. “Kyle, it’s not. Stop making excuses for my . . . my . . .”

“Your what?”

“My weakness,” Alex confessed quietly.

“Are you kidding me?” Kyle asked, turning to face him, too. “Alex, you’re the strongest person I know. Look, I didn’t want to say this, mostly because it’s a real hit to the ego—”

“Don’t break up with me,” Alex said at once, covering Kyle’s hand on his with his own, squeezing hard. “I swear, I won’t—I won’t talk to him again, I won’t go near him again—”

“Whoa, slow down,” Kyle cupped his jaw. “Slow down, baby. I’m not going to break up with you.”

Alex clenched his jaw, eyes glassy and resigned. “What’re you calling it then? Freeing me? Letting me go? Making me happy? I’ve heard it all before.”

“Alex—”

“That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it?” Alex said. “That Michael and I are cosmic soulmates and should be together, right? That we’re destined for each other and no one else will ever measure up, and any other crap way to tell me who I’m supposed to love and who I’m supposed to be with—”

“Stop.” Kyle slid a hand into his hair, forcing Alex to look at him instead of letting him fade away in front of him, back into his dark thoughts. “I am not abandoning you to some guy that won’t treat you like you deserve.”

Alex’s eyes focused, and his lower lip trembled ever so slightly. Terrified to hope. “What?” he croaked.

Kyle let his hand fall down to the nape of Alex’s neck and massaged the area until Alex stopped looking like a cornered kitten, expecting trouble and both prepared and terrified of fighting it.

“I do think you and Guerin love each other,” he said, and as Alex opened his mouth to argue it, Kyle cut in with, “But I know you love me, too.” Alex clamped his mouth shut, but nodded vigorously, his hand squeezing Kyle’s tighter as he leaned in an inch. The small hopeful gestures made Kyle’s lips quirk. “And yes, I think you and Michael have some kind of cosmic soulmate destiny that keeps you together.”

His expression turned serious as he went on, “But cosmic means jack if he doesn’t show it, Alex, and he doesn’t show it.” He dropped his hand from the nape of Alex’s neck to the small of his back, pulling him. “I show it, and I’ll keep showing it. So yeah, I know about you and Michael, and I know how important he’ll always be to you.”

He kissed Alex’s hand. “But I also know that if we’re ever going to break up, it’s not going to be because of me. I had to say that you love each other out loud because the day you say it is the day we end this. And I don’t know when that time will be—”

Alex was already shaking his head. “It’s not—”

“I don’t know when that day will be,” Kyle insisted, “but I don’t want it to be today. Not now.” He brushed the back of Alex’s hand with his thumb. “Not yet.”

Alex searched his face, somehow able to hear what Kyle wasn’t saying. That he didn’t want to see Alex try to lie to himself. Someday, when the time was right and Michael finally got his head out of his ass, Alex would choose him. Alex would always choose Michael over the world.

And yet, when Alex’s fears settled and he took Kyle’s hand and whispered, “I love you, Kyle,” Kyle took all the comfort he needed in it. For now, Alex loved him. For now, Alex was his. And that was good enough.

He’s worth it, Kyle believed with every cell in his body. These moments will always be worth it.